There's no room for common sense here

The following statement was made by a fella who isn't even an American citizen. He can clearly be considered an innocent bystander in the game of US politics.

"We in Holland cannot figure out why you are even bothering to hold an election. On one side, you have a bitch who is a lawyer married to a lawyer, and a lawyer who is married to a bitch who is a lawyer. On the other side, you have a true war hero married to a woman with huge tits and owns a beer distributorship. Is there a contest here?"

Interesting perspective. Can you answer the question?

It was George the Mailman's last day on the job after 35 years of carrying the mail through all kinds of weather to the same neighborhood. When he arrived at the first house on his route, he was greeted by the whole family who congratulated him and sent him on his way with a tidy gift envelope.

At the second house, they presented him with a box of fine cigars. The folks at the third house handed him a selection of terrific fishing lures.

At the fourth house, he was met at the door by a strikingly beautiful woman in a revealing negligee. She took him by the hand, gently led him through the door, which she closed behind him, and took him up the stairs to the bedroom where she blew his mind with the most passionate love he had ever experienced.

When he had enough, they went downstairs and she fixed him a giant breakfast: eggs, potatoes, ham, sausage, blueberry waffles, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. When he was truly satisfied, she poured him a cup of steaming coffee. As she was pouring, he noticed a dollar bill sticking out from under the cup's bottom edge. "All this was just too wonderful for words," he said, "But what's the dollar for?"

"Well," she said, "Last night, I told my husband that today would be your last day, and that we should do something special for you. I asked him what to give you. He said, 'Fuck him. Give him a dollar.' The breakfast was my idea."

Some people have too much time on their hands

The above link is to a video that Star Wars fans might find interesting. For those of you who don't know, George Lucas allegedly got his idea of flying in the Death Star trench to hit a difficultly small target from the movie 633 Squadron and the real-life events of the Dambusters. Somebody with too much time on his hands decided to take the attack scene from the Dambusters movie and tie it in with the voice and effects tracks of Episode IV.

In light of the current season, it is time for a classic:

The IRS decides to audit Ralph, and summons him to the IRS office. The IRS auditor is not surprised when Ralph shows up with his attorney.

The auditor says, "Well, sir, you have an extravagant lifestyle and no full-time employment, which you explain by saying that you win money gambling. I'm not sure the IRS finds that believable."

"I'm a great gambler, and I can prove it," says Ralph. "How about a demonstration?"

The auditor thinks for a moment and said, "Okay. Go ahead."

Ralph says, "I'll bet you a thousand dollars that I can bite my own eye."

The auditor thinks a moment and says, "No way! It's a bet." Ralph removes his glass eye and bites it.

The auditor's jaw drops. Ralph says, "Now, I' ll bet you two thousand dollars that I can bite my other eye." The auditor can tell Ralph isn't blind, so he takes the bet.

Ralph removes his dentures and bites his good eye.

The stunned auditor now realizes he has wagered and lost three grand, with Ralph's attorney as a witness. He starts to get nervous.

"Want to go double or nothing?" Ralph asks. "I'll bet you six thousand dollars that I can stand on one side of your desk, and pee into that wastebasket on the other side, and never get a drop anywhere in between."

The auditor, twice burned, is cautious now, but he looks carefully and decides there's no way this guy can manage that stunt, so he agrees again.

Ralph stands beside the desk and unzips his pants, but although he strains mightily, he can't make the stream reach the wastebasket on other side, so he pretty much urinates all over the desk.

The auditor leaps with joy, realizing that he has just turned a major loss into a huge win. But Ralph's attorney moans and puts his head in his hands.

"Are you okay?" the auditor asks.

"Not really," says the attorney. "This morning, when Ralph told me he'd been summoned for an audit, he bet me twenty thousand dollars that he could come in here and pee all over an IRS officials desk and that you'd be happy about it."

Ruffled feathers

Last Saturday, my weekend got ruined when I was notified at 11 a.m. Friday morning that I had to work Saturday afternoon and evening due to a visit by William Jefferson "Slick Willy" Clinton. We had our briefing, and the command officer mentioned that there was no designated VIP parking. Ha! I immediately saw my opportunity to make the night worthwhile. I intentionally stood at a location so that I was the first person the public would meet when they pulled into the parking lot. Why? Imagine the pleasure felt when a county commissioner pulled up with his wife, stops next to me, rolls down his window, and asks, "Where's the VIP parking?" To which I respond, "Supposed VIP's park in the same location as the general public." I got to say this to two county commissioners, three city councilmembers, a district court judge, a superior court judge, and various other people high on the socio-economic ladder. What fun! But it got even better. These alleged VIP's then thought there was a VIP seating section inside the establishment. Surprise! They had to stand in line like everybody else. It was great.

Why was it great! Because all of these people who pulled up and asked about VIP parking feel some sort of entitlement, and they feel that they deserve more than the average person. The very concept of the Very Important Person is rediculous when it is metted out to the same select group of people, event after event.

Unless you have figured out how to get shit to magically vaporize, you wipe your ass the same way I do. VIP? Whatever.

Sometimes you just need a laugh

Click the above link. Enjoy.

True American Hero

Petty Officer Michael A. Monsoor, United States Navy, distinguished himself through conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty as a Combat Advisor and Automatic Weapons Gunner for Naval Special Warfare Task Group Arabian Peninsula in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom on 29 September 2006. He displayed great personal courage and exceptional bravery while conducting operations in enemy held territory at Ar Ramadi Iraq.

During Operation Kentucky Jumper, a combined Coalition battalion clearance and isolation operation in southern Ar Ramadi, he served as automatic weapons gunner in a combined SEAL and Iraqi Army (IA) sniper overwatch element positioned on a residential rooftop in a violent sector and historical stronghold for insurgents. In the morning, his team observed four enemy fighters armed with AK-47s reconnoitering from roads in the sector to conduct follow-on attacks. SEAL snipers from his roof engaged two of them which resulted in one enemy wounded in action and one enemy killed in action. A mutually supporting SEAL/IA position also killed an enemy fighter during the morning hours. After the engagements, the local populace blocked off the roads in the area with rocks to keep civilians away and to warn insurgents of the presence of his Coalition sniper element. Additionally, a nearby mosque called insurgents to arms to fight Coalition Forces.

In the early afternoon, enemy fighters attacked his position with automatic weapons fire from a moving vehicle. The SEALs fired back and stood their ground. Shortly thereafter, an enemy fighter shot a rocket-propelled grenade at his building. Though well-acquainted with enemy tactics in Ar Ramadi, and keenly aware that the enemy would continue to attack, the SEALs remained on the battlefield in order to carry out the mission of guarding the western flank of the main effort.

Due to expected enemy action, the officer in charge repositioned him with his automatic heavy machine gun in the direction of the enemy’s most likely avenue of approach. He placed him in a small, confined sniper hide-sight between two SEAL snipers on an outcropping of the roof, which allowed the three SEALs maximum coverage of the area. He was located closest to the egress route out of the sniper hide-sight watching for enemy activity through a tactical periscope over the parapet wall. While vigilantly watching for enemy activity, an enemy fighter hurled a hand grenade onto the roof from an unseen location. The grenade hit him in the chest and bounced onto the deck. He immediately leapt to his feet and yelled “grenade” to alert his teammates of impending danger, but they could not evacuate the sniper hide-sight in time to escape harm. Without hesitation and showing no regard for his own life, he threw himself onto the grenade, smothering it to protect his teammates who were lying in close proximity. The grenade detonated as he came down on top of it, mortally wounding him.

Petty Officer Monsoor’s actions could not have been more selfless or clearly intentional. Of the three SEALs on that rooftop corner, he had the only avenue of escape away from the blast, and if he had so chosen, he could have easily escaped. Instead, Monsoor chose to protect his comrades by the sacrifice of his own life. By his courageous and selfless actions, he saved the lives of his two fellow SEALs and he is the most deserving of the special recognition afforded by awarding the Medal of Honor.

Please click the link under the "American Hero" title of this entry.

My personal orchard

This is a photograph of the beautiful flowers that I had on my pear tree. As a new homeowner with a large chunk of land, I am trying to live out the dream I've always had of being able to go out in my own yard and picking fruit off my own trees. In the last month, I have planted a dwarf black tartarian cherry tree, three Nanking cherry trees, a persimmon tree, a Surecrop nectarine tree, two different fig trees, blueberry bushes, and two varieties of raspberries. These were added to my existing trees; two apple trees, a pear tree, a peach tree, and a plum tree. I also have a big crop of wild blackberry vines around the property.

As for these flowers, they have now fallen off, to be replaced by small pears. The tree has little pears all over it. The pears will be great, and so will all of the other fruits, but I really can't wait for my figs. I love fresh figs!

Never lose again.

Last night I was up late, after the rest of the family had fallen asleep, and I watched the Nicholas Cage/Jessica Biel movie "Next." I had heard about the movie a while ago, but I finally had a chance to watch it. The premise is very simple: Nicholas Cage plays a character who is capable of seeing 2 minutes into his future. As a result, he is able to fleece the Las Vegas casinos and avoid capture or death by various entities as the movie progresses. Can you imagine if you had that ability? A mere two minutes, you ask. What good is that? Well, the obvious use would be to go to Vegas and make a killing. Less obvious would be the fact that you probably would never be a loser in any endeavor in life that you attempted. See the hot girl? Your ability to see a mere two minutes into the future would let you know ahead of time if your words or actions will work. Remember Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, who used a trial and error system of failing on one day and taking a different route the next day to score with various women around town? Well, you would be able to do it in real time, and not have to wait until the next day. Imagine what kind of police officer you could be. You would never make a bad tactical decision. You would never be killed in the line of duty. Imagine being a soldier. Same thing. Imagine being a race car driver. Same thing. You would NEVER fail. Just imagine...

My Scooter Cat

This is my Scooter. Those that know me would probably be surprised to know that this is my little buddy. Scooter is a once-feral tabby who has more personality than most dogs.

How did Scooter become part of the family? I lived in a little trailer park when I met my wife. Shortly after my wife (then girlfriend) moved in, we started feeding a feral tabby female who would let me pet her but would not let me pick her up. I named that tabby Ally, a play on the words "Alley Cat" and the fact that at the time I enjoyed watching the TV show Ally McBeal. Ally was unusual in that she didn't meow. When she talked to you, she would let out some sort of half-grunt, half-squeak. As 1998 and 1999 progressed, the number of feral cats in the area began to grow, and at one point there was probably 20 cats roaming the park, and my wife was feeding them all. Well, Ally got pregnant and had some kittens in the summer of 1999. Ally's brood was probably about 2-3 months old when the landlord apparently got tired of all of the cats and made a sweeping eradication, including Ally. Well, one of the cats from Ally's brood was a male tabby who - unlike his siblings - would boldly walk up to the back steps and let you pet him. My wife and I came home one day and noticed there were no cats around. A day or two passed, and suddenly this male tabby was at our back door. My wife opened the back door, and this bold tabby walked into the house, walked to the cat food in the wash room (we had two indoor cats), grabbed a bite to eat, took a whizz in the catbox, and walked out of the house! I told the wife that if he did that again that we would keep him. Well, the next day he did the same thing, so we left him in the house. I started calling him Scooter. Unfortunately, a couple of days later Hurricane Floyd struck the area, and we had to put him out of the house because we were not going to be home for a couple of days, and my wife took the two other house cats with her. When we returned home, Scooter was waiting, and we brought him back in, and he has been a household fixture ever since. Scooter is a bit overweight, but he is very loving. He loves to roll around on the floor in front of you, he makes a chirping sound when he talks to you, and comes when you call him.

Scooter almost died last year. I believe that he had consumed some of that tainted food that had been imported from China, and his kidneys began to fail. We managed to nurse him back to health, but the poor little guy was miserable with the catheter in him and being confined in a cage.

I'm not a cat person, but if all cats were like Scooter, then I'd have many more.

Here is my little man with a lizard he found in our backyard. One of the coolest things about having a child is experiencing the wonderment and joy of seeing new things or exploring things of Nature. This little reptile suffered being incarcerated in a have-a-heart critter cage for a couple of hours before being let loose in the backyard to continue consuming those little buzzing bastards that annoy all of us.

Stay low!!!

Sorry. Haven't been able to post anything new lately. I've been dodging sniper fire (hee hee!).

Steroids in sports

There has been a lot of media attention concerning performance enhancing drugs in professional sports recently. Congress has apparently felt that all of the other major issues concerning America have been solved (war, gas prices, fuel sources, health care, etc) and decided to tie up resources with an investigation into steroids in baseball. There are people who show serious disdain over the use of steroids to increase performance in professional sports. I propose something else:


I propose that we have unlimited professional sports leagues. Imagine if there were no penalties for using performance enhancing drugs. Imagine how entertaining sports would be! Think about it; people running 100 meters in 8 seconds. Watching a defensive end rip the head off (literally!) a running back. Bone breaking tackles. 500-foot home run shots. 120MPH fastballs. Slam dunks from the top of the key. Entertainment! And we can pay them those millions they demand, because we know that they won't live long enough to collect all of the money. The taking of steroids is a conscious decision, so I wouldn't feel bad if the man with a batting average of .495 suddenly succumbed to a brain tumor, especially since I know there is another 'roid user ready to take his place. Let's see just how far we can push the human body.

Wait! There's more! I propose we also do unlimited NASCAR racing. There would be no limit to the amount of horsepower the cars generate. Restrictor plates would be a thing of the past. People say, "But there would be too many crashes. People would die." So, what!!! Think of the entertainment! How cool to see a car blasting around a track at 275MPH. How cool to watch cars crash at 275MPH! The gore! The pandemonium!

screw golfers

Two recent events in the area prompts me to comment. Recently, we had a man - a construction worker from out of town doing work on a new hotel being built - who was found murdered in his work vehicle on a dead-end residential street. Somebody put a bullet through his body and murdered him. Whether it was over drugs, a robbery, or a lovers' quarrel is irrelevant; sombody was murdered. A day or two later, somebody drove around the local country club in a golf cart and did damage to the greens, allegedly in the area of several thousand dollars. We have the Crimestoppers program here. If you are not familiar with it, it is a program in which people can report criminal happenings and get rewarded with cash, all while staying anonymous. Crimestoppers works. The biggest problem we have with our program is that it is being headed by a man who apparently holds himself in very high regard. Nobody really cares that he sat on the civilian panel that eventually hired the current chief of police!

Anyway, Crimestoppers put out a reward for information leading to the arrest of the person or persons who murdered the construction worker, and the reward was in the amount of $2500. A day or two later, Crimestoppers put another add in the local paper giving out a cash reward for information leading to the arrest of the person or persons responsible for damaging the country club's golf greens. The amount? $2500. Let that sink in for a minute: In my eyes, this tells me that the self-important individuals who have their hands in the Crimestoppers money feel that the mere damaging of golf greens and a human life are equal, and both warrant an equal cash value. Of course, the same person who heads the Crimestoppers is friends with all of the self-important types who golf at the country club, including council members, mayor, and others who are considered to be high ranking on the social-political scale.

I think the money holders who run the Crimestoppers owe us an explanation of how the murder of a human being and damaging some freakin' grass at the country club are equals!!

What an interesting day. I met Col. Danny McKnight (I demoted him one rank in my last post. Sorry, Colonel!). He is an excellent motivational speaker, and he also provided some interesting insight to the events surrounding the Battle of Mogadishu, aka Blackhawk Down. Needless to say, this was a day well spent.

Well, I have to keep this brief, since I am sitting behind a Holiday Inn and using their bandwidth to get this post out.

Signing off from Wilksboro, North Carolina...

The sidewalks are rolled up at 5:00

Well, here I am in downtown Spruce Pine, NC. I am here for a one-day seminar being given by LtCol. Danny McKnight at the Mayland Community College. If the name doesn't ring a bell, he is the leader of the lost convoy in the movie "Blackhawk Down." Spruce Pine is in the middle of nowhere in the North Carolina Mountains. Note the word "pine:" The town isn't big enough to have two trees to call it "Spruce Pines!" This picture is a photograph of the lower street of the downtown area. Most of the shops you see close between 5 and 5:30. To the left of the photo is about a 70 foot drop to a tributary of the French Broad River. I am staying in a place called the Pinebridge Inn. It is an old high school that has been coverted into a hotel. Needless to say, it is definitely different. We walked around the downtown area, cruised around, found the college, and ate dinner at a Western Sizzlin. The only minority I saw the whole time was me!

My new home project

I decided the other day that I would start a new project at home. I thought that I would take a picture of all of the different flowers that I would encounter on my property throughout the year. Unfortunately, my late start means that I missed out on a few flowers, but I know that there will be plenty more to follow. Here is an example of my project, taken with my simple, 7MP Samsung PHD (Push here, dummy!) digital camera.

A little something if you get bored:

http://ckjcwf.ytmnd.com/

When you get bored with that, try this:

http://picard.ytmnd.com/

As many of you know, I am a self-professed nerd, geek, and all-around Star Wars nut. Now, I don't dress up in the outfits, and I haven't actually purchased any memorabilia in quite a long time, but as long as George Lucas keeps pumping out Star Wars movies, I'll be there to see them!

There was a major letdown after seeing Episode III, knowing that the story had concluded, and there would be no more Star Wars movies. Then I heard rumblings... And rumors...

Imagine my excitement once I found out that this fall there is to be an animated Star Wars movie, set in the days of the Clone Wars between Episodes II and III, much like the Clone Wars animated series (which I have on DVD) from several years ago.

I'm beside myself with anticipation, and I know others are, as well.

May The Force Be With You.

Just don't call a spade a spade...

Geraldine Ferraro is on the hot seat for making the comment that if Obama wasn’t black he wouldn’t be garnering the votes that he is getting. Blacks immediately began to cry foul and said that what she said was racist. Is it really racist if it is true? In some locations, Obama is getting 97-98% of the black vote. He isn’t gathering all of those votes because of his platform! The Jesse Jacksons and Al Sharptons of the world would be pontificating their own racist viewpoints if he was a white person garnering the same percentage points in white voters. I am not a fan of Ferraro, but you cannot berate her for speaking the truth!

Oh, and some of you might wonder about the pharmacy/Radio Shack. That is exactly what it is: It is a small family pharmacy that has Radio Shack products along two aisles of the store. You've got to love rural living!

Well, now that I'm back with broadband Internet, I find myself in the interesting position of not knowing what I want to talk about. I have the opportunity to quickly type up something and post it, but I'm unusually at a loss for words.

I ran down to the local pharmacy/Radio Shack and picked up a super G router for 60 bucks. Yes, I know I can find a G router for a cheaper price, but that would involve either ordering it and waiting for a week for it to arrive, or burning gas at $3.15 per gallon to drive a 60 mile round trip to the nearest Wal-Mart. The little Netgear G router that I bought was a breeze to hook up, especially if you just follow the step by step directions on the instructional CD, and it is powerful enough to reach out to my shop behind the house. I ordered a USB dongle so I can do upgrades to my other desktops, plus I can plug into my little one's computer from time to time if he wants to do a little Internet surfing (naturally, I'm going to need something like Net Nanny).

Hey, what does the Easter Bunny hide his Easter eggs?

He doesn't want people to know he fucks chickens!

Well, it's about time!

I am now back in the world of broadband, and oh, how I missed it! The Time Warner contractors came out in the pouring rain and ran the line from across the street to my house, through the brick, under the flooring, and to my desktop all within an hour.

I tried to hook up my wireless B router in order to network in the other five computers that we have, and after an hour of frustration I found out that my old Linksys router is not compatible with Vista. So, I'll probably have to make a visit to a Wally World and find my a G or N router.

Did I say five other computers? Wow, I didn't realize that. My son has a compact Dell with an LCD monitor in his room. The wife and I both have laptops. I have an old Windows 2000 computer with a 17" CRT in my shop, and I have my old HP laptop that just would not let me reinstall Windows XP running on Ubuntu Linux. Oh, and I have my four or five year old Axim X30 handheld. My ultimate goal is to have my house completely networked, with Internet access in every room (except for the bathroom; that's what laptops are four).

Anyway, now that I have by cable Internet back, you can expect to see more frequent posts.

Cheers.

Well, as usual, Ernie has a unique perspective over the recent crash of a B-2 Spirit. This is excerpted from his website. The first part I know is true, because every government agency is the same. The second part is more compelling; imagine if it was you sitting in that airplane...(underlined areas are defunct links from Ernie's site).

By now everyone knows a B-2 Spirit bomber crashed in Guam over the weekend. This unfortunate event -- which is tantamount to the second coming of Christ at least in the military arena -- will probably be more thoroughly researched than the space shuttle crashes. The catch is no matter whose shoulders they ultimately pin the blame on, there is a laundry list of personnel who will suffer the fallout. It won't matter that they had nothing to do with what happened, or if they were on vacation two weeks before and two weeks after, or if they did their job perfectly. People are going to eat a lot of shit, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it.
First and foremost, will obviously be the pilots. Thankfully, both ejected safely so while their asses might be intact, their careers are certainly not. They, are going to be fucking fired. And it doesn't matter if the final investigation attributed the crash to mechanical failure, pilot error, or a UFO death ray. They're fucking fired, period. And I suppose I should explain what that means in the military world, since when you're fired, you're not actually sent off to the bread lines. When a military personnel is fired they're removed from whatever duties it was they're trained to do, and moved over to what will amount to be a meaningless job. They will be given a cubicle in some janitor's closet at the far end of base and will stay in this dead end career path until they serve their twenty years to retirement, or otherwise choose to bring their commission/enlistment an end. For a pilot to be fired means he will never see the inside of another cockpit for as long as they live. It doesn't matter if they graduated from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, and joined the Air Force ROTC and graduated top of their class, and have billions of dollars of training in their heads, and are the best damn pilot their instructs have ever seen. Whatever rank these pilots took off with that day, will be the rank they retire with. And when they get out of the military, commercial airlines won't touch them. Same thing goes for the wing and squadron commanders. The rule is simple: crash a billion dollar bomber: you get fucking fired. It's the human equivalent to Sherman's, scorched earth policy.
Yes, the Air Force is going to fucking fire everyone that even came near that plane prior to its crash. Crew Chief? Fucking fired. The guy who checked the tire pressure? Fucking fired. The squadron Safety Officer? Fucking fired. The airman who drove the golf cart that shuttled the pilots out to their plane? Fucking fired. The two guys repainting stripes at the end of the runway? Fucking fired. Air Traffic Controller? Fucking fired. The guys who fueled the plane? Fucking fired. The guy with the orange cones that who marshalled the plane out onto the taxiway? Fucking fired. The cashier at the coffee shop where the pilots grabbed a cup of java while driving to work? Fucking fired. Their mailman? Fucking fired. In fact, I bet if one of the pilot's wives is pregnant, federal agents will be dispatched to push her down a flight of stairs. Their kids will get beat up and expelled from school. There's just going to be no mercy. They would fire God if they could.
As I'm pretty sure the pilots were well aware of these consequences, I ask you to consider the following. Imaging you're an Air Force pilot. You control one of the single most expensive piece of equipment in your nation's entire arsenal. You have been trained, retrained, and re-retrained a dozen times over. You know your job forwards and backwards. You are a walking, talking encyclopedia of answers to any "what if..." scenario that has ever been dreamed of. You are prepared for any in-flight emergency that fate can throw at you. So you're in your cockpit of your 1.2 billion dollar B-2 Spirit stealth bomber and you take off, and x-amount of seconds later, a snot load of red warning lights go off on your instrument panel. You training and instincts kick in, and you follow your emergency procedures down to the letter. But instead of improving, your situation worsens. Now somewhere in the back of your subconscious, there has to be that voice. That voice that reminds you that a B-2 has never ever been lost before and if something should happen to this plane, you would be remembered for all time as, "the guy who lost the first B-2". And I'm not even talking about survival at this point. Not yet anyway. I'm talking purely about the psychological impact of being the first guy to screw the pooch on this scale. I mean if one of these things goes down, you just fucking know it's going to make the headline of every newspaper, be talked about on all the 6 o'clock news, be raved about by bloggers... and then we get to the fun stuff... tied up in all the red tape from the official Air Force investigation and the inevitable Congressional hearings that will surely follow!
But that debate is happening in the back of your mind, and in the front you're still turning dials and pushing buttons and trying to nurse this wounded pig back to the ground with some shred of grace. And you understand that as long as you're in that cockpit and the plane is responding to your inputs at least to some degree, you have to imagine you still have a shot of pulling your ass out of the fire. Because like I said, the last thing you want to be remembered as is the first guy to crash a B-2. But at some point -- at some point -- your mind makes the connection. Something clicks. And as your hand reaches down for that ejection seat handle, you realize that this is fucking it. There's no going back one you yank that handle... you can't get 100 feet out of the plane and suddenly go back because you suddenly realized the problem was someone forgot to turn the "crash" switch to "off". And as you're really giving that handle a good fucking pull, that voice in the back of your mind steps forward and reminds you that it's better to be remembered as the first guy to crash a B-2, than it is to be remembered as the first guy to die in a B-2.
But consider the finality regarding the pilot's decision to eject. On this side of it, there's that chance, no matter how overwhelming the odds, that you just might walk away from this a hero for managing to get a stricken plane back on the ground. The rationalization that perhaps there's still something you can do. But once you eject, that's it. The end. Finality. So let me ask you fair reader -- average Joe Schmoe who doesn't know dick about flying or planes or stealth or aeronautical engineering -- just how many things would have to go wrong in order for you to make that distinction?

Change?

Barack Obama is running on a platform of change. Exactly what is he going to change? How is he going to change it? Whenever I hear a democrat talk about "change," I see an increase in the nanny state of being; taxpayer money going to pay for social services, like free medical insurance, free food stamps, free housing...basically making hard working people work even harder to let fat, lazy, welfare-addicted people have their way. Obama is nothing more than a rhetoric-spouting gas bag.

Another thing to ponder: A president is tasked with guarding the sovereignty of the United States, defending it against all enemies, and sending America's sons and daughters into harm's way. EVERY president should be required to have had military experience!