I seriously want one of these bad boys.



You see, I'm essentially a lazy bastard. I like the idea of a bicycle that does the pedalling for you. I can always help out if I'm going up a hill or something, by why should I toil away at the pedals like some modern-day galley slave?

About time.

Blokes World

GIVING BLOKES THE ANSWERS TO THE QUESTIONS THEY DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO ASK

Outstanding! You've found your way to most squared away website known to modern man.

Semper Fi! Do or die! Hold em' high at 8th and I!

OOOOOraahhhh!!

If you're unhappy you can always
Go around,
If your approach is looking crappy
Go around,
If the ground is looking hazy,
and the windsock's going crazy.
If you're unhappy you can always go around.

If you don't like the appearance
Go around,
If you haven't got your clearance
Go around,
If a Cessna One Five Two,
Blunders right in front of you.
If you don't like the appearance go around.

If you don't feel that you're ready
Go around,
When your palms are feeling sweaty
Go around,
If the runway can't be seen,
or you haven't got three green.
If you don't feel that you're ready go around.

If the engine coughs and splutters
Land the plane,
If the controls have got the flutters
Land the plane,
If the flames are licking higher,
or the fuel gauge is a liar.
If the engine coughs and splutters land the plane.

Yet another Lynndie!



Many thanks, Tedge (AKA Clarkie).

I should clarify that Glen and I are fascinated by Macaques.



It all started with a program called The Alan Partridge Show.

You see, you can't trust a macaque. I'm not even sure I can spell it.

Bankstown Control Tower Visit

Justin has been kind enough to email me the photos I was bitching about earlier. Apparently my email address kept bouncing back, so if you've emailed me in the last couple of days, please try again, my ISP has been a touch unreliable.



After climbing about nine flights of steps (one of our number succumbed to altitude sickness as a result,) we finally reached the tower. It gave us a new perspective. This is the perch from which the controllers look down on us pilots. And I do mean look down on us pilots.



Interesting to put some faces to voices. Granted this was a Sunday, but I didn't expect them to be quite so casual. Slobs.

NB - I have the highest degree of respect and esteem for Air Traffic Controllers.



In the far distance is my parking spot.



A busy and expensive part of the field. None of these aircraft are moving, by the way.



If the view isn't good enough the controllers can even climb higher. This one is Justins favourite. He intended it to be a photo of the 2RN radio mast. Instead he got a nice one of a ladder.



The Office. We managed to gain entry as student pilots by being jolly well behaved and bringing donuts. Beer and donuts are the key to a controllers heart. We got to ask some questions and talk to the controllers about what they can see, what they do, etc. I asked a question which I knew would fire up the controller, but it simply had to be asked. I asked "what stupid things do we students do that annoys you controllers?"

The senior controller rounded on me and I could see specks of foam begin to eject from the corners of his mouth. After giving me a lecture on the correct etiquette for radio telephony usage, I can report that the thing that gives controllers the tomtits more than anything else are;

pilots overtalking each other,
pilots continuing into the GAAP without reporting because the frequency is too busy,
and, pilots getting into difficulties and not informing the tower.

It was a question that had to be asked, however uncomfortable it might be, as all student pilots have at one time or another have done one or more of those things. I'd go so far as to say that the last two crimes are more likely to be committed by experienced pilots than students.

By the way - I visited the Control Tower at Bankstown yesterday. I would post some pictures but I'm waiting for JUSTIN to email them to me.

Way to go, Justin.

Women decide: no Mr Right, no baby

"Women who hang out for Mr Right and refuse to have children without him are contributing to the growing decline in Australia's fertility rates, a study has revealed.

Dr Leslie Cannold called them "the waiters and watchers", saying the growing group have resigned themselves to a childless life unless they find the perfect partner."

OK - let's accept this for the minute. Now read this, the conclusion from the same article.

"They are having problems with men - meeting suitable men who want to become fathers - and also having problems when their life choices collide with work opportunities," she explained.

Her research suggested both reluctant, recalcitrant men and gender-based domestic inequity led women to shoulder the bulk of costs and burdens of family/work imbalances."

Ay? It's the fault of reluctant, recalcitrant men and the phallocentric patriarchy that women don't want to have children? How the hell do you work that out? Women can't find suitable partners to have children with, and that's the fault of the men they aren't going out with?

What does she suggest? We should hold these men down, perhaps, extract semen from them, impregnate unwilling wombs and force the men to support the resulting offspring? Maybe we should legislate out the imbalances in domestic inequity and burdens of family/work and force those lazy beggars of men to go out, earn a living then come home and do their fair share of the housework, like their wives currently do and they clearly don't.

What a load of grade-a, grain-fed, cock-eyed, lame-brained, half-witted, leftist, pinko-feminazi shite.

Maybe the reasons men AND women aren't having as many children as they used to is that they live in a society where their lifestyle will change dramatically and not necessarily for the better. Because they believe that by having children their standard of living will drop unacceptably. Maybe they don't think they should be treated like happy little baby-factories and walking revenue producers for the Treasury.

How about instead of pointing the finger (in the male direction, not surprisingly) you come up with some worthwhile and meaningful conclusions, instead of using surveys to justify your own preconceptions.

End rant.

From Fate is the Hunter by Ernest K. Gann;

"We waited, holding the course to the east. I tried calling Corumba again. Silence. I began watching the clock on the instrument panel; my eyes were drawn to it again and again although I knew very well that less than a minute intervened between each inspection. And suddenly I knew that Park was doing the same thing. I found this more amusing than worrisome. We were playing a game which was as old as the combination of two men flying side by side in the same airplane. The game has no offical name, but it might be called "I-have-nerves-of-steel...as you see." The game is usually played while awaiting clarification or the resolution of a situation which is likely to be distressing.
Park was obviously an expert at this diversion, and I found it extremely difficult to match his nonchalance. He was cheating, though. Three times I caught him moving the facsimile slightly to one side so he could see the clock. Conversation is always held at a minimum during this game and we followed custom exactly.
"Anything on your side?"
"No..."

Student Pilot Aces All Seven Takeoffs, Six of Seven Landings

FAIRBANKS, ALASKA (DPI) - Student pilot Albert Vane came very close to passing his pilot's license training course after completing all but one small part of his final field test this week. Carrying a perfect 100-percent record and more than 50 hours of flight time, Vane's tiny technical error on the final test kept him from passing the course at all, according to staff at the James Walther Flight School. "Ordinarily, we allow some leeway with our young pilots," said the school's owner, James Walther, "but in this case, we believe that Vane will never be able to complete his certification. Sorry, but we make no exceptions." Services for Vane are set for 4 p.m. Saturday at Holy Family Chapel. No flowers.

Thanks to Pendles for bringing this story to my attention.

It reminds me that there are two main rules to flying. Not, rules, more guidelines.

1. Take-offs are optional. Landings are compulsory.
2. Try to have an equal number of both.

You may have heard it said that you cannot compare apples and oranges. Rubbish. Dazbert.co.uk has a conversion program that will convert different fruits to their equivalent values. He also notes that all values are calculated using the Standard International Banana.

A brief history of clogs.

New aviation pics.


Douglas Dakota DC-3

Cessna C172

Piper PA31 Navajo

Socata TB10 Tobago

Cessna C152

Hawker Siddeley HS748 - minus engines

Piper PA-38 Tomahawk. I think. Might be a T-bird. Talk amongst yourselves.

Plus - new flying post
here.

Coming soon - I'll be delving into the mysteries of RSS feeds.

Let Us Show You The Secret To Pleasanton Real Estate...

TISMARESHITISMARESHITISMARESHITISMARESHIT

I have a check flight tomorrow and if all goes well I will be checked out to go on my first area solo. It will be with Matt Bryan, with whom I have flown before,when he sent me solo. He will be checking everything I do to make sure I'm safe and basically putting me through the wringer. I've been concerned about it but I've done a lot of work and study on things that I've been falling short on in flying so I reckon I'm as ready as I can be. I've memorised emergency procedures, passenger briefing, approach/departure procedures, walking around muttering to myself and basically being a total pain to the people I work with. This isn't even a major check flight, just another milestone to my private pilots licence. Wish me luck.

I'm as big a fan of Jennifer Hawkins as the next bloke, but will the media quit calling her 'our Jen?' She's not 'our Jen,' she's not anybody's bloody Jen except her own.

But if she is 'our Jen,' when do I get my bit? I'm not asking for much, just an ankle or belly button will do me, I'm not greedy. Perhaps we have her on a time-share arrangement. If so, please email me with my allotted timeslot, so I can rearrange my diary.

Perhaps when News Limited calls her 'our Jen,' they really mean 'their Jen' and hands off, ugly. If so, why was I not invited to tender a bid?

Are you gay? Click here to find out.

Photo from SMH.

"In the wake of this there will be a further immediate assessment of security in Australia," Mr Howard told Sydney radio 2GB, indicating that the current assessment of security was flawed.

I'm starting to think, with the number of intelligence failures over recent years, that perhaps our current security organisations and arrangements are fundamentally flawed. What other conclusion can one draw?

And the Lynndies keep rolling in

Coutesy of Tedge (AKA Clarkie).

Christmas in September?

A couple of photos from the recent hailstorm in Burwood - a locale not noted for it's heavy snowfalls.

By the way - today is NOT my birthday.

Woohoo!!! I think my comments are working now.

Bugger bugger bugger.

I can't get my comments working.

Brought to my attention by Bastards Inc comes web cartoon Red Meat.

Stay with me here cos there are a lotta links followin.

Ken Layne pointed out that the authors of the F-22 Raptor website are fans of internet legend Strongbad. Click on the weapons graphic at the bottom and you'll see what I mean.

I had a very strange dream last night. I dreamt I was in Nazi Germany in 1943. Everything was in black and white like 'Schindlers List.' With me was Jerry Seinfeld, whom I was attempting to keep out of the clutches of the Gestapo. He kept screwing about and making gags while we were being chased by the SS led by teams of baying German Shepherds.

Let this be a lesson not to have that last slice of pizza with extra cheese before going to bed.

I've joined the Oz Bloggers Alliance. Check them out on the links to the right. There are some interesting opinions to be read. Or not. Do what you like.

Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.

I have just witnessed proof of the existence of God. To those atheists out there I say "BEHOLD!"







Now, not only does He create this winsome, alluring, exquisite example of pure pulchritude called Jennifer Hawkins, He then arranges for her dress to 'fall off' in public in front of a bunch of cameras.

Nice one God! You're my kinda guy. Tell me who to smite and they will be smoten.

I cut my finger on a door at work the other day. I can feel the waves of
sympathy bombarding me as I write this, but it was quite a deep cut. I
ruined a handkerchief stemming the flow of blood. A cut finger is nothing
to scoff at. A friend of mine had his hand stomped on playing footbal and
recieved a deep cut to his finger. The ensuing infection spread to the bone
and he had to have his finger amputated. Blood poisoning can result from
the smallest wound.

I had to write a letter stating whether or not I would be claiming
compensation. I said I wouldn't be - yet.

Also - new flying post.