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Today's second go belonged to the Bold Tigers.

in shock. Arrived out here the day he went down. We went through ROTC at Auburn together and his wife was there with us too. I can't think of a finer officer/ friend/ husband/ aviator. There was a moving retreat/ memorial cermony tonight in Dee's honor. Please help spread the word about the fund around.

Holy shit. How much do YOU know about the aircraft? You know any of the pilots? You know any of the guys working the program? Do you know anything beyond a Secret *proposed* capes brief, built by the blue kool aid brigade or Lockheed? If you knew anything real about this airplane, the program, the problems with it, etc, you would be shutting the fuck up right now.

Dude, WTF? You just used the term "laser focus" of your own free will? Back on topic... 1) Best job anyone could realistically hope to have (exceptions such as porn star, rock star, trust fund baby, lottery winner, etc apply) IMHO. I could write volumes about all the awesome stuff I have been able, and continue, to do (and I'm "only" a tanker guy, mind you) that it would boggle your mind. 2) Notice I said "best JOB" above. It's still a job. Like any job, there are less desirable aspects to military flying but in my opinion they are vastly outweighed by the good aspects. Try to dodge as much BS as possible, minimize queep, focus on the mission, and never forget...you are living the "good old days" right now.

Supermassive tornado five times the size of Earth. Height ~100,000km. Earth's diameter is ~12,750km. Let us see Helen Hunt and Bill Paxton drive a truck into that.

I thought it was funny that the article in question was added in 2004 and not discovered until 2012. So 1 person every 8 years reads the actual coursework, apparently. That checks.

Remember, we're talking about the same "leadership" that decided that the same folks they trusted with multi-million/billion $$ national assets, strategic intel, nuke secrets, and dozens of other things that require the utmost integrity as a part of their daily routine, could no longer be trusted to count pushups and situps...

douche (doosh) n. Someone who gives a shit about the difference between balogna and baloney.

OLD FIGHTER PILOT A ragged, old, derelict shuffled into a down and dirty bar. Stinking of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands shook as he took the "Piano Player Wanted" sign from the window and handed it to the bartender. "I'd like to apply for the job," he said. "I was an F-4E driver, flying out of Udorn back in ' Nam , but when they retired the Phantom all the thrill was gone, and soon they cashed me in as well. I learned to play the piano at AUSSIE-Club happy hours, so here I am." The barkeep wasn't too sure about this doubtful looking old guy, but it had been quite a while since he had a piano player and business was falling off.. So, why not give him a try. The seedy pilot staggered his way over to the piano while several patrons snickered. By the time he was into his third bar of music, every voice was silenced. What followed was a rhapsody of soaring music unlike anything heard in the bar before. When he finished there wasn't a dry eye in the place. The bartender took the old fighter pilot a beer and asked him the name of the song he had just played? It's called "Drop your Skivvies, Baby, I'm Going Balls To The Wall For You" he said. After a long pull from the beer, leaving it empty, he said "I wrote it myself." The bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the piano player just went on into a knee-slapping, hand-clapping bit of ragti me that had the place jumping. After he finished, the fighter pilot acknowledged the applause, downed a second proffered mug, and told the crowd the song was called, "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner Light." He then launched into another mesmerizing song and everyone in the room was enthralled. He announced that it was the latest rendition of his song, "Spread 'em Baby, It's Foggy Out Tonight and I Need To See The Centerline", excused himself and headed for the john. When he came out the bartender went over to him and said, "Hey fly boy, the job is yours, but do you know your fly is open and your pecker is hanging out. "Know it?" the old fighter pilot replied, "Hell, I wrote it!"