Due to the recent writer's strike in Hollywood and the fact that The Senate Judiciary leadership has taken time to get the Patriot-Giants game to all TVs in America, therefore not being able to "wrap up" the investigation started on 9-11-01 perhaps due to the thought of become Victims 51 and 52 of "Google ARKANCIDE", those of us at "Three Legged Stool" investigations have decided to honor our brothers and sisters, who write in Hollywood, by forgoing the services of professional "spin writers" who normally preface each Chapter of the World's Greatest e:book, currently titled "The Truth is a Tireless Hunter".

A surrogate writer has been located to capture the essence of Chapter 7. We interviewed the writers at BBC who reported the "pulling" of WTC 7 20 minutes prior to the fact but found them to be lacking in credibility and timing skills. Therefore, we located an otherwise unbusy man in the Fargo Moorhead area to suggest what we can look forward to in Chapter 7.

In Chapter 7 you can anticipate the introduction of John Diehard Wilson and his trusty dog who is equipped by Q of MI3 with "listening devices ears mods" and a GPS device embedded in the dog's collar; a studded collar much like the people who practice S & M wear. You can anticipate greater participation from Dr. Nano al-Umina, Dr. "Paul Z" and of course the oft sought after "Dancer". As "Diehard" and Dancer tighten the screws, "Hollywood North" [ outside RICO ] participates in the blending of illegal tax shelters [ Desmarais-KPMG 'Son of Boss'], illegal 'snuff films', the "triangulation" of the bodies at the Pig Farm, and the relationship between KPMG's $456M payment to USDOJ in 2005, Boeing's $615M payment to USDOJ in 2006, and "United States of America versus Global Guardians", a Qui Tam lawsuit that was hand delivered to the United States Department of Justice at 1100 hours on 2 October, 2007 at the Quentin Burdick Federal Courthouse in Fargo, North Dakota. While the lawsuit was well received by the DOJ in Fargo, it remains to be seen how those embroiled in the ugly side of 9/11 will react to this illuminating body of evidence.

As the ever affable and the ever gaffable concluded the debriefing in the upper CRF of Cyprus 69 to the final straining notes of "Ride Captain Ride" the svelte recipient of the captain's energy asked "David, in the lyrics the captain of the mystery ship did not do very well other than to 'sail' into history', do you think LCdr Lloyd Bucher could have achieved a more satisfactory result had he behaved differently with the USS Pueblo?"

"No my sweet Greek, Venus goddess of love, that you are, the captain of the ship was not delivered support that was available due to political issues. On that day in January, 1968, when the US of A learned that the ship was threatened, nuclear armed F104 Starfighters, produced by Lockheed, were on alert in Japan. However, because the nuclear arms aboard the fighters were not known to the Japanese government and their presence on Japanese sovereign soil was contrary to treatied agreements, the fighters could not respond to save the ship, captain, and crew, which is also a dice game played at Navy and Marine Corps bars the world over. I assume even non Navy and Marine folks could learn the dice game, but they would probably call it "6-5-4". And of course my dear friend Hamish "I wanna be a Captain" Watson would probably opine that it is like gambling, which should be illegal, unless it involves gambling your butt on a Boeing illegally modified jet after Boeing pays a $615M fine in 2006. Even Boeing's chief counsel, code name 'Baying' knew that there was an explosive issue out there that the $615M fine could not make go away, especially if the Judge in Chicago who signed off on this "settlement" did not reveal (a) conditions set on Boeing, (b) verify the fulfillment of those conditional obligations, and (c) identify who or what had "oversight'. My guess is that Judge in Chicago, in 2006, was probably trying to figure out how to get some phony baloney NFL game to all the TV's in America the following December, 2007, and that the Judge's "other job" might be in the building at 1 Wacker Drive. The ever affable never flappable Captain Whopper would suggest that one should Wack or Drive, but putting Wacker and Drive in the same sentence is tantamount to putting "taffy pull" and "thong penetration" in the same sentence, i.e. horrid grammar. To this I do affirm."

"Well Captain 'well informed and truthful' if this A340 were a USS "listening ship" what might you do to protect the A340, crew and passengers aboard this flying 4 engine French pig, as you so eloquently refer to it?"

"Talk is cheap my Venus and so after you tell me where you have hidden my Oscer de la Renta Slingshot Rumpmaster Sports Thong in pastel 'Bayberry' I will cage the monster, put on my monkey suit, and show you and your two countrymen Athens and Corinth just how to TF the PFers."

"Sorry oh possessor of the appendage, I shall not reveal the location, therefore you will not be allowed out of the crew rest facility until Rodney Baldinger's magic tablets lose their 'appeal', and allow me to cage the monster if he must be put indoors, if you know where I am coming from."

"Sorry my sweet Venus but duty calls, and so does the Flight Deck so I must be off, just like Boeing and ALPA attorneys will suggest I am off in the March 5, 2007 Fargo Forum. Therefore being ever the professional I will wear this pale apricot slingshot rumpmaster and be on my way to the Flight Deck."

"Parting is such sweet sorrow, but alas, I yield to your redundancy of slingshots, however, as a favor could you please refer to that slave's quarters as a cockpit, is has a better ring to my ears."

"Ringing in my ears is what I tell crew schedulers at Blue Skies if they ask a favor, unless of course it is Bonnie 2B who will undoubtedly lose her job at some point because she cares about people, a taboo at BSA, but cockpit it is in deference to your youthful libido and whereas I can call in sick at BSA for alleged ringing in ears, I will never let that affliction cause me to "no show" a debriefing, at least as long as there is a tigress thong inside your tight-fitting jeans, which causes me to hark back to Conway Twitty's hit song of the same name. Of course, unbeknownst to the 'alphabet' agencies paralyzed by the Gorelick wall, Conway was a city near Little Rock and Twitty was a town in Texas, and the man who was known by those twin-cities was Harold Jenkins, and if Conway Twitty had tried to record as Harold Jenkins no one in the world would have heard of "Make Believe" or "Tiger in the Tight Fitting Jeans". Thank God that the investigative superminds at Three Legged Stool are not handcuffed by the Gorelick wall. It seems this Gorilla also gagged the 9-11 Omission Commission just as her predessors gagged the Warren Commission. And of course, the reports that were excreted from both Warren and Gorilla-ick were "only make believe", just like WTC 7, the Dancing Jews, and the 250 knot box cutter wielders." If Conway Twitty knew it was Make Believe in 1958, what is taking the FBI and CIA so long in understanding the Truth of 9-11; and serving warrants? Oh, never mind, I forgot about the Patriots-Giants game that will be played 6 years and 10 months from today, 2-9-2001.

As the newly cupped Captain TF proceeded to the cockpit he did a 180 degree turn to respond to Mr. Cous Cous whose email address in Canada ends in @sympatico.ca. "How might I better serve you my honored guest?" inquired the ever sensitive Captain Exactly as he stood head and shoulders over the diminutive dolt in 3D.

"Captain, my colleagues and I have nearly become sick at something emanating from the lavatory with the 'open door', is there something that can be done to improve the air quality in the first class cabin?"

"Well, there are many tools in a Captains tool box and I can solve it in a way that finds consensus amongst your traveling mates just as their mission to China must be in support of a consensus motive of some nature, so talk amongst your seatmates and determine if the emanations from the 6# offering wedged in the forward lou is so offensive that you wish it remedied of if you want to "stay the course" and press on for Peking, duck," he said as Captain Tool Box vertically evaded a flying shoe apparently meant to indicate to the Captain of the A340 how the gentleman in 4F found the quality of the cabin air to be. "It appears that at least 4F agrees with you so I will confer with my onboard technical staff in the aft cabin and come back and gain your instructions in 5 minutes, we are well west of Yellowknife so if we stop to fix the plumbing we will have to start down in about 30 minutes, and I have recency of experience when it comes to plumbing as I have just finished plumbing a Venus not in her blue jeans in the upper CRF, but I digress."

As the TFer left the PFers he wondered to himself if readers of this book would need a glossary at the end so they could refer to these acronyms and fully understand the essence of what I would be laboring to express in explicit queen's English had I become an actor, a lawyer, or an actor instead of a steely eyed former fighter pilot who winced at nothing unless it was a thong, stuffed, larger than size 28. And if these PFers knew that I had never failed to arrive at any aiport I ever intended to land at, they probably would not like how I handle their consensus, but alas I digress as they have not informed me of the concensus. Truth is, I am going to put this 4 engine French pig on the tarmac at Elmendorf AFB regardless of the childish whinings of these misguided monkey dancers who listen to the wrong organ grinder. Hmmmm, thought the ever mission oriented 50 year old captain sporting 220 pounds of twisted steel and sex appeal, I think Anastasia is going to like reading this phrase "organ grinder". And, in deference to the man in 4F, who probably would have been 4F like slick willy if he had been an America male during the Viet Nam years, I think I will empanel a Blue Ribbon commission to start an online glossary, and it will be at the end of the book, or as the ever precise and often boring Hamish would suggest "My Back Pages" which was actually a Bob Dylan creation delivered by The Byrds. Let's all take a pause for the cause and listen to the Byrds discuss the back pages, and while they do, try and determine the color of the next thong mentioned, which will be comfortably worn by "Dr Paul Z" of Austin, Texas.

As David Hunter slid into the seat next to Hamish who was working on his laptop, he asked Spanner and Cockerel if they would object to a brief stop in Anchorage, or more precisely in deference to Hamish's incessant nit-picking, Elmendorf AFB. Willem said that he would roll with the flow but that a stop would not bother him as the monster loaf in the first class lou had made itself known to the investigative assets in the aft cabin, aft row. To somewhat cover the "Zibek" effect, Willem had rolled up a monster doobie and had attached it to a low speed, low flow suction device to keep the weed burning for effect but without cause Willem to think he was in a Doors coffee house in Amsterdam. As the laconic skipper honey dripper looked at the burning hash he thought, wow, I wish Willie was here, he'd know how to attack this monster weed and show it who's the boss; and I don't mean the boss with the hot sauce as the never satiated Greek Venus called him once she got into the maytag mode. Unfortunately, that phrase will not make it into the glossary. Bummer.

When David turned to Hamish to solicit his preference Hamish said "females only". Then the ever precise Captain Whopper pointed out the preference being solicited was a strong yea or neigh regarding a brief stop in Anchorage to off load the load if you get my drift or follow your nose to the evidence resting in the first class lou.

"Well, you're the Captain David but I should think if the TOPOFF PERPS in first class wish to improve the air quality at least to Dancer's suggested buzzard-dung-heap threshold, a brief stop may be enjoyable" further opining that while he had worked in the oil industry on 6 continents he had never been to Anchorage and he knew of an enjoyable thongless operation called the Alaskan Bush Company or some such drivel where the clientele was not interested in light aircraft rides to remote sites inaccessible by auto but rather "professional dancers" who could deliver drinks or other items of interest".

"Not one to correct you oh dispenser of intelligence but I believe you refer to the 'Great Alaskan Bush Company, on Airport Road'. However, I don't think we will have time to go looking for scantily clad females for 3 reasons: 1) we need to appear to be anxious to get these jerks to Peking 2) we are out of Grolsch, but Willem can fix that with the orange megaphone and 3) I planned ahead and had a thongless female tag along. Further, as I will now demonstrate verbally, we will be picking up some other things at Elmendorf."

As the skipper of the shipper became erect and grabbed the orange megaphone he once again saw the "jerk to inflate" sign on the raft and wondered if "Son of Boss" would become upset at the upcoming stop. Selecting B after turning it on Captain Clipper had thoughts of thanks for Al Bore, Panetta, and others in the White House meeting of 1993 who had diverted the Clipper technology to Canada therein preventing U.S. citizens from having secure telephony, yet allowing non-RICO-reach treasonous perverts to plan 9/11 and Amalgam Virgo where these same mental midgets practiced the flying portion of 9/11 to determine if the United States Air Force could be tricked into standing down to allow Morris Berryl's Canadian military to protect us. That kind of protection is equivalent to using a condom with a clipped tip. And strangely, 6 years in the future the US DOD would once again trust these outsiders to "pretend" to protect America after structural failures causes the grounding, twice, of USAF F15 Eagles. What would make a lot more sense may be to replace them with F16s flown by Americans in the ANG or Navy and Marine F18s who don't serve the interest of the OIF, the Bilderberg, the CFR, the International Bankers who penned the Banker's Manifesto of 1892, or people like David Rogue-Phart who on page 405 of his 1991 book admitted he was trying to allow the "New World Order" to end the sovereignty of the United States of America. But the real bummer is that the CF18s probably came from a base I will encode "Fagotville" which is located in the OIF infested portion of Canada which insists on having two languages on the road signs. Now of course the Welsh people do it too, but at least Wales has good beer. Not everyone can read signs, but if you google the_pattern_of_the_signs at google-video, or take a break from reading this gripping book and watch the video at www.usdoj.gr you can learn to read signs yourself. In fact we in AD-HC [ able danger/hawksCafe ] can share our COIN technology with any servants of the United States of America who will re-swear their oath of allegiance and oath of office and prove they did not seek to evade paying taxes with KMPG's 1996-2003 'Son of Boss' tax shelters. While the Congress, Senate and DOJ shred any links to Son of Boss and themselves, let's relax to a musical offering regarding signs. But I digress, and so does the DOJ when they allow KMPG and Boeing to shutdown investigations for a measly $1.061 billion. Certainly if $1.2 trillion was made in the 4 days of trading following 9/11, KPMG and Boeing could have afforded a more impressive "gratuity" to ensure the silence of DOJ. On the other hand, if an incoming POTUS started with 50 new U.S. Attorneys and had $1.061B to "buy consensus" the USDOJ could be counted on to work efficiently much like a well oiled machine, which evokes thought of the Greek Beauty in the CRF. Doing some math in my head that provides $20M per U.S. Attorney and $61M left over for 'Boss' or his son(s).

Selecting 'on' and B on the megaphone, Captain Mission Minded spoke thusly "Fish, Chips, IMMEDIATE" on the mega clipper provided by Q at MI3.

"Hey David, Q was at MI6, not MI3" incorrectly opined the tall, intelligent and ever boring master of disguise who was last mentioned in the hotel lobby and police car [ unmarked ] at the Detroit Westin shortly after Fox had handed Chips a note with "flaming red" as the only two words. He, being a gentleman, offered her a flaming purple tipped red champion in return, as an expression of his appreciation for her "Cliff Notes to Paradise" which of course brings to mind a Meatloaf song entitled "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights". However, if one was to google meat + loaf Captain David Hunter's name would not be listed, of that you can rest assured.

"Hamish, keep in mind that Q had cancer in his left femur and he lost his left leg to cancer, hence 6 divided by 2 equals 3, one legged technicians at MI6 become employee/assets of MI3, the one legged section. They lobbied to stay at MI6 but the USDOJ suggested they didn't have a leg to stand on, legally." One would think at some point Hamish would learn not to correct David Hunter but alas, one might as well try to catch the wind, a great song by Donovan who was a 'UK response' to Bob Dylan. Was he an adequate response? Well, when is the last time you saw a Donovan song in this e:book which is being read around the globe from Tim-buck-2 to Phuket Island."

"David, you are so worldly, when did you learn of Phuket Island?" queried the ever querying and slowly learning master of CS questions.

"When the guy in Iceland called my F4 Phantom said "Captain Brass Balls, the weather at Keflavik is zero zero and your mission is to divert to New Hebrides, Scotland, I am scrambling the tanker now" to which I replied "PHUKET, I LAND". Do you get it or must I explain like Athens and Corinth would require of me?"

"Sorry David, yes I get it, you told the authorities that regardless the weather conditions at Keflavik you preferred landing there rather than diverting to Scotland, is that the essence of your response to the 'Iceland Scrambler' and the ATC folks?"

"Yes Hamish, you have captured the essence of my laconic response to the moronic instructions to fly to Scotland. I also instructed the USAF Captain who issued that 'divert-scramble' to please stay off the radio while I land that 1964 F4D with two J79-GE-15 turbojet, afterburning blowers to put his excess energy into canceling the tanker and scrambling some eggs as I would be on the ground in 10 minutes and had nothing at all to eat since the previous afternoon when we Happy Hooligans arrived with a flight of 6 F4s, destroyed a candyass USAF bar called the Whiff, and were recruited by a kick ass Navy bar called the Brass Nut. I could again digress but perhaps I need to keep this rolling along as the DOJ will probably be all over 9-11 now that the Pats are 16-0, I will just add a link to the shaggy dog story of landing an F4 in zero zero on a sloppy wet short runway in Iceland, in April of 1984, with the 178th FIS aka the Happy Hooligans in aircraft 64-0976 with George Benson in the back seat. I could tell you where my wallet was and how that figures into this true story, but then I'd have to have a Grolsch, and during the Hollywood writer's strike, we amateurs should not drink Grolsch and opine in writing lest we be recognized as informed adults; and oddity in America since the 19 Muslims with box cutters caused the jews to dance, and the monkeys to respond to the organ grinding octopus. Now with this Octopus comment you might conclude I am casting a rather large and dangerous net, however, I know what I will be reeling in, and Steely Dan put it into music in about 1973, I could be more precise but I had 13 Grolsch wide bodies during the last musical break and I rendered myself into a congressional judiciary-like mortal.

Okay, catch your breath, take a peek, think of Fox and read the true story below, from April, 1984. And speaking of true story, you should google Gene Pitt and the Jive Five song "my true story" and I tip my hat to Gene but I do not have time to put that link in right now as I have had 37 Grolsch widebodies and I need to repair to the Captain's cabin to stir a BSM and remove a thong while you guys all read what happened in Iceland.

The Rest of the Story

April, 1984

NAS Keflavik Iceland

The Happy Hooligans took 6 F4s to Iceland to protect the GIN [ greenland/iceland/norway ] GAP for a month while the Iceland USAF unit deployed to Tyndall AFB in Panama City FL to live-fire missiles off their F15s. They left one Captain behind to monitor the guard guys for the month while we kept the Russians out of the gin gap and the Atlantic attack route they would later use in the Aborted TOPOFF of America some 17 years and 5 months later.

We took off from Fargo at 5 in the morning and rendezvous with the first of 3 tankers. All 7 F4s cycle through the boom to ensure all 7 F4s can take on fuel. All 7 worked so #7 peeled off and went back to Fargo [ steve beserske & charlie Ree ]. For the next 6 hours we steam on a beeline to Keflavik sucking the first tanker dry by the Maritimes. Tanker 2 and 3 show up for the over water portion. We continue cruising to Iceland refueling numerous times. We were supposed to wear exposure suits but I certainly did not wear mine, others may have. Tanker two either landed with us in KEF or turned back to CONUS after we drained him. When all 6 F4s were guaranteed to make Iceland tanker #3 split off for England, Mildenhall I believe. 6 F4s and 12 social drinkers enter the pattern at KEF and land. And head straight to the Officers club. The club was a typical AF club [stuffy, boring] so our young AF Captain babysitter invited us to the "squadron bar", the Whiff. During that evening which lasted well into the wee hours we all saw things we'd seen only in movies; western movies. I saw two different WSOs [ navigator/backseater/guy in back GIB ] fly over the bar, one was thrown over from the customer side [ Tom Keebler ? ] and one was returned, airmail, from the bartender side. While destroying this Air Force squadron bar to toothpicks we also fairly well rendered the men's room unusable. The social drinkers and pilots continued using the facility even tho it was overflowing on the floor. One enterprising WSO determined there was a second latrine directly underneath on the floor below, while sending a message to headquarters he also learned that the upstairs bathroom floor leaked. Initially he thought it leaked water. Of course, he was a backseater, not a nose gunner.

Pretty soon it is 3 am and the Wing Commander has been asleep, propped up against the wall with a lampshade on his head for 2 hours. Time to call it a night since all liquids had been consumed.

We call a base taxi whose driver insists we wear clothes in his cab. At least one of us walked to the BOQ [ hotel for civilian readers ]. Desk clerk initially refusing key to the one or so who walked since they did not meet the dress standards to ride. However, keys are produced when clerk realizes these humans would be less visible in a room.

The sun was coming up the next day and there were 12+ very "tired" Hooligan aircrew. We were summonsed back to the Whiff by the little AF Captain who did not appreciate the tooth pick job on his squadron bar. We rebuilt it after we cleaned it. As I recall several people must have gotten the flu as several deposits were made on Buicks. If that doesn't make sense, picture 3 guys calling for Ralph. Got it?

Bar rebuilt and cleaned and then we head back to go back to sleep. Not so fast you Hooligan guys, over to base ops as you are all having your "welcome to Iceland" local airspace tour, in your F4s.

L/C Bobby Carlsoney announces to the 12 crewman "good deal all you guys can go fly". Bob is shocked by the chorus of "BS" and stronger responses indicating a lack of interest in anything except bed and alka seltzer. Bobby regroups, and says "listen all 6 jets are Code 1 so give me a show of hands of which pilots are willing to fly. Not one hand goes up. Bobby says which WSOs want to fly, 2Lt Georgette Bensen raises the only hand [ teetotaler ]. Bobby says perhaps it is best you other guys go back to sleep but we need a pilot to take Georgey out for a FACIT flight [ f%*&-around and call it training ]. No pilot wants to do it. Bobby says cmon guys, remember when you were a new 2Lt, somebody needs to take Georgine for a ride. I got roped into being somebody.

George and I take off in the F4 and it was clear and a million with a modest headwind and about 35 degrees F above zero. Before the gear and flaps were up I saw a weather phenomenon that I had never seen before and exists only in places like Iceland: a large dense fog that had a sheer frontal edge and zero visibility, it appeared to be from the surface to several hundred feet so it would be at Keflavik within ten minutes or so, I guessed. As I turned downwind and started dumping fuel I asked KEF approach what the weather was and requested an immediate landing. However, Iceland Air needed to get in first before the weather or the F4. As I continued to dump and be sequenced behind the DC8 I heard the weather drop from clear and a million to WOXOF, which means zero/zero and you cannot land. The DC8 was inside the outer marker so he could legally continue. When asked my intentions I told KEF approach I'd follow the DC8 as close as was legal. The DC8 got in (zero/zero or mighty close) and reported poor braking. At about 200 feet on the centerline and 2 miles behind the DC8 my glide slope became erratic and then took a hike. How lovely. I continued the approach with just centerline hoping to see approach lights. At 80' above the ground I realized this is how dead fighter pilots end up dead. I reluctantly go missed approach below 80 in the trusty F4.

mental break, long story, two deep breaths, popcorn and Grolsch authorized at this juncture..

As I transmit "Mike Papa 26 missed approach" the controller says "climb to 3000 runway heading". Then the AF Captain's childlike voice is heard on the "guard" frequency. "Mike Papa 26 your mission is divert to New Hebrides Scotland, the tanker is being scrambled." My response, I will remember clearly for ever. It was "Air Force Captain, your mission is to stay off the radio while I land this F4 on my next approach, cancel the tanker and scramble some eggs."

"Keflavik approach MP 26 request"

Go ahead MP 26.

"Approach MP 26 could you look around the radar room and see if you can find me a First Class or Chief Petty Officer with a beer belly, a coffee cup and a cigarette?"

MP 26 I have a First Class with a beer belly and a coffee cup but he's not smoking right now.

"Good enough, please turn me over to his control, request immediate PAR to full stop" {right now, precision radar approach, final landing}

The calm experienced voice of the First Class came on, read me the weather [ WOXOF ], gave me a minimum of the standard legal BS then drove us to a successful approach and landing on the first attempt [ still zero zero ]. George B, 2Lt now speaks with relief and says "Nice job captain whopper" a little prematurely; the weather had dropped several inches of wet sloppy snow on the runway and it had no arresting gear and was shorter than the other runway. However, we were fortunate to get the beast stopped and 20 minutes after we had taken off for a FACIT flight we had done 2 approaches to zero, zero and the Navy First Class Petty Officer did a marvelous job of saving our asses.

I was relieved. George was wide eyed. The Air Force Captain was livid. "Whopper, I, as supervisor of flying, ordered you to go to Scotland, you refused and made two illegal approaches, why did you refuse to go to Scotland"

"First of all, you are an AF guy not a guard guy and I don't work for you. Secondly, I didn't have my nav bags [ maps, required to have], I didn't have a G suit [ required to have ] but the real reason is I left my wallet in base ops so I had no beer money. And if you think I am going to Scotland with no beer money you've got the wrong guy".

I don't think he liked me. George went to rethink his career choice. I went back to the Officer's club.

Mike, thanks for asking I have so many of these [ true ] stories I need people like you to remind me so I can put them in the book I am writing "Sweet Talkin Woman" That will be a 95% factual book written from the eyes of a Guard fighter pilot/airline captain/ professional layover artist/total recaller of musical lyrics.

That book will be written over the next several months however Captain Sherlock's first DVD is being delivered now:

www.captainsherlock.com

And two Hollywood feature scripts have recently been completed and I believe they are being pitched to movie producers right now.

If this story seems unusual or interesting remember the date was April, 1984. If you want to see a video shot on 17 August, 1984 in Bozeman Montana visit www.captainsherlock.com

Of course, I cannot identify the pilot of the 200 foot air refueling but it could be Captain Sherlock, Captain Rich McHogeny or someone else. The back seater who insisted the young Captain do the 200 foot refueling was a Roger J-nel Larson, perhaps.

Thanks again Mike. Any other good stories out there?

Whopper

PS I have attached a picture of Smoke and George in front of F4 64-0972, Bertha. I will also attach a photo of Captain Rich McHogeny in front of 64-0478 "Sweet Talkin Woman". George had his sex change after our Iceland flight.

If any Hooligans recall materiel facts differently please email me. For instance who were the 6 pilots and 6 WSOs and am I correct in recalling 3 tankers. The rest of the story is bullet-proof.



From: "mike pecker"   boringmyway@msn.com

To: "Fred McCorkle"   avalonbeast@msn.com

Date: Fri, 27 Apr 2007 21:41:16 -0500

Fred,

The funniest story you ever told...and way before the al bore's internet, was when you were trying to get into Keflavick or some odd place like that but the wx was WOXOF and you asked for the Navy chief to give you the PAR, the one with a hook in his index finger from drinking so much coffee....now that was funny!!!!

Mike

Thanks for the reminder, Mike. My mother told me to write a book in 1985, the safety officer for the Happy Hooligans told me to write a book in 1986 and my conscience told me to write a book after I revealed to the US government and ALPA that illegally modified Boeings hit the world trade center on 9/11 and that my college class mate, Chic Burlingame did not fly his AA77 into the Pentagon but was rather murdered in a vaporized Boeing 45 minutes prior to [perhaps] a Raytheon A3 hitting the Pentagon FBO GGs identified in Qui Tam lawsuit 10/2/07.

Grab some popcorn while Chips slips into character and Fox re-thongs.

Grabbing the orange megaphone and speaking directly into the feedhorn the eloquent Whopper transmitted "Fish, Chips immediate".

"Chips, Fish roger immediate que pasa" Often Fish and Chips would speak portions in Spanish knowing that the dummies who attacked the Pentagon with a beat up A3 could speak only French, Arabic and Navajo. Speaking of that, the MIT professor who arranged the Navajo code talkers for 9-11 had a bad case of 'Arkancide' shortly after the staged attacks. While some candy ass law school dropouts might question the 'beat up' adjective relating to the A3 due to the extensive and expensive modifications done to these Douglas Skywarriors that slipped into Loveland-Fort Collins airports for the upgrades, I have authority to make that assessment due to my experience in operation 'Pony Express' in September-October, 1974 when I, 1st Lt Whopper, celebrated by 25th birthday drinking Olympia Quarts costing a mere 25 cents each after having supported a Navy 'Queer A3' flown by Mike Clarke, former USNA tight end. I do admit it is confusing to use Queer A3 and tight end in same sentence, attorneys who are homosexuals might think I am talking about a 'good deal' in an Audi, precisely why we have no homosexual attorneys on staff at Three Legged Stool investigations; they would probably turn the stool upside down and sit on it much like the 'agencies' have been forced to do with their investigation of 9/11. Of course as only 3 at a time can mount the overturned stools, and there are 120 defendants in the lawsuit, I guess we need at total of 41 stools, 40 for the 120 perps and 1 for our ongoing investigation at Three Legged Stools. After all this legal BS and talk regarding homosexual attorneys [ forgive the redundancy ] I think we good old Americans need to remember what God thinks of our efforts to save America.

Hear that line about 'gin on his breath and a Bible in his hand', remind me to put BSM in the glossary. And hear that "you ain't afraid if you're washed in the blood like I was"-fair warning to the GGs and PFers, we are coming for you. You can kill us, but you cannot kill the Truth, and His Truth is marching on. The mill of justice grinds slow, but grinds fine. So does thongless Fox.

"Fish, Chips. In the spirit of MP02 [see glossary] I will be putting this fat French pig on the ground at Elmendorf in less than 2 hours. We need to have a lav service truck, 6 cases of Grolsch widebodies prechilled to 36 degrees and a dozen leopard, tiger or puma print ladies thongs in springtime colors, waste size 24, how copy over."

"Roger the LST, the brewskis but regarding the dozen thongs, did you mean waste size or waist size?"

"Listen Fish, you know my policy, absolutely nothing in a thong goes to waste regardless of the size of the waist with the caveat that my "no fat chicks" policy still exists for good reason. Further can you dial up Nano, Paul Z and Dancer for an update and gut check?"

"Roger that Chips, also Stone Kohl is dialing in now so give me 30 seconds for the Clipper part oh heir to the Elmendorf lav service truck currently being scrambled to the secure tarmac on the northside of the Elmendorf ramp where in August 2006 you will have your picture taken with some babes in the #1 engine of a Douglas DC-10-30 operated by 'Blue Skies International', but I digress..."

As Hamish, Spanner and Chips dip their chips into the salsa Chips harks back to the dipping some 23 minutes prior and smiles inwardly so as not to let Spanner and Hamish no what goes on "Behind Closed Doors". Now for security purposes it is reported that that was Charlie Rich singing in Wembley arena in England, there are some who suggest it was Captain Whopper singing at Henry C's farm near Norwich, Norfolk, England during a party of British White Cattle enthusiasts in 2003, however I digress. Notice the middle female vocalist, while you can see her top is maroon, I can assure you she had a matching maroon tiger stripped thong inside her tight fitting jeans 30 minutes after Charlie Rich finished off, pardon the double entendre. And I agree with Conway Twitty that the best place for a pair of tight fitting jeans is one the robe hook on the back of the bathroom door. Oops, gotta get back in character, clipper deal coming in from wedge one, pardon the wedge and thongs matrix.

"Chips, Fish in ADbs [ Able Danger below surface ], we have Stone, Dancer, Nano and Paul Z, go ahead with intro and SMEAC after usual two."

"Flaming red, lengthy portion, Grolsch. On board MP02 we have Fox, Spanner, Hamish and myself. SMEAC follows, get it right and record it first and only time. Situation-we are diverting to Elmendorf on BS maintainence excuse, we need Grolsch, Thongs and OSI asset who identifies himself as 'Nano al-Umina' to sit in seat 3C and speak Farsi or Arabic to 'cous cous breathe', Mission-we need Nano to be joined by an FBI female who can produce documents proofing she is Dr. Charmagne Chezik, of Austin Texas. She needs to me medically fluent and able to fake a Texas drawl, Y'all, Execution- we will have 2 hours on the ground at Elmendorf and need to get intel update from Dancer in 4 independent copies and those copies need to be written in French, Arabic, Chinese and Navjo. The paperwork with the disinfo needs to be 'sweet' enough to pass thru any 'gadget bent bore' filters as we take ADbs below prior to taking down the GGs with a Qui Tam, Admin-Fish needs to clipper acars MP02 with transcript recorded in Wedge one and as always the C & C functions rest with the 3 legged stool, how copy Fish."

"Got it right the first time, oh biggest leg of the stool, and the ACARS-clipper to the skipper of the shipper will be sent by Stone in 30 seconds, copy Dancer, Nano and Paul Z. Non clipper question, why is it you are known as the "big leg" of the 3 legged stool?"

"That is classified but Dr. Paul Z the urologist with palsy could probably get you in the ball park, which is not like the place where Britons park their autos but which harks me back to the old joke 'what do a cheap hotel and tightfitting jeans have in common', any takers?"

The seldom scene, always thinking Stone Kohl leaned over Fish and said "Easy one Dad, no ball room."

"Exactly, Chips et. al. out"

"Fish, Stone, Paul Z, Nano and Dancer out."

With that the SMEAC was set, distributed, reread and put into action. In Geneva, Dancer was speaking to Mossad via skype. In Wedge one Fish was talking to Sibul Evans at FBI, in Austin Dr. Paul Z was writing some hasty medical notes for the FBI switch in Alaska and due to her palsy she typed on the keyboard with her good finger, ungloved while in the hills outside Fresno Dr. Nano created a list of items to be 'harvested' by his OSI double from his seatmate in 3D. And somewhere in Australia a John 'Diehard' Watson was putting his special canine friend in her traveling digs to head up to Vancouver to meet up with Marquis d'Cartier for some trilateral digging at the PF. Willem Spanner can remind you of what this PF is, it is not the PFers seated in first class.

As Captain Whopper went to 3D and 4F to determine their consensus he was pleased to learn they were going with the flow, the vote was 25 to 1 to stop and offload the load. The lone dissenter had moved to seat 1C and had begun hyperventilating to enjoy the malodorous offering still wafting from the forward lou with the swinging door. As he went forward, reluctantly to the flight deck to do some of that 'captain stuff' the insatiable Fox tried to get him off track by opening the CRF door and smiling dressed only in her leopard skin thong in 'burnt orange and mahogany" pattern. He snarled like Roy Orbison as he declined to honor her offer by getting on and off her yielding to his duties in the flight deck.

And when Whopper snarls, it is longer than the 3 second snarl emitted by the thick glass sporting RO at 1:09 to 1:11 in this video. And when the whopper snarls, the maytags really get sudsing, if you know where I am coming from and heading to. Or as Hamish may correct, heading into, eyes wide open [ EWO not NOW ].

"Cockpit please my responsible captain of the French pig, pardon the redundancy" she drooled demurely, pursing her wet lips like a hungry Norma Jean Baker. That refers not to any person living or dead but rather to a bake shop employee in Cardiff, Wales who has a favorite cookie named Norma Jean, he bakes them for Elton John, which is not his real name therefore my attorney at Dewey, Cheetem and Howe tells me I cannot be sued for libel, although hot air will be sued for nobul, I opine. The Norma Jean cookie came about in June, 1944 when the bakeshop owner's young daughter thought that 'Normandy' was 'Norma Jean', but the baker's daughter digresses while the farmer's daughter undresses.

"I prefer cockpit also and exactly 10 minutes after we clear the runway in Alaska please be ready to rock and roll in the lower bunk of the CRF and I promise to 'please, please you' to misquote the Beatles. All I will need is 2 of the Rod Baldinger 'extend-o-peters' and a lengthy portion of Matt Poss doing 'Fox on the Run' and thong on the robe hook." As he turned away from pleasure in favor of duty, just like Gary Cooper did in 1952 in High Noon, an orange and brown leopard striped and recently stripped item of clothing was flung delicately from the upper bunk to the robe hook.

"Two points oh my accurate thong flinger" quipped the soon to depart master of the crew.

"I am a Greek spy so I do not understand basketball terms but when you come back I will invite you to be fouled for spending too much time in the key prior to a '3 pointer' which he interpreted as her two points of her own, sitting way up high [ Night Moves, 1977, no time to listen ] and the point of his nautically inspired periscope, which enables the developing ADbs to see below the surface. As he walked into the cockpit Corinth spoke.

"Good timing oh Captain punctual, we just got this message from Cyprus dispatch."

As Corinth handed him the lengthy portion printed from directly behind the throttle quadrant the laconic Four Stripper issued a rare suggestion to Athens who sat in the left seat, "Move over rover and let Jimmy take over" to which the wet behind the Greek ears Athens responded:

"Aha, so your first name is Jimmy, isn't it?"

"Not exactly, get me Artic radio on 11279 please Corinth" a requested which was implemented immediately as the capable Corinth accommodated this rare request and the ambulant Athens departed for the forward lou, and a huge surprise, perhaps the captain's log?

"Artic Radio, MP02"

"MP02, Artic, good ahead"

"MP needs to divert to Elmendorf asap due to maintenance and we are proceeding direct at this time. We'd like to start down out of 380 when 140 east of Elmendorf."

"Roger that MP02, cleared direct Elmendorf, roger the descent profile, however say squawk and confirm callsign of MP02 we don't have you on primary or the good stuff."

"Exactly, due real world security. Change call sign to MP09, no squawk, contact Elmendorf Ops for security briefing, MP09 out."

As Athens prepared to point out to Captain Omniscient the errors of call sign and squawk, Fox was listening to the recently 'looped' Fox anthem by Matt Poss in preparation for the debriefing in the secure area of the ramp at Elmendorf.

Some of you readers with good cognitive skills may suggest I don't repeat songs in the interest of timing and bite size, which give me another debriefing item; however this is one of only 2 songs that will be repeated. This is being repeated here, at the mid-story intermission, and the real title to the book which will be printed and bound prior to 'MayDay 08' which will be the last item in the text before the glossary in 'my back pages'. The glossary will be essential to Tomoye and McConnell International spies whereas FBI, CIA, Mossad and MI6 know where my head is at all times. Mainly because we email notify DOJ, FBI, DHS and SEC 'what's going on', not to be confused with Marvin Gaye's monster hit.

Athens chimed in "Captain Whopper, I think you used the wrong call sign and the wrong squawk and are were we not dispatched to Anchorage International, at least according to Cyprus ops?"

"Exactly my good listener Athens, however Tomoye and MI are listening also so we need to be unpredictable, hence the switch to Elmendorf" responded the flaccid 50 year old in the left seat. That condition was reversed as the radiant Fox reappeared in the cockpit, with a cold Grolsh for the skipper of the shipper with the honey dripper for the quiver.

"Thank you Fox, I'd stand in the presence of a lady however my head would hit the electrical panel because the frogs that assembled this cockpit with input from Porsche didn't have strapping six footers in mind in there design" he, being a man of few words, responded.

"I fully appreciate your predickament," she humored, knowing Athens would not pick up what she was laying down.

"Exactly" was the monoworded yet tri-syllabic response from the laconic steward of speech.