Tag Team by S.H. Pearson
By S.H. Pearson
January 23, 2010
There is a pair of rapid small jets that fly zig-zag helices. They are loud, so one can discern their flight patterns without visual confirmation. They fly zig-zags above thick ceilings. The only reason for such a drill over densely populated residential areas I infer is because it is no drill. Practice drills are flown over the ocean, desert or sparsely populated government tracts usually, not cities and towns.
Their routine is to fly above a dense veil of artificial cloud-cover during daylight hours (0930-1530). Working as a methodical pair, they fly in zig-zag patterns over swaths of suburban geography. They seem to be laying a diamond-netting of aerosol discharge.
One thing holds true for all birds. They eventually must come home to roost. Which might make Naval Air Station Guantanamo Bay a nervous place. They are strategically located for the squadron of air-whores that work South Florida in three-hour shifts. Their consistent trajectories upon departure from the peninsula point to NAS Guantanamo Bay Cuba.
The longer the fuselage, the better. It is my belief that aerosol tanker-loads are stored in the modified fuselages of commercial airliners. This is convenient carriage in planes that would seek to pass for commercial air, as not to alarm the public. It appears they even have painstakingly-replicated passenger windows lit-up at night on their white Boeing owls to make them look convincing. But upon closer inspection, there are no faces in the windows. Hoo-hoo would have thought of that? People as passengers. In order for me to have seen any of this, consider the altitude of the jet. It was banking east, flying over a residential, man-made, canal-fed lake. More like a glorious pond, lain-out in ABA fashion.
Who would fly an empty passenger plane around all night over the suburbs? I see those big Boeings nightly — spraying aerosols until dawn. I’ve seen them so low and slow I could have hit them with a hand-bag. They are beautifully muted. Mill-horses need their sleep.
In my opinion the only passengers on those birds are flight crew and particulate elements in a tank. As to which elements on the periodic table they are hauling on any given flight — well that’s classified. You’ll have to sweat that out of the guys at the Pentagon. Maybe you can strap them to a chair and blast Megadeth at them till they crack.
All jokes aside, this would make NAS Guantanamo an ideal roost for these birds. It’s a heavily guarded communist island. Home of El Presidio. Our Navy nests on the southeastern tip. A place called Guantanamo Bay. They too have an El Presidio of sorts. Prison camps galore – where they rough-up randomly collected Muslims and hold them without charge.
It’s an island lorded-over by jailers on both sides. Based on my studies, the Navy enjoys a friendly rapport with this regime. A ”government” who inspires her citizens to get on rafts in the middle of the night in hopes of catching the right ocean current.
I recently interviewed a man who did exactly that. You must want freedom badly to brave the sea in a little raft where your only company are the bull-sharks. He said he quit medical school and left Cuba because he did not want to fight in one of their forced campaigns. He waded ashore at night onto one of the smaller Keys. “I’ve been afraid of black water ever since,” he told me. He was medically stellar. Beautifully bilingual. Tall, handsome. The pride of Spain. Perhaps Cuba is peopled with more of him. My heart is with them.
So Cuba would make an ideal roost for the clandestine aerosol squadrons around here. They would have a secret place to fuel-up, tank-up and get AIMD. The Bay’s harbour and airports would be convenient receiving sites for all their aviation needs. That way nobody can prove that these planes are what we think they are. Their roost is on an island that few people visit casually. I infer that you will find this arrangement holds consistent throughout the world. There are many heavily-guarded military bases. And many heavily-guarded government places. Area 51 comes to mind. Why might they be so heavily-guarded?
I saw a small jet screaming out of NAS Key West’s position as the crow flies. He was loud and obnoxious, feeling his oats that day. His altitude was questionable. I think he was just taxi service for one of the guys down town. His wings were fixed at right angles from the fuselage. Not a Mr. Supersonic. And not the jet in the photo above. Note how the wings are swept back from the body in strike fighter format.
Most pilots are full of themselves. This comes as an advantage to those who purchase their services for tactical reasons. Remember the Flying Tigers? Perfect P-40 example. Those mercenary sell-outs didn’t think one click ahead of their cowlings. All they wanted was the money and cheap, counterfeit glory. Like that Mustang victory-roll in Empire of the Sun. Bale’s high-water mark.
You can wield the ego of your pilots. Due to the ocular degeneration of human anatomy, they are conveniently callow. Hence, they are impetuous and sometimes even stupid to your benefit.
Ask an RAF bomber ace who hasn’t met his Maker yet (if you can still find one) what it felt like to bomb all those women and children in Dresden and Hamburg. Ask him how much sleep he ever got after that. And what it was like to see himself in mirrors, haunted for decades for his part in the carpet bombing. I have read some of the testimonies of those pilots. And what their orders were from the Ready Rooms. They were told to target civilians in densely populated working class neighborhoods where the bloodshed would be higher for terror purposes. And also to keep factory workers preoccupied with burying their wives and children. How’s that for tactical?
Some of them dropped 11-ton bombs. Some of them dropped phosphorus bombs. Then the Brits made movies of it to be shown in American theatres as propaganda segments before the big Hollywood feature presentation that glorified WWII. Below is a modern times example of such a WWII glorification. Note the music and cinematography — the witchcraft of Hollywood that could sell a freezer to an Eskimo.
Yeah phosphorus. And you thought they just started that in Gaza? Don’t forget the napalm in Vietnam. Just make sure you can live with yourself after dropping that load, hot-shot. Because once the payload is gone, you cannot call it back. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ouJ_WyS9v8.