Farflung

The guy with the faux girlfriend crossed the line from passive to active BS. Why fabricate some ‘whatever’ as a way to deflect what must be some apparent insecurities? Would you walk into a store and announce ‘I’m not shoplifting, I’m an honest person’? By putting that photo on his desk he created a ‘conversation piece’ and manufactured some tar pit of a story which obviously sparked some interest. I would have said ‘Oh yeah, the reason the stock pictures match is because, my girlfriend is a stock photograph model because she is smoking hot, you don’t even know. Guess you just made yourself look foolish, didn’t you?

There are two reasons people resort to using shills. First, is because they have to in order to build some veil of legitimacy for some ‘product’. Secondly, because it works. Bernie Madoff committed the world’s largest theft and had but one tool at his disposal; BS. If you count the legions of brain dead that wanted to believe how Bernie had a super secret way to trade stocks, then he had two tools available. The irony of Harry Markopolos paying taxes on the wages he earns, which partially go to fund Bernie’s prison stay is absolutely tactile.

California politics like D B Cooper represents the macrocosm of fragmented thought, nonlinear logic and the absurd. Begin by creating a job that is more contemptible than that of Vice President of the US. How about Lieutenant Governor? Except when the Governor is removed from office you ignore the guy and the succession of offices in favor of a ‘casting call’ election. Hey, this could get juicy. No primary process, just $3500 and a dream. Imagine that, $3500 would buy you resume fodder as a final candidate for Governor of California – fantastic. Hmmm…. a person serving as Lieutenant Governor putting his name on the ballot would be exquisite irony of a degree the mind can barely comprehend. If they lost….. Well that would be a clear sign of the rapture approaching. If they stayed in the office of Lieutenant Governor after losing the recall election, I would expect the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse next. Even with 135 hopefuls, providing for a write in candidate would make it even naughtier. But not naughty enough, there needs to be some spice in that candidate stew. Larry Flynt, publisher of Hustler magazine is made to order, so was Mary Cary. Tachikaze Rightmyer ran as an Independent and was listed as a “Middleweight Sumo Wrestler”, could it get any better? Sure, how about the inexplicable mono-nom, Angelyne? All this before the bevy of actors, political experts and assorted, but as of yet undiagnosed, megalomaniacs threw their Tin Foil hats in the ring. I was convinced that I had seen it all. Wrong again. The most populous state in the US was going to prove just how wrong I could be. Out of some 30 million people rose the best and brightest, group think could offer. A former Governor, who is the son of a former Governor and a wealthy woman who helped start some cyber garage sale. I can see a reason for the legalization of marijuana (also on the ballot), smoking the stuff could not possibly result in anything worse than the sober world is offering for the first Tuesday in November (after the first Monday, of course). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BNjcuZ-LiSY

377, Your mother is who we all hoped would be packing our chutes. You jumpers do a pack, put on a reserve, get in the plane and typically use at least one. Not so for the wingnuts which stay in the aircraft ‘acting’ like they are in control. That rig is a heavy, uncomfortable and a barely portable seat which ‘the Man’ forced us to wear in yet another display of tacit domination. Snugly fitted within the shell of an ejection seat or stacked in a fuselage just waiting for some use, they were largely ignored and abused. After a separated and redundant system failed and we were out of airspeed and ideas; the only thing left in the entire airframe which may still be working is that sweet, easy to carry, damn glad to have it, chute. Yes, I want every crease neatly tucked in a never going to fail fashion by people who understand and subscribe to Plato’s ethos of a social contract.

The video Amazon posted of the BASE jumper that ‘survived’ a 500 foot drop is stunning to watch. This video was one of two incidents involving chutes malfing big time in a couple days. Both jumpers actually survived and have officially overdrawn their ‘lucked out’ accounts. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=osQJUA76IOM&feature=watch_response There was a lengthy technical discussion about how this was a five way with a pair of TARD overs (?) and some guy who got low holding the others (?) PCs and twisted the bridle. Ummm…. Not sure what PC could be; Personal Computer, Politically Correct or Pilot Chute. Don’t wanna guess here. But it was a long and complex process which barely consumed six seconds, real time. Apparently these guys wear body armor and this was given as a possible source for the snag. Technology giveth then taketh awayeth. There were medics and Life Flight choppers responding within seconds where both individuals were transported to the ICU in Boise with broken backs and battered lungs. Yes they survived, but under optimum conditions. People were given the name of the hospital to send donations for the chopper’s service and wish the jumpers a speedy recovery. One of them was named…. Of course… Cooper. http://www.basejumper.com/cgi-bin/forum/gforum.cgi?do=post_view_flat;post=2248776;page=1;sb=post_latest_reply;so=ASC;mh=25; Some pretty amazing analysis on the thread (last comment first page). Has nothing to do with D B Cooper but may serve as an analogy for something Copperesque.

Why would any of this data, be viewed as absurd? That could come across as some variety of satire which would be better offered at a Mensa gathering rather than some internet forum. You might as well serve Beluga Caviar at the ‘Hometown Buffet’. It will be eaten, but there will be little knowledge or appreciation of what was just consumed. Prose has countermeasures just as effective as a velocity gate walk off or pull off, where tracking can be utterly flummoxed (Star Trek sucks) with the insertion of some (Mariners wear hoop skirts) well timed and easy to understand and typically misinterpreted fragments. Much like the operators of the victim systems, the threat will have long passed over their heads while they ponder what happened with a sausage in their hand. Dit Dah DIt Dah Dit

I was sent a comic book cover that may prove a better source for the name the hijacker of Flight 305 stole along with $200,000. Dated 1 June, almost six months before the hijacking and containing some striking similarities. The name D B Cooper is an exact match unlike Dan Cooper. He is wearing a military style rig and shedding money everywhere he travels. Most telling are several flying dragons spewing flame at the lost ransom. Any doubt how the money found on Tena Bar became black and charred in appearance now or the lights observed by that woman? Flares indeed. Other than the fact that Cooper removed his tie before jumping, I think this serves as compelling evidence which contains ramifications so profound that one may question the validity of physics, science and aerosol propelled cheeses. We should all take some time out to thank the person who sent this information without government mandate or profit motive. He possesses nothing more than a burning desire to practice what I fall so woefully short of myself; truth, justice, the American way. Thank you Clark Kent (Ed. Note: Not his real name).

Whoa, whoooaa. Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water. This story is still salvageable with the smallest amount of embellishment. Kenneth jumps from a Boeing 727 and returns to his dingy hovel in Sumner. Within weeks, he pays cash for an opulent home in the adjacent city of Bonney Lake and loans $5,000 to his friend. But wait; doesn’t Kenneth’s home have a strikingly similar appearance to a barn? No question, we all see that. The $5,000 was not a loan but a retainer for the services of a Filipino plastic surgeon and lawyer. In 1994, Kenneth travels to the Philippines where he goes through a series of plastic surgeries which make him appear 40 years younger. He then has a local lawyer obtain a new identity where he returns to the US as Kenneth ‘Pinyan’ and moves to the adjacent city of Enumclaw. Could anyone find a Filipino to verify this? Still craving the action of aviation and out of money thanks to his friend selling off his trees. Kenneth gains employment from the very company that built the plane he hijacked. In 2005, after a game of erotic Rock, Paper, Scissors, Kenneth finds himself in a neighbor’s barn filled with animals. His ‘friend’ offers his services as a videographer and records a session between Kenneth (aka Mr. Hands) and a horse that was named Big Dick (hand to heart true). Now ensconced as international legend, Mr. Hands and Enumclaw are inextricably linked in a dirty tango of unfortunate city names and dark deeds. Just like the Cooper hijacking, Mr. Hands’ tale was thrust repeatedly and mercilessly into the headlines when the aforementioned act ended in Kenneth’s demise. Cries for the videographer’s arrest rose from the masses only to discover that the activities on video were “perfectly legal”. Enter Pam Roach, State Senator from, where else? The adjacent city of Auburn, the circle is now complete. Roach crafts legislation which outlaws bestiality in Washington thus ending a long tradition of stuff that fills my nightmares. How could so many ‘Freak Show’ worthy activities occur in four, cities which apparently share quite a bit more than their municipal boundaries? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EdooYar_A6g&feature=related “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” Hunter S. Thompson

I agree with the analysis of the life cycle of any D B Cooper book. Don’t like it, but think it is the most comprehensive forecast given in 18,000 comments. Forget facts, they are ephemeral in the best of conditions. The Dan Cooper Comic as a case in point. Started on this very thread in 2008 by snowmman and has gone full circle. From tongue and cheek suggestion to listing on the FBI website to being verified by a man who was on Shemya in 1951 to publication. Keep it in the book. Jo Weber was the only one on this thread to notice or even catch the Dan Cooper Comic myth after it was terrorizing villagers. Gotta admit, it is hilarious how the very group that spawned that fiction didn’t even recognize the fruits of their loins. And no one bothered to ‘Google’ the damn thing for publication dates before asking a leading or loaded question for verification. No one will notice or care. Keep it in the book. Then tie in something homegrown in Washington that is freaky, I mean freaky. After all, you have to overcome the transsexual mechanic theory and I know just the candidate. Mr. Hands. That’s right, D B Cooper met his maker as the victim of some uncontrolled horsepower. It is perfect. More salacious than any previous story, the guy is dead, worked for Boeing (HELLOOOO!!!) and it happened in Enumclaw; 100% instant unquestionable creditability. Just treat it like everything else and don’t look to close or think about it. Much like eating a hot dog, you can enjoy it.

“I ain’t so blind I can’t see” - Nazareth http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyXz6eMCj2k

Robert you’re right. I was making (made) a fool of myself. When I read your article on how to hire a housecleaner, I actually believed it. I’m so ashamed. You were not interviewing a successful, local business owner, like you portrayed in the article, but the woman who you share a bed with. I feel like such an utter cretin. You probably weren’t even asking questions the way you represented in the article. I’ll bet you just wrote that article out of whole cloth. Man, when you asked if you should TIP a housecleaner, I was on pins and needles waiting for the answer. Now I realize you were just shilling for your wife, even though you made no such mention of this relationship in your article. I guess there is no need for full disclosure, honesty, ethics or integrity. I sincerely hope you enjoy your Bud Lights, frozen margaritas and big screen TV this weekend. I’ll be drinking warm salt water (from a can) and eating my own heart out while glancing over some strangers shoulder to see their text messages on a cell phone as usual. “I guess in the grand scheme of things, everything has turned out just the way it should have” - Homer (Simpson)

georger observed: “The podium is draped with some gold foil thingy that looks like it was pulled out of longterm storage in a hap sack…” I noticed that also and felt it was worth some further, crack analysis. So, after some crack….. I tried to vectorize and saturate the primary colors from the 256 grey scale, spectrum using pseudo polarization, V6.348 (of course) and extracting anything that was excluded from the Swirling equation for image conflation. Nothing but noise. Looks like this is a dead end.

That is a unique review page on Amazon.com. One review had twenty two responses. I mean really, 22? Once again Robert Blevins is lamenting how he has more important things to do yet he keeps responding in painfully voluminous prose. I may have discovered the source of Robert’s angst and self loathing. He is constantly being trumped by this person he frequently refers to in the third person as Gayla Prociv, The CEO of Adventure Books. Envy is one of the deadly sins and Robert Blevins must be experiencing a crippling case of this. According to Robert’s own Newsvine article from April, Gayla was a mere bookkeeper at Adventure Books and within six months is the CEO (cue echo). Robert was passed over by a bookkeeper; imagine the rage which must dwell in his heart. You’re not good enough, don’t have the right stuff, not a decision maker, no balls, something is hanging out your nose, all the while others continue to succeed. All this happened after Robert Blevins published another in depth interview laced with envy, success, money and intrigue. In 2008, Robert Blevins managed to track down a successful business owner that the entire staff of Adventure Books was jealous over because she made more money. What sort of person would enter the hallowed halls of Adventure Books and taunt the entire staff with their income statement? I mean really, tell the staff (entire staff) at Adventure Books how much you make in order to spark some jealousy. http://adventurebooks.newsvine.com/_news/2008/06/14/1576793-how-to-hire-and-keep-a-good-housecleaner-interview Well, it couldn’t be published if it was not true. And who was this successful, bathed in cash, business owner? That’s right, you got it… Gayla Prociv. From a simple interview, to entry as Adventure Books employee with a jealous staff, to CEO (cue echo again, add timpani drum beat). I hope Sluggo will give Robert Blevins a break. Otherwise he may lose his job if he draws the angst of Gayla Prociv, CEO (Cue voice over: CEO Adventure Books Seattle, LLC; as well as five time winner of the ‘Buckeye Newshawk Award’ and holder of the coveted’ Silver Sow’. Cue cymbal flourish) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ks-6CqqvUs

I’m still lost. How could Dan Rattenbury be a ‘source’ for the ‘money up the stump’ story? Dan could be a reference about the discovered cash but no more of a source than I would be to the Roswell Crash. Abduction and repeated probes (for my essence) yes, I’m a source, but not for the crash. For all I (just me) know, the Colorado Chick told Cletus about some money found in her back yard (adjacent property, whatever) then moves away (to Colorado or wherever). Meanwhile, many or few people, own or rent Kenny’s home until Dan Rattenbury buys the thing. Now old Cletus is hanging fire at the print shop and tells Dan about some money which was found behind Dan’s shop some years past. Then the Colorado Chick’s story is confirmed by a person who was repeating the Colorado Chick’s story. Is this the sort of dual source confirmation being presented? Or is this ‘interview’ with some witness from Colorado simply a foil for you to continue some freaky ‘Harold and Maude’ type relationship under the guise of an in depth investigation?

But who would ever wear a grey sweater? And according to Tina… be polite? This can only be one person and I think we all know who that would be.

As usual, I’m lost. So some woman, who is living in another state, but is very nice, has confirmed that she owned Kenny’s home, after he died and did not know (biblically or otherwise) Dan Rattenbury, the present owner of the structure who was aware of a story about $2000 in 20s being found in a pile of stumps (told to him by….), after the timber was sold to a timber company (who would have guessed?) and since Dan and the woman from Colorado are both aware of the money, this verifies the story as true and correct? I heard there was a UFO that crashed outside Roswell in 1947. If someone can be located, who I have never met and can repeat this story, that should clear up this government cover-up, once and for all. Didn’t a guy from Shemya confirm snowmman’s story about the Dan Cooper comic book being seen by Kenny in 1951? Also, Earl Cossey said the Amboy chute was not his, no way, noooo sir! Ooops, bad example there, we need a person that Earl has never met to confirm that the Amboy parachute is not Earl’s. Gosh, this research stuff is much harder than I ever imagined.

Yet another remake of a song from the 70’s with an oddly familiar sounding title. Which one is superior? Are they both crap? Was D B Cooper a ‘one hot wonder’? YOU decide. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVJXVMB3Fro http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LVL2YXVwKc

I was following along with the logic and assumptions up to the stated preference for ‘Bananarama’s Venus’. First is that Freudian name… Bananarama, just what sort of a ‘Sausagefest’ moniker is that supposed to be? Just one of the many insidious names which crept into the 80’s like Wham, Culture Club and Frankie Goes to Hollywood. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JH3WvI_S6-k The video is exactly what I would expect from an English, girl group. Three mousy voices could not replace Mariska’s and the choreography represents the best one could expect from some white suburban girls from a country where meat is boiled as a way to make children cry. But the overtones are richly apparent and oft repeated. Can one truly compare the eunuch backed version to the daring and poignant performance of Shocking Blue with Mariska adding endless production values with the band in front of monkey cages? From a deep Brenda Vaccaro meets Suzanne Pleshette voice to a trio named after bananas? Bananas are consumed by monkeys then thrown at zoo patrons. Could the producers have been any more obvious? Not since Perry Mason sparred with Hamilton Burger (hamburger… another food reference) has a more transparent innuendo been crafted. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2DBcbZc3ck Mariska was trying to forewarn the general public about the eventuality of Flight 305 with a sultry Gypsy approach while Bananarama transmitted little more than some homo erotic images backed by some synthesized and primitive tribal beat now used in Dutch, dance clubs where wooden shoes have long been replaced by Doc Martens; if you know what I mean. Was Mariska ever recognized for her efforts? It will be a moot point since she died around four years ago and Shocking Blue broke up in 1974. Yet Bananarama still performs music they have licensed from other groups and are no doubt plotting a remake of Black Betty or Freebird. Would Warhol be allowed to paint over a Monet? Yeah, life’s fair. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHg5SJYRHA0&feature=fvst This and the Bananarama song are precisely 3 minutes and 33 seconds each. Think this will be all that is needed to compel any jury to convict. On the count of felony, music molestation and dance douchebaggery while inducing a seizure, aforethought, how find you?

Sluggo Monster, You're correct about asking Alice. More like 'Jefferson 727' perhaps? That Starship name was a thinly veiled reference to... that's right... you got it... Roswell UFOs... which are.... time machines. Grace Slick had some deep pipes that I frequently confused with Mariska Veres' who sang the haunting tune 'Venus'. Starships, Venus, Roswell and coded lyrics..... do they mock me? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2DBcbZc3ck He grabbed it from the counter top, was running for a silver plane. with a plan to hatch way above, and Cooper was his name. That's D B...... Yeah, Northwest that's D B.... Well, he's a genius, Join the choir, you can conspire. Well, got served peanuts, frequent flyer, what will transpire? (interlude) Mucklow saw with her own eyes, a bomb that would make her get, a message to the cockpit she was, to do what no one else has. She's got it, Yeah, Tina she's got it. Well, have you seen this? I require, the cash acquire. Hell, have you seen this? better try 'er. or we'll retire. (Cooper jumps stanza) Ahhhhhh ahhhhhhh Ahhhh Ahhhhhhhhhh ahhhhh..... (still in free fall) Ahhhhhhh ahhhhhh ahhhhhh ahhhhhh..... He's got it, Yeah, Northwest, He's got it. Well, hey there genius, don't perspire, it's your quagmire. Well, I'm the meanest, won't expire, that those admire. (have a bit of a zombie dance)

georger and Orange1 have made salient points regarding gold. Kenny strikes me as a 'mattress stuffer' or soft investor which is painfully common among those raised during the Great Depression. These people tend to live below their means, well below. Here is where things begin to take the fork in the road. Kenny spends $100 a month (a weeks pay) on rent and is characterized as impoverished rather than thrifty (search 'crash pad'). His apartment is called shabby and run down even though it is barely four years old (built 1967). Kenny spent years (3 or 4) on Shemya where there is no rent to pay and a large salary premium for living on the 'Black Pearl of the Pacific'. Anyone with 20/20 hindsight, could have purchased $60 gold in 1972 and by 1994, amassed an estate value of near $1.2 million. Physical gold (bullion and coins) still occupy a rare niche in the American taxation spectrum in that gold is akin to bearer bonds. Take your gold to any coin shop or coin show and sell them without so much as a 1099 or receipt. No transaction, no tax. I do pray that common sense would interceded any thoughts of a person selling hundreds of ounces at one time (I know I'm wrong here). Gold was never illegal to own as long as it was in the form of jewelry, not in excess of some ($100?) amount of legal tender or of numismatic value. You could drive an armored truck through that loophole. Kenny seemed to have wanted to continue his modest lifestyle long after the hijacking. I thought Kenny died of cancer. It seems a little (just itsy bit) strange that Kenny's estate would end up in a probate court when he was approaching his final hour. The transfer of physical gold and stamp collections could have been simple and tax free. He sure picked an expensive ending with the estate tax and all.

In the sprit of quality research and analysis, one must define the variables in the discussion. Let us begin with 'Milk Can'. As you can plainly see, milk cans vary in volume from 12 ounces to several gallons. But calling it a 'Milk' can would induce a bias that the container is somehow associated with dairy or the dairy industry. So we can assume no more than 'can'. The next graphic depicts what the word 'can' represents in the Yankee lexicon. What exactly could be meant when referring to the 'can'? There simply is not enough information to make anything more than a wild guess. But there was the refining statement that is was not a can, but a bucket. Unfortunately, this term is used to describe an even greater variety of containers. At least one can glean that the money was socked away in a non-dairy, device that was buried, or not, by two people who are at present, deceased. It is becoming much clearer the more I read.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgI5DMVegIk Over the Washington town of Vancouver, Once jumped a man with a tie clasp in pearl. The last one to see him was lovely young Tina, Wind blast that would make the average man hurl. Into the night jumped the legend of Cooper, Just where he landed, no body could tell. The ground was searched by the dogs and the sheriff, Nothing was found, no not even a smell. Then all the wild, new theories came in, After the logic was thinned......... Reason excluded, all experts exuded, their passion based story that brought Cooper in. So on Dropzone I, Challenged the 'facts' on this story of Cooper, came a response that was hard to ignore. Forget the concept, of time as you know it, You're making this out to be more of a chore. Just for a moment I sat there in silence, Shocked by the endless and salacious rants. Many thoughts raced through my mind as I sat there, I think I spilled coffee in front of my pants. On through the forum of comments I read, Won't admit that twice I cried......... I read some good ones, they all were just for fun, If I get caught, It can still be denied. So on Dropzone I, Study the Washington town of Vancouver, While I'm at home or when work gets too slow. Crap.. there's the boss...

Martin McNally, the guy who jumped with $502,000 and a machine gun only to lose both in the slipstream, was a serial hijacker. In 1978, McNally and two other prisoners, Garrett Trapnell and James Johnson conspired to escape from prison (as you do). If the name James Johnson seems familiar you may be recalling the alias used by Richard McCoy; that's right, true dat, another hijacker and prison escapee used the same name. What are the odds? If the name Garrett Trapnell sounds familiar, well that may be due to the fact that he hijacked a TWA airliner (FLT 2) for roughly $306,800 and the release of two prisoners in 1972. So what is a pair of hijackers and a person with a hijackers alias possibly going to do? On the evening of 24 May, a woman named Barbara Oswald (too easy) hired a helicopter piloted by a Viet Nam vet named Alan Barklage to survey real estate. Somewhere over rural Missouri, Oswald pulled a gun and ordered the pilot to fly to Marion Prison where a landing zone would be marked with a yellow jacket. As they were approaching the facility where the three prisoners were no doubt salivating, after hearing the distinct sound of a helicopter, the pilot grabbed the gun and gave Oswald a shot 'a la Jack Ruby', then landed on the 'good peoples' side of the fence. So close, yet this conspiracy was an utter failure, but not dead yet. The fruit does not fall far. By the end of the year a TWA jet was hijacked at Saint Louis, Lambert Field (FLT 541) by none other than Barbara's daughter - Robin Oswald. Mommy dearest (no wire 'hangars') would have been so proud. Robin was 17 years of age and inexplicably allowed to correspond with Trapnell after her mother was shot to death as the result of a hijacking he planned. Gee, I can't see anything possibly going wrong with this scenario... can you? Odd as this may sound, Trapnell faced with acting as mentor and guide to an impressionable teenager chose the unlikely path of manipulator for his own benefit. Me so shocked. Robin announced that she had three sticks of Dynamite and ordered the crew to fly to.... Marion Federal Prison in yet another attempt to free Trapnell. Sorry, had to choke down a little bile. Since she was still a minor, it is improbable that she was going to do any great amount of time (22 months), let alone be sent to the Harvard of Hijacking, Marion Federal Prison. Perhaps it's just my special way of thinking, but I would want a prison to be the most chaotic, mal-aligned, mix of constant confusion rendering those inside, incapable of thought, planning or action. Model a prison after the DMV rather than the Wharton School of Business for crying out loud. Hijackers as cell mates? Nope. Hijacker with an aviophobe would have these two watching each other instead of plotting ways out of the prison. By now, this story is just another, 'Plate of Shrimp'. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4QKiYar9pI

http://extras.denverpost.com/news/news0121g.htm RIchard Charles LaPoint, alias as John Shane. Is this name the combination of the movie 'Shane', the seminal flick of gunfighter turn farmhand who wins the attentions of the farmer's son and wants the attention of the farmer's wife but loses both after winning a gun battle against two desperados before riding into the sunset; and John Wayne, who is so pure American, macho that anyone who even thinks differently; will see their testicles implode into lavender, clouds of Pixie dust?

377 queried: "How did you deal with carrying the cowboy hat and your flight helmet?"