Cola

Provocation Fridays (on a Saturday) You pull a card from life’s Chance pile and the card reads: Congratulations ! the identity of Dan Cooper is... (if only it were that easy!) Anyway lets imagine you did pull such a card, elaborate a little or explain in detail what 3-5 potential things come to mind that you see yourself doing within say the next day, weeks, months or years with this random revelation. This is all for fun..

Author Cola of the Dropzone.com Title: Just for fun Fictitious thoughts for Cooper 8:17 I landed in a field west of Brush Prairie. I planted the landing, but the cordage of the ransom twisted around my right foot and with my momentum and the dead weight of the bag I went down. I didn’t go face down but stumbled and came on one knee. My right hand stretched out before me to steady the fall but it slipped completely out from the wet grass. I came to rest laying on my right side. I managed to catch the silks gracefully float over me obscuring my vision for a moment as they cradled to earth in front of me. The first thing I could make out beyond the silks were some heifers now at a distance trotting away. There was a slight breeze on the field but nothing of immediate concern. A little mud on my palms, soiled trench coat. My legs and shoes were muddied. In the distance some 240 yards I could see a light on a barn and beyond that mostly obscured I made out the silhouette of a farmhouse. Laying quietly, I listened for any dogs. Nothing stirred and the night was silent except for a slight flapping of the chute and ringing in my ear. I got to my feet and took measure of myself. Standing there I noted my legs worked and nothing of body had broken. Mistakenly I was standing upright, I then hunched down bringing my head below the grassy barbwire edge of the field. I further knelt on one knee. Taking a glance around, my nerves were on, my senses sharpening as I looked over to the field, bordered by a road to my left, another field to my rear, the farmhouse in front and some pines opposite the road on my right. Evergreens in that country there. I felt I was facing south. I looked to the horizon of the barbed wire outline of the field and toward the barn for any threats. My breathing went flat as I sucked air over my tongue and gazed intensely in every direction. Moving slowly I took in the full detail of my surroundings. Coming down I had seen a single vehicle traveling the road some 600 yards past where I landed. I was confident he’d not seen me or the chute in the rear view. The acid of my stomach had started to sour in those 30 minutes I waited to walk down the stairs. In my waiting, I had found up front a turkey sandwich I’d ordered for the crew and I forced it down then to settle the acid. However, as I now knelt quietly looking around, I noticed a burning sensation in my sinuses and back of my throat. My stomach must have splashed into my esophagus during the jump or when I pulled the rip cord. I don’t know for how long I stared out at my surroundings, time slows in moments like that. I sat there listening on every bug walking every blade of grass or fluttering in that field. I was still undecided thinking over if I had the resolve to do what might be required had I been seen. I guess in the sheer intensity of working through my pan-acy and on those nasty thoughts I felt my stomach empty out into my lower bowels. It’s odd to think yourself fortunate in life to have shit yourself a time or two. However, in having the benefit of these prior experiences, when the feeling now came over me I quickly unfastened the parachute harness, stepped back, dropped my drawers and relieved myself. With this relief my mind relaxed and an incredible rush came over me. Squatting there I couldn’t believe what I’d pulled off. It started to sink in. It began with a slight snicker at my thoughts and my spirits lifting. As I crapped, I passed a little gas and then giggled on that, and more gas chased after my giggle. I set into a pattern of giggling then gas, giggle louder, then louder fart still and this sequence twice over, took me into a chuckle. I tried to cup my mouth, with one hand, but the absurdity of shitting in that cow pasture and having to quiet myself, further served to intensify my snickering. As I pressed my hand against my mouth to hold in any laughter my own hand worked against me. The hand being moist from touching the ground when pressed to my lips, let out its own little series of farts, that were because of the cupping directed straight into my left ear drum. All of this was too much for me in that moment and I then came into a roaring laugh which discharged my bowels completely. I stood partially out of panic, pulled my pants up, belly laughing into the open field and then cackling like a lunatic of sorts as I applied some restraint in clamping down on my mouth while I buckled my britches. I thought for sure that dam Farm dog had heard me now. I buried my mouth in the crook of my elbow but the wet overcoat did not lessen the effect. After so many hours playing the stoic, the pressure valve had suddenly blown open, I’d never had such a high, I was now uncontrollable as the laughter from the stress of it all took me over. Cackling. Cackling. Cackling grinding my teeth pinching my mouth shut. The first thing that came to mind was a pillow, so I took off my raincoat and then my jacket. I balled up the jacket and buried my face in it. This dampened my laughter and taking a seat I let it roar on for a few until I came to that point of being strained by the laughter, dry from it. Taking those last few heavy and deep breaths. Exhaling. Inhaling. Exhale -Inhale to gain my composure. a ohhhhhh, a-hewwwww followed by a snickering, he he he he he. Then an a ohhhhhh in, an a-hewwwwwww out, an another snickering he he he he he. As I went on like this I became a little emotional. Being at the edge of tears from the laughing I was a little glum at having to force myself to dampen my own high spirits. After I had suffocated this untimely bliss my body felt wrung out as if I had just had one of those cries a man is known to have. The kind of cries we men have, the alone ones, behind closed doors, once every 8 or 12 years or so. That’s how I felt in that field, broken up. I snickered some here and there the rest of that evening as I walked the rails. For a long time after, that dam snicker was friendly to me warming my spirits and tickling my senses the rest of my days. It would come on at the most inappropriate of times. This new aspect of me unfortunately served to often intensify future assaults upon me from every angle. From that point on I seemed to cackle in the face of conflict and this blessing of light spirit brought with it women problems, authority problems. The snicker was not of my own doing but a reaction. The perception of which by others often interpreted as a sign, a proof, of my pleasure in their displeasure with me. How do you explain this to someone that you do not take joy in their displeasure, that you’re not part, of that part, of the lowest part, of human existence.

It had passed my attention that Tosaw was the Ingram's lawyer. Do you or anyone know when Tosaw began this crusade and for how long this legal dispute went on for until the division of the bills? I had though there was a 6 year legal stall by the agency, but when you mentioned Tosaw was the lawyer I now think that a case may have only been out there for a year or two? Any insights on that.

If you took this on I'd ask that postings come across on Thursday evening. I'm planning on putting out a new provocation Friday.

Provocation Fridays: Anyone care to put their imagination to work? Should you choose to take this on. The assignment for the next 2 weeks is to write a fictional account of Cooper starting form one of these lead ins: - What I have to say goes like this - I landed in - It were my grudge that were my trouble - I noticed that Or chose your own lead in.. Thinking 500-800+ words or more, should take 2-5 hours to write. Narrative style from the view of Cooper or from another characters view... Will check back in two week time to see what stories percolate up. This is all for fun.

Olemisscub, any insight on what the average ransom ask was for the copy cats? I have always though Coops was low given Cini's starting point. Possibly Coops asked based on what he knew Cini was able to receive. Anyone have any reference for what other take me to Cuba type extortionist asked for on the whole? Cini asked for 1.5 million got 50K Coops asked for and received 200k McCoy asked for and received 500,000

haha - touche Noted don't pull a knock and talk on Chaucer. I was going for a rhetorical post but you did git me thinking: there are questions, answers for questions, explanations to questions, then there are the Answers.

What would you rather? a) spend 5 hours with Cooper b ) spend 1-6 years engaged in an agency investigation c) or be harassed by obsessives every so often who would leave you well alone if you answered their questions. this is all free form and for fun, I am interested in seeing any insights that may percolate up and if there is a threshold or conditions which must be in place for society to tolerate criminal acts.

Provocation Fridays: Just tossing some questions out there to explore a criminal act vs. a criminal man - all comments are welcome.. Leaving aside insanity, are there any scenarios where Cooper may engage in this criminal act and not be perceived as a criminal himself? When does society tolerate criminal acts? What conditions, scenarios or thresholds must be present for society to tolerate a criminal act? Is criminality perceptual? Is criminality conditional? Is Cooper someone that could be trusted to hold your wallet, watch your kids, marry your daughter…? Not that anyone need or should share - but just as a thought exercise has anyone ever been a victim of a crime that you would estimate as psychologically more severe than NORJACK turned out to be for the 35 passengers and 6 crew memebrs...

I'm 4 post back on your live streams. Thanks for posting. (The DZ will always be XEROX- PARC in my book.)

Good thought on taste in music being formed by ones 20's. I think we all add songs in our repertoire well into our 50's but our taste are set by our 20's. I think Coops was a Midwest - depression era child. Country and folk seemed to be on the rise in the 40's - 50's so my imagination would like to place Woody Guthrie Dust Bowl Ballads in Coops record collection maybe later in life he added some Johnny Cash. Who knows - a touch of melancholy, The rebel, all kinds of folksiness come to mind when I think on Coops. Yes, agreed no question a criminal act. Think on that, and I'll put another provocation question out on Friday.

He was a nice boy - that belonged to a good Family... he's buried with the flowers now. (wise guy version)

We need you. I think Chris used the metaphor of "we all stand on the shoulders of giants". Ultimately all of us will help bring this case to a conclusion. In this regard there is no question you are a contributor. No one doubts you are not invested or that you do not bring both unique insights and perspectives to the group. This DNA and Stylometry stuff is not for everyone, but you seem to have a very good grasp on the technicals. I speak for myself in saying that I think there will be a deficiency here in the groups understanding if you were to pull away completely. Take a few months off, but always know that whether your candidate is or is not Cooper ultimately your contributions will help in some measure to resolve this case.

O-ya the Doors they're good too ... Any one want to entertain the provocation of what kind of music Coop's listened to and why? My take on the Blues is... Aww geez Dontcha know, if Tina were spot on and Coops had mid-western sensibilities then - for crying out loud - his taste would have evolved worlds away from the blues. (Aww geez ,Dontcha know, crying out loud - that's Minnesotan wholesome slang) Anyone have any songs that bring Coops to mind?

I hate to be meme, but I think we could all let some steam out