Alrighty then.How did you spot the Dude? Who tipped you off?~
It was mikey.
Ken's friends, Allan (later Alan) Brad, Curtis, Todd, Derek & Steven: Gay, or male models?
How did you spot the DudeSubby's Barbie scholarship is renowned.The matter of the whereabouts of his trousers when doing the research is a trivial one.
It was winter of '79. I was in Tahoe, trying to find the prick who ripped off our Red Bluff lab back in September. Word was it was a couple guys who had an 18 wheeler and took free-lance runs on the legit and sold the gofast in truck stops. I had Charley Cherrie and Toby on flank, and we were NOT happy.I was sitting at a roulette table at 3:30am, watching the other tweakers and playing fifty cent chips. My chosen color was a sick pink I called 'Pepto' and the dealer thought we were funny. Somebody sat down at the next stool. I ignored it. If you couldn't read my vibe, you weren't who I was looking for. I had my 4 inch Smith 66 in a shoulder rig and a Walther .380 in an ankle holster. I wore amber shades and a buckskin vest with a baseball frag in the pocket."Pretty serious for fifty cent chips" she said.I looked at her for the first time. She had blonde hair done up in some kind of complicated 'do' and blue eyes deeper than the lake outside. I dropped a stack of chips on a four corner bet and turned to face her, thumbing my felt hat up off my eyes. "It's tweak o'clock" I told her point blank. "What are you doing out here? The animals are not in their cages, y'know.She smiled and said "Hey, big guy, I can't eat and I can't shit. I'm running on day eight and I'll tear you into little pieces if you so much as move in my direction".Well. Damn. Double damn. I can't say it was love, but it was pretty much the next damn thang. "Whatcher name" I asked her, turning back to collect my winnings. "They call my Jazzie" she said. "I've got some friends you might know. Or at least your sister might." She took a long pull on her scotch. "Or maybe not."I stood up and cashed out. Up $38 bucks. Not bad for fifty cent peptos. I tugged at my hat and turned to Jazzie. I said "you know, we've got a couple choices at this point. But I'm thinking we need to go up to my room, smoke some weed and get in the bathtub before we tip over."She laughed softly and turned back to the table. I shrugged and walked away. "Hey!", she shouted. I stopped, without turning around. "Leave a girl to turn in her chips, fer crissakes. What are you, some kind of fucking tough guy or something?"Jazzie came up to me side and took my elbow, all sparkling eyes and honey hair. I smiled and shook my head. "Not so tough as you, Jazzie" I said and we walked over to the elevator...
That is so romantic. It's extra fun because I was just talking to a lovely blonde Jasmine today and she had Jazzie as a kid.What's a baseball frag?
probably something N__B dreams about using on a zombie.He's trouble.
Fragmentation grenade, sized & shaped close to a baseball.She had blonde hair done up in some kind of complicated 'do' and blue eyes deeper than the lake outside.They are all Orly.
In the sixties the DoD figured out that the good old "pineapple" design for anti personnel hand grenades was kind of stupid. They could put the fragmentation bits inside and use a thin steel casing outside,for better effectiveness and a wider kill zone. Then they got downright wacky. They figured out that if they changed the shape from oblong to ROUND, kids that had grown up throwing a baseball would be infinitely more effective with it. The interesting thing about this little story is it's based on a true story. I still talk to "Jazzie" was at her wedding a few years after the events depicted here. I put money on her husband's books (he's serving multiple life sentences at Pelican Bay). The difference between bad decisions and bad outcomes is sometimes nothing more than luck...
They figured out that if they changed the shape from oblong to ROUND, kids that had grown up throwing a baseball would be infinitely more effective with it. That's just good design right there. Wonder what you'll be able to kill with the WiiMote.
Think it through. You set up a company size perimeter, and put RF stakes around the perimeter that have GPS and talk to the central computer. You snap together a fifty foot tower with a turret on top. The turret has HD, FLIR, Night Vision and Synthetic Aperture Radar along with Laser rangefinding. Underneath the sensor bundle you have a Ma Deuce fifty, an automatic 40mm grenade launcher and a couple hellfire anti-armor missiles. Down in the command bunker you have a kid with a couple HD screens and a Wiimote.Now I ask you. Do YOU want to hit that perimeter?
I think I'd rather stay here in the bar, it's true.
Down in the command bunker you have a kid with a couple HD screens and a Wiimote.Now I ask you. Do YOU want to hit that perimeter?I read that book. So I would answer, no.
Actually, I was thinking of Crichton's novel "Congo".Even back then he was imagining an autonomous perimeter defense system. If I remember correctly, it ended up killing a gorilla which pissed off his gorilla family, with no good outcome...
This is what the Dude looks like today.
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