THE DIGITAL VIKING: EDSBS'S GUIDE TO SPICY LIVING

“Frozen daiquiris are my jam” – Coach [REDACTED]

a proper daiquiri is served in one of these:

Also, he uses white rum and strains the ice.

But you keep doin’ ya damn thang. I’m just glad somebody else is promoting the authentic daiquiri against the sloshy bullshit that is nothing more than a 7/11 slurpee with rum.

We have cubicle-monkeys on Windows 97 and shitty office internet to cater to here as well.

but I’m becoming concerned that the Digital Viking’s drink recommendations are going to give me diabeetus.

Is there no love for the SR-71 in this joint?

The classic tale from an old sled driver…

“In 1962, the first Blackbird successfully flew, and in 1966, the same year I graduated from high school, the Air Force began flying operational SR-71 missions. I came to the program in 1983 with a sterling record and a recommendation from my commander, completing the weeklong interview and meeting Walter, my partner for the next four years He would ride four feet behind me, working all the cameras, radios, and electronic jamming equipment. I joked that if we were ever captured, he was the spy and I was just the driver. He told me to keep the pointy end forward.

We trained for a year, flying out of Beale AFB in California , Kadena Airbase in Okinawa, and RAF Mildenhall in England . On a typical training mission, we would take off near Sacramento, refuel over Nevada, accelerate into Montana, obtain high Mach over Colorado, turn right over New Mexico, speed across the Los Angeles Basin, run up the West Coast, turn right at Seattle, then return to Beale. Total flight time: two hours and 40 minutes.

One day, high above Arizona , we were monitoring the radio traffic of all the mortal airplanes below us. First, a Cessna pilot asked the air traffic controllers to check his ground speed. ‘Ninety knots,’ ATC replied. A twin Bonanza soon made the same request. ‘One-twenty on the ground,’ was the reply. To our surprise, a navy F-18 came over the radio with a ground speed check. I knew exactly what he was doing. Of course, he had a ground speed indicator in his cockpit, but he wanted to let all the bug-smashers in the valley know what real speed was ‘Dusty 52, we show you at 620 on the ground,’ ATC responded. The situation was too ripe. I heard the click of Walter’s mike button in the rear seat. In his most innocent voice, Walter startled the controller by asking for a ground speed check from 81,000 feet, clearly above controlled airspace. In a cool, professional voice, the controller replied, ’ Aspen 20, I show you at 1,982 knots on the ground.’ We did not hear another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast."

Rum is like the Highlander. . . There can be only one.

Except the rum is Jamaican.

Besides the 105 mm howitzer, Mom’s old Waggoneer is also packing a 40 mm Bofors guns (which was the first gun shooting in the clip) and a 20 mm Vulcan mini-gun that rocks at around 6000 rounds/minute.

Also spooky: Oppenheimer’s quote from the Bhagadva Gita showed up last night on CSI and now 100 Suns on the DV. “I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.”

even more now.

I can’t be the only one not looking at the chair.

Glorious, first movie I ever saw on an Imax.

The Rum can come from Jamaica – as long as it is Bacardi manufactured in PR shipped to Jamaica for purchase there.

We need to get the Chinese to do a dramatic cgi re-enactment of the SL-1 incident as I can not sit through the 40 minute Mr Wizard presentation.

The idea for the airborne gunships comes from seeing mail being delivered to missionaries in South America.

The idea for the gun ships came from an Air Force officer, Captain Ronald W. Terry, who had seen DC-3s delivering mail and supplies to remote jungle areas in South America. The aircraft would circle in a steep pylon turn, lowering a bucket on a long rope. The bucket would orbit in a tight circle, suspended from the cargo door, and someone on the ground placed mail in it.

The full story is here: http://www.dc3history.org/ac47_puff.htm

Is a fine example of Dekotora, a Japanese custom car culture obsessively covered by Jalopnik back in its punk-aesthetic days.

Those years in band are etched deep into your subconscious aren’t they?

Anyone who was ever in band for long enough has a small collection of favorites that we are inexplicably compelled to listen to once every five years or so.

Even Vikings have souls, albeit spicy ones.

moonshine, but I think when it comes out day-glo, you’re not supposed to drink that batch. Or so I’ve heard.

If someone doesn’t slap this on an EDSBS t-shirt, it would be a travesty.

I will have to get a copy of that, for my Dad. He was in the Navy in the late 50’s. He flew in P3’s taking pictures of Nuclear tests in Operation Hardtack II. http://nuclearweaponarchive.org/Usa/Tests/Hardtack2.html

my bet is a lot of the shots in this book are his. Too bad you don’t get royalties for the shit you do for the Gov.

I was thinking about it just last night. A part of me wishes my professional responsibilities had allowed me to drink another couple of glasses, another part of me quails at the very notion.

But it was a delightful hint of total facial paralysis.

As much as Stravinsky rules, let us not forget

MARS, THE BRINGER OF WAR

Oh, and by the way — if you’re talking FU’d nuclear accidents, let’s not forget the standard by which all others were set (until Chernobyl):

Tickling The Dragon

http://www.wired.com/magazine/2010/03/ff_masterthief_blanchard/

an excerpt of Gerald Blanchard’s work

Within minutes, the Sisi Star was in Blanchard’s pocket and he was rappelling down a back wall to the garden, taking the rope with him as he slipped from the grounds. When the star was dramatically unveiled to the public the next day, Blanchard returned to watch visitors gasp at the sheer beauty of a cheap replica. And when his parachute was later found in a trash bin, no one connected it to the star, because no one yet knew it was missing. It was two weeks before anyone realized that the jewelry had disappeared.

I have named the olive oil pouring lass “Candy”. Orson, if you like Mountain Sausage, perhaps you should try some Mountain Oys….

I’ll take Lydon’s side on this one. McClaren was responsible for sucking the life out of the Sex Pistols more than he was responsible for their success. You could go so far as to say he pretty much killed Sid Vicious.