Life is Hard. Wear a Helmet.

Life is Hard. Wear a Helmet

Virginia State Constitution: Article 1; Section 13
That a well regulated militia, composed of the body of the people, trained to arms, is the proper, natural, and safe defense of a free state, therefore, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed; that standing armies, in time of peace, should be avoided as dangerous to liberty; and that in all cases the military should be under strict subordination to, and governed by, the civil power.

Alabama State Constitution: Article 1: Section 26
That every Citizen has a right to bear arms in defense of himself and the State.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Monday, July 21, 2014

Pickled Eggs PSA

The pickle recipe doesn't work on eggs.

Nope. No way.


Sunday, July 20, 2014

Sunday morning sleep-in #95

War Stories

Odie posted a picture for me that kicked something loose...

I had climbed up into the cockpit 
and got myself into the Navigator's seat, my favorite spot on these trips. The ignominy of being bitched at by a hungover navigator was worth a few minutes with a nice view out the front. To this day, I think the thing that bothers me the most about flying (aside from the groping) is not being able to see where I'm going.

I swiveled the seat and raised it for a good view, then plugged my Davey Clarks into the intercom system to listen in on tower comms. The pilot had left his Beretta on the Nav's table, so I unloaded it and began field stripping it for something to do.
The terrain below was jungle, broken occasionally by cane fields or rice paddies. It really was a pretty sight. The deep banking turn we made through that pass to drop down into that little picturesque valley for a landing took some of the pretty out of the picture. I had to scramble to keep all the pieces of the pilot's Beretta on the Nav table and not all over the floor of the cockpit.
A deep banking turn in a lumbering old C-141 Starlifter somehow makes picturesque mountains look more like gaping jaws of death waiting to rend your flesh in a fiery moment of hellish ecstasy. (OBTW, I started reading MHNemesis last night.)

Our highly-skilled and multi-talented pilot dropped the plane right on the end of the runway with hardly a bump, restoring some of our confidence in him; confidence that had slipped just a little bit when we all watched him dancing with an enormously fat woman on the pool deck wearing nothing but a Speedo and singing "This is Why I'm Hot" out loud. (Tell you what...I'll save that story for some other time.)

We took our time (and the whole runway) to roll out before swinging around onto the parallel taxiway and slowing to a stop.

Pilot - Wow...a ghost town. We did talk to someone in the tower, right?

Copilot - You were there...

Pilot - Put in ground freq...

Copilot - Let's just head for those buildings over there....Hey! What the fuck is that?

Pilot - Where?

SSgt B - Is that guy on a bicycle?

Copilot - It's a moped.

Pilot - A what? Where?

Copilot - Right there, sir. Pointing. He's on the taxiway and coming straight towards us.

Pilot - Hmmm...Where's my gun?

SSgt B - Um...right here, sir. Scrambling to put the pilot's Beretta back together again.

FE - Don't worry, sir. He's probably just got some nice watches he wants to sell us.

Pilot - Seriously. What the fuck? Have you got ground freq yet?

Copilot - Just a sec, sir. Fiddling knobs on his side console.

The little brown man on the moped then stops about 50 yards off the nose of the aircraft and puts on a vest with "FOLLOW ME" stenciled sloppily across the back in six inch letters. He looks back over his shoulder at us for a moment before putt-putting away down the taxiway...

Pilot - No. Fucking. Way.

FE - Yeehaw! I knew this was going to be a great stop...Hurry, sir! Don't lose that guy on the moped!

Copilot - giggling I hope the CVR got that.

FE - I mean it...we gotta talk to that guy.

SSgt B - You interested in a new Rolex?

FE - Listen to the voice of experience, son. Any place you have to chase a moped to your parking spot is going to have the best bars you've ever seen...and the moped kid knows where they all are.

Pilot - I'm on him...he's not getting away.

FE - Bars where you have to be dressed.....sir.

Copilot - Don't worry. I flushed the Speedo before we left Pattaya.

Pilot - You what?



Saturday, July 19, 2014

Saturday Morning Coffee #115

The Gaza Fiasco

I was listening to the BBC broadcaster yesterday reporting on the plight of the oppressed and downtrodden Palestinians as they fled their homes during the vicious ground assault by the Israeli army. The poor woman was obviously fighting back tears as she told of the crowds of women and children flooding into the refugee camps.


Today we read about missiles found hidden in a school run by....wait for it....

The United Nations...
(The UNRWA has called this a "flagrant violation" and promises to "investigate")

There's one sure-fire way the Palestinians can stop Israel from stomping on their shit on a monthly basis.

Gone all week, and I've come home to a Honeydew list a mile long.

Thursday, July 17, 2014


Wait for it...


Domino's pizza for dinner in the comfort of my air-conditioned hotel room

and I ate the chocolate lava cakes.

Both of them.


I'm sure Florida is a great place if you're lying on the beach or touring Disney world.

Not so great when you're working your ass off.

and they don't let you shoot the alligators.