Farflung

“Anyone seeing the video of static line parachute jumps from the aft stairs of 727s, reportedly made in SE Asia, should note that the stairs were "locked" down. They did not rebound or otherwise move upward between jumpers.” WHAT? What sort of control authority would be left for nose up pitch, with the 727’s aft stairs “locked” down? This is absurd. Where is there video or a picture of a 727 in flight with the aft stairs “locked” down? Now I want an X-ray TV set.

I would like to know if a TV can be modified to become an X-ray machine. I’m old and don’t know much about technology, but this may blow the lid off the Cooper case and I need some expert help. I had finished an exceptionally long flight and checked into a motel, of which the location and name are irrelevant to the story. So don’t ask about those things, as I have already established that those details are irrelevant and will only confuse or be twisted somehow. Anyway, I was being perfectly normal, and minding my own business while browsing the TV guide for some intriguing movie to watch. The name of the movie, I can’t recall, but I think it had a guy that did something and it ended. But it doesn’t matter what movie I was going to watch anyway, because that’s not the point of this story, which could blow the lid off the Cooper case. I try to turn on the TV to watch a normal movie so I can keep minding my own business, when I notice nothing is coming through. I smacked the cabinet and cursed, but in spite of those typical fixes, I still couldn’t receive a normal movie to watch. That’s when I called the front desk (as opposed to the back one) and gave them a piece of my mind. What kind of motel is this? I asked with an oblivious sense of self righteous indignation, with some equally oblivious sense of this being a successful approach. I paid good money to stay here and be normal, and my TV won’t work! The clerk sensed my awesome power and said he would send someone right over. Well I would expect so, I firmly responded, and slammed down the phone, to make my point even more credible and endearing. Then some man shows up who I don’t really remember, but he was there, I saw it, so it happened, I’m not making this up, as I have no reason to. He looked at the TV and reached in his pocket and pulled out a transistor radio, and did something which I wasn’t paying attention to, because I’m normal and was busy being disinterested. But it was something I can’t describe, which was red, rectangular, and had a grey dial and a thoroughly perforated lower half with the name ‘Regency’, hot stamped into the case. I only had a few seconds to glance at it. Next the repairman takes off his shirt, as you do because those TVs will stain and wrinkle clothing. But I still wasn’t paying attention because I was too busy being normal, in a normal motel, with some normal repairs taking place. After a while he says “Hey, see anything now?” That’s when I noticed the radio near the TV with him behind it, and the picture was of his upper torso in X-ray form. I didn’t think too much of it because it wasn’t the movie I wanted to watch, so I just nodded. He walks around, puts his shirt back on and puts the radio in his pocket and leaves. That was the last time I saw him. Can someone tell me if it is possible to use an AM radio to turn a TV into an X-ray machine? I’ve got an open mind and just want to know the truth. So does anyone want to agree with this so I can quote you as confirming this? If not, I’ll just bring it up every eight to ten months for the next four years. But someone must know if this is possible.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFCWv1CUhOE I really don’t see any value in cross checking data or doing any sanity checks on my theories. I’m too special to be biased and certainly won’t admit to it, no matter the data presented. I don’t have time to do a search on “skinny black tie” and see what has already been covered. Nope, just a declarative statement backed with faux authority, and the races can begin now the wheels have spun off the wagon. Yeeeee Hawwwww! (thwack!)

Wow, that skinny tie sure is 60’s and freakishly strange. Cooper sure would have stuck out like a person dressed all 60’s in a hip, modern, contemporary, swinging place like Portland. The hijacking did originate in Portland didn’t it? Doesn’t matter, this is the DBC thread, nothing is close to accurate. Georger made a point about the inherent bias ever person has. Some people are so utterly blinded by their bias; they make errors which pleasure me with amusement. Like self proclaimed historians who constantly get historical items incorrect, or comments about the rarity of an item which proves quite common. Those are two examples of bias. If only I could think of a third…… oh well, I can’t.

That’s some excellent information and explanations on the various modes of HF comms, and their associated challenges and advancements 377. I believe you have far exceeded the annual allotment of intelligent dialog and the balance of the year will be spent in the Cooper basement. Those HAMs did play a significant role in how the BUFF was designed and controlled with HF. Here’s a brief article about how some of that evolved: http://www.hamslife.com/b-52-communications-improved-by-ham-radio-opearators/ Of course it’s written like LeMay ”Bombs Away” and Griswold “Don’t Call Me Clark” were in coveralls installing the systems themselves. I do believe they expedited the system’s facilitation due to their understanding as HAMs, but the SSB would have ultimately shown up in the cockpit one way or the other. History MUST be condensed to no more than two or three players, or Americans get sleepy and bored, and start publishing Technician license call signs, which expired in the last millennium, as an impotent display of relevance. So the article did a good job with the highest of highlights and a quick anecdote. Here’s something you may appreciate, or clasp your head with your hands, and fall into some pathetic fetal position in the corner of the room and quiver as your bladder fails: http://megacombat.net/radio-traffic-b-52-pilots-over-hanoi-linebacker-ii-4-of-5-2/ Most people would hear little more than static charged noise with some unintelligible grunts and groans. Whenever I’m feeling a little nostalgic about flying, late at night, I detune some SSB and put on the wireless headsets, strip to my underwear, go into the garage with a couple wet towels wrapped around me, then throw the towels to the same side of the washer to create an unbalanced load. Then I set it to spin, then I sit on the washer and scan my garage with binoculars I’ve duck taped to a motorcycle helmet, and look for indications of a SAM launch. Long after sunrise, and long after the next sunset, I get off the washer, before I lose my dignity, and reflect on just what a magnificent life I have now, and how nostalgia will treat you like its bitch. Yes.

I guess the secret is out about the work I’ve been doing with Ron Popeil (thanks 377), since we share a passion for radios, hair and whipped cream. That’s right, the CB radio combined with some VHF Nav/Comms has been perfected and rendered to a product that actually makes the entire world happy. The best part is; it isn’t stupid. We’ve all been there. You’re driving down the road with the wife, and you see an aircraft in distress. You need a VHF radio to help, but the car companies and the FCC forces you to the lowly frequency of the CB radio. Not any more, thanks to technology, inspiration and a customer base which knows no bounds for shameless ignorance, you can now own a “CB-GLC-Nav/Comm-HF-Whip-ator”! You read it right, introducing the “CB-GLC-Nav/Comm-HF-Whip-ator” in a can! Now you can enjoy all the bounty this great nation has to offer while tending to some more base activities like vanity, hunger and…. umm…. self adulation. Let’s face it, that’s all life is about anyway, and as long as it’s all about you, why not own something that reflects exactly that? Finally the eternal argument is solved for both genders about what to bring on vacation. Is it the HF transceiver, Reddi-wip or vibrator? Now you get all three in one convenient package. But there’s so much more! You also get the full 40 channel Citizen Band along with the 760 channel communications and navigation system so coveted by people in cars. All this with a month’s supply of ‘Good Looking Hair’ spray for men! Now you can touch up that bald spot, or entire pate holding that baseball cap in place. And for those who order in the next ten minutes, we’ll include a minimum 3 DB gain, pair of underpants to use with your “CB-GLC-Nav/Comm-HF-Whip-ator” radios! But hurry, supplies are limited.

That’s a nice song georger! I would like to sing along too. But I think the song would be even nicer if it named RobertMBlevins. Cuz he is the nice-y-est! My medium dog’s name is ‘Speedy’…. because he is the speed-en-est. My big dog’s name is ‘Barker’…. because he is the bark-in-est. And my little dog’s name is ‘Liberace’….. because his is the pianist. Isn’t that nice? All my dawgies have nice names. I can’t wait to see RobertMBlevins’ CB-Nav/Comm schematic that is ‘easy’ to make. Gosh, he’s so nice to do that.

RobertMBlevins jumps the shark with: “Today you could probably set that up easily, but in 1971? I don't know.” What possible value is that statement? You can’t leave well enough alone, ever. The comment about CBs and aviation radios being combined was as initially answered…. STUPID. I realize how sensitive everyone is and how delicate they all are, but I also notice these same people have not sensitivity when it comes to bullshitting. Why stop there? How about a flashlight, with an HF transceiver that uses the switch as a CW key? But wait there much, much more. It also handles voice on the Citizens Band along with Nav and Comm freqs from the FAA. Know what this flashlight does when tuned to a VOR? Doesn’t matter because I’m going to tell you; it vibrates! Right back to square one on this moronic subject with the addition of the planet covering HF band. See what being all Polly Prissy Pants about this garbage devolves into? It happens every time, without fail, E-V-E-R-Y time, and there always some sickening cheerleader for this humiliating tripe. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JchKa8Ox3Hs Then RobertMBlevins condescends about 377 with: “He's even nicer in person, and so is his lovely wife.” Is he really RobertMBlevins?! And his wife too! Pleas say yes! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JchKa8Ox3Hs How very nice of you to point out how very nice 377 is along with his lovely wife. You are very nice to point out how nice everyone is, and that’s nice of you to be so nice, and that makes me puke. I notice that you failed to mention (because you apparently don’t know) that 377 has an EE, one of the higher HAM tickets, and apparently dabbles with RC devices too. He repeatedly answered this question across the span of years (plural YEARS, take note Meyer Louie) and was painfully clear about why the answer is NO (NO!). How nice of you. Isn’t being nice, nice? Is there a place that is any nicer, filled with niceness? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVy42rWmFLc Not compared to the DBC thread, Hooray for nice! This would be nice too RobertMBlevins, instead of just shooting your mouth off, you could back up what you say with a source! I’m feeling even more niceness about this subject which was dead, but thanks to some really nice people (take note Meyer Louie), it’s back and bigger than ever! Hooray for Planet Nice! Yay for us! Yippie! Sorry, I was basking in all the self created niceness, floating in an ocean of crap, I call Island Nice. But here’s what YOU can do RobertMBlevins to impress everyone: Craft a simple, but workable schematic of a CB radio which has been modified to work on the air bands. Oh man, I’m starting to develop a really nice throbbing.. umm… oh, that’s not very nice (laughs)! Gosh, why can’t everything be this nice RobertMBlevins? But since you’re so nice and sincere and smart, I know you will create that schematic, and not avoid the subject like a coward, or deflect, or do the things you have such a nice reputation for now. Plus, that wouldn’t be polite (makes sad face, sad face I’m making) would it (tee hee, laughing at how polite and nice I am)? Yes, I think seeing a workable paper model of a CB/NAV/COMM would reflect great credit upon you and Meyer Louie, who collectively felt so compelled to breathe fresh life into this maggot riddled corpse, spawned by some imbecilic notion that its very existence, would buttress yet another wild assed piece of fiction. And that after 377 nicely answered this reborn, loser of a theory several times. Good luck to you both, I’m sure your sense of self righteousness will be your nice guide. Have a nice time drawing up your nice radio.

I remember reading how last year was the centennial of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire, and how it was the touch point for so many safety regulations. Just like those in aviation, most are genuinely written in blood, and lots of the stuff. After being all full of myself at actually remembering such a distant piece of historical trivia, I went back to worrying about me. And how great I am. And how great I will always be. Then I needed a nap. So now I’m reading about the same sickening event taking place in Bangladesh where there wasn’t adequate fire suppression, in an environment nearly identical to the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. What could go wrong here? At least we wouldn’t have to worry about that since we have all those safety regulations regarding exit doors being unlocked and swinging out, along with extinguishers and fire hoses placed so frequently we don’t even notice them. Plus the old Triangle factory building doesn’t have any clothes being made there, because we have chosen to export our labor, but keep our safety regulations right at home. Because it makes us feel good to establish safety regulation that are too costly to follow here. We’ve come a long way baby! God, I love me. Next I find an image of the Triangle Shirtwaist building and noticed a woman standing outside and wondered where her blouse was manufactured. Hmmmm….. wouldn’t it be ironic if she was standing outside the Triangle Shirtwaist building and wearing a garment from that Bangladesh factory? But then I thought, hey, what about me? What does this have to do with me? Then I took another nap.

Here’s some more incentive for the ‘RVers’ to race towards, at a velocity, faster than the speed of light: http://www.randi.org/site/index.php/1m-challenge/challenge-faq.html Wow, a million bucks for simply performing what you already claim to do…. on the WORLD WIDE WEB! Besides crowing to the planet about this, why not make everyone eat crow by claiming that million dollar prize? There’s special mention about ‘Remote Viewing’ in the last paragraph. Gosh, who from the DBC thread will be the first to become a millionaire? I’m so excited! I guess that should be the second person since there’s already someone that nets five ounces of gold per day ($9000), and that’s true because he said so. Let’s not lose our collective credibility and dignity by misstating how many millionaires are on the thread. So…. who is going to be the second person to become a millionaire? That again is second millionaire on the DBC thread, since there has already been one. But still a nice distinction being a millionaire, even if you are part of a growing crowd on this wealthy, honest and intelligent thread. I think I smell victory somewhere.

I read where Clyde Lewis was on a program called ‘Bullshit’. Oh dear, the name is so mean and cruel, I hope I don’t cry. Anyway, if you’re not a delicate bloom and want some additional background, here ya go: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iSg6XwXe6WQ Any predictions on how low the present trajectory of the DBC arc, will sink? It’s already associated with Bigfoot and Roswell Aliens. The wackos and abject nut-jobs that believe in gubberment conspiracies, that involve...... other gubberment conspiracies, have made themselves shamelessly known. And very few have protested. Sounds so oddly familiar for some reason. So it appears that this subject is now in alignment with the 911 Conspiracy theorists, and has long been associated with the Kennedy assassination. None of the claims being supported with anything resembling a source or evidence, just more sensitive people who really, really, really, really want to believe. Stunning. But what’s the harm? As long as not one calls you a wacko to your face, then you are a legend in your own mind. And that feels good, so do it without further consideration. Ya know, history has really dealt a bad hand to Hitler, he wasn’t nearly as bad as people say. It’s a conspiracy put on by the gubberment to keep us in control, this in spite of the fact that I’m speaking out on it. Anyway, Hitler trained thousands and thousands of paratroopers. Ever wonder why there wasn’t any major battles with German paratroopers? I can’t say anymore on this subject, but I received this information from scientists and people smarter than any that have ever been on this thread, so they are correct. Your continued discussions are a waste of time and I’m a self appointed manager of all other people’s activities. So it is time to get on board with this Teutonic Skydiver or you vill miss zee train.

I actually don’t fault anyone who plays the cool or green card regarding electric vehicles. I simply don’t understand how the ‘economical’ feature is so ham-handedly tossed around by people smart enough to afford the car, but too ignorant to consider some blatant mathematical challenges. I can enjoy a glass of Mondavi Opus One, as well as a glass of Dr. Pepper; I just don’t like it when people think mixing the two is clever or better, and unnoticeable. I can listen to people drone on about glass cockpits and airfoil efficiencies on Cirrus aircraft and KNOW they are correct, AND agree with them whole heartedly. Then my ‘other’ brain kicks into gear and I rationalize the value of a Twin Beech or Stearman, with the undeniable cool factor that economics will never trump. I have NEVER tried to convince someone that radials, which consume more oil, than a Cirrus drinks in AVGAS, of a magic savings component somewhere. If I did, I got NO business in the sky. The electric cars are a good idea, but the execution is nonsensical. Oh, I love the environment and trees, and would like to be one with nature…… now sell me something that will do 0 to 60 in 3.8 seconds. Using gas, electricity or unicorn tears in scorching starts is the definition of inefficient and ‘Earth hating’, but smug. If the goal is lowering pollution, then the first markets for electric cars, should be were hydro-electric is plentiful and not New Mexico. I’ve seen a Tesla ‘traction pack’ (battery) and it is a manufacturing nightmare, which is in no way, ready for prime time. Over six thousand, individual cells, which are hooked in series/parallel, and individually monitored for charge status, and impossibly delicate. There’s a reason the single starter battery in our cars are still lead acid. They are simple, cheap and have passed vehicular use testing that would shred most devices in a few seasons. Even the FAA has given Lithium-Ion batteries the ‘not cold, but let’s be friends’ shoulder. Who wouldn’t want a battery that’s 25 pounds lighter and a fifth the size? Someone who doesn’t want an in-flight fire for one. The odds are low of these things igniting, but high enough for the FAA to issue an emergency AD about their transport and use. What has driven Fisker to the brink? Battery fires. What did Lee Iacocca learn from the recall of all his electric bicycles? A few fires will put you out of business. Of course technology must be intoxicating at the highest levels of government where California passed a law allowing cars to ‘drive themselves’, in spite of the fact that we haven’t figured out how to get a car to refuel its self yet. That may be putting the cart before the battery (oh, I keeeed, I keeed!). But while all this lunacy is going on, we comfort ourselves as being the masters of all this stuff because we are so successful at being truly mindless fanbois, for good and happy things.

RobertMBlevins fakes a taunt with: “I don't feel like logging in and out just to get around your 'o' thing.” Don’t know what you’re missing: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QzIN3EgBIHg You don’t know what he’s talking about, admit it. But since I’m feeling generous, and have sentences of normal or longer length, as you whined about, here’s some more examples to ponder: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=maGmJKsF5_I Sorry my ‘O’ thing bothered you so much, but I would have thought that someone who is so inexperienced around ‘O’s, would have felt privileged to have been part of one, be it vicariously, listening through walls, looking over seats in airlines, peering through the slots in those Filipino motel closet doors, glancing at the booth next to you in a restaurant, opening an office door, glancing in a parked car, or reading this thread. Guess not.

I don’t think I’m going to search out anything you spent six hours driving to and from. No wonder you are too tired to log out. Just like the exhaustion you feel when it comes to naming that Facial Recognition software or sending an email to the guy that Lyle told he never thought Kenny was Cooper. Never, not once did he think that. You could confirm that if you put less energy into that subject than you have already squandered on lovely, beguiling Marla. That’s fine with me RobertMBlevins. Don’t log-off and keep your short, weak sentence structure for others to compare to my thick, long and rigid examples of syntax, or as the ladies like the call it, my SIN-TAX. Except it’s one they are glad to pay because nothing about me is short or little. Here, I’ll offer a You-Tube program that is EXACTLY like going to a DB Cooper gathering, E-X-A-C-T-L-Y. See if there’s any personalities that look shockingly familiar: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RI6_LsJX4Kg&feature=related You’re welcome.

Gosh RobertMBlevins, I don’t know how I could have screwed up the page! Perhaps you and your Facial Recognition software could straighten things out? After all, it identified Kenny as an “exact match” (that’s EXACT!) to the FBI sketch. I know by looking with my eyes, just with my human eyes, I can’t see an exact match or even a distant one, but there’s no arguing with a master of technology like you. So I guess I’m too weak and unsmart to fix this thing. I blame myself. I certainly wouldn’t try and log-off…. then log on…. to see if that fixes anything. Nope, the master of technology knows what to do, and knows the ‘true’ identity of DB Cooper. A name he selected from a comic book of the same name. Bet no one knows that. Yeah, that’s where he got his nom du crime. Where did McCoy, LaPoint or McNally get their names? No one knows; it’s a mystery, too tough to crack, but Cooper…… comic book. So there. Don’t log off then log back on, no matter what. I haven’t edited my comments, but always do a preview and check on the thread before departing. Good sleuthing though, bet you have Marla on the run. A slo-mo run with her hair bouncing with each step, her feminine form gliding almost silently as she is noticed by those who appreciate that slinky, feline and hypnotic presence which ignites the fires of awareness, which blaze with a heat capable of melting tungsten, like a sorbet in the Sahara, at high noon, in August, under a magnifying glass, shined through an oven door, which is set on broil. One flavored with wild cherry, but tastes like raw passion, wrapped in the inescapable vine which produced the forbidden fruit, which Eve offered to Adam, which carried a price of lifelong labor and strife, but apparently was worth it, because it was really Marla, pre-re-incarnation. A fruit which will drive any man to madness with its sultry….. gotta find Marla’s number….. need to research Cooper… now…. at least two times. I’m just looking for the truth whoever.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooong to secure an interview with Jo Weber.” End quote.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I quote from the book of all things Cooper, from the chapter of Curse, page 249, paragraph4, second sentence: “It’s taken over two years of phone calls- most of them late at night, ALL of them looooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

RobertMBlevins states from pure oblivion: “You telling me that I should spend more time proving KC was Cooper and less disproving other suspects doesn't make sense.” I rest my case your honor. Wow, how out of touch can a person be? Instead of proving how A squared + B squared = C squared, you are going to prove how all other numerical combinations aren’t correct? And you struggle with this concept? I mean really? You can’t see the difference between Captain Scott NOT talking to Cooper and Kenny being Cooper? You can’t see the difference with Dan Cooper comics being published in 1954 and you claiming Kenny saw them in 1951? You can’t see that Cooper never asked for twenties, where you and Skipp thought he was a genius for demanding twenties? You can’t understand how the direction of flow of the Columbia may have some impact on the brilliant theory you and Skipp conjured? You can’t understand that if Marla’s uncle isn’t DB that there is a tiny, albeit slight chance that Kenny may not be either? This has truly passed into the dimension of pathetic. Just like skyjack71 claiming that she doesn’t want to talk about Duane when too much was said about Kenny. You are a matched set in the insincerity departments.

RobertMBlevins oddly announced regarding ‘his’ conversation with the Kick Ass guys: “Bottom line is this: They don't believe her story.” What did they say about the Kenny story? I mean this appears to be a sort of ‘race’ among the many ‘providers’ of truth and knowledge. It just seems like it would be much easier to prove that Kenny is DB Cooper, instead of spending all your time proving who isn’t. You know, proving Marla is a liar won’t identify who Cooper is. You should try interviewing LIVING witnesses instead of chasing around some little girl, and trying to get her to talk to you. Nothing having to do with identifying Cooper took place in that tavern, and it never has. Could you imagine brow beating someone for studying the type of tie clip Cooper used as nonsense, then traipsing to some bar instead? That is sad and droll, at the same time; but mainly sad, very sad, and venom attracting.

If only people could get past the ’jets are on top of the food chain’ mentality, then they could avoid some dookie. But depth isn’t a strong point when it comes to this subject, so why not readily believe jets have a prominent place in forestry ops? It’s not like there is a layer cake of propulsion techniques based upon duty cycles, air flow and drag….. Right? So rockets must be the ‘Alpha Males’ of engines with all others simply dreaming of such grandeur. Jet engines and turbines have been ‘tested’ in cars and trains, without concern for the fact that trains and cars use the ground to travel across. That’s right, the dirty dusty ground and jet engines are known for two things: ingesting dirt and weeds without consequence, and having wicked big air filters at their intakes. So using jets at low or zero altitudes, long term, already has winner stamped all over it. Here’s an example of a ‘Jet Car’ made by Chrysler: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0GZKpvTiq20&feature=fvwrel I could just imagine what it would sound like at a traffic light, with a few dozen of those things ‘idling’ (18 -22 thousand RPM) then ramping up to move towards the next traffic light. This either had zero consideration for such a situation OR people thought there wouldn’t be traffic in the future so duty cycle, noise and mileage at low speeds for a turbine were not a consideration. But you theoretically could have had a pressurized car, so when you crossed a mountain range you would not get that annoying ear popping. So what aircraft design would break all the rules of propulsion and physics? How about the M-15 made in Poland by a company known for making gruesome looking airplanes, named PZL? http://cezet.wordpress.com/2012/05/24/pzl-m-15-belphegor-walkaround-2/ Your eyes don’t deceive you. That is in fact, a jet powered, biplane, with fixed tricycle gear, and twin tail booms used for crop dusting. Absolutely nothing about this airframe makes sense. This is just an example of how a person can take something ‘sorta’ true then use it to leap to some logic, to support their belief system. Jets are fast, so a jet powered crop duster will finish a field faster. Diesel-electric trains are used by EV (electric vehicle) proponents as proof that electricity is more efficient than gasoline to fuel cars. What they leave out is the incredibly low resistance to rolling trains experience, the high duty cycles of their journeys and the fact that electricity can supply nearly full torque at the lowest of RPM. They also leave out that the battery is part of the fuel system, in that all batteries are chemical processes which are consumed as part of their use. Gas and diesel tanks don’t suffer from this phenomenon. Even with all this boring shit aside, I was stunned to see the gubberment has decided to raise the bar on energy generation and mathematics, by publishing a mileage sticker for electric cars, which doesn’t make sense, unless you really, really, really want to believe in unicorns. Yep, the EPA actually printed a sticker that a car can get 119 miles per something magic, and no one knows what this means. I certainly don’t get it. Keep in mind the US Patent office wants a working model of a perpetual energy machine, and I think this comes close, or does it? First of all what the hell is mileage regarding cars? Is it cost based, as I had assumed? Or energy based? Either way, 119 miles per whatever is neither. A gallon of gasoline represents a known quantity of energy which can be converted to how far it will push a car down a road. The same is true for propane, coal, wood and even electricity. Making an electric car won’t make some 3,000 pound vehicle travel the road using less energy since a gallon of gas represents around 28 kWh. But people really, really, really want to believe otherwise. Tesla sells their batteries for $30,000, and the best case scenario would have these things lasting ten years till they need replacement. OK then, at 12,000 miles driven annually on average, times ten is 120,000 miles, divided by $30,000 dollars is, 25 cents a mile for battery consumption cost. Hmmm… 119 miles times 25 cents is $29.75. Hey, that’s not cheap now and makes me and my unicorn cry, therefore you are a bastard. See how scientific? I know, I’ll attack this problem from the back door and then you’ll see, you’ll see. An Earth raping Cadillac Escalade gets 18 miles per gallon. That’s very inefficient, where my electric car would have a battery consumption cost of 18 X 25 cents, for a total cost of $4.50, to travel the same distance as that nasty, dirty, filthy, I’ll just bet the owner is no stranger to humiliation or discipline, Escalade. Now the national average price of gas is $3.43 per gallon, so as you can see the Escalade is $1.07 cheaper to operate than an electric car…. umm…….. hold on…… a land yacht V-8 costs less to operate than a two seat electric? No…. this simply can’t be….. the gubberment said 119 miles per unicorn tear….. they’re on MY side….….. you’re wrong… all of you are wrong….. electric is the future….. the jet engines of cars….NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Good luck prying anyone from their belief system, no matter the data or evidence to the contrary. If the Forest Service used jets, and this makes someone happy, then the Forest Service will eternally use jets and the Smokejumpers will be wearing electric underpants too. Nothing can avoid or abate these tumors once they have been whispered. I guess it is part of the human condition.

7:54 As soon as reasonably sure the man has left, the quicker you can land. 8:02 No terrain in excess of 8000 feet on that route, then have to go to 10,500 or 11,000 between Red Bluff and Reno, if you have to go that far. 8:05 Cooper on intercom said everything is OK. 8:06 Medford, OR is best choice short of Reno and Reno may become a bit tight. Where did McCoy’s plane land? SLC, the closest airport to where he jumped. LaPoint? Denver, the closest city to his jump. Heady? Reno, the closest to his jump point and also the departure airport. McNally? Landed in Chicago, but Indianapolis was slightly closer to the bailout point. Those four planes also closed their aft stairs before landing. I’m not seeing much certainty from the crew of 305 thinking Cooper was gone. Plus the transcripts betray an expectation that Cooper would have been out of the plane relatively early with the suggestion of landing sooner, and at Medford. I do realize how case studies are despised and intrude on perfectly good conspiracies and skullduggery. What’s the source for anything contrary?

Smokin99 recalls and reminds with: “About the only thing you left off was that funky fruit salad thing that always showed up - sometimes in a mold, sometimes just a can of fruit cocktail in some whipped creme. I don't recall ever seeing that particular dish outside of Thanksgiving and family reunions.” How could I have forgotten that culinary miracle from the past? And why doesn’t something all of us know about have a name? Would you pass the…… (What did we say?). I don’t even recall asking for the stuff, but it most certainly was on my plate at every Thanksgiving. How could this much time have gone by, and I’ve never pondered the mystery side-dish which made a predictable appearance every November and December? The version I was subjected to was a ‘fusion’ of a Waldorf salad, Christmas fruit salad and frozen salad. I don’t even remember who made the thing, and perhaps it did not originate from terrestrial means. Walnuts, grapes and little marshmallows were but a sample of the aggregate which was bonded with what I recall as, ooze-y Twinkie filling. One summer we had a family get together at a county park. For some reason, it was decided who would make certain items with the addition of a ‘fun potluck’, side-dish, which would be a ‘surprise’. So the grills were stocked with charcoal which was fanned to the perfect amount of heat with hamburgers, hot dogs and chicken as main courses. The picnic tables were covered with that red checked fabric or gingham, because we were classy. The metal Coleman coolers were filled with sodas and homemade ice from quart milk cartons (to save money, I know). Who’s the victim here? Well, would you believe that out of our entire tribe of closeted Martha Stewarts and Paula Deens, the surprise side dish, save one, was Deviled eggs? I mean hundreds and hundreds of Deviled eggs, on multicolored platters, absolutely covering an entire picnic table, from stem to stern. It looked so good on paper adding some danger and excitement to a summer picnic. I remember people walking by the table and doing triple takes and pointing. Some I believe even scooped up their children to give them a better look at our embryonic masterpiece, or to protect them from the degenerates who would collectively commit such an act. If you ever planned on advertising who inspired the ‘Addams Family’, I can’t think of a better beacon than, 32 square feet of blaze yellow filled egg halves, lovingly placed on a fire engine red table cloth. As was the fashion at the time, we acted like it was normal and put our best face forward. The kids were encouraged to ‘hurry up’ and consume a platter to make room for the single non-Deviled egg item which was a 12 quart pot of pork and beans. To this day, I’m still not sure how this could have been viewed as a good idea or a way to attenuate the freakish nature of an egg covered, public table. In any event, we were doing normal person in the park things when a ranger comes over and says hello. It was just a nice person being nice and he walked away. But that’s not what the adults thought. “Do you think he noticed the eggs?” was asked as if we had just committed some crime other than being felony dorks. “I don’t think so, he didn’t say anything” was the whistling passed the graveyard response. Now how anyone could miss our piece of edible folk art is a mystery to me, but the elders felt as if they had pulled off the perfect crime and swore everyone to eternal secrecy. An oath, which I have clearly and repeatedly violated. Between the Beatles ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ album and John Waters’ ‘Pink Flamingos’, I have to wonder if we weren’t the only people to have experienced some bizarre egg-centric trauma. Considering how eternally cool and wealthy everyone else is, I suppose I’ll never find out. Coo-coo-key- choo; Babs, Babs.

Nothing like Thanksgiving in America. Well, I suppose Canada celebrates it too, but as Americans we assume the rest of the planet is doing the exact same thing, because we are the center of the universe. We’ve got the hubris to name something the ‘World Series’ even though it only includes the USA and its Fifty-First State. So why not do the same with Thanksgiving? There must be something in our DNA which has secretly evolved over the years which is a Thanksgiving marker. I’ve talked with people from places across the nation, and was shocked to discover what similar activities were practiced, when we have differing dialects, religions, and climates. For many years, I was convinced that certain foods were federally regulated and only allowed to be consumed on Thanksgiving. Enter the ‘garnish plate’. This oblong delight was pulled out of the ‘good china’ cabinet for two days a year. It was specifically designed to hold those wonders like olives, carrot sticks, celery filled with some orangey cheese and random pimento pieces, radishes, red, yellow and green bell peppers and broccoli. Now admit it, you’ve got one too. Here’s where the Thanksgiving DNA kicks in. For some reason, kids were compelled to put the olives on their fingertips in order to make eating them more of a fashion statement. Of course we would try to outdo one another by increasing the number of olives our hands could hold, while adding a radish as a sort of red monocle. This would continue until someone had some assistance being outfitted with ten olives on their fingers, and two radish eyes, which would have everyone doing that adult attracting giggling, which ended in some light corporal punishment, and a speech about children in China starving. Meanwhile our kitchen was a cacophony of lids clanking, oven door springs moaning, the clink of the Coldspot’s latch, and the rhythmic hiss of a long abandoned appliance called a pressure cooker. The women were locked in a silent battle of demonstrating how they are superior cooks, while pretending that they do this every day. The men would tend the fire, talk about the virtues of multi weight motor oil and begin to drink. I would reflect on how the way I ate olives and radishes would somehow satisfy some Chinese kid. Time for dinner! Now things went into a hyper-speed form of surreal machinations which were repeated at each and every gathering without fail or exception. Among the first to appear at the table, which was extended with a couple leafs, and a great amount of effort by my father, and even more supervision by my mother, was the cranberry sauce. Yep, we called it sauce even though it was more of a gelatin in mauve. So little effort was put into this particular deception, that it sill maintained its original cylindrical form, and the concentric rings of ribs, stamped into the can to maintain structural integrity. There was a spoon next to this food item which appeared to be packed in an invisible can, because we were classy. The table would fill with more and more until it was time to begin eating. This would kick off with some banter about how it all looks so good and how us kids need to appreciate how hard our mothers worked and how lucky we were. Thanks mom! We would chant while handing around the bowls, plates and invisibly canned berries. Then just before that first bite was about to be enjoyed….. We forgot to say grace! Someone would announce. Well that would be in alignment with the preceding ten months, but this was about appearances so we tacitly played along. Now we could officially eat. Time to chow down before Act II of the Thanksgiving dinner theatre, and without fail my aunt would ask…. “Is there sage in the stuffing?” To which my mother would anticipate and fail with “yes, but only a little”. Then my aunt would say “well there’s too much”. Then the air would fill with buzzes and clicks, which I would later appreciate as a sign, that I was becoming a man, because I don’t recall what those two women went on about for the next five or ten minutes. Here we all are eating and either enjoying the splendor that is sage in the dressing or avoiding the dish as offensive. Everyone consumed the stuffing like it was the last thing to eat on Earth, including my aunt. But just before the irony had time to penetrate, my mother would gasp, drop her fork on the plate, and in a whispered shout say, ‘THE ROLLS!’ It was at that precise moment that a plume of visible smoke began to leak out of the oven. My mother would remove a tray of jet black, Parker House rolls, and set them on the counter. Ahhh, the burnt offering to the gods is now complete. This happened every year, e-v-e-r-y year. We had enough food for Job and the incineration of some bread product was inconsequential. Cuz next is dessert. Now this part of the meal was virtually infallible for the simple reason it was prepared a day earlier and away from scrutiny. This included some true works of art like the standard pumpkin from our field, lemon meringue, Honey almond (pronounced – Ahh-mund the ‘L’ is silent, look it up bitches) from our apiaries and trees, Pecan (pronounced PEE-CAN because we are white trash), and my personal nemesis -Rhubarb from the boiling pits of hell. Every year my grandmother would bake a rhubarb pie. She would also give us candy in the form of horehound drops. Those were some tough as nails people who could call rhubarb and horehound a treat. Oh, don’t know what they are? Count yourself as lucky since there’s a reason the grocery shelves aren’t stocked with these delights. First is the horehound, which has a name which should serve as a warning and tastes just as you are imagining right now. Next is rhubarb, which has been described as tasting like strawberries. I don’t know who started that cruel rumor, but it would be more accurate to say rhubarb tastes like it came out of a horehound. But this is why God gave man fire. Us kids would thank grandma for the horehound, and stroll over to the fireplace and toss it into the crackling flames, from whence it was spawned. We also discovered that rhubarb would be consumed by the very same flames, when discreetly delivered with an adroitly handled fork. For each plate with pumpkin and pecan, also had to have a ‘sliver’ of grandma’s rhubarb pie. Fond memories to be sure. Now that the meal was over, there was the energy sapping wrestling matches in the living room, where the younger of the clan would have their wrists clasped by a much older sibling or cousin, and be scolded to “Stop hitting yourself”, “Why are you hitting yourself?” Which by law must continue, until someone is caught by an adult, or tears begin to stream down the face of the recipient. I realize there is nothing notable about my Thanksgivings or the conduct of family behind the veneer of normalcy, but it feels good to recall the Norman Rockwellian Thanksgivings from the past, and share those magic moments. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fPiEdVnV8lM .

OK, so where does one start with this tale? His name was Byrd and he fell out of an airplane? Really?? The tomato pickers thought it was a ‘mailbag’ being dropped from a mail plane, because that’s what mail planes do, they just heave those bags out the door when they get close enough. Really?? This was from a Grumman Goose which has the capacity for five PAX and they didn’t notice one missing? Really?? Not only didn’t they notice him missing, they didn’t notice him opening a hatch, to work on a failed antenna, which was diagnosed as the problem because… I got nothing here. It was difficult to determine if he was Navy or Coast Guard because the impact of the fall rendered him naked, and they had to resort to his ID tags. Really?? The remaining crew and PAX were unaware and or unconcerned with the open hatch and associated noise? I could see this happening in a PBY where there was that funky tunnel, to the wing where a guy could get lost, or one of those Martin flying boats which were designed to be large, and make children cry. God all mighty, but those had to be the ugliest aircraft the US ever produced. Part of the blame should go to the Navy. Every time the Air Force would approve a beautiful airframe, some squid would request some ‘piggyback’ modifications so it would make Medusa look like a prom queen. (PBM-5, A6-E, A-4, E-2, C-2A, P5M-2G, SP-2H, Shaved Chihuahua Nut Sack). I fully realize that a ‘Shaved Chihuahua Nut Sack’ is not an aircraft in the Navy. But I felt I had to add something to that list of abominations, that wouldn’t be offensive, and have some chance of performing aerodynamically. I guess if I had to pick a branch of the service which would consider using personnel for the purposes of tomato field bombardment, I would have to go with the Navy or Coast Guard. Now the story actually makes sense after thinking about it, and reading it on the DBC thread. Thanks 377.