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Vancouver Off-Topic / Current EventsThe off-topic forum for Vancouver, funnies, non-auto centered discussions, WORK SAFE. While the rules are more relaxed here, there are still rules. Please refer to sticky thread in this forum.
What hasn't Killed me, has made me more tolerant of RS!
Join Date: Oct 2009
Location: vancouver
Posts: 192
Thanked 40 Times in 22 Posts
Failed 14 Times in 6 Posts
This happened last fall. ROTP has a lot of slots open for pilots (in comparison to other entry methods) and such since applicants are not going to be going for their licenses or training until at least 4 years after their application date seeing as how they have to get their degrees at RMC first. I read somewhere that ROTP pilot candidates have priority over DEO applicants which is why the road to becoming a pilot through DEO is so hard and long (har har har).
I read somewhere that ROTP pilot candidates have priority over DEO applicants which is why the road to becoming a pilot through DEO is so hard and long (har har har).
AIAC comments on Official Opposition's fundamental lack of understanding of the importance of the Joint Strike Fighter (JSF) program to the Canadian Aerospace industry
OTTAWA, Jan. 21 /CNW/ -- The Aerospace Industries Association of Canada (AIAC) today deplored a fundamental lack of understanding of the strategic importance of the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter program to the Canadian Aerospace Industry as demonstrated in television ads posted on the Web this morning.
"The Government of Canada has participated in the JSF initiative for almost 15 years and an acquisition decision to acquire 65 aircraft to replace our aging CF-18 fleet was finally made earlier this year. Moreover, many of our members are now pursuing JSF contract opportunities with the determination and confidence that defines our industry," said Dr. Claude Lajeunesse, CEO of the AIAC. "And the doubt and dithering signals that internal political debates send to the world will only result in the loss of opportunities and much-needed high-skill, high-value-added, and long-term jobs for Canadians from coast to coast."
As a member of the nine-nation partnership, Canada has access to an unprecedented commercial opportunity on the JSF program. The next 24 months are critical as Canadian aerospace companies compete for and secure substantive contracts on the supply-chain both as first and second sources, as well as on the sustainment of the F-35 which represents billions of dollars in contracts opportunities to serve the global JSF fleet estimated to eventually exceed 3500 aircraft.
"As several CEOs noted last September, the current climate of instability that clouds this procurement decision is harmful for investments, harmful for the industry, and harmful for the creation of high-value-added jobs across Canada," added Dr. Lajeunesse. "The support of Canadians and elected officials is a factor which will either contribute to -- or detract from -- the optimization of the benefits that the JSF program will bring to Canadian aerospace workers and their communities", concluded Dr. Lajeunesse.
The AIAC is the national association representing Canada's aerospace manufacturing and services sector. As the world's fifth-largest aerospace industry, Canada's aerospace sector generated over $22 billion and employed nearly 80,000 Canadians in 2009 and more than 150,000 including indirect and induced employment. Seventy-eight per cent of Canadian aerospace products were exported. AIAC represents the interests of 400 aerospace companies across Canada.
Probably the best raw footage I've ever seen: Ice Hornet - A Roof Over Switzerland. If anyone finds an HD version of this streaming or as a torrent please let me know. I'd love to have it in 1080p on my big screen with the volume at "severely piss off the neighbours".
who are you planning to spend the rest of your life with? your sister or girlfriend?
Quote:
Originally Posted by .Renn.Sport
I sold my Yaris 5 years ago, and seriously, IT IS better than your shit box civics. The mods I have for that car is probably worth more than your whole self-worth.
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Originally Posted by Joreus
After spending some time reading through this thread, I now know how to give a killer blowjob. Thanks revscene.
There's also one from the states where a c172 called in a ground speed check, then a faster plane, then a faster plane, then a F18 called in for a ground speed check......
Then a Blackbird called in for a groundspeed check. Hahah.
In other news, I have my interview on Monday and my friend is getting shipped out in two weeks for aircrew selection.
"
One day, high above Arizona , we were monitoring the radio traffic of all the mortal airplanes below us. First, a Cessna pilot asked the air traffic controllers to check his ground speed. ‘Ninety knots,’ ATC replied. A twin Bonanza soon made the same request. ‘One-twenty on the ground,’ was the reply. To our surprise, a navy F-18 came over the radio with a ground speed check. I knew exactly what he was doing. Of course, he had a ground speed indicator in his cockpit, but he wanted to let all the bug-smashers in the valley know what real speed was ‘Dusty 52, we show you at 620 on the ground,’ ATC responded. The situation was too ripe. I heard the click of Walter’s mike button in the rear seat. In his most innocent voice, Walter startled the controller by asking for a ground speed check from 81,000 feet, clearly above controlled airspace. In a cool, professional voice, the controller replied, ‘ Aspen 20, I show you at 1,982 knots on the ground.’ We did not hear another transmis sion on that frequency all the way to the coast.
"
Full story of the "Aspen 20 Ground Speed Check" (worth a read, about 5 mins):
Spoiler!
There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71 Blackbird (The Air Force/NASA super fast, highest flying reconnaissance jet, nicknamed, "The Sled"), but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane - intense, maybe, even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.
It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat.
There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him.
The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace. We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot who asked Center for a read-out of his ground speed. Center replied: “November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground.”
Now the thing to understand about Center controllers was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the "Houston Center voice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios. Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed in Beech. “I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed.”
Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. “Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check.” Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a read-out? Then I got it, ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: “Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground.”
And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it - the click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: “Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?” There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. “Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.”
I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: “Ah, Center, much thanks, we're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money.” For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A. came back with, “Roger that Aspen. Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one.”
It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.
__________________ Do Not Put Aftershave on Your Balls. -604CEFIRO Looks like I'm gonna have some hot sex again tonight...OOPS i got the 6 pack. that wont last me the night, I better go back and get the 24 pack! -Turbo E kinda off topic but obama is a dilf - miss_crayon Honest to fucking Christ the easiest way to get a married woman in the mood is clean the house and do the laundry.....I've been with the same girl almost 17 years, ask me how I know. - quasi
Just read that^^^ I chuckled a few times reading it. JD your father wouldn't happen to have a copy of Sledge driver would he?
Well, update. Passed my interview, got the go ahead for air crew selection. I'm HOPING to leave this Sunday for a week as it's my midterm break and the only time I can go without missing any school but we'll see. It's also when my buddies going so would be fun.
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