Media Manipulation

"The belief that reporters are trying to help Barack Obama win the fall campaign has grown by five percentage points over the past month." Gee, do you think? Plus this: "A separate survey released this morning also found that 50% of voters believe most reporters want to make the economy seem worse than it is. A plurality believes that the media has also tried to make the war in Iraq appear worse that it really is."

Most of that from a Rassmussen Poll.
It's reassuring, looking forward to November, that people understand they are being mislead.

Lifted from Instapundit.

How Obama Could Get My Vote

Not really, of course. I prefer my Presidential Candidates to be principled.
But now, instead of doing this, what are they calling it now... a pivot?
(That's a nice way of saying flip-flop.)
So instead of "pivoting" on his position on Iraq, wouldn't you respect him more if he would just say, "My stand on 'the surge' was wrong, and I'm glad to admit it. Our brave heros in Iraq have been successful."

I certainly would.

50,000 Physicists Can't Be Wrong

And Al Gore and his worshippers have to have their knickers in a knot.
Shoot that article full of holes, FlightFire!

Sometimes It's Irritating

I love it, most of the time.
I'm talking about my job.
As you know, I'm nearing retirement. Another of our Viet Nam Vets retired last month, and it was heartening to see how others reacted... our Med Crews bemoaning that one of their safe, experienced pilots was headed out to pasture, leaving a position open for... the unknown.
So I'm frequently asked, "What about you, GB? When will you hang up your spurs?"
Read the first line of this post again. The answer to that question lies there.

Even when I have to drag myself outta bed while it's still dark outside, it's the gettin' up that I hate. I still enjoy the idea of going to work, strapping the aircraft to my back, setting out to see if someone has found an ALL NEW way to hurt themselves. (And of course, once in a while they do.)
But the last day of my last shift was a trial. May I bore you?

The call from dispatch came at 11:30 A.M.
"Can you take the Children's transport team to Funkytown for a Neonate?"
It's hot... 95 F., but there isn't a cloud within 250 miles, so I accept the flight. I'm airborne with my Paramedic/Neonate team wrangler at 11:42. Twenty-five minutes later we load the team and set out on the next 30 minute flight to pick up the baby. After briefing the team I say, "So let me guess... Premature, respiratory distress, rule out sepsis?"
Over the intercom I hear laughter. That's the situation with about 90% of these flights.

We arrive at the referring hospital, and after shutdown I make my way to the nursery. When I arrive they make a face at me.
"The baby isn't born yet."
That's out-of-the-ordinary, but not unheard of. What's odd is that normally the transport team has been notified if that will be the case. This time they were unaware.

We wait.
And we wait.
And what's odd... the mother-to-be is in the room next to us and we can hear her grunting, at times nearly screaming. At one point we stifle a laugh as she shouts expletives at her significant other.
We wait some more.

At 4:30 P.M., five hours later, the transport team leader comes to me and says, "Another baby has been born that needs to be transported. Can you take this baby back, then come back and get the other one?"

Now my duty time begins to be an issue. I cannot accept a flight that will have me in the air 14 hours after I started my duty day.
I do a quick calculation...
"Yes, I can come back. But I want assurances that that baby will be 'on the ground' before I start back here."
She assures me they are moving Mom to take the baby via C section as we speak.

So we load our new charge aboard the helicopter and fly 35 minutes, back to where we picked up the team. They have one box, (Isolette), so they have to take this baby out and disinfect it before they can go back to get baby #2. That's fine... the BK needs fuel anyway.

Paramedic and I fly 4 minutes to the local airport and get a load of Jet A. We potty, then grab a couple bottled waters and wait for the call from the hospital that the team is once again ready.
The call comes, we fly back and get the team and the box, then fly 32 minutes back over ground we covered earlier.

Back at the nursery I'm relieved to see they are actually hovering over a real baby. I'm looking at my watch. It's gonna be close. Should I call my lead pilot and let him know what's going on here? Yes. If it's necessary I can get an emergency extension for the flight, provided he and I both think the flight can be safely conducted. I call him and let him know what's goin' on.

They take longer than I would like getting the baby ready. By the time we load and take off it's dark, and I'm within an hour of "turning into a pumpkin". We land and safely get the preemie on it's way to get expert help, then takeoff on our final leg.
I land and look at my watch. I have 8 minutes left in my "normal" 14-hour shift, (the normal 12 plus the 2 hour accepted extension.)
I've flown 3.6 hours during my 14 hour duty day. I've landed 8 times during that time, including two night landings. I'm irritated and tired. I'm questioning whether I love my job.

And you should know...
Both Moms were unmarried. Both Moms were "uninsured".
Both Moms were less than 20 years of age.
This was your tax dollars at work, folks!

Recycling

You already know I'm a "Use it up, wear it out" kinda guy.
So Marathon Pundit's post made me smile...

Footgear used at the last Republican Convention can be re-used at this one!

Fill In The Blanks-

Two Dead, so this is serious stuff.
But do you suppose the investigator was able to stifle a grin while he wrote this narrative?

Thanks to Bayou Renaissance Man via my brother from another Mom, The Old Man.

Oh! Canada!

I was surprised and somewhat pleased when I started "Pitchpull" to find many Canadian citizens stopping by, leaving interesting, thoughtful comments. I was fortunate to have considerable email correspondence with one Northerner in particular, where we amiably discussed the differences between our countries. National Health Care and National Defense were top issues in those missives, with a little U.S. politics thrown in for good measure. I'm now realizing we didn't discuss human rights to the degree we should have...
rights like freedom of speech.
Apparently, Freedom of Speech doesn't really exist as a right in Canada.

I don't know if you've been paying attention to our Northern border, but Canada has had quite the tussle going on about what can and what cannot be said about a certain religious group. Up until recently, the skirmishes have been pretty one-sided, with the religious group winning most of these battles simply because they had more money to throw into the fight. Now, finally, Canadians (iens) seem to have awakened to the dangers they face and have begun to dig in their heels. That's a good thing.

One author seems to think if Canada doesn't start protecting the rights of its' citizens, it should be put on a human rights watch here in the United States.
Fascinating.

Oh, and my predictions to that correspondent about National Health Care in Canada are beginning to come true too.
I take no pleasure from that... it's just the way socialist systems naturally seem to mature.

The Liberal Mind...

Images are such powerful mind movers.
I'm really, really slow, so can someone please explain to me how putting this image on the cover of a leading lefty magazine helps their candidate?

Bush Lied! Ummm, Well... Nevermind!

...."We have been hearing from the far-left for more than five years how, 'Bush lied.' Somehow, that slogan loses its credibility now that 550 metric tons of Saddam’s yellowcake, used for nuclear weapon enrichment, has been discovered and shipped to Canada for its new use as nuclear energy.

It appears that American troops found the 550 metric tons of uranium in 2003 after invading Iraq. They had to sit on this information and the uranium itself, for fear of terrorists attempting to steal it. It was guarded and kept safe by our military in a 23,000-acre site with large sand beams surrounding the site."

Since you won't see this on MSNBC, you can read the whole shebang here.

C'mon! I'm no Rube!
Everyone knows we invaded Iraq to steal their oil!
If you agree, do this:
Put your fingers in your ears, close your eyes, and chant with me...
"Saddam was NO threat! Saddam was NO threat!"

PUMAS! There's Pumas Out There!

Absolutely cracks me up, and democrats truly are "the gift that keeps on giving"! Hillary Vs. BHO, and the Michigan/Florida fiasco, (which still ain't over, just watch!)

"The Smothers Brothers" had a comedy routine where Tommy would refer to Cougars as Pumas. I've looked all over the 'net to find a video or audiotape to share with you, to no avail. But when this latest "Puma" sighting exploded, the mirth brought on by the Smothers Brothers came rushing back to mind.

And the neatest part? YOU MAY BE A PUMA!
Wanta find out?
All the links you need are right here!
Ha!
ThirdWaveDave found it:

So, How Are You Today?

I am well, thank you, and SO grateful that unlike Varifrank, I am NOT represented by Barbara Boxer, Dianne Feinstein, and Nancy Pelosi !

THANK YOU LORD!

Flexibility In Action!

Hopey, Changey, Sneezy, Grumpy, Dopey, Bashful and Doc...
More and more, this guy is looking like Snow White's sidekick.

Just. Plain. Cool!

July 6, 1983

Twenty-Five years ago today.
A day much like today... hot and humid. Showers were a possibility.
A very pregnant Sara Jean got out of bed to go to the bathroom. She returned to the bedside and woke me...
"I think it's time."
Through bleary eyes I looked to see fluid running down her leg.
That ain't normal!

Suddenly wide awake, bolt upright in bed, I grabbed the phone and called the hospital...
"Yeah, you need to get her here ASAP."
Our Fiat 124 Spyder had a broken starter, so I ran out and pushed it downhill to jump start it, then came back and loaded my precious cargo. Two miles and five minutes later Sara Jean was on her way to the birthing room. Big Bubba was born a few hours later.

Gosh, is it really 25 years? It doesn't seem that long until you start considering the memories.
I was concerned my male offspring would pay me back in Spades for the worry I had caused my parents for all those years. I fretted needlessly.
My relationship with my son was not, and is not perfect.
From an early age he let me know he had his own interests and would not be following in my footsteps. When I bought him his first logbook and introductory flight lesson, he landed saying he was "frightened from the moment the plane left the ground."

Oh well.

He has been the joy of our life. He has a strong sense of right and wrong. He is overly sensitive to hurting others' feelings. He is a known expert at his chosen work and won't release a product until it is as nearly perfect as he can make it.
And the thing that impresses me most...
Unlike other 25 year olds I meet and converse with,
he knows he doesn't know.

Reading a comment in another blog a couple weeks ago the commenter said,
"I was forty before I realized there were thousands of things about which I was clueless."
Knowing what you know is one thing. Realizing what you don't know is more important. Maturity comes with knowing you don't know.
Big Bubba has never pretended to know it all. And because of that, he's easy to like.

There's no easy way to emphasize to your kid how proud of 'em you are. They know you're biased, so they shrug their shoulders and say "Oh Dad/Mom!", then look away, embarrassed.
But in Big Bubba, Sara Jean and I have so much to be proud of...
He's intelligent, kind, and sensitive. He wants to succeed on his own, but he's not afraid to call and ask questions when he "knows he doesn't know." He's 1700 miles from home, making his way with extraordinarily little input from his parents.
I am proud of him. WE are proud of him.

So, to my son-
Shrug it off as I know you will, but this I am sure of:
Your old man still doesn't know it all, but when we look around at your peers, most come up miserably short in the comparison.
Your Mother and I are rightly proud of the citizen you have become.
Be proud of yourself too... Don't change a thing.


Happy Birthday!
We love you more than life itself.

And Then There Were None

Sad news.
James Taylor, the only survivor from the crash of two Bell 407's at Flagstaff Arizona, has succumbed to his injuries.
He also worked at the Flagstaff Medical Center, the intended destination of the helicopter before the crash, so I'm sure the staff there is doubly devastated.

And something that is not being generally reported...
One of the helicopters landed at the Flagstaff airport because of weight concerns and disembarked a Flight Nurse prior to taking off on the short flight to the Medical Center.
I'm having difficulty imagining how that crewmember must now feel.
God bless them all.

UPDATE:
I was mistaken. Taylor did not work at the Flagstaff Medical Center. An updated report, with a little new information is here.

What's It Worth?

We were at a bar. I sat across the table from my two closest friends, both, like me, recently returned Viet Nam Veterans. The conversation turned to military service, and my decision to make the military my career. My friends had both left the military after honorable service.
One commented "I don't want to die for this country."

It was a shock to hear the words.
I had no desire to "die for this country", but knew when I raised my right hand and swore to "protect and defend the constitution of the United States" that my death could be the price necessary to uphold the oath. I took that oath with pride.

My friend's comments were in the immediate aftermath of Viet Nam and should be weighed in that light. Many of us were bitter that our government had risked our lives in that effort, then much of that same government aided and abetted the enemy by openly using the media to further their political careers, questioning our goals there.
I told my friend I was willing to die for his right to express his opinion. It was his turn to be surprised.

There is no question that this country is imperfect. There is no question this country is now politically divided more than it has been in my lifetime.
Yet we still have defenders willing to risk their lives so we have the right to argue, and by arguing, hopefully improve this country.

In my opinion, one of the best measures of how we as a country are doing is to consider how many are willing to suffer great trauma in their lives to come here. Our great neighbor the North, probably one of the better places on earth to live, watches as citizens migrate to the U.S. in surprising numbers.

Is this country worth dying for?
Only so long as there are enough folks willing to earnestly think it is.
Thank GOD for our military!

Maria Dries Cherries

The list of things that can be done with a helicopter are nearly endless. We frequently use the downward airflow produced by the rotor in agriculture to do beneficial work.
Maria Langer recently used her R44 to dry the fruit on cherry trees.
Her post will give you an insight into the inherent dangers of the work.

Once An Eagle

Perhaps the best book about military service I ever read.
It's available at Amazon.com in Hard and Paperpack.
Now and then I get a glimpse of one of our Presidential candidate's close advisors on TV and am reminded of the A**hole West Point Grad from the book- Courtney Massengale.
I assume my readership is smart enough to sort out who I'm talking about.
You are a genuine ass, General. Thank you.

How Does This Happen?

At this time I'm hearing 7 dead and 3 injured. A daylight Mid-air collision? What in the world is going on?

UPDATED-
Now we're hearing there are 6 dead. One of the flight nurses is alive but critically injured. Two folks that were on the ground trying to help were hurt when something on one of the helicopters exploded. All this is gleaned from News reports and, like the initial report of 7 dead, should be taken with a grain of salt.

But the question remains... how does this happen?
I'm always claustrophobic when I get into an airplane. How in Hell can you be safe in something going that fast if you cannot see out of it?!! I'm just amazed when I climb into the cockpit of an airliner and see the tiny windows on those things... an airplane designed to go 600 miles an hour or so. It's a credit to all airplane pilots we don't have more airplane to airplane Mid-air collisions than we do!

But helicopters...
Most are designed to be like sitting on your front porch while your front porch is zipping along at 1500 feet of altitude. And in a helicopter, you have the added benefit of being able to see THROUGH THE WING! Most even have little "chin bubble" windows in the floor to look through! We chopper folks can see almost everywhere out of our machines!

So how do two helicopters find a way to collide, during daylight hours, in Flagstaff, AZ. where the visibility was probably 200 miles?
It's mind boggling.

Let me try to suggest a scenario:
I don't think they were headed back to the hospital from the same scene... they'd have been aware of, and looking out for one another if that were the case. So here you have two helicopter pilots headed to the hospital in Flagstaff, both thinking they are the only flying thing around for several miles, totally unconcerned about watching out for one another. They are from different helicopter EMS services, so they aren't talking to the same dispatchers. In the middle of Northern Arizona they likely weren't talking on a common "Unicom" frequency announcing their position to other helicopters, 'cause they didn't think anyone else was out there. Does the hospital in Flagstaff answer their radio when called? If it becomes generally recognized a hospital won't answer you when called, my crews will forego that call if they have their hands full caring for a patient.

Then add to this that med-crew eyes were all inside the aircraft doing patient care, and what do you have? Two sets of eyes looking outside the aircraft... the two pilots. That's fine if they are truly looking, which they obviously would have been if they both knew the other aircraft was out there somewhere. I don't think they knew to look.

I've been flying EMS since 1986. There was explosive growth in the industry in 1987, and we, as an industry, had a horrific year accident-wise. Pilots just starting to do a job they were unsure of, some flying unfamiliar equipment, many flying at night without much night familiarity, and competition with other companies suggesting flight in unsuitable weather conditions. 1987 was a terrible year with lots of fatalities. This year is shaping up to be worse.

So what's the solution?
Let me make you a wager...
The FAA is gonna feel pressure to do SOMETHING. And one of the things they'll consider is a device called a "Collision avoidance system". It's another neat electronic instrument to warn pilots of impending danger, and in some situations it has value. But it's another thing that distracts the pilot's attention and forces him to look INSIDE the cockpit rather than OUTSIDE where he should be looking to avoid another whirling set of rotor blades.
I think the emphasis should be on more communication, and more "head on a swivel" outside the cockpit surveying.

So now we wait for information on the "links of the chain"... those things that had to align for this accident to happen. Then we'll wait and see what remedial action is suggested/forced upon operators to try to avoid something similar in the future.

I'm gettin' old.
I've seen too much of this.
My heart aches.

FURTHER UPDATE:
A good report of the accident here.

What Is That?

I'm looking for geese, and this ain't geese.
But something is swimming pretty forcefully across the lake below me. The lake is about 300 feet wide, and whatever it is I'm looking at has already made it more than halfway to the other bank.
Is it a deer? I've seen deer swimming before. Despite being equipped with just about the spindliest legs on the face of the earth, they are very strong swimmers.
From 500 feet above the surface I push the collective down and start a descending, decelerating arc to satisfy my curiosity. Pretty quickly I realize it's not a deer, but what the heck is it?
Into the wind, continuing to slow and descend, I see it's not one thing, but several... an aquatic parade of sorts. In the lead is a VERY large raccoon. In his wake, apparently as curious about his proceedings as me, are six ducklings, still too young to fly. Where is Momma duck?
My approach spooks the ducklings and they abandon the parade for safer territory, but the big raccoon continues his powerful swim to the opposite side. I'm in a very dangerous spot... hovering fifteen feet above the water, but I'd like to have a picture of this spectacle to share with you. I apply friction to the collective and reach for my camera pack. The helicopter descends a little toward the water, so I pull the collective up a little and take the camera out of it's holster and set it on the seat next to me, then push the collective down again to get closer to the swimming raccoon. I grab the camera and push the "power" button. The zoom lens pops out and I'm ready to shoot the picture. I once again set the camera on the seat next to me, then readjust the controls, take my left hand off the collective, grab the camera again. This is risky stuff. Obviously I have to shoot this picture one-handed... left handed. I point the camera and push the button, and the camera turns off.
After all that trouble, I've pushed the power button again instead of the shutter. The raccoon reaches the bank and disappears into the brush without even glancing back at me.

Damn!
You'd have enjoyed the picture.