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Francis Meyrick

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Everything posted by Francis Meyrick

  1. awesome. But all of a sudden, my "Roses are red, and violets are blue" offerings wish to quietly slink out of sight...
  2. I am NOT a fruit cake. (yells loudly) And THAT GOES FOR ME TOO!!!! Dear, dear. I have this Walmart check out effect on threads. I join, and everything stops. Maybe it's my deodorant. I just wonder. (sigh) I did some "Roses are red, Violets are blue" rhymes.... anybody interested? I'm feeling shy now. I think I'll go away and hide.
  3. You mean it's ALL bad? I thought so too. I could be sensitive, you know. But I'm not. Not after 24 years of wedded bliss. I promise not to kick you on the shins. Fundamentally, I think I could be a pacifist. Yes. Turn the other cheek. Smell the flowers. Here's a Haiku for you. You asked for one. Here it is. A nice, Pacifist haiku. "Snow white, Peaceful clouds dream-like, made me sense so much of Nature's gentle touch..." (Uh-huh. Merrily-merrily-merrily, etc, etc.) Unfortunately. Well, I'm not. I like poetry. I scribble poetry. I think the world would be a nicer place if more people enjoyed poetry. But they don't. They're too busy being wrapped around TV zombie shows like "Game of Drones". And further, unfortunately, I'm not a pacifist poet. Nope. My true Nature is revealed NOT when I ponder nice Haiku Oriental landscape paintings like this one: Nope. It's nice. But this chopper jockey is more defined by this: But even then... you are NOT really delving into the essential psyche. For THAT, you have to pose this question: WHAT DO YOU THINK OF OUR GREAT LEADERS TODAY, PELOSI-CLINTON-OBAMA-REID-ETC-ETC??? or: WOULD YOU VOTE DEMOCRAT? I mean would you? The answer, my friend is poetically blowing in the wind. See the next dialog box....
  4. Now-now-now. Don't be sensitive. Not around here. No-no-no. Spike and I belong to the uncouth lower caste, the Indians refer to us as "Untouchables". Simply put, we are smelly ruffians, and we believe Holy Cows are for hamburgers, screw the Holiness, no target is too sacred, Grandma was a crazy Thespian, and we love to stir the manure. Don't take anything we say personal, or to heart. Honestly. You poor, feeling fish. (Oops...).
  5. Aeroscout... buddy... you have a WARPED mind. Warped, I tell you. I'm so naive and innocent ( I was an altar boy when I was young) that I didn't even get it for a while. "...get it for a while.." The joke, Aeroscout, the JOKE. Jeez.... Banging tail.... boom
  6. any other tuna chopper jockeys amused by this A-B-C beginner's stuff? (try blowing 35 knots, and your boat rocking/rolling/heaving/slamming up-down 30 feet?)
  7. Limerick is a town in Ireland. Aye. Fine folk. Nuts, but really fine. "This training pilot from hell Would scream and holler and yell Until came the fine day A tree jumped in his way And thus the Great One fell." "Don’t lift off with one engine back Training will serve you hot flack Don’t ever ask how Their leading Brown Cow Did it out of whack…." (shhhh....) Quick to sit and judge Their self esteem won’t budge It’s all black-white along comes a fright and then they bluster and fudge. ''There once was this choppy scout Who ought to be aero’d out He haunted the forum With struggling decorum Until he got hooted out..." (Duh. Me bad. Okay, I'll balance it up....) "There once was a nut called Moggy Whose mind went a little foggy he tried hard to scribble With a dash and a dribble But left his readers groggy...."
  8. where did all the poets go...? My hut in the sky I never did attain The solitude, the inner peace Of a hermit's mountain hut hidden With simple walls A struggling roof And blazing windows That pour my gaze Thirstily Into a magnificent distance. But yet When I fly And my thoughts stream I realize I achieved Somehow My dream. My hut In the sky With trembling walls A vibrating roof Spinning blades And polished windows Of perspex That pour my gaze In torrents Sun whipped and rain scarred Into An unfathomable distance. With the simple wheels Of my small mind I grope Feelingly, yet numb For Answers To Questions I have yet To discover. My hut In the sky The wind In my face The Light In my eyes The bounce In my step Francis Meyrick
  9. Tisk, tisk. Nope. Try harder, grasshopper. Landing in a brown out on a red ants' colony, and cussin' up a storm when they climb up your pants, doesn't count as a BLUE-OUT either....
  10. OK, OK.... I surrender... MY DUMB-ASS.....
  11. @ Terminal velo I have given this slap-down some quiet thought. I think the poster is 100% quite right. I have meditated upon his input (That Lotus sitting stuff kills me), and I have reached the conclusion that I am in great need of Peace and Harmony, and soft reflections on the meaning of inner Truth. More than anything else I feel I need to admit to myself, and the indifferent world in general, that this honorable poster is fully ENTITLED to his opinion, I must respect that. He is ENTITLED. Anyway, I have tackled the search for my inner Buddha with a series of gently healing, inspiring images, which draw on the soft strings of the inner TAI-CHI forces. I humbly (at the risk of being once again a self promoting spammer) refer Mr Velo to my scurrilous blog. Here's the link. I promise I'm not selling a thing. No life insurance, subscriptions, books, cough medicine or advice. As regards the healing qualities of the inner Chi forces, the final illustration in my short work probably comes closest to describing my true inner state. Again, the Lotus position is a bit hard for me (I can never get back up again), (and I split my pants) but, truthfully, I have tried hard. Sincerely, & peace Moggy (Happy Pilot) (demented, but happy) Some thoughts on Self Promotion
  12. Well, I’m sorry. Certainly no intent to annoy or irritate anybody. Don’t mind me. All I was trying to do was stir the s-soup…. I mean, focus attention on is a pet safety theme (mantra) that is well established. I’m certainly not the originator. I’m Just the “dumb-ass” trying to learn the lesson. Let me try and explain my muddled thinking. Bear with me. I’m not very bright. Remember the safety poster that simply stated: BEEN THERE (done that) BEEN THERE (done that) BEEN THERE (done that) BEEN THERE (…..oops!?) I am convinced that it is worth pursuing the ancient old Aviation Maxim that I just cobbled up, that states: “watch it, brother! Dumb-ass is much easier to do than you might think”. If you have some slight sympathy with that Maxim, (and learn to apply an additional layer of innate caution to your operations) (a kind of “steps back”, and thinks: “Whoa here, baby!”) you might be a safer pilot. I might be one too, one day, when I grow up. Once you see for yourself (repeatedly) that both you and others DO STUFF, that leaves you shaking your head at yourself (see my scurrilous blog) you might just end up on the prowl for your very own Stupid. I know I am. I assume there’s a two-faced dog loose in my cockpit, (“I’m just a nice puppy and I love you - please feed me”) but he’s wanting to BITE me when I’m not looking. Perforce, many old (and ugly) pilots would suggest this for your consideration: any hint that people feel (or say) that some particular accident pilot was merely a “dumb-ass”, (and that simply explains everything that needs explaining), (the judge’s gavel drops) (let’s all move on) actually suggests a form of “at risk” behavior. Yep. Because you are IMPLYING (are you not): “That would never happen to me! I’m way too good for that…” Stop right there. Ah, but are you? I know I’m NOT. I’ve proved my humanity to myself rather convincingly, in airplanes and helicopters, sky-diving, motorcycles and matrimony, and I’ve never forgotten the multiple shocks to the system. There’s often MUCH more to it. Primary training. Primary attitude. Developed attitudes. Checklist habits. Hurry. Rush. Distraction. Really smart, high I.Q. guys have done really dumb things. Expensive things. Even gotten themselves and others killed. Why? There’s more to it than “dumb-ass”. Much more. Don’t be in such a hurry to convict, snort in disgust, and move on, haughty-nose-in-air. Stop. Dig deeper. What life lessons-in-the-sky can we learn here? Ask yourself: “how many helicopter accidents were in fact avoidable? 20%? 50% 90% 95%? 99%? 100%?? Even where mechanical failure was present, in what percentage even of those cases, was subsequent pilot error the root cause of failing to avoid the big “Oops…!?” Over and over again, we see how pilots do stuff, that they would have sworn on Grandma’s grave that they would never,ever do. That unguarded “Ooops…!?” moment has radically affected careers. And lives. In ONE bizarre week, flying for the S.O., I landed beside THREE different crashed helicopters, all of which had struck 20 foot high telegraph wires. Three fatals. Two of these birds were going FLAT OUT. Full throttle. Way-hay, watch me! I can fly, like a birrrrrrrddddd….. TWANGGGG! (Say, what!?) I honestly blog about some of my “Oops…!??” moments, for what it’s worth (probably not-a-lot), simply because I feel that if only I could convince a half dozen pilots that “It’s much easier to do than you think”, then my pestilent, time consuming, two-fingered scribbles at one in the morning would be worth it. I’ve blogged about a fraction of the bloopers I’ve witnessed, and I’ve fessed up to a fraction of the “Holy Cow!” cardiac caniptions I’ve personally inflicted on myself. It takes an absurd amount of time, and I get discouraged. Then some sadistic moron emails me with warm encouragement, and it’s off to the “two-fingered wars and pieces” again. So again, I’m sorry if I upset anybody, not the intent. Just wagging a cautionary finger at MYSELF first and foremost. It’s a tough lesson I’ve been trying to learn all my life. “watch it, brother! It’s much easier to do than you think”. (I’m sorry, I’ll shut up now.) PS: And, Hokey, you needn’t worry about all the fun-poking Pokey. Spikey is a big boy, and he can take care of himself. I don’t think he took the slightest offense, and none was intended. In fact, he started this mischief by poking fun at moi…..!! I took the subtle dig in post # 10 above to be his humorous middle digit (I laughed), after his and mine little exchange under the post “Dynamic Roll-over". On that exact subject of judgmentalism. And that is what a good forum is all about: challenging normal thinking. If I have erred, I apologize. I have changed my signature away from the parakeet neatly balancing on the ball. I trust you find the new one below more appropriate to my deplorable state. Humbly, yours. (shut the f@#k up, Moggy. Okay, okay…) (Gone)
  13. wow. Reminds me of the story told me by the pilot. He was in the habit of banging on the tail boom. Just a casual, bottom-of-fist bang, I guess. He heard a rattle. Another bang: another answering rattle. Hmmm... Turned out to be a tool left behind. For a while, we were all going around banging tail booms...
  14. double negative, eh? I always knew it. Come on home, son, all is forgiven. Pity about the camels, but there's no point in taking the hump about it. Come on back and join the 'humble family'. There's a cold beer waiting for you in the fridge. Dad
  15. Spikey-baby! AWE-some! Your epiphany! Your coming out moment! I am SO impressed. Gold star award! Just remember it's a 12-step program. You have taken the FIRST step, and I applaud you. You have started on the long road, of moving away from haughty judge-mentalism, from "That would never happen to me, I'm so good", from the stereotypical website grump, away from your immaculate conception, towards a goal of greater humility, and, dare I say it, a modicum, of compassion. The embracing of the knowledge of our all-too-common fallibility as pilot-humans. The embracing of the old saying "There for the grace of God, fumble I..." I am SO impressed. I feel emotionally moved. A real emotional movem... Now just remember it's a 12-stepper, and there's a bunch of us fallible, rookie, clumsy types willing to support you, buddy, all the way. If you need a group hug, or if you want to hold hands, and hum "Kum-Ba-Yah", you know we're here for you. Damn. We'll have you quoting from "Winnie-the-Pooh" yet. There IS hope for the human race. Not-a-lot, mind, but some.
  16. Touche... I am slap-ped down... So this morning I find a dubious looking plastic spray bottle in my cockpit. The label says something about a pleasant orange smell. Maybe it's a subliminal message. I don't know. Putting on my best mock-serious expression, I carry it over to my good buddy, the ground helper/cleaner. I ask him: "If I find it in the cockpit, can I keep it?" It is intended as a very, very mild rebuke/wisecrack. He, (unperturbed) (chewing tobacco), "Do you want it?" Touche.... I am, indeed, slap-ped down.
  17. I think I prefer to make my leaving the ground perceptible. Uh-huh.
  18. well, in defense: the job at DragonFlyAviation might well HUGELY appeal to some poor slob hen-or-rooster-pecked working class peon, who would be THRILLED to be out-of-contact for a while with his/her ball and chain. Notice I'm gender neutral here, and politickle-ally 100% correct. And I'm not stirring either. Much.
  19. Oh.... so THAT'S WHY I grab the nearest white object (preferably a flag, but a dish cloth will do) and wave it frantically around my head, when faced with domestic little lady hands-on-hips stern talking-to lecture time. Funny the things I learn on a sleepy morning, before my first cup of coffee. There is hope. Maybe.
  20. Excellent point. I hadn't thought of it that way. Not so much that calm, neutral voice, though. (Check - height - check -height -check- height...) more like: JESUSMOGGYWHATAREYOUDOINGFORFLIPSAKEYOUCRAZYDAFTBASTARD!!!!! (sigh)
  22. I'm sure you know C18's were widely used in the Tuna Fields. Always annoyed me, when they pulled the C 20's out, sold them, and replaced them with C18's. Some truly awesome blow ups of C 18's. Over remote areas, I really doubt the safety of the C18's. That is OLD technology. Unfortunately, the C20 series.... big bucks. Awfully hard for many an operator. But you would have a truly awesome beastie. Here's a link to a web page showing a (typical) C 18 AFTER BLOWING UP.
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