Your tax dollars at work: broken death robots

global hoc

One was lost in December 1999, when an official incorrectly programmed the UAV to taxi at 155 nautical miles per hour.

rotating knives

mendel alerts me to this photo taken by his father. Apparently Canadians are pretty hardcore about their national day of celebration, enough so that they’re willing to give happy, water-bottle-waving celebrants a shot at the noise, dust blast, and extreme fucking danger of a military helicopter landing zone.

I know they’re not in the roped-off zone etc. etc. but if it was me I’d be some distance from that scene unless it was imperative that I get in the helicopter right away. I have no need to follow in Vic Morrow’s… er… headsteps?

Mack, Kenn, can you confirm that this is insane?

Sending the boy up in a crate like that

Hey maineiac_eric, remember the helicopters you used to service? Long ago, before I met you, when you were a Marine? Most of them are something like 40 years old but they’re in service in Iraq.

I remember your stories about being awash in seawater and floating floorboards fixing the avionics on them, or something close to that. Perhaps our secret weapon against turbanism is helicopters that shed huge chunks of metal kinda randomly.

Excerpt from a BBS

Forwarded from a friend, an Air Force transport pilot responds to a kid who wants to know how to become a fighter pilot.

I really enjoy this kind of grumpy, cynical military humor. Not sure why.

Obviously, through no fault of your own, your young, impressionable brain has been poisoned by the superfluous, hyped-up, “Top Gun” media portrayal of fighter pilots.

Unfortunately, this portrayal could not be further from the truth. In my experience, I’ve found most fighter pilots pompous, back-stabbing, momma’s boys with inferiority complexes, as well as being extremely over-rated aeronautically. However, rather than dash your budding dreams of becoming a USAF pilot, I offer the following alternative:

What you REALLY want to aspire to is the exciting, challenging, and rewarding world of TACTICAL AIRLIFT. And this, young DJ, means one thing….the venerable, workhorse, THE C-130!

I can guarantee no fighter pilot can brag that he has led a 12-ship formation down a valley at 300 ft above the ground, while trying to interpret a 9-line to a new DZ, avoiding pop-up threats, and coordinating with AWACS, all while eating a box lunch, with the engineer in the back taking a piss and the navigator puking in his trash can! I tell you, DJ, TAC Airlift is where it’s at!

Where else is it legal to throw tanks, HMVees, and other crap out the back of an airplane, and not even worry about it when the chute doesn’t open and it torpedoes the General’s staff car! No where else can you land on a 3000′ dirt strip, kick a bunch of ammo and stuff off the ramp without even stopping, then take off again before range control can call to tell you you’ve landed on the wrong LZ!

The rest cut because unfunny and lame.