Constitutionalist, conservationist, eternal skeptic & turning into my Dad (and proud of it). Former Tomcat driver, current curmudgeon.

Joined April 2013
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I can remember like it was yesterday the first time I climbed on top of a Tomcat to preflight my first flight in the jet (VF-124, Miramar, 1990). I had just passed my final FAM (familiarization) simulator where the instructor is another pilot who signs off on me being able to fly the jet and THEN has to put his money where his mouth is and ride in the back seat. Bear in mind there was never a "T" (trainer) model of the Tomcat. Two seats, one stick, so the GIB (Guy in Back) has no way to control the airplane. Some instructors were VERY reluctant to do these "trunk rides", one guy to the point that during your final check simulator he'd give you an unrecoverable emergency on takeoff (split flap one way, stuck spoilers on the other side) and you'd simulated "augur in " just past the runway, he'd give you a "pink sheet" (a downing flight/bad grades). Naturally, I got that guy. So "Jethro" did the above to me and I was pretty upset since my performance had been really good up until that point. And this was a big deal; two "pinks" and you were gone. So I go back to the squadron to tell the Ops O ("Flex") to give him my pink sheet, ready to get savaged. I walk into Ops and get his attention, handing him the pink sheet (it was the pink page of a carbon copy stack, so actually pink). He looks at it, sees it's signed by "Jethro", crumples it up and throws it in the shit can saying ("Ffffff.........Jethro."). I was rescheduled for the next day with "Stainless", passed the check simulator and was on the schedule the next day for my first flight. Nervous as hell but ready, the big idea for this flight is to man the jet up, get it started, get through all the post start checks (a legendarily daunting task....takes an hour your first time), get the beast airborne, do some maneuvers, come back for some touch and goes, and in general just don't fuck it up. Good plan. So Stainless and I climb on top of the jet (for my first time) and says "This is why it's called the flying tennis court." The view was spectacular! This thing was HUGE compared to my last jet (T-A4J Skyhawk; length 40 feet, wingspan 27 feet and a wing area of 260 square feet). The Tomcat is 62 feet long, a max spread wingspan of 64 feet, and a wing area of 565 feet (in addition to the massive fuselage). A veritable MONSTER in comparison. We'd learn a little later in the RAG how formidable that little A-4 could be in the hands of those (f**king) bogey drivers! And little did I know at the time, but I'd eventually be a RAG instructor myself, doing the very same "trunk rides". They were actually kind of fun, really. You got a chance to play with all that RIO shit, and the young pilots generally knew what they were doing by that point. And anyway, if it all went to shit I could always pull the "give-it-back-to-the-taxpayer handle". I really valued my opportunity to show a young pilot his or her first view of "the flying tennis court." #TomcatTuesday
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My brother in law is a Priest and he often brings visiting Priest buddies over for dinner. A few years ago, after a dinner with a Priest from New Jersey and over a few bourbons and cigars on our backyard deck, he began to explain to me how my former military salary, retirement pay, disability pay, and medical benefits were “basically welfare, a government handout.” To my face. In my house. After eating my food. While drinking my bourbon. And smoking my cigars. Fortunately Laurie heard the ensuing commotion and a very loud voice (mine) excoriating said Priest with several well-chosen epithets and guidance to perform a sexual act on himself, and managed to stop me from throwing the little pipsqueak bodily off the deck. My BIL interceded as well. Good thing, too. So yes, even educated professionals can be absolute dipshits in their understanding of military service.
You just figured out that the military is paid for by taxes? Genius.
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Last bag (28!) and sails to go. Home stretch!
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I didn’t experience it much because we don’t spend much time in Clear Air Turbulence (CAT) as it’s normally very high up. It can be quite a doozy though. Most Fighters have a designed “Thunderstorm Penetration Speed” that will prevent an over stress (too many Gs). The Tomcat was 300 knots I think. Faster than that and CAT could break the jet.
Replying to @RSE_VB
@RSE_VB question if I may as I am currently flying back from SF and it is a little bumpy. What is turbulence like in a fighter?
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This is called “Lemonade Stand Economic Theory.”
in nature if a monkey hoarded 1 trillion bananas the other monkeys would beat that monkey to death and take his bananas
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The only response appropriate during the first pitch meeting for this monstrosity is two sentences: “You’ve gotta be f*cking kidding me. Pack your shit, you’re fired.”
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“…we’ll be sharing more about the initial design concept and meaning…” It shouldn’t have to be explained, @GWOTMF. It should visually and obviously showcase the sacrifice of the fallen, the enduring pain of the wounded, the pain of the mentally and ethically damaged, and the service of those who served. Your design does none of that. Not even a little bit, no matter what you “share.” Get this right, @GWOTMF. America deserves it.
I’m a Desert Storm veteran. My experience was entirely different from those who fought America’s longest war. I have been in awe of them for the last quarter century. I fully support them and their opposition to this design. It’s time they be listen to.
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*Shots fired.
Show me a more useless piece of military gear...
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Very true. Civilian flying is about strict compliance. Military flying is about compliance with IFR/VFR flight rules with an option to (safely) deviate. Hence the call when lifting off from NAS Oceana to Whiteman Air Force base on a cross country: “Request VFR direct Whiteman.” 😎
Replying to @RSE_VB
I gave this same advice. Military flying is psychologically way more intense than casual civilian flying ever will be, and UPT is no exception. I showed up knowing very little about flying beyond what I learned in the 25 hours in the ROTC flight program.
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I thought building the life boats was the coolest part, then Bag 26 (of 28) hit and I started building out the masts. Just look at this thing!!! Work of art, @LEGO_Group. Work of art!
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Genius.

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To a point. But not much. Too many civilian hours can actually be a negative. Navy flight training teaches you everything you need to know. “Just bring a toothbrush”, I’ve always said. Recently the Navy created Naval Introductory Flight Evaluation (NIFE). It replaces the old Aviation Preflight Indoctrination (API) and adds actual Cessna 172 time. This was done to determine flight aptitude early to screen out those that just aren’t good at it or don’t like flying. So some 172 time before that would help in that 8 week phase. Overall though, too much civilian flying will actually hurt you later. If one has too much civilian flight time, your brain gets trained to think at 150 knots. Simple as that. Some can overcome it, some can’t. 2.5 miles per minute is vastly different than 5, 6, or 8 miles a minute, let alone a thousand knots of closure. I saw 2 guys wash out of jet training because they just couldn’t adjust their mind or reaction times. They were literally “behind the jet” mentally and could never overcome it.
Replying to @RSE_VB
Hypothetically what if by age 18 you had a private pilot license and 100 hours? Does that factor in?
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Looks like “take your kid to work” day.
WATCH: U.S Air Force Thunderbirds and U.S. Navy Blue Angels practice a flyover this morning before the UFC Freedom 250 event this weekend at The White House. Video: danaiiiwhite
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(From my days) Tell a Two Word Horror Story “S-3 draft.”
Replying to @thestinkeye @RSE_VB
There was horrifying story when I was in flight school about an entire class drafted into E2/C2.
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There comes a time during repairing something (home, car, etc.) that instructions, finesse, and cajoling aren't working. Now you have to resort to brute force (hammer, torch, explosives, etc.). The thinking is usually that "Well, it's already broken so it ain't gonna get more broken-er if I apply 40,000 Newtons."
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With the current talk of watches on my thread, a Fighter story comes to mind. The story is out of NAS Oceana. I wasn't here for it, but it goes like this: RIO had a neat watch that had some kind of integrated emergency locator beacon you could activate by pulling a certain pin on it. The idea was that if he got shot down, he could activate it to assist in his recovery. Apparently he was very proud of it. And it turns out he actually needed to use it. Because he got lost in First Landing State Park. Here in Virginia Beach.
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Young ladies ( the decent ones), read and heed.
Je juge quelqu'un à une seule chose : comment il traite les gens qui ne peuvent rien lui apporter. Pas comment il me parle. Comment il parle au serveur. À sa femme de ménage. Au stagiaire qui ne décidera jamais rien pour lui. C'est un détecteur infaillible. Quelqu'un de charmant avec toi mais méprisant avec "ceux d'en dessous" ne te montre pas deux visages. Il t'en montre un seul : le vrai. Le charme, c'est l'investissement. Le mépris, c'est la nature. La politesse envers les puissants est une stratégie. La politesse envers les faibles est une éducation. Et ça ne s'achète pas, ça ne se simule pas longtemps, ça ne se rattrape pas à 40 ans. Si le mec est adorable avec toi mais traite sa femme de ménage comme un meuble, tu sais tout ce qu'il y a à savoir : le jour où tu ne lui serviras plus à rien, tu deviendras le meuble. Entoure-toi de gens qui disent merci au livreur.
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Love these.
USA. A supermarket. I went to buy one bottle of the white sauce this nation pours on everything. I found a WALL. Ranch. Spicy ranch. Chipotle ranch. Avocado ranch. Bacon ranch. LIGHT ranch, for the disciplined. There was a ranch labeled "secret recipe" that printed its ingredients on the back, which is not how secrets work, and I respect the audacity. In Japan, a sauce knows its place. One dish, one purpose, centuries of refinement. Here I stood before forty bottles of the same white dynasty, each claiming the bloodline. I asked a passing employee: which is the true heir? He looked at the wall. He looked at me. "It's all just ranch, dude." It is NOT all just ranch. That is exactly what a branch family would say. I bought the original. The founding house. One honors the main line — this is not negotiable. I also bought the chipotle. We meet at lunch. Privately. The original does not know. A man may serve one lord and still admire the ambition of the younger branch. This is recorded in many histories, and I will not be judged by a nation with forty sauces in its door. At the register, the cashier saw my two bottles and said the most American sentence I have yet heard: "Smart. You got your everyday ranch and your fancy ranch." EVERYDAY RANCH AND FANCY RANCH. She understood the entire feudal structure instantly. This country runs deeper than it pretends. A man does not betray the main house in daylight. Lunch is at noon, with the curtains drawn. A man does not ask the dynasty to be one bottle. He only becomes loyal to more of them. So tell me, America, and be honest with me: how many ranches live in your door right now? Count them. Then tell me again who the samurai is.
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Gosh DAMN this a fun build!
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That Communism is counter to human nature is axiomatic. Some (many now?) in the West choose to deny that or ignore it in favor of a perceived world of equity (free stuff). I’ve known this for my entire life, just couldn’t explain it this way!
Pavel a raison. Et il est presque trop généreux. Le marxisme n'est pas une bonne théorie pour la mauvaise espèce. C'est une erreur de spécification. Il a été écrit pour une espèce qui n'a jamais existé, n'existera jamais, et ne peut pas exister. La preuve tient en trois observations que chacun peut vérifier sans ouvrir un seul livre. Première observation : l'humain est égoïste par défaut. Personne n'apprend à un enfant à dire « à moi ». On doit lui apprendre à partager. L'égoïsme est le firmware, le partage est un logiciel installé par-dessus, lentement, par l'éducation, la réciprocité et la confiance. Tout système qui exige l'altruisme comme condition de base ne combat pas une culture. Il combat le firmware. Et le firmware gagne toujours, parce que le firmware ne se fatigue jamais. Deuxième observation : l'humain est corruptible. Donnez à un homme le pouvoir absolu sur le grain, et il mangera en premier. Pas parce qu'il est russe, chinois, cubain ou cambodgien. Parce qu'il est humain. L'expérience a été menée dans quarante pays, à travers toutes les cultures, tous les climats, tous les siècles disponibles. Le résultat a été identique quarante fois : une nomenklatura apparaît, les privilèges se concentrent, la société des égaux produit le système de castes le plus rigide de son époque. Quand une expérience renvoie le même résultat quarante fois, ce n'est pas de la malchance. C'est une loi. Troisième observation : l'humain veut posséder, consommer, s'élever. Le désir n'obéit pas aux décrets. Abolissez la propriété et le désir ne disparaît pas. Il migre vers la seule monnaie restante : le pouvoir politique, le rang dans le parti, la proximité avec le chef. C'est pour ça que les régimes égalitaires produisent les hiérarchies les plus brutales de l'Histoire. On ne peut pas supprimer la compétition pour le statut. On peut seulement choisir sa monnaie : l'argent, ou le pouvoir sur les autres hommes. L'une des deux est convertible en pain. L'autre est convertible en camps. Le capitalisme n'est pas le contraire du communisme. C'est la décision d'ingénierie inverse. Le communisme a vu la nature humaine comme un bug et a tenté de la patcher par la terreur. Le capitalisme a vu la nature humaine comme une contrainte et a construit autour. Le boulanger ne vous nourrit pas par amour. Il vous nourrit par intérêt, et le miracle, c'est que ça fonctionne chaque matin, dans chaque ville du monde, sans un seul commissaire. L'égoïsme routé par l'échange volontaire devient un service. Le même égoïsme routé par un plan central devient une famine. Ce n'est pas un jugement moral. C'est une contrainte d'ingénierie. On ne négocie pas avec la gravité, on construit des avions qui en tiennent compte. Alors oui, les marxistes ont les bonnes idées pour la mauvaise espèce. Mais il n'existe pas de bonne espèce. Une espèce de clones identiques, sans ambition, ne construirait rien, ne voudrait rien, n'inventerait rien. Les défauts que le marxisme voulait abolir sont le moteur de tout ce que nous avons. La leçon est simple. Ne concevez pas des systèmes pour les humains que vous rêvez d'avoir. Concevez-les pour les humains qui se présentent. Les civilisations qui l'ont compris ont construit le monde moderne. Celles qui ne l'ont pas compris sont une liste de mémoriaux. Construisez avec la nature humaine, jamais contre elle. C'est le seul cofondateur qu'on ne peut pas virer.
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