Crap, They're Loud!
There was the sound of a huge auto crash on the corner of Mission and Cesar Chavez yesterday, at least 50 cars piled up -- or, that's what it sounded like to Plotnik, who was on his Plotkicycle, waiting at the corner for the light to change. As he ducked his head reflexively to avoid the burnt, shattered pieces of steel that would surely follow, he saw a guy on another bike looking up into the sky. Two Blue Angels roared by above, on their sides as they pulled out of their dives.
Holy Crap, they're loud.
Yes, it's marvellous to imagine the precision world those guys are operating in, and yes, it's astounding to see and hear these war birds up close instead of in war movies, but in the end the only thing Plotnik can ever think of is how glad he is they're not roaring in on our city for the purpose for which they were designed.
These are not beautiful birds, they're engines of death, pure and simple. Thankfully, it's death to the other guy. Say what you will about our idiot government and an immoral war, we are really lucky these flyboys are on our side.
posted by DAK @ 8:57 AM
4 Comments:
It's about the only thing I've ever agreed with Chris Daly about ~ can't they go over to Stockton? Fresno? I hate 'em......
Freedom isn't free, but it sure buys some cool toys!
Somebody give 'em Chris Daly's address...like it or not, this city and the military go a long way back - to deny that history is Stalinist revisionism, Chris...
Boys will be boys. Especially American Boys. Yawn.
Bottom line: The noise is obnoxious, the military connotations are obnoxious, and to hell with anything that reminds me, even remotely, of our presence in Iraq or possible bombing of Iran.
Let's review: The war in Iraq is awful, an expensive bloody quagmire, true enough. It is also a ground war, NOT an air war. To connect the Angels flying exhibition with this mess is limited thinking, indeed.
The Blue Angels make me think of Betty Skelton, US Female Aerobatic Champion in 1948, 1949 and 1950, in her red Pitts Special, or Lincoln Beechey flying over the beaches of SF in 1912, and of Beryl Markham, the first woman to fly the Atlantic Ocean, but the hard way, east to west, solo and non-stop in 1936.
Barrel rolls, lomcevaks, hammerhead stalls, split-S turns, pure high-speed artistry in the skies. For some of us, aviators have been our heroes, and a plane is a thing of awesome beauty. The Angels existed long before Shrub (may he rot) and will exist long after he is gone. And Daly, too.
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