Serious click bait headline on that video. “Helicopter Lands on a Ship in a Terrifying Storm.” If that’s a terrifying storm, I’m Hannah Storm. That’s a pleasant afternoon in the North Sea.
That’s the Danish Air Force. They’ve got a new Sikorsky MH-60R Seahawk helicopter, and apparently it’s still under warranty because hyperbole aside, they are taking chances with it. Of course, it’s the military. That’s a taking chances industry. Whoever wrote the headline probably rides to their cubicle job on a recumbent bicycle, so they describe it like the pilot was waterskiing inside Krakatoa. The guy’s just doing his job. He’s damn good at it, too. Being damn good at your job doesn’t cut much ice on YouTube, so they up the dosage to: Wounded blind commando lands flaming attack helicopter on stolen sinking radioactive battleship during a typhoonicane.
Sometimes I get a hankering to move to Russia. No particular reason. But they have bears like we’ve got squirrels. I’ve always wanted to have bears wandering through my life like that.
Like all addictions, my bear obsession had a gateway drug: pickanic baskets. Once I was hooked on Yogi and Boo Boo, there was no going back. You’d think that Tipper Gore or my parents would have gotten that banned from afternoon TV, or at least had a warning sticker on it or something.
Please bear with me. My Cyrillium is rusty. Or is that language called Cyrillanegran? I can’t remember. I was really loaded back in school most of the time. Being loaded was worth extra credit in that language class, though, because a proper Russkie was teaching it. Not like shop class. That guy was completely unreasonable about holding a mixed drink in your left hand while you used the drill press with your right. I think he was just jealous that I still had a left hand. Anyway, I’ll take a stab at translating the audio for you:
There really isn’t any practical reason to ride a motorcycle, is there? While it has more legroom than a Honda Fit, and more horsepower than a Lexus, it’s not really a practical mode of transportation for most people. For instance, when you’re coming home after being out shopping, where are you going to carry your bacon, whiskey, shotgun shells, and cans of Beefaroni?
Look at that guy. He’s got it made. Nicholi Rogatkin is living the dream. He’s riding a bicycle for money.
Look at you, slaving away in your cubicle. You’re not riding a bicycle for money. You’re actually working. Well, not so much when you first get in. I know, traffic was pretty bad, and your iPhone alarm clock didn’t go off because you forgot to recharge it. Again. And even though you’re fashionably late, you gotta hit the break room. All the donuts will be scarfed in the first half hour, you just know it. Then you’ve got to hit the head, let’s be reasonable. And there’s no use pooping on your own time, so you’ve got to leave enough time for the entire sports section, with two courtesy flushes.