This ain't Hell, but you can see it from here

Author: Hondo

  • OK, Florida DRC Members: You Want to See Hondo? Here Ya Go. Directions.

    Well, it looks like our “Favorite Florida Friends” (or maybe that should be those “Florida Flying F**ksticks”) have kept running their yaps. So I thought I’d finally tell them where to go.  (smile)

    Once again, this group of Dufi Royally Clueless have accused someone else of being me.  And this time, I’m both honored – and a bit peeved.  Again.

    Now, I’m supposedly CAPT Larry Bailey, USN, Ret.  Yeah, THAT CAPT Larry Bailey.

    That would be an honor.  Except I’m (a) not a former SEAL, (b) was never in the Navy; (c) have never been to sea, (d) have never been on an active Navy ship (though I have been on more than one Naval base, and I did visit a USCG Museum ship), and (e) left the service almost to 20 years after CAPT Bailey did. So I guess I can’t be CAPT Bailey.

    Are you guys for real?  So far, this makes 2 former and well-known Navy SEALs, a former Army GO, a serving Army CPT (or maybe by now MAJ), and a retired Special Forces SGM of being me – along with probably some others I don’t remember or missed.  And you’ve been wrong every freaking time.

    But you know, I’ve about had it with this crap.  So here goes.

    Listen up, you bunch of dipstick imbeciles who don’t seem to have the common sense to urinate in the bathroom’s toilet instead of the waste basket.  You want to see Hondo?  Fine.  I’ll help you out.

    Put away your comic books, and put your crayons back in their box.  Close your mouths, and remember breathe thru your noses instead of your mouths for a while.  Wipe the drool off your chins.  Sit down, and shut yer yaps.

    Now, pay close attention.  Here are your directions.  Follow these without screwing up and they’ll take you right to Hondo.

    No, these are not the shortest routes you could take.  Instead, I tried to make these directions as simple as possible for each of you to follow.  Lord knows you both have enough problems with even relatively simple concepts and actions.

    I’ve also depended on each of you to find a major highway reasonably close to each of your current abodes – US Highway 17, to be precise.  Hopefully you’re capable of doing that much by yourselves.  Even though your addresses are matters of public record by virtue of your own past actions, I decided to respect your privacy (though not the two of you personally) and refrain from giving detailed directions starting at your driveways or mentioning your current towns.

    Directions.

    For ThE NoRtHeRn FlOrIdA GuY.

    1. From your house, go to US Highway 17.  It’s generally east of you – that means you need to go towards where the sun rises in the morning.
    2. At US Highway 17, turn north.  That probably will be a left turn unless you manage to cross over US Highway 17 and have to double back.
    3. Follow US Highway 17 north until you reach Interstate Highway 295 south of Jacksonville.  The “north” part is important, so don’t screw that up.
    4. At Interstate Highway 295, take Interstate Highway 295 north towards Savannah.  Do NOT take the on-ramp marked “St. Augustine”.
    5. Follow Interstate Highway 295 to Interstate Highway 10.
    6. At Interstate Highway 10, take Interstate Highway 10 west.  That’s the ramp marked “Lake City”.  Do NOT take the ramp marked “Jacksonville”.
    7. Follow Interstate Highway 10 west to San Antonio, TX. It’s rather a long drive, so you might want to pack a lunch or two.  Given your advanced age and general state of physical and mental decrepitude, you also might want to plan on stopping somewhere overnight.  Your call.
    8. Where Interstate Highway 10 and US Highway 90 split (that’s in the San Antonio metro area, at the interchange where you also meet Interstate Highway 35), stay on US Highway 90 west.  Do NOT stay on Interstate Highway 10 or turn onto Interstate Highway 35.
    9. Follow US Highway 90 for roughly another 39 miles.

    For our other “FFF” – the one down in SW Florida – here are your directions, in italics.

    1. Take local roads from your house to Interstate Highway 75.  As was the case with your FFF colleague, it’s generally east of you – e.g., in the direction where the sun rises.
    2. Get on Interstate Highway 75 north.  That’s the ramp towards Sarasota and Tampa, in case you haven’t figured that out for yourself.
    3. Follow Interstate Highway 75 north until you reach US Highway 17. 
    4. Take the exit for US Highway 17 and go north (the “north” part is important).  To go north, I’m guessing you’ll need to turn right at the end of the ramp.
    5. Follow US Highway 17 north until you reach Interstate Highway 295 south of Jacksonville.
    6. At Interstate Highway 295, take Interstate Highway 295 north towards Savannah.  Do NOT take the on-ramp marked “St. Augustine”.
    7. Follow Interstate Highway 295 to Interstate Highway 10.
    8. At Interstate Highway 10, take Interstate Highway 10 west.  That’s the ramp marked “Lake City”.  Do NOT take the ramp marked “Jacksonville”.
    9. Follow Interstate Highway 10 west to San Antonio, TX. It’s rather a long drive, so you also might want to pack a lunch or two.  Given your advanced age and even worse state of physical decrepitude than your north Florida “compadre”, you also might want to plan on stopping somewhere overnight as well.  In fact, since your trip is substantially longer than your friend’s, I’d recommend stopping twice.  But that’s your call.
    10. Where Interstate Highway 10 and US Highway 90 split (that’s in the San Antonio metro area, at the interchange where you also meet Interstate Highway 35), stay on US Highway 90 west.  Do NOT stay on Interstate Highway 10 or turn onto Interstate Highway 35.
    11. Follow US Highway 90 for roughly another 39 miles.

    In your case, there are shorter routes – but I chose this route for you in case you wanted to carpool with the northern FFF.  Given my understanding that your past public assertions in court have stated that you are “disabled” and on “pain medication”, IMO that might be a really good idea. 

    I’m sure you can find out where the northern FFF lives if you try; in fact, I’m reasonably certain you two have probably corresponded with one another in the past.  And if you two carpool, you’ll also have someone to keep each other company – even during any overnight stays.  Perhaps you’ll both enjoy that aspect of carpooling.  (smile)

    At Your Destination.

    Once you’ve completed the last step in your directions above, just find a convenient place to park.  From there, unless you’re blind or you’ve screwed up, by following the above directions you should easily be able to see Hondo.

    If you can’t, just ask anyone you see, “Excuse me, sir (or ma’am), where can I find Hondo?” If they appear Hispanic – and there’s a good chance they might – you might want to say, “Disculpe, señor, ¿dónde puedo encontrar Hondo?” instead. (If the individual is both Hispanic and female, say “Perdone, señora, , ¿dónde puedo encontrar Hondo?” instead.)

    I’m sure anyone you ask will be quite eager to tell either or both of you exactly where you should go.  Each of you IMO has such a “winning personality” that that’s virtually guaranteed.   (smile)

    Strip Maps.

    I’ve tried to make the directions above as simple as possible.  But just in case the above directions are too complicated for you – and you can’t find someone to explain them to you in terms you can understand – here are some pictures.

    First, the “big picture”.  For ease of viewing, I’ve broken it into eastern and western parts. I’ve also cropped the eastern part so that it doesn’t show the specific part of Florida where either of you live.  As I noted above, you’ve both made your current addresses easy to find on the internet; in fact, it’s public record information in both cases.  But as I alluded to earlier, I have no real reason to be an a-hole and post your addresses here – even if those addresses are already listed in Internet-accessible public records.

    Here’s the eastern part of the “big picture”:

    And here’s the western part of the “big picture”:

    Finally, here’s a picture showing more details about the western end of those directions:

    So, you fellas still want to see Hondo?  Well, now you know how to get to Hondo.  You even have detailed driving directions and strip maps.

    Whether you choose to make a “road trip” or not is up to you. I don’t much give a sh!t either way.

    Regardless, I don’t plan on holding my breath waiting.  But if you do choose to use those directions, I also predict you won’t much like the results.

    (smile)

  • Seventy-Eight Years Ago Today

    The photo below says all that needs be said.

    For those who might not recognize the photo, that’s the USS Shaw at Pearl Harbor, HI, on 7 December 1941.

    Enjoy the weekend, everyone. But while doing so, if you’re so inclined maybe say a prayer for those whose lives ended on this day 78 years ago.

  • Weekend Open Thread

    Since today’s the day before Thanksgiving – traditionally a 4-day weekend for most, with many leaving work early on Wednesday – I thought the WOT should be early this week. So here ya go.

    Since it’s nearly Thanksgiving, I also thought I’d provide a Thanksgiving-themed video clip or two. Enjoy. (smile)

     

     

     

    Have a great Thanksgiving, everyone.

     

    —–

    PS: FWIW, the WKRP “Turkeys Away” episode was apparently based, loosely, on an real-life radio promo stunt for an Atlanta radio station that went awry.

     

  • Funeral for Mus2c Francis E. Dick (Lost at Pearl Harbor)

    Last September, DPAA announced that it had accounted for Mus2c Francis E. Dick, crewmember of the USS Oklahoma who had been lost at Pearl Harbor.

    Per DPAA, Mus2c Dick will be buried later this week – on Wednesday, 13 February 2019, to be precise – in Vancouver, Washington (state). Regrettably, DPAA does not seem to have posted the location for his funeral.

    If any TAH readers have the precise location for the funeral, please post it in comments below. And if any readers are in that area and have the time, here’s an opportunity to give someone lost at Pearl Harbor a proper final send-off.

  • “. . . a triumph of love against evil and truth against lies.”

    What follows actually happened. It is not a parable, a tall tale, or fiction.

    Before reading it – or following the links – it might not be a bad idea to grab a tissue or three.

    . . .

    During the Cold War, a boy was born. He was born in a third-world nation.

    Unfortunately, he was born in a nation ruled by a corrupt tyrant. That corrupt tyrant was in turn overthrown by a Communist tyrant while he was still very young.

    As a young child, he had few toys. But while very young, a relative who was living abroad sent him a toy airplane.

    It was a life-changing moment for the lad. From that day onwards, his dream was to be a pilot.

    . . .

    The boy grew up under Communism. He was indoctrinated by his dictatorship’s educational system.

    Initially, the Communist regime was good to him. It allowed him to fulfil his boyhood dream. He became an officer in his country’s air force. The Communist regime sent him to the locus of world Communism – the Soviet Union – to receive training as a combat pilot.

    This good treatment, coupled with his educational indoctrination, made him an ardent Communist. Initially.

    But while in the Soviet Union, the boy – now a young man – began to see the same things that others from his country had seen years before. While the Soviets were ruthless and good at creating weapons, their standard of living was abysmal. And their claims of having created “Communist utiopia, where all were equal” . . . well, those claims were obviously bullsh!t.

    Institutionalized prejudice was rampant, as was inequality. He saw that further when his nation sent him to a third country to support Communist revolutionaries there.

    He also heard the stories of how ruthless his regime’s leadership had been when it took over. And the young man’s views . . . began to change.

    By his late 20s or early 30s, the young man had become thoroughly disillusioned. Once an ardent Communist, he now saw he’d followed a lie.

    In the meantime, he’d married. His wife was a successful healthcare professional. They had two children.

    He indicated to his wife how badly disillusioned he’d become. He could no longer stomach parroting the “party line” lies to his troops.

    His wife – knowing full well the impact what she was about to say would have on both her and their children – nonetheless told him, “You have to leave.”

    No, she wasn’t throwing him out of the house because he was disillusioned. She was telling him to defect.

    So he did.

    During a military training flight, he defected. He flew to a US base, and safely landed. He asked for political asylum. His request was granted.

    But his family remained behind, under Communist rule.

    . . .

    Being a military professional, the man knew about working through channels. For over a year, he worked – with both US government agencies and private concerns, both privately and publicly – to convince the Communist regime of his former homeland to release his family.

    Nothing happened. And after a year, it was fairly clear that nothing was going to happen any time soon.

    So the man went back. No, he did not redefect.

    He went back to get his family.

    . . .

    He managed to get a message to his wife through a third party, telling her where he would meet her and his children. At a later time, he also managed to get a second message to her specifying the date and time.

    He obtained his private pilot’s license in the US. He secured backers – one of whom bought, for a sympathetic private concern, an aircraft. He obtained access to and permission to use that aircraft, a Cessna.

    He kept his plans secret from all but a very few others. He especially did not tell anyone in the US government what he planned – lest they stop him to prevent an international incident.

    He then went back to his homeland. He landed the Cessna on a busy highway in his homeland, just missing a car and a truck. Traffic stopped.

    His family was there. They got in.

    He left. He flew low, to evade radar.

    He again returned to freedom. And this time, his wife and children were with him.

    . . .

    As I said above, the story is not fiction. The man who did this was Major Orestes Lorenzo-Pérez, of the Cuban Air Force. His original defection on 20 March 1991 caused great embarrassment for the US Department of Defense because he’d managed to fly a MIG-23BN from Cuba to NAS Key West completely undetected.

    His second trip – on 19 December 1992 – received more publicity. And it also caused Cuba even more embarrassment than his defection. It seems that Lorenzo-Pérez made his second trip during what Cuba’s Communist dictator Fidel Castro had called Cuba’s “most intensive military exercise in its history.” Or, as Lorenzo-Pérez himself put it when asked his opinion of the Cuban military: “I went into Cuba and brought them (his family) back during their biggest military exercises . . . . And I did it in a Cessna.” (smile)

    The daring rescue flight had one other collateral benefit . It raised the level of pressure on Castro enough that later additional members of the families of both Lorenzo-Pérez and his wife Victoria were allowed to emigrate.

    Loronzo-Pérez is now a naturalized US citizen. His book about his flights to freedom for himself and his family is titled Wings of the Morning. It’s on my list to acquire and read.

    You’ll have to ask Hollywood why the book hasn’t been made into a motion picture. But I’d guess I know at least part of the reason.

    Orestes Lorenzo-Pérez is today an American citizen. The title of this article is a quotation from one of his remarks at a 21 December 1992 news conference held after the flight rescuing his family.

    Bien hecho, Señor. Estoy orgulloso de llamarte mi compatriotas.
    —–

    Sources:

    https://militaryaviationchronicles.com/cold-war/former-mig-pilot-orestes-lorenzo-recounts-his-daring-defection-flights/

    https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/local/1992/12/22/a-cuban-pilots-triumph-of-love/a48fbe25-7f4a-4727-8f6a-33d90dd11c0d/?utm_term=.43e1c88a6552

    https://www.nytimes.com/1992/12/21/us/cuban-pilot-who-defected-flies-back-for-family.html

    https://people.com/archive/100-minutes-to-freedom-vol-39-no-1/

  • Weekend Open Thread

    The military is a dangerous profession. You often need a bit of luck just to make it through the day unscathed.

    But sometimes, you need a whole lotta luck. Or a Guardian Angel working overtime.

    That’s especially true for some duty positions and specialties. Here’s my pick for perhaps the luckiest guy ever in the history of the US Navy.

     


     

    A 5+ minute clip of the incident, uncut, can be viewed here.

    The incident happened on the USS Theodore Roosevelt on 20 February 1991. The lucky soul was saved from death or permanent disability when a crewmate witnessed him being sucked into the intake and signaled the aircraft’s pilot to kill his engines. (Other sources say the pilot of the aircraft in question heard his helmet and safety goggles beginning to impact the compressor blades and immediately shut down his engines.)

    Remarkably, the man received only relatively minor injuries. And if he needed new trou and skivvies afterwards . . . well, I probably would have too. (smile)

    The incident caused a change in Navy flight-deck training and procedures to prevent recurrence.

    Enough for today. Enjoy the WOT – and the weekend – everyone.

  • Test Post

    Login went OK. Testing normal text.

    Testing italicized text.
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    Testing internal image direct link – and no, Dave, that’s not me (smile):

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    This is a test.

    Youtube embed code was already tested, assuming the frames in the other article of mine DH imported that ran today worked.

    —–

    Looks like the basics work OK. Haven’t tried uploading a new image or anything really exotic, though. But it looks like Ed uploaded a new graphic and successfully linked to it in his test article, so that should be working also.

  • Accidents Will Happen . . .

    . . . and sometimes, they’re good things. Especially when they result in something special.

    Accidents happen all the time in recording studios. Usually they are edited out during production, but some are deliberately left in place in the released product. There are numerous lists on the Internet detailing such accidents left in place on songs that later became hits.

    But sometimes recording studios also capture music that is sublime purely by accident. In rock & roll, that happened at least twice in the early 1970s. Both were unplanned, accidental single takes that captured “lightning in a bottle”.

    . . .

    The first occurred during the 1970 recording sessions for the album “Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs” by Derek and the Dominos (Eric Clapton’s new but short-lived band). There were two chance occurrences that came together here.

    The first was Eric Clapton being invited to an Allman Brothers Band concert. (Clapton was a fan of Duane Allman’s guitar work.) Afterwards, he met Duane Allman – who he’d previously only known by reputation. The two hit it off wonderfully; Allman was shortly invited to become a member of Clapton’s new band. He accepted the invitation, and contributed to most of the songs on the album.

    The second chance occurrence occurred during the recording sessions for the “Layla” album. One day, Clapton and Allman were in the studio. Sam Samudio (AKA “Sam the Sham”) was in a neighboring studio; he was recording the blues classic “Key to the Highway.” Clapton and Allman heard this, and started playing the song themselves in an impromptu jam session. Their album’s producer, Tom Dowd, walked by and heard their jam; he quickly told the recording engineers to “Hit the goddamn machine!” (e.g., start recording immediately). The result speaks for itself.

     


     

    . . .

    Something similar happened the following year, during the recording of the Rolling Stones’ classic album “Sticky Fingers”. Here, the band was recording “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking”. The song was set to end at around 2:43. However, at the end of the song the Stones’ second guitarist Mick Taylor simply wanted to continue playing – so he sat there and jammed a bit. The rest of the band rejoined him, and they jammed for another 4 1/2 minutes. Fortunately, the recording engineers had let the tape run – and captured some truly inspired rock & roll during that unplanned 4 1/2 minutes.

     


     

    FWIW: in the comments to the above Youtube clip, there’s this comment about the tune by commenter “Munch da Cat” (presumably about the song’s intro and early guitar work by Keith Richards; Mick Taylor did the final guitar solo, and his guitar is markedly less distorted than Richards’) that IMO absolutely nails the overall vibe of the tune – and the Stones of that era in general.

    “That guitar is so dirty. That guitar has been up all night drinking whiskey, smoking Marlboros, and there are two young ladies in a state of dishabille lying on the bed; and that guitar is about to go out to work and replace the transmission on a 59 Chevy Impala . . . .”

    Tip o’ the hat, amigo.

    —–

    Just a little music for Saturday morning enjoyment. Hope you liked it. (smile)