Bullethead

It was build in the 40s and served in the RAF as a trainer for radio operators.

Here's my weapon: http://www.nrsworld.com/istar.asp?a=6&id=10103!SUNWE Beautiful, ain't it? Very sword-like IMHO. And it really handles like a rapier, with perfect balance. Just twist your wrist and you cover a wide arc. Mine's got the longest shaft they make, so the whole thing is nearly 4 feet long. It runs on four C batteries. Each zap uses no more energy than turning on a 4x C flashlight for half a second or so, so the batteries last a long time. A cattle prod is just a transformer that steps the voltage WAY up (and of course the amps way down). The high voltage is what makes it painful, but the energy is so low that it's not damaging (within reason). However, this thing was designed to be moderately painful to very large, thick-skinned animals, so it's EXTREMELY painful to smaller things like people, dogs, and geese. You'll feel it for a long time afterwards. It'll stretch a snake out straight and stiff, either dead or in a coma, at least if you get it on the head. I don't know if it kills them, but it doesn't matter because I cut their heads off immediately afterwards. Anyway, tempting as it may be, I would have to advise against using this to control your children. And yes, I've got all sorts of stuff to clean myself up with. You can get all sorts of strange substances on you out here in the country. It's not "energy", it's body language. Put yourself in the right mindset and your body conforms to it, which the other critter can see. From what I understand of Cesar, he does dog body language and his goal is to establish a long-term master-slave relationship. I do human body language with the goal of getting the stop over with as quickly and easily as possible so I can get on with the next one. Dogs have been around us long enough to be bi-lingual this way. So I'm thinking, "I'll only be here a minute, I mean no harm, but I'll really enjoy kicking your ass if you want to fight." It's no trouble for me to get in this mindset because I'm that way all the time. Driving for FedEx only accentuates it . This usually works. Honestly, most dogs are pansies. The vast majority of the time, dogs bark half-heartedly but wag their tail, like "I don't know you so I'm barking, but I really don't want to fight so let's be friends." When I see this, I don't get out the prod. I just say "hi" to them as I walk by, let them sniff my fingers if they want to, and no problem. There are also quite a few dogs that take 1 look at me and slink off under the house with their tails between their legs. A few dogs are belligerent, though, especially if there are more than 1 of them. These are the ones I have to really stare down and I have the prod ready. You can tell by their posture and tone of voice that they might attack, but they haven't made up their minds yet. I just try to convince them that the best they can hope for is mutual destruction. While I enjoy zapping such dogs to teach them a lesson, I try to avoid it because the owner might be through a window and have a shotgun handy. After all, even meth cooks order stuff online . So most of the time, we have a tense standoff and go our separate ways. But the real wildcard is if the owner comes out of the house to meet me. The dogs usually take that as their pack leader coming out to join the party, so they'll often attack as soon as the door opens, especially if it's a woman. And the more she hollers at them to stop, the more aggressive they become. And once in a great while, I meet a really vicious, killer dog. Fortunately, these have so far always made their presence known as I pull up in the driveway; they usually try to jump in the window at me. I don't even get out of the truck when this happens, I just put the package in a plastic bag and toss it out the window, trying to zap the dog in the process. Then I try to run over it as I drive away .

The day a dog kills me is the day I deserve to die. There's a reason dogs work for us and not the other way around. As long as you know that reason and are prepared to enforce it, you'll win, although you may require plastic surgery.

My day job is making niche-market sims. As I'm sure the OBD guys can attest, folks in this business need another gig for at least beer money. Thus, for the last few months, I've been delivering packages for FedEx in my local area. Garmin doesn't know the roads here at all, but because I was a fireman here for many years, I know all the back roads. I've burned down at least 1 house on all of them. Pity FedEx doesn't pay extra for my expert knowledge.... Anyway, out here in the sticks, free-range dogs with mean dispositions are par for the course. Thus, I carry a wonderful cattle prod in my truck. It's the latest design, balanced and quick like a rapier and just as long. All the weight's in the pommel so you can easily take on a whole pack of pitbulls with it (a common occurance). And it'll draw a 1/2" arc when tested against the fender of my truck. So, when I notice the defenders of some backwoods homestead, I come out with the package under 1 arm and the prod in the other hand, and tell them we'll settle this right now. I'm putting this box on the porch, so the choice is whether or not I have to kick their asses first. This stare-down usually works. When it doesn't, it's zap-a-pooch. And I'm quite prepared to drop the package and draw my knife if it comes to it, but so far it hasn't. So today I'm way out in the boonies and this house was guarded not by a mean-ass dog but by a goose. You cityslickers may laugh, but a goose will kick your ass if you give it a chance. I saw the bastard coming from 50 yards away, all neck stretched out, head cocked up, wings flapping, and honking to beat Hell. So I grabbed the prod before I got out of the truck. Geese may be mean but they're pretty stupid. You can reason with even the most blood-thirsty dog, but not a goose. Once they decide it's on, it's friggin' ON. I met him in the driveway before I'd even had a chance to get the box out of the back of the truck. At 5 yards, I kicked a large wad of driveway gravel in its face, but it didn't slow down at all. So just as it was getting into its spring for my face, I tapped it at the base of the neck with the prod. I chose that area because the feathers are thinner there, and I know they're insulators. DAMN! That goose did a flip in the air and uttered a shrieking honk that will haunt my nightmares for years to come. And I got a good demonstration of where the expression "loose as a goose" comes from. If you've never been around geese, bear in mind that they're the avian version of cows, so are always dropping copious amounts of vile, runny guano. But when you give them a good shock, they REALLY cut loose, and when they're somersaulting in pain, they can innundate a sizeable area . Fortunately, the Dark Gods smiled on me, no doubt because it had been a really crappy day already, what with my original truck dying and having to go back to the big city to get a rental. Whatever the cause, all those 5 pounds or so of guano just missed me by a fraction of an inch. It was everywhere else, on the ground, on my truck, in the air, but not on me . The goose came to rest on its side, honking dreadfully, and started to get up and face me again. So I gave it another zap, which made slide through a thick pile of guano and lie there muttering fitfully. I got my package out of the truck, stepped around the ordure, and put the box on the porch 20 yards away. The numerous small dogs and cats that also lived there all ran and hid at my approach. On my way back to the truck, the goose had regained its feet and was still trying to posture and honk threateningly, but was pretty half-hearted about it, what with all the gasping for breath it was having to do. It backed away as I advanced. I gave it a last long, hard stare and gestured menacingly with the prod, and it backed up a few steps. So I got in my truck and drove off to the next stop. Geez, they don't pay me enough for this, but that was almost worth it. I look forward to going to that house again, to see if that goose remembers me

Most of them were quite elegant, weren't they? There were a few abortions to be true, but nearly as many as on land. Hopefully, someday OFF will have these AH and Italian flyingboat fighters dueliing over the Adriatic. The "Otto Prohaska" series really hooked me on that. I was hoping Stumpjumper would soon have such available, but given his unfortunate accident, I'm afraid we'll have to wait a while longer . But that whole eternal ghostly circle of WW1 planes..... There were all kinds of things in there, even obscure Caudron types and Austrian bombers that only reached the prototype stage (although killing some test pilots). And in the vid you linked, the checking of the rounds for imperfections that might jam the guns, by coal-oil lamp no less. Whoever made this anime, despite the porcine main character, really knew something about WW1. I must find and buy the full thing in English, that I know. Who knows? It might be as good as Cowboy Bebop . Still.... DAMN, I will never look at a contrail the same way again. That's not condensation in the exhaust of a 747, it's all of everybody's DiD pilots and their victims. Creepy, eh?

Doesn't that apply to us all? Surely everybody here has come within an RCH of having their tail of years snipped off at the buttocks more than once? I can't imagine anybody reaching even early middle age without more close calls can they can remember. Car wrecks, sports, drug and/or alcohol overdoses, freak accidents in daily life, you name it. Or maybe I've just had a rough life. Still, I think the reason I'm "on the threshold" is because of my Cajun grandma, who was as fey as they come. That's supposedly a generation-skipping thing and all. Plus, there was a bit of Louisiana voodoo surrounding my birth, or so I've been told. But as a rational, if often drunken, 21st Century man, I put it all down to parallel universes and other such things readily explainable by modern physics. If photons can bump shoulders across the boundaries of universes to create interference patterns when there's only 1 photon here, why can't your eyes, which react to photons, see into the other universes under the right condistions? Either that, or I hallucinate constantly, which is also readily explainable . HOLY CRAP!!!! Italian anime . Seriously, this is classic. And who would have put a bunch of Italian and Austro-Hungarian flyingboat fighters into that eternal circle, but somebody really into the obscurities of WW1. Damn, that was chilling! Thanks for sharing . Reminds me of a song..... An ol' cowpoke went ridin' out one dark an' windy day Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way When all at once a mighty herd of red-eyed steers he saw Tearin' through the ragged skies an' up a cloudy draw Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel Their horns were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel A bolt of fear went through him as they thunderd 'cross the sky He saw the riders comin' hard an' heard their mournful cry Yippee yi oh! Yippee yi yay! Ghost riders in the sky Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred, their shirts all soaked with sweat They're ridin' hard to catch that herd by they ain't caught it yet 'Cause they've got to ride forever through that range up in the sky On horses snortin' fire. As they ride by hear their cry Yippee yi oh! Yippee yi yay! Ghost riders in the sky As the riders loped on by him he heard one call his name He said, "You wanna save your soul from Hell a-ridin' on our range? "Then cowboy change your ways right now or with us you will ride "Tryin' to catch the Devil's herd across these endless skies" Yippee yi oh! Yippee yi yay! Ghost riders in the sky

The Austrians even got their hands on a few EV/DVIII planes, although apparently none got beyond the evaluation stage in the rear before the war ended.

I figure it's because they make your digestive system emit bangs. I know that another traditional Brit dish, "bubble and squeak", causes my guts to make exactly those noises

I really enjoy flying Pups. No bad habits at all, able to do all sorts of crazy turns at ridiculously low speeds, very easy to land, etc. I feel invincible when I fly it. However, it does have a few of drawbacks...... 1. It's rather flimsy. Don't get too wild with it at high speed or you might break it. It's not as easy to break as a Nupe or Albatros, but it does happen occasionally (especially if you've taken wing damage). Fortunately, you can hear it creak ominously, which is usually sufficient warning to back off. Also, it doesn't need many hits before its performance is seriously degraded and not very many more will do fatal damage somewhere. So it's rather important to use the admirable maneuverability to stay out of the way of Hun bullets. 2. Very low firepower. Only 1 gun, and it fires very slowly. You'll rarely see more than 6 rounds in a 1-second burst. Problem is, Albatri are rather tough birds. Thus, you have a choice of saddling up and hosing them over a long period of time, or trying for precision shots into their vitals. I prefer the latter because when I follow Albatros #1 too long, Albatros #2 gets me on me, and the Pup can't take any punishment. I find it best to try for short-range, high-deflection snapshots into the engine, radiator, or pilot, rather than following a target all around. If you get good at this, you can fly with only 75% ammo or less, because you'll be getting 2-3 kills per sortie with only 100-200 rounds. 3. Low speed and weak climb. These mean that if an Albatros wants to play with you, you have to fight. It also means that most of your fights will begin with Albatri swooping on you from high above. The Pup has more macho at 16,000' than the Albatros, but you're very unlikely ever to get near that height to find out. Anyway, at the beginning of a fight, the Albatri will be way faster than you after their dives, and you're totally unable to follow them up in zooms. So stay in the horizontal mostly just concentrating on being hard to hit, until the Albatri blow their E to a level where you're all over them.

Just like any other airliner, you were aboard for the duration. The emergency exits no doubt were there with the idea that a survivable crash would probably leave the only cabin door inoperative, just like car doors are usually stuck after a wreck. I suppose that after a crash there'd be a splinter of wood or something lying around that a survivor could use to cut open the exit if he didn't have a knife. But I think the best case scenario would be if the fuselage came to rest on its side, because most folks with broken bones would find it hard to climb out through the roof, even if they were overloaded with adrenaline. That's what I did. Growing up, all I wanted to be was a military pilot, but by the time I was old enough, I knew enough to think that pretty much all the main advances in weaponry since WW2 were designed to shoot down airplanes, and that there was no good place for them to hide anymore, what with dopler radars and such. However, things on the ground hadn't gotten that much more dangerous, relatively speaking. So I opted for the trenches rather than the sky, only to get stuck initially with what was widely considered the most dangerous job in the military--field radio operator, with a life expectancy of 2.5 seconds in combat . But I survived, so I figure I made the right call

Yeah, those are better than what I had--I can work off them. Thanks muchos. Now I just need the dimension so I can scale the thing. I can't find all the necessary dimensions, either.

Howdy- Anybody know where I can get some good 3-views (with dimension, if possible) of a Le Rhone 9J? In return, I've found some good drawings of several important machineguns: http://www.arizonamodels.com/index.php/cPath/34_39 There are pages for Spanau, Parabellum, Vickers, Lewis, and Schwartzlose. Click on each gun type, and at the bottom of the page to order the kit, click on the link for the instruction manual. This brings up a PDF that includes good original drawings of the guns, as well as instructions to build the kits sold here.

Speaking of the insanity of flying...... While at IWM Duxford a few years ago, against my better judgment I got talked into taking a ride around Cambridge in a Dragon Rapide. Sure, it's a nice, classic plane, all wood and canvas and flying from grass, but it's OLD and I've seen enough modern planes naked to not trust even new ones. The 1st cause for concern was boarding the plane. Seats were assigned by how much you weighed to get the balance right, and there were a number of women present who were strongly enjoined not to lie. I think they did anyway. The pilot then did some calculations with pencil and paper (no doubt estimating the real weights of some of the women) and lined everybody up in order of boarding. Entry was at the rear and seats were filled from back to front to keep the plane from nosing over. I ended up on the port side just behind the wing. The pilot was the last person to board. The 2nd cause for concern was the emergency exits. These were in the cabin roof and consisted of circular holes in the plywood decking, over which was just a sheet of canvas. The inside perimeter of this canvas was marked with a dotted line that said "Cut here for emergency exit." Unfortunately, nobody's allowed to carry knives on planes these days..... Anyway, off we bumped and eventually staggered into the air. The view outside wasn't the greatest because the window was some sort of transparent plastic sewn into the fuselage side, and it was somewhat yellowed and foggy. Also, it was streaked with oil. And you dind't want to lean over towards it very far anyway, because the fuselage side was just a few skinny wooden stringers covered with canvas. Besides, my attention was fixated by a set of slack wing bracing wires which were vibrating madly in the wind just outside. These were big wires, maybe 3/8" diameter, 2 of them side by side, so I assumed they were important for holding the wing on, but they obviously weren't providing any support. In fact, their centers were moving up and down over about 8" so fast they were just a blur. I was worried they'd fatigue, snap, and come whipping into the fuselage with me. Besides this, the #1 engine was running a bit unevenly, and its cowling bore greasy fingerprints as evidence of hurried adjustments before our flight. Surprisingly, things went rather well for the 1st few minutes. We climbed up to about 1500' then took off to do a figure-8 around Cambridge and some other nearby town. But then the inevitable happened. We'd made it around Cambridge and were heading for the 2nd town when the #1 engine suddenly emitted a loud BANG and puff of white smoke, after which it just made worrisome grinding noises like you hear in OFF when fighting Brisfits . When this occurred, we happened to be passing the end of the Duxford runway about 3 miles out. I give the pilot credit for quick reactions. Instantly, he whipped us into about a 3G turn (I swear I head the airframe creak) to line up with the runway, then dove us toward it while gunning the remaining engine. We came in low and fast to the threshold, then flew along a few feet up for about 1/2 the runway until we slowed down enough for a 3-pointer. Then we taxied back to the boarding area on 1 engine. That was the end of flying that day for the Dragon Rapide. My parents were sitting on the starboard side so hadn't noticed anything amiss. In fact, they didn't think anything bad had happened at all until I told them. They though the BANG and hard turn were just turbulence. I, however, kissed the ground when I got out of the thing...

Damn, that's very good! Congratulations! Drinks on me . You're obviously more ambitious than I am (I picked a monoplane for my 1st attempt) and do better work than I've got so far. Very nice engine there, especially. Did you find separate drawings for it, and if so, where? I'm having a Hell of a time finding good drawings of a Le Rhone 9J. The more, the merrier. While you're waiting for the proper time to really get into a plane, I suggest you begin now building up a library of parts you'll use a lot, such as MGs and rotary engines. MGs at least are fairly simple compared to planes so are good for teaching the basics of the Gmax interface and methods.

Oh Hell, I must have crossed that line a long, long time ago. I've been surrounded by ghosts since childhood, so I take that as normal. What bothers me, though, is when Elvis drops by every couple of months. The bastard cleans out my fridge

Deserts are the best places to live. No humidity, a field of fire so vast you need arty to cover it all, and damn few people to mess it all up. And all of it covered with spectacular rock formations in brilliant colors you never see elsewhere. Even the sky is in HD big screen. If you've never lived out there, you have no appreciation for what the sky really looks like, day or night, rain or shine. Plus, there's the so-called American prong-horn "antelope" (actually a thing unto itself), jack rabbits, coyotes, Indian pueblos inhabited and ruined, the capital city of the Navajo Nation, Spanish missions, Roswell, the grave of Billy the Kid, and all kinds of other good stuff. They don't call it the "Land of Enchantment" for nothing. I'd rather live in the adjacent parts of Texas, but New Mexico's a close second. I suppose these places seemed more like home to Germans, even down to the language of some of the locals. But there's too much snow up there for me C&H was the best comic made since Li'l Abner. I have most of the whole series in books. When I fly OFF, I always think of Calvin running through the house with a toy flying saucer yelling "SPACEMAN SPIFF IS GOING DOWN!!!!"

I suppose this is a big more on-topic, even if it's from the RAAF in WW2.... Oh the starting of the Beaufort is a most peculiar art No matter how you prime the bitch the best she'll do is fart And sometimes in the mornin' when the dew is on the grass You're tempted to insert the choke up Pratt & Whitney's ass See oh see oh everybody come Come and see the Beaufort boys a-sitting on their bums Trying start their engines amidst the mighty roar Of the Liberators that were started long before

Obviously, sir, if you think the south's aversion to yankees all comes from the 1860s, you are sadly misinformed, or rather uninformed. The north-south division was brought over here by the colonists--it was just the same old English vs. Scots feud taken to a different arena. As such, the north has always treated the south like England has treated Scotland through most of recorded history, and continues to do so down to the present day. And the Hell of it is, you yankees don't even realize you're doing it, or if you do, you think we should realize its for our own good and just bend over for it. But this ain't the place to get into such arguments, and there are far more pressing problems in the world to argue about anyway. So let's just agree to disagree on this and go back to flying OFF.

I don't mind talking about mine; they're all going to die soon anyway .

Again, much obliged! Drinks on me

They're all licking their wounds from the Verdun counteroffensive and the Somme, and also too smart to fly in crappy winter weather. So you're basically out to dry until about April, when the next round of Flanders offensives kick off.

How do my pilots die? Usually horribly, stupidly, and pointlessly You really need another box on the "pick your several leading causes of death" question. The thing that kills me most is trying to fly while pretty well drunk That's why I have so many collisions, which includes those with the ground that weren't caused by spins or enemy fire. But looking at other folks' answers, I'm really surprised to see so many folks getting killed by flak. I have my flak set at normal and in all the time I've flown since BHaH came out, I've only even been nicked by a flak burst once. "Archibald, certainly not!" I moon the gunners in the midst of intense flak barrages to show my contempt for their aim. Now, AAMGs are another matter entirely. They've gotten me a number of times, but not nearly as often as me flying into so something. This is because I try hard to avoid getting anywhere near them.

My own aversion to the stuff comes from its association with miserable times. I can't think of Spam without recalling the circumstances under which I always seemed to eat it. Imagine your day beginning like this..... You awaken stiff, sore, cold, and soggy, rolled up in your shelter half. When you open your eyes, your vision's all blurred because the night's rain has filled in your sunken eye sockets. So you sit up to wipe that away and all the water that's collected in your helmet pours down the back of your neck. This produces a painful, chest-burning fit of coughing, which immediately triggers a migraine. Not having eaten in a day or 2, you decide a good breakfast will make you feel better. So you root around in your sodden pack with your chapped, stiff, grimy fingers and pull out your last MRE, the one you been saving for a day like this. First thing, you find the packet of instant coffee and pour it down your throat dry, for quick headache releif and to numb your tastebuds for the horror to come. Then you get to the main course, which naturally is a packet of Spam. That's why this is the one that's still left--you ate all the good ones already. You tear the end off the pouch and squeeze but only get a whiff that smells like dogfood. The slab of cold Spam won't budge because it's glued to the inside by congealed grease. So you get out your plastic spoon and try to scoop some out, but the spoon breaks. Nothing for it now but to open the pouch completely, exposing the sticky mess inside to the blowing sand in the air, which is still flying around despite the continued rain. So you rotate to face downwind to shield your meal from the sand as much as possible, and start cutting and peeling the pouch. The wet plastic slips in your clumsy fingers and about 1/3 of the Spam slab breaks off and falls to the ground. You gnaw the rest off the remaining part of the pouch and, despite your best efforts, it still gets a fair amount of sand on it before it enters your mouth. So you don't chew it much and you swallow it quickly to get it off your tongue as fast as possible. Ah, memories. That's why I don't eat Spam now.

I dunno, I've always thought it was kinda silly having to start my motor at all, let alone worry about the wheel chocks. Out of my whole flight, I'm the only guy who begins the mission with his motor not running. Missions always start with the planes lined up at the end of the runway, already in position to take off. How did they get there? In real life, from reading various pilot memoirs, it seems the usual practice was to start the engine and do the mag checks and runup in front of the hangar, then taxi out to the the takeoff position. The motor warmed up during the taxi, so by the time you got to the end of the runway, you were ready to go. So, in OFF, when I start at the end of the runway, I assume all the pre-flight stuff happened already and have no trouble at all just going as rapidly as possible. The one fly in the ointment is having to start the motor, like I forgot to switch fuel valves or something, every single time... Anyway, it seems to me that if you want immersion at the start of a mission, you need to move the spawn points to in front of the hangars, have the whole motor start, test, and chocking thing happen there, then taxi out to the end of the runway. But since we start at the end of the runway already, I say just go fly.