Air-Minded: Losing My Cherry
Meanwhile, that pretty little Cessna 172 at Pima Air and Space speaks to me every time I walk or drive past it, and no wonder. I lost my virginity to one of its sisters.
"When I do not want to say things in real life I often say them here." — Mimi Smartypants
It didn’t happen if there are no pix
Meanwhile, that pretty little Cessna 172 at Pima Air and Space speaks to me every time I walk or drive past it, and no wonder. I lost my virginity to one of its sisters.
I don’t think of myself as a conformist, although I served on active duty and wore a uniform every day for 24 years. Even today, I feel proud when I put on my uniform shirt to go work at the air museum. I’m still me, but I’m happy to represent institutions I believe in and voluntarily join, and feel like wearing their colors … no different than a Hash House Harrier or Hells Angel … sets me apart.
When I walk Mister B in the morning, I try to remember to carry my cell phone. It’s good to have a camera handy, and the one in my phone takes a decent photo.
“All this virtue, and no witnesses.”
I joined a closed Facebook community called “A Group Where We Pretend to be Boomers.” As you’d expect, members are baby boomers who make fun of themselves by posting as if they don’t understand the first thing about computers, email, the internet, and social media. To me, that’s more of a “greatest generation” thing, but I do know boomers my age who fit the stereotype well. But hey, isn’t Facebook mostly a boomer thing anyway? Aren’t all the youngsters on Snapfilter or whatever?
If I had a rant in me this morning, I’d lay into NPR for its slavish commitment to normalizing Trump, arguably not the worst unelected occupant of the White House (George W. Bush still has that distinction IMO), but certainly the most abnormal.
I’m just waiting for someone to tell me those are coyote tracks, because I have some very literal-minded friends who never understand when I’m joking, and of course I know those are coyote tracks because that’s why I took the photo, innit?
Don Martin was drawing for Mad in 1958, with his floppy-footed characters and wet-your-pants hilarious farty sound effects like “FLEEN!” and “FOOSH!”