It's HOT

Well... how hot IS it, Buck?  This hot:

Note the highlighted "Special Statement."  Here's what it sez:

We're about to retire to the verandah to attempt an al fresco Happy Hour and you may rest assured we shall be drinking a few semi-clear fluids (clear but golden!).  Or mebbe we'll have a G&T or two, just to keep within bounds of the recommendation.  Tomorrow looks pretty good, though... our forecast high is only 88.  MUCH better!

Update, 1455 hrs:  I didn't last ten minutes.  There's a slight breeze at the moment and every time that breeze wafted over me was like sitting in front of God's Own Hair Dryer.  I've turned into such a wimp in my old age.

Just Some Stuff

From the Usual USAF Source...

The European Diet Plan

During the 1990s, US Air Forces in Europe supported one combatant command. USAFE was made up of four separate staffs, including headquarters and three numbered air forces. There were 25 main operating bases, at which some 72,000 Air Force personnel were assigned, and a total of 805 aircraft in 34 aircraft squadrons. By comparison, US Air Forces in Europe-Air Forces Africa now supports two combatant commands with one integrated staff, including headquarters and one numbered air force. Instead of 25 main operating bases, there are just six. The number of aircraft assigned to the theater has dropped from 805 to 204 and there are just 10 aircraft squadrons. Lt. Gen. Tom Jones, USAFE-AFAFRICA vice commander, said seeing those stats side-by-side can be "enlightening" to those who may not be aware of the command's full scope of operations. "When I hear talk back in the [United] States, and sometimes in the Pentagon, about bringing things back from Europe, I tell them there is not a lot of Air Force things to bring back," Jones told Air Force Magazine during a briefing at command headquarters at Ramstein AB, Germany, in mid June.

—Amy McCullough

I suppose I served at the right time, which is to say the assignment opportunities over the course of my career were pretty danged good compared to the airmen of today.  OTOH, I can never go home again, coz only three of the bases where I served... Tinker AFB, OK; Keesler AFB, MS; and Yokota AB, Japan... still exist.  All of the other bases/sites were closed long ago.  This also means that 16 of my 22 years were spent at places that no longer exist, if you're keeping score.

And then there's this:

That's a very nice rant, innit?  We're still not watching the tournament but it's like a bad penny... it still keeps coming around, no matter how hard ya try to ignore it.  This tweet is a case in point, seein' as how I'm not on anyone's futbol list.  Twitter sends me a daily summary of "you might have missed this" tweets and the tweet above was part of that.  Thanks, Twitter.  I think.

Finally...



Hula hoops?  They still exist?  Well, yes.  Yes, they do.  And young Rachel is pretty danged good at what she does.

Just Checkin' the Box

That would be the box that sez "post sumthin' every day."  So...

Aiiieee, in a word.  We took our first beer on the verandah but have opted to take our second one indoors.  It's a tad warmish outside.

Apropos o' Not Much

I'm not sure if anyone picked up on the framed photo on SN1's desk when I put up the congratulatory post about his selection to Lt. Col. this past week.  To refresh your memory, I'm talking about the pic below the white arrow on the right:

Here's that same photo, but larger:

The explanation, from an old post:

The top picture was taken sometime before 1991. I know the approximate date because Buck isn't sporting his Gulf War I ribbons. From left to right: Sam, as NROTC cadet; your humble scribe, six or so years post-retirement (and the uniform fit perfectly); and Buck, as a Senior Airman. I hesitate to say Buck, Jr, as he isn't a "junior." "Buck" just happens to be the common nickname given to us both. Buck is the older of the two.

My, how time flies.  SN1 is much closer to 50 than he is to 40 and both sons could retire from their respective services if they had a mind to do so (shorter: both are working for half pay these days).  Makes a body feel OLD, it does.

Saturday: (No Tag Line)

I just could NOT think of a suitable title for this:



It's pretty damned funny, though... "Your grandpa's bobbing for ovaries!"... and well-played.

Broadening Our Horizons LXXXIII

We're thinkin' global and actin' local when it comes to our beer today.  Which means we're drinkin' a Wit Bier, albeit one brewed just up the road in Albuquerque.  Like this:

There are precious few reviews of this beer at the Go-To Guys' place (the Bros are completely absent) and no narrative at all on the first page of reviews I scanned.  So, I found this by goin' further afield.  A quote:

Summer time and a well made wheat beer seem to be nearly a perfect fit for one another as the hot sun creates the desire for something easy to drink that is packed full of refreshing flavors. To create an even brighter feel when drinking their well crafted wheat beer Marble Brewery from Albuquerque New Mexico uses the addition of wildflower honey. Wildflower Wheat uses this special addition along with an ABV of 5.2% to quickly draw drinkers into stages of high anticipation to pour and enjoy every drop as soon as possible.

I'm not quite sure what wildflower honey has over your... wait for it... garden-variety honey, but Hey! Marketing.  Further along these lines... I must not have a very discerning palate, mainly coz I can't taste the honey.  All THAT said, the beer is quite pleasant.  This is my second bottle and it's just perfect for a rather warmish day out on the verandah.  I think I'll put this brew into the regular rotation.

Speakin' about warmish days...

Note the forecast for the next few days.  We might could be driven indoors for Happy Hour on Sunday and Monday.  OTOH, our al fresco After Dinner Whiskey Hour could see a MAJOR extension on those days.

PSA: Lock 'Em Up

Oops.

Congratulations!

SN1's boss gave these to him yesterday...

... saying "All Lt Cols are arrogant bastards*."  Shorter: Buck's on the list (which became public today) for promotion to Lieutenant Colonel.  He prolly won't pin on his new leaves until July of next year, which means he'll have to walk on egg shells for the coming year.  But, Hey!  It's coming!

* I'd be a little bit concerned about that beer's tagline: "You're not worthy."

Sometimes I Think They Do It Just For ME

Yes!

Afternoon In the Garden o' Good and Evil, Revisited

I posted this pic last week when the Debbil Flamingos landed at El Casa Inmóvil De Pennington:

Well, now.  Our resident flamingos... not the newly-arrived Debbil flamingos, but our long-time residents... seem to have regained something of their old self:

They must have found some shrimp nearby.

His and Hers

My Buddy Ed In Florida sent this along a while back...

Well, OK... I should have titled the post "Hers and His" based on the precedence of the images.  But ya get the ideer, right?

Watching the World Cup

It's riveted, we are.

Grammar Pedants DO Have a Point

From Digg, about which they say...

BBC Anchor Omits A Somewhat Crucial Pause In His Opener

Punctuation isn't given it's due very often. Every once in a while, though, it serves a pretty useful purpose.

And the point is...



Heh.

That's the Spirit!

From the Usual USAF Source:

Spirit in the Sky

Air Frame: A B-2A Spirit flies over Cornwall England, during an aerial refueling with a KC-135 Stratotanker from RAF Mildenhall, England, June 11, 2014. Two B-2s deployed from Whiteman AFB, Mo., to RAF Fairford, England, in early June 2014 for training. (Air Force photo by SrA. Christine Griffiths)

The pic is awesome in full-scale.  Click it.

Related:

Bomber Rotation at RAF Fairford Wraps Up

The three B-52H and two B-2s bombers that deployed earlier this month to RAF Fairford, England, have concluded their training activities in Europe and are returning home. The bombers completed their training sorties on June 20, states a Royal Air Force release. Air Force Global Strike Command spokeswoman Kate Blais told Air Force Magazine on that same day that the bombers and their support personnel would return to the United States "over the next few days." Training out of Fairford allows bomber crews to familiarize themselves with the local airspace, command and control, and the tankers they would rely on if they operated from the area in a real-world contingency, said Lt. Col. Brad Cochrane, commander of the 393rd Bomb Squadron, a B-2 unit.*

—Marc V. Schanz

Dang. What a tough TDY that must have been, he said, with his tongue planted firmly in his cheek.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

Etta, with a cover of "Stormy Weather" (has ANY song been covered more than this?  I think not)...



We've written about Ms. James... one of our favorite chirps... before.  Like this:

I've been privileged to see Etta James on a number of occasions, the most memorable o' which was in a small pub in Camden Town (in London) back in the day, which is to say sometime during 1980 - 1983.  When I say "small," I mean SMALL... as in "could mebbe seat 100 people, with another 50 standing."  The Second Mrs. Pennington and I arrived at said pub about two hours before show time in order to secure seats before Etta's performance, knowing full well how small it was from previous experience with that venue.  The end result was we were both very well-oiled by the time Etta took the stage (and I use the term "stage" loosely)  but that did NOT diminish the experience in the least.  Miz James did two sets that night, if memory serves, and that evening was one of my very best musical experiences... which included the opportunity to say "hi" and thank her personally for her performance.  It don't get no better than that, Gentle Reader.

Indeed.  You're sorely missed, Ms. James... but you live on in our memory and in our record collection.

Related: There's this about that...

I have NO ideer how I missed the roll-out of Google Play's timeline, only becoming aware of it today via a tweet.  Like this:

The Guardian has a good article about the timeline, which includes this lil bit o' wisdom:

That big colourful splodge, just above these words? That's all of pop history, that is. Well, all of pop history according to Google. Or, to be more specific, all of pop history according to Google Play users. Or, to be even more specific, all of pop history as defined by what Google Play users have in their music libraries.

It's Google's new Music Timeline, which searches Google Play users' libraries to see which artists they have music by. Artists are then categorised by genre, and genres subdivided. What it provides, then, is a rough-and-ready map of the popularities of genres and artists over the years. Bear in mind, it's not logging what people listen to, but what they own. And equally, note that Google Play users are a pretty small subset of music fans.

[...]

So, a flawed tool, certainly. But by God you could waste hours fiddling with this stuff!

Yes, indeedy.  We played with this app for at least two hours today and will incorporate it, as the occasion demands, in future music postings.  And, apropos o' not much, one can PLAINLY see in that timeline when shit went wrong, which is to say about 1983, when hip-hop arrived on the scene.  "Apocalypse Now," in other words.  Former Happy Days, in this case, weren't so fuckin' happy.

Lame

So, there I was... reading (looking at the pictures, actually, as there's not much to read there) this article called "24 Things No One Tells You About Leaving Texas" and I see this:

Which was about the ONLY thing I agreed with.  All the rest of it?  Lame.  And the worst part is whoever put this thing together failed to mention "paying state income tax," which one MUST do in all but nine states here in the USofA.  That's a biggie.  Go ahead, ask me how I know.

Get OFF My Freakin' Lawn!

OK, Google... we get it: you're eclectic, diverse, and multi-culti to a fuckin' fault.  But just STOP with these soccer doodles... it's not like this is the Stanley Cup Final or anything. 

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

Continuing on with that Sweet Soul Music thang...

I'm just about at the end of my rope
But I can't stop trying I can't give up hope
'Cause I feel that one day, I'll hold you near
Whisper, I still love you
Until that day is here, I'm crying

There are a lot... and I mean a LOT... of male artists out there that might possibly lay claim to "the greatest soul singer of all time."  Folks like Marvin, Otis, and James, the last of which carries the sobriquet "The Godfather of Soul."  But for MY money?  It's Smokey, hands down... no contest, no debate, game over.  YMMV may vary, Gentle Reader, but Smokey is IT for me.  

We'll not get into the female side of the house, but Aretha... The Queen of Soul... is Number One With a Bullet.  Even that is subject to debate and we might just entertain that subject at some future time.  But not today.  Today we're all about Smokey and the Miracles... which we categorize as "finest kind."  And now it's back out to the verandah to continue as we've begun.

Beer me!

Saturday: Where Was This LAST Week?

Well done, Dove.  You obviously hit a nerve, what with nearly 11 million views.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

Arthur Conley with a musical question...

Do you like good music
That sweet soul music
Just as long as it's swingin'
Oh yeah, oh yeah

Not to put too fine a point on it, but... yes.  Yes, we DO.  We've gone on about sweet soul music before, like this:

Fast forward to 1960. I was now 15 and living in Washington, D.C. I'll choose the James Brown single on the left as an example of the revelation that came upon me beginning sometime around 1959 and culminated in 1960. That revelation was Black Radio and the R&B music featured there… which was unlike anything I had ever heard before (sorta: see Fats Domino, above). I'd go into my room at night and listen to my crackly, staticky AM radio, marveling at the music I heard… music that was Unobtanium in my white-bread, lily-white suburban world. Once again, consider the times… you simply did NOT find James Brown, Lloyd Price, or Ray Charles in the "hits" bin at Woolworths back in the day… that day being 1958 - 1960… at least not in suburbia. I would have had to journey into Southeast Washington to get that music in my hands back then and since I was only 15 and without a driver's license, that was out of the question. My parents simply wouldn't go there… literally… but the music was on the radio, the radio was in my room, and it was ON every single night. It was an education like no other.

And elsewhere, as well, but the linked post is worth reading, if only for the comments.  But as I said... not to put too fine a point on it...

Ooops

I missed this in all the brouhaha after the Kings' win last week...



Poor girl.  Literally thousands of people (but not me) saw this on live teevee.

The hat-tip goes to Sean McIndoe at Grantland, who sez:

The face-planter seemed like she walked away without a scratch, by the way. I doubt I would have been so lucky. I don’t know what I want my last moments on this earth to be like, but I’m pretty sure they don’t involve twitching on the ice with Gary Bettman standing over me, yelling, “Whose Cup presentation is awkward now?”

Heh.

Jes a Couple o' Things

First...

Heh.  Hillary is such an EASY target yet I suspect we'll get awfully damned tired of her before 2016 is done and gone.

And then there's this...

Yup, two years ago today.  Robert, the salesman at Bender GM who sold me the car, called me up at precisely 0838 hrs yesterday morning to inquire about how things were between The Tart and myself, in addition to the above e-mail.  Both events were nice touches (and it's the first time I've experienced after-sales behavior like this, ever) but I wish Robert hadn't called at what passes for oh-dark-thirty these days.  We retirees need our beauty sleep, yanno?  That said, these past two years have flown right by.  I'm still in love with the oh-so-lovely, graceful, and speedy Dowager Tart... I think I'm gonna keep her.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack: Another Guilty Pleasure

These guys aren't (or weren't) in my sweet spot but I don't know anyone who doesn't think this is a great tune...

Why in the world
Would anybody put chains on me?
I've paid my dues to make it
Everbody wants me to be
What they want me to be
I'm not happy when I try to fake it!
No!

Once again, it's set and setting that contributes to my love of this tune.  Many were those Sunday mornings back in '77 and '78 when I was MOST definitely easy.  And that worked to my benefit... most of the time.

Apropos o' not much... we heard this on Pandora's Al Green channel this afternoon.  And lest we let a day go by without bitching about sumthin', let me say this about that: Pandora plays about ten percent Al Green and 90% other stuff.  I suppose that's not a completely BAD thing, as long as I get to hear tunes like "Easy."  That's not always the case, however, and that leads to my angst.  Case in point: what in the HELL does Wild Cherry have in common with Reverend Al?  (Aside: we heard the linked tune on the Al Green station today, yes we DID.)  Answer: not a gotdamned thing.

Linkage and a War Story Retold

First the linkage...

Isle of Man TT: Cool and Unusual Motorcycles

Roads and museums on the IoM feature bikes rarely seen in America

From the linked article.  Does this moto look familiar?

There are a LOT o' cool bikes at the link, if'n yer in to that sorta thing.  Now about the re-telling bit in the post title.

I've posted about TT Week in the Isle of Man and believe me, Gentle Reader, it don't get ANY wilder than that.  Evah.  Both Daytona and Sturgis are more like the Westminster Kennel Club Show than a biker's destination, mainly coz of the racing.  Now there are races at the former... Daytona, but they're on a closed circuit... and there ain't no races at all in Sturgis.  TT Week in the Isle o' Man features a full solid week of road racing on real roads... serious roads.  And then there's the matter of Mad Sunday, which is THE ultimate biker's wet dream.  Let me quote:

On "Mad Sunday" any member of the public can ride the mountain section of the course, which is open one way from Ramsey to Douglas. In 2012 there were just four accidents on the open day - while in previous years there had been dozens. In 2013, eleven spectators were hurt when a rider lost control at Bray Hill on the outskirts of Douglas.

What makes Mad Sunday so Mad?  No speed limits.  None.  Ride as fast as you wanna... on a twisty two lane road that runs over the mountain.  I rode Mad Sunday in 1982 and THAT was my peak mo'sickle experience... nothing will ever top it.

But we digress. I received a box full of correspondence from SN2 yesterday, all of which originated in days o' yore.  I found this lil item among the stack o' stuff:

Yup.  A ticket, about 40 bucks worth, give or take a farthing or six.  There's a bit of a story behind that ticket, the Reader's Digest version about which goes like this...

It was in the early evening, just after dinner, when I decided to go for a little putt on the back roads just outside Douglas.  So, there I was, motoring along at about 60 mph on a two lane country road when I had the livin' bejeezus scared outta me when a guy on a Suzuki RG500 GP bike went screaming past me at about 120 mph or more.  The guy caught me completely by surprise and I inadvertently changed lanes when he blew by me.  (Parenthetical side note: given there's actually no track at the IoM TT, most teams do their testing after hours on the back roads.  This was a case o' that.)  So, it wasn't but three or four minutes later when a friendly constable steps out of the ditch on the side o' the road and waves me over, me bein' caught in a speed trap.  I was incredulous and exclaimed "Didn't you see that guy on the Suzuki in front o' me?"  "Wot Suzuki?" said the constable, in reply.  It dawned on me right there and then that some animals are more equal than others during TT Week.

So... it was off to traffic court the next day to pay my fine (60 mph in a 45), which really pissed me off as I missed the first race while cooling my heels waiting to see the fines clerk.  There really AIN'T no justice in this world, sometimes.

Our mount for TT Week:

That was one seriously quick mo'sickle.

Ah, Former Happy (mo'sickle) Days.

And Then There's This

Migawd but that woman has a BIG ass.  That alone disqualifies her as a serious candidate for anything.

Midnight Afternoon In the Garden of Good and Evil*

This looks bad...

I think it's a stand-off, for the moment.

*With apologies to John Berendt.  He wrote a damned good... no, great... book. 

Another One of Those Days

Meaning the sort o' day where the folks from Shoebox have to step in and save my blogging bacon.  With this:

What?  It's too early to get drunk, even for me.*

* Full disclosure: I rarely... almost NEVER... get drunk these days.  While it's true I drink every day, it's always in moderation... read as: two beers in the afternoon and three fingers o' whiskey (bourbon or single malt, depending) after dinner.  Hell, I don't even get a decent buzz on that.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack: A Guilty Pleasure

That would be Hall and Oates...

You must be thinkin' something
But you ain't sayin' nothing
You remember me?
I used to be your boyfriend

There ain't no point in reason
It only gets defensive
Why should we ruin the purity of the moment?

It's a laugh, what a laugh
It's so stupid I gotta laugh
And the funny thing is everyone thought
We were forever

[...]

She cried when he left her
Her eyes went black with the blue
The infrequent letters
The sooner the better
The cold distant phone calls
Will have to do

Ah... let's not go THERE, but substitute "he" for "she" (and vice-versa) and you got it (aside: "her eyes went black with the blue" is as masterful a turn of a phrase as I've ever heard in pop music).   But we digress.  I heard an H&O tune on Pandora's Al Green station today... not these two, but another tune that brought this Philly-soul duo to mind.  I own almost all of Hall and Oates' albums but it's hard to think about 'em... and impossible to listen to 'em... since all of their albums I own are on vinyl*, save for their "Greatest Hits" offering, which I have on CD.  Hall and Oates are pretty special to me, seein' as how they were a big part of our soundtrack when The Second Mrs. Pennington and I were in our courtship phase.  I'd post "She's Gone" as an adjunct to this post but that song STILL elicits painful... oh-so-very painful... memories.  Best to leave well enough alone.

* Long-time readers know my vinyl is in SN2's custody.

Raptors!

From the Usual USAF Source:

Air Frame: An F-22 Raptor from the Hawaiian Air National Guard takes off from Royal Malaysian Air Force P.U. Butterworth in support of Exercise Cope Taufan in Malaysia, June 11, 2014. (Air Force photo by TSgt. Jason Robertson)

SN1's new squadron maintains Raptors, so he gets to be "up close and personal" with these guys.  Rumor has it the security surrounding the F-22 is VERY tight.  You... the unclean, uncleared person that you ARE... can't get closer than 20 feet to the jet in most circumstances.

Correction.  In other related news... SN1 tells me I got the caption to this photo wrong.  The caption said "Major Wilson (left), 1AMXS outgoing commander, passing the guidon to Major Pennington (center).  Colonel Venzke, 1MXG commander, looks on."  What's really happening is Col. Venzke is passing the guidon to Buck while Maj. Wilson looks on.  That's the way it's done.  My apologies to all.

I Almost Forgot...

... that today is Father's Day.  Well, I DID forget, until I made the blog rounds and was reminded by just about everyone and their moth... err... father.  So... let's honor Dad.

Now here's a little story
To tell it is a must
About an unsung hero
That moves away your dust
Some people make a fortune
Other's earn a mint
My old man don't earn much
In fact....he's flippin'.....skint

Oh, my old man's a dustman
He wears a dustman's hat
He wears cor blimey trousers
And he lives in a council flat
He looks a proper narner
In his great big hob nailed boots
He's got such a job to pull em up
That he calls them daisy roots

Yup... Dad's come in all shapes, sizes, and flavors.  Here's mine (and Mom, too).

I think that pic was taken when I was about two years old* (that would be 1947), which would explain the Air Corps uniform the ol' man is wearing.

* I know, I know... the photo title sez 1949, but that's wrong.

Not Too Very Smart

The Digg title (where I found this) o' this Tube O' You vid is "LARGE-SCALE MASOCHISM;1,000 People Each Eating A Ghost Chili Simultaneously."  Two things immediately come to mind about this.

First:  It's CHILE, gotdammit.  Stop writin' "chili" unless you're talking about that southwestern dish made out o' meat, chiles, and other stuff.

Second:  How hot is a Ghost chile*?

In 2007, Guinness World Records certified that the ghost pepper was the world's hottest chili pepper, 401.5 times hotter than Tabasco sauce; the ghost chilli is rated at more than 1 million Scoville heat units (SHUs). Classic Tabasco sauce ranges from 2,500 to 5,000 SHUs. However, as of 2012, it was superseded by the Trinidad moruga scorpion.

So: Popping one of these into your mouth and biting down hard ain't too very smart.  Then again, what do Danes know about chile, anyhoo?  To answer my own question: little or nuthin' (except for Klaus, bless his heart), but at least a thousand of 'em learned a lil sumthin'.

* Even the freakin' Wiki gets it wrong, in two different flavors: "chili" and "chilli."

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

My all-time favorite Sousa march, which is appropriate for Flag Day:



There was a time in the wayback when I dug my heels in to this march... on numerous occasions.  But today?  Nope.  We just listened and watched Old Glory wave from our perch on the verandah.  Like this:

Long may she wave!

Après le Déluge

With apologies to Louis XV, of course.  We stuck our head out the door in between periods two and three of the hockey game last evening and immediately returned indoors to grab the camera.  Why?  Because we were graced with our favorite sort o' clouds.  Like this:

Looking west down the 17th Street Canal and Intra-City Waterway

I'll admit this isn't my best work* but we were in a rush.  There was a very, very important hockey game about to resume, yanno?

* I've done better.

Saturday: Congratulations, LA Kings... 2014 Stanley Cup Champions!

Last night's double-OT winner...



Is it October yet?

A Day Late...

President Bush (41) sure had a great 90th birthday yesterday... some notable notes from Twitter:

Happy Belated Birthday, Mr. President.  Didn't anyone ever tell you there's no earthly reason to jump out of a perfectly good aircraft?

Memo For Record

We're in receipt of a few pics from last Friday's change o' command ceremony at the 1st AMXS*, Langley AFB, VA.  So, without further ado...

Playing the national anthem.  SN2... in his blueberry's... in the second row at far right.

Flowers for the ladies are a nice touch.  DIL Erma got red roses.

Major Wilson (left), 1AMXS outgoing commander, passing the guidon to Major Pennington (center).  Colonel Venzke, 1MXG commander, looks on.

You could eat off that hangar floor, couldn't you?  Impressive.


* "AMXS" is USAF-speak for aircraft maintenance squadron.

It's Always Sumthin'

Today it's this:

Yesterday, too.  Feedly is my RSS blog-reader... so when it's down so am I, as far as my daily reads are concerned.  There's always the old-fashioned way, of course, which means I have to cycle through my blog roll.

First-world problems.  We haz 'em.