BIGUN

Should read as page 21 of "Parachutist," "Step on it." Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

It was meant as "A" way; not all ways... Watermarks are a good choice also. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

I thnk I'll use that video for safety day. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

Has the discipline of hybrid dives as reflected on page 51 of "Parachutist" been discontinued also? Look at the foot placement of the guy on top. Rob, You mentioned argumentative and you may have a point about presentation, but I would disagree on principle. Most... well, all of us respect the manufacturers for what has been accomplished over the past ten years and I think it's safe to say that all of us are primarily concerned with safety. Chutingstar had an editorial in this month's "Skydiving Magazine" about whether this is a gear issue or a rigger education/CEU issue. An excellent point. Please understand the difficulty that people are having with a sudden change of a configuration that has worked well for quite a few years, based on a single instance that would appear to be a rigger issue. While Mirage and Airtec is to be applauded for quickly moving towards safety, sometimes we can move too quickly to a single solution - that can make it even more difficult to retract later on once more data comes in, rather than exploring several best choices. My suggestion is for everyone to hit the pause button and ascertain if, 1) this is truly a gear issue in which the SB is a long-term solution that all H/C manufacturers embrace or, 2) is a better solution - rigger training/Rigger SB. Personally, I believe we have some of the greatest minds in one location that could all get together as a panel (if you will) and determine the cause and effect of the incident, determine a selection of solutions, R&D those solutions, field test those solutions (hybrid dives, etc.), determine the best long-term solution, and jointly deploy and educate the "whys" of that solution. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

You know what?" says the 6 year old. "I think it's about time we started cussing." The 4 year old nods his head in approval. The 6 year old continues, "When we go downstairs for breakfast, I'm gonna say something with 'hell' and you say something with 'ass'. The 4 year old agrees with enthusiasm. When their mother walks into the kitchen and asks the 6 year old what he wants for breakfast, he replies, "Aw, hell, Mom, I guess I'll have some Cheerios. " WHACK! he flies out of his chair, tumbles across the kitchen floor, gets up, and runs upstairs crying his eyes out, with his mother in hot pursuit, slapping his rear with every step. His mom locks him in his room and shouts, "You can just stay there until I let you out!" She then comes back downstairs, looks at the 4 year old and asks with a stern voice, "And what do YOU want for breakfast, young man?" "I don't know, but you can bet your ass it won't be Cheerios." Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

I wonder if they mean 118 solo jumps as in all by yourself or 118 jumps without an instructor or coach - where you find your discipline and work in that... RW, FF, Camera, etc. Quick currency conversion would indicate the course is $7,458 USD. Include 200 jumps, camera specific training & editing, packing, 23 coach jumps, job placement, etc. It doesn't sound like a bad price to me. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

Very nice, well done. I like the camera clciks while surfing. Kind of a signature thing. You may wish to disable the right click function to protect your copyrights. There are additional ways to keep stuff from being taken off your website, but I'll have to defer to others for that code and advice. I would change the var messagee to be a bit more polite... like: Thank you for interest in my work, please feel free to contact me regarding copyrighted pictures. The following script comes from Microsoft Technet article Q286426. It only works with IE, which is fine... var message = "Sorry, that function is disabled.\n\n"; message += "This page is copyrighted, and "; message += "all content is protected."; function click(e) { if (document.all) { if (event.button == 2) { alert(message); return false; } } if (document.layers) { if (e.which == 3) { alert(message); return false; } } } if (document.layers) { document.captureEvents(Event.MOUSEDOWN); } document.onmousedown=click; Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

The whole world's gone to sh!t since John Wayne died. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

You'll have plenty of opportunities to skydive. You'll only have one opportunity to go to med school. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

I believe you can solo one after orientation by an examiner, but don't hold me to it. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

It's better to have one and not need it; than to not have one and need it. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

But, you obviously listen to him, which only keeps him on the air. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

http://www.alti-2.com/Neptune_Owners_Pages/Altitude_Displays.htm Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

This was one of those triple forwarded emails... so I did not know the guy. Don't usually read those, but because of the subject line - had to and just thought I'd share my morning funny. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

You don't know how good life is until you've been cold and wet for so long that when you're digging around in your ruck and find a pair of clean dry socks in a ziplock - that its like hitting the Lotto. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

Got this in an email this morning.. thought I'd share - for all those who've had to experience MRE's - we can relate. I had a date the other night at my place. On the phone the day before, the girl asked me to "Cook her something she's never had before" for dinner. After many minutes of scratching my head over what to make, I finally settled on something she has DEFINITELY never eaten. I got out my trusty case of MRE's. Meal, Ready-to-Eat Field rations that when eaten in their entirety contain 3000+ calories. Here's what I made: I took three of the Ham Slices out of their plastic packets, took out three of the Pork Chops, three packets of Chicken-a-la-King, and eight packets of dehydrated butter noodles and some dehydrated/rehydrated rice. I cooked the Ham Slices and Pork Chops in one pan, sauted in shaved garlic and olive oil. In another pot, I blended the Chicken a-la-king, noodles, and rice together to make a sort of mush that looked suspiciously like succotash. I added some spices, and blended everything together in a glass pan that I then cooked in the oven for about 35 minutes at 450 degrees. When I took it out, it looked like, well, ham slices, pork chops, and a bed of yellow poop. I covered the tops of the meat in the MRE cheese (kinda like velveeta) and added some green sprinkly thingys from one of my spice cans (hey, if it's got green sprinkly thingys on it, it looks fancy right?) For dessert, I took four MRE Pound Cakes, mashed 'em up, added five packets of cocoa powder, powdered coffee cream, and some water. I heated it up and stirred it until it looked like a sort of chunky gelatinous organism, and I sprinkled powdered sugar on top of it. Voila--Ranger Pudding. For alcoholic drinks, I took the rest of my bottle of Military Special Vodka (yes, they DO make a type of liquor named "Military Special"--it sells for $4.35 per fifth) and mixed in four packets of Electrolytes - 1 each - Cherry flavored" (I swear, the packet says that). It looked like an eerie kool-aid with sparkles in it (that was the electrolytes I guess... could've been leftover sand from Egypt). I lit two candles, put a vase of wildflowers in the middle, and set the table with my best set of Ralph Lauren Academy-series China (that shit is EXPENSIVE... my set of 8 place settings cost me over $600), and put the alcoholic drink in a crystal wine decanter. She came over, and I had some appetizers already made, of MRE spaghetti-with-meatballs, set in small cups. She saw the dinner, saw the food, and said "This looks INCREDIBLE!!!" We dug in, and she loved the food. Throughout the meal, she kept asking me how long it took me to make it, and kept remarking that I obviously knew a thing or two about cooking fine meals. She kind of balked at the makeshift "wine" I had set out, but after she tried it I guess she liked it because she drank four glasses during dinner. At the end of the main course, when I served the dessert, she squealed with delight at the "Chocolate mousse" I had made. Huh? Chocolate what? Okay... yeah... it's Chocolate Moose. Took me HOURS to make... yup. Later on, as we were watching a movie, she excused herself to use my restroom. While she was in there, I heard her say softly to herself "uh oh"and a resounding but petite f@rt punctuated her utterance of dismay. Let the games begin. She sprayed about half a can of air freshener (Air Freshener, 1 each, Orange scent. Yup. The military even makes smell good) and returned to the couch, this time with an obvious pained look. After 10 more minutes she excused herself again, and retreated to the bathroom for the second time. I could hear her say "What the hell is WRONG with me???," as she again send flatulent shockwaves into the porcelain bowl. This time, they sounded kinda wet, and I heard the toilet paper roll being employed, and again, LOTS more air freshener. Back to the couch. She smiles meekly as she decides to sit on the chair instead of next to me. She sits on my chair, knees pulled up to her chest, kind of rocking back and forth slightly. Suddenly, without a word, she ROCKETED up and FLEW to the bathroom, slammed the door, and didn't come out for 30 minutes. I turned the movie up because I didn't want her to hear me laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my cheeks. She came out with a slightly gray pallor to her face, and said "I am SOOOOOO sorry. I have NO idea what is wrong with me. I am so embarrassed; I can't believe I keep running to your bathroom!!" I gave her an Imodium AD, and she finally settled down and relaxed. Later on, she asked me again what I had made for dinner, because she had enjoyed it so much. I calmly took her into the kitchen and showed her all the used MRE bags and packets in the trash can. After explaining to her that she had eaten roughly 9,000 calories of "Marine food" she turned stark white, looked at me incredulously, and said "I ate 9,000 calories of dehydrated food that was made 3 years ago?" After I concurred, she grabbed her coat and keys, and took off without a word. She called me yesterday. Seems she couldn't sh!t for 3 days, and when she finally did, the smell was so bad, her roommate could smell it from down the hall. She also told me she had been working out nonstop to combat the high caloric intake, and that she never wanted me to cook dinner for her again, unless she was PERSONALLY there to inspect the food beforehand. It was a fun date. She laughed about it eventually, and said that that was the first time she'd ever crapped in a guy's house on a date. She'd been so upset by it she was in tears in the bathroom while I had been in tears on the couch. I know, I'm an asshole, but it was still a funny night. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

At the bottom of a post start up, quote or reply box is a series of buttons.... code, reply quote B, U, i email and........ url So if you want to make something clicky; place your cursor at the front of the web-adress you want to make clicky and select the "url" button... after you've selected it, that "url" button will be replaced by a "/url" place your cursor at the end of the web address and select "/url". Meaning start the url at the beginning and close the /url at the end. Same with all the other buttons "b" at the front and [/ b] at the end makes IT bold. Select reply to this post and above the text field - you'll see a hyperlink that says Get Markup Help - which all work the same way. Or click on this link which I placed a url in front and a /url on the end. http://www.dropzone.com/cgi-bin/forum/gforum.cgi?do=markup_help; You can also preview the post to ensure you've done it correctly. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and say, "Balloon Mortgage." Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

I just disabled JS and it still worked. I did happen to notice that it's no longer a popup box, but the results are now located at the top of the message just above the subject line. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

Perhaps mandatory fields within the profile would help things? Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

Phreezone just compiled a bunch of information to develop an article regarding night jumps. You may wish to pm him for some pointers. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

It's in the book. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

Most conservative christians I know would say otherwise. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

Very talented. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.

That is the best advice and process for purchasing used rigs. Nobody has time to listen; because they're desperately chasing the need of being heard.