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| Sunday, July 8, 2007 |
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Flying right 
| | By the time you get to the end of Fighter Pilot Porn, you'll wish you'd known Robin Olds as well as Britt Blaser did. After Robin Olds, they broke the mold. Not just his mold, but the mold for the entire way of life that made our ways necessary. |
| | Britt speaks in the possessive because he, Robin and other combat-trained veteran pilots share something Britt feels we're losing. I won't give it away, though. You have to read it to find out. Meanwhile, one sample: |
| | I have experienced at least one instance where five 25-year-old anal sphincters, properly applied to aircraft seat cushions, kept a C-130 in the air for moments longer than it should have. I have no proof, but it¹s my story and I¹m sticking to it. Like those seat cushions. |
Next up: Wurst Sinatra
| | Several months ago Doc Searls and I came up with a name for a new show I have been developing. I grabbed it that night as soon as I got home. Tomorrow that show will launch: it¹s called Bad Sinatra. |
| | In the Gesturesphere, we all make contributions to the state of mind we call this social network of ours. You can call it attention, or intention, or VRM, or Twitter, or whatever. But it still represents our hope to make some difference, to leave a footprint in the cement out in front of the theatre of our lives. We take it a lot more seriously than we let on, but like high school we pretend that it doesn¹t hurt when we¹re insulted, passed by, snickered at, or worst of all, not noticed. |
| | Gestures have become big business. The politics of personality swamp us with messages that need to be triaged much like we used to parse advertising. Is this the program wrapped in signals or signals disguised as programming? Yes. It¹s an ugly space we¹re in, and nobody holds the high ground. We¹re all selling something, and of course it¹s ourselves. |
| | Bonus: I finally know what Steve means by gestures. I think. |
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