March 23, 2015
March 10, 2015
March 7, 2015
March 5, 2015
March 4, 2015
March 2, 2015
This 1965 photo is of a Skyraider, a fighter/bomber which launched from aircraft carriers. And yes, that IS a toilet under its wing! But usually we drop bombs IN toilets...we don't drop toilets as bombs! Pilot Clint Johnson (Captain, USNR Ret.) explains:
"The toilet was a damaged toilet, which was going to be thrown overboard. One of our plane captains rescued it and the [bomb] crew made a rack, tailfins and nose fuse for it. [After being scheduled for a flight mission], our checkers maintained a position to block the view of the air boss and the Captain while the aircraft was taxiing forward. Just as it was being shot off we got a message from the bridge, 'What the hell is on that plane's right wing?'
"[The plane takes off. The toilet bomb] was dropped in a dive... When it came off, it turned hole to the wind and almost struck the airplane...The FAC said that it whistled all the way down.”
Story and photos from MidwaySailor.com.
February 19, 2015
February 10, 2015
I'm glad you asked! Here's Sylvia Plath on mining for nuggets:
There are so many subtle variations of sensation. A delicate, pointed-nailed fifth finger can catch under dry scabs and flakes of mucus in the nostril and draw them out ot be looked at, crumbled between fingers, and flicked to the floor in minute crusts. Or a heavier, determined forefinger can reach up and smear down-and-out the soft, resilient, elastic greenish-yellow smallish blobs of mucus, roll them round and jellylike between thumb and forefinger, and spread them on the under-surface of a desk or chair where they will harden into organic crusts. How many desks and chairs have I thus secrtively befouled since childhood? Or sometimes there will be blood mingled with the mucus: in dry brown scabs or bright sudden wet red on the finger that scraped too rudely the nasal membranes. God, what... satisfaction! It is absorbing to look with new sudden eyes on the old worn habits: to see a sudden luxurious and pestilential “snot-green sea,” and shiver with the shock of recognition.
From Plath’s Journals, via Janet Malcolm’s The Silent Woman, 160-161.