Luftwaffles
They must be preparing for an Ariel assault.
Because they’re above us.
Over Andover again
To Spare Force One
They had a zero Tolerance policy
They went on an air strike.
Because they’re USAF.
It's USAF.
So I could thank him for his Surface.
Staff Infection.
They were Thai Fighters
Econom-nom-nomics
They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.
Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.
As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.
They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.
Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?
They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.
"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".
They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.
But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.
The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.
And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!
Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?
"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"
In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and
... keep reading on reddit ➡Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.
Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.
Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.
The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.
Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.
Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.
One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.
Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.
“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.
The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.
“Yes of course” replied Trevor
... keep reading on reddit ➡My unit had a drill weekend and we were in the woods with only open toilets (no walls or stalls, just three toilet seats next to either.) After the second day one of the officers asked, "Is there a private shiter around here?" I responded with, "I haven't seen him but I'll look for him."
One time a contractor approached me and asked if I wanted to buy some panzers that his company built.
I considered it for a while but remembered that the air force needed to get new fighter jets.
I turn back to the contractor and say, “sorry, but we just don’t have enough room in the budget. Thanks but no tanks.”
"Probably was the Air Force"
The Air Force, because they're US AF.
Dad: Did you hear about how Jordan has been bombing ISIS?
Me: Yeah, it's pretty crazy.
Dad: I know... So do you think Jordan's Air Force is called "Air Jordan"?
Me: :-/
Dad: They probably have the Nike logo on their jets.
"Hand it over and let me see" Throws orange. "No son, Air Force."
I was telling him about how I needed to go say goodbye to a good friend of mine tomorrow. My friend is a new second lieutenant of the US Air Force and he's leaving to go to his assignment soon.
Boss: Hey, how many lieutenants are there in the Air Force?
Me: I don't know. A lot I guess.
Boss: Well, I think it's pretty cool that he came in second.
My groan sounded a lot like laughter.
So I had to pack up a bowl at work today and while i was doing so i annoyed my coworkers with every bowl based pun i could think of
"Hey guys, if we put doritos in here would they have a BOWLder flavor"
"If i lost all my hair would I have gone BOWLD"
"we could fill this with rocks and call this a BOWLder"
"I really like the music of David BOWLie"
"we can slide this at some pins and call it BOWLing"
"what if we were sending this back to BOWLing green Kentucky"
"we can fill it with air and call it a BOWLoon"
"I'm just trying to fit in guys, all i wanna do is BOWLong"
"Of course i think you're telling the truth, i guess you can say I BOWLieve you"
I grew up in Vermont. Around my town were plenty of dairy farms, inviting the always wonderful manure aroma. An aroma that nearly forced my father to inhale deeply through his nose, saying, "Ah, fresh Vermont air!"
That's an excellent Dad one liner, as are most dad jokes, but he had another great one that I'm getting to.
You see, the hay bails we saw growing up in Vermont were mostly the cube variety. Hay bailing technology at the time created cubes of hay, so that's what dotted the fields they'd graze in.
As we grew older, we starting noticing the now more common round bails of hay. Dad was not pleased.
I asked him what the problem was or, at least, what his problem was with the round bails. The best jokes are set up when you ask for them.
So, he tells me. New farming technology allowed the round bails to be created more efficiently. They used less fuel in the bailers, took less passes on the field to gather the hay. They used less twine, and even though they didn't fill a truck as well as square bails, there was still a net monetary gain from the efficiency gained elsewhere.
However, studies were done on the bails. The cows approached them differently due to the different alignment of surface area. The way the rain hit the bails and rolled off as opposed to soaking in leached nutrients out of the hay. Some cows even mistook the shape of bail for another animal, and approached them so nervously that their heart rates were known to raise significantly; such a rate that a tinge of acidity could be tasted by those in the know in their milk.
What all of this amounted to... is that with the new round bails of hay, the cows just weren't getting a good square meal.
As one of the ships was being bombed, sailors were jumping into the water around the ship and then drowning. I made the comment, "It's weird how so many people join the navy without being able to swim."
My dad replied, "That's nothing. I don't know a single person in the air force who can fly."
My father and I had to go to the grocery store to pick up some food the other day. When we get to the fruit section he asks me to grab some oranges. I walk over to the pile of oranges labeled "Naval oranges" so I point and ask if these are the right ones. With a smile on his face he responds "I prefer the Air Force oranges myself". Happy Father's Day dad, never stop!
My friend had a really interesting job. One of those jobs you didn't know people could get.
tl;dr just read it, it's worth reading the whole description of the job
Before I moved, my neighbor's job was based in Antarctica. He worked with one of the research centers there, and his job was standing up penguins. I kid you not — when shipments arrived by air, like by helicopter or by airplane or whatever, the penguins would all look up with their tiny heads and look up so high they would fall over backwards. Now, penguins are super awkward in how they waddle everywhere, and so, not wanting to disturb the local environment, the research station had to have someone that could suit up and go out there and stand up penguins.
As soon as every shipment arrived, he would say, "Welp, better go suit up now," get into the whole penguin suit, and waddle out there all incognito and stand the penguins on their feet again. I'm sure they could have done it on their own, eventually, but the idea was to disturb the animals for as little time as possible.
I thought it was the most ridiculous thing when he told me, but he got the job through his dad's researcher colleague. Basically, the deal was they would get people to go down for 3-month periods (I think he ended up doing 6 months) and this was his occupation for that time. Actually, is plane flight there was one of the really cool parts: LA went to Sydney, which then went back across the Pacific to Buenos Aires. Then, on the final leg, he would finally go Buenos Aires to the research station. The planes actually had to be specially fitted for the job, though — Of course, you can't have typical runways in Antarctica because they'd get ice all over them and there'd be all these problems — so the planes had to have mechanics on board each flight who would, mid-flight, switch out the take-off wheels for the landing skis. Just like a sea plane, except it was a snow-plane. Coolest thing ever.
Oh, but the way he described working with the penguins was the best! Most of the time he'd just go out and stand them up, but sometimes one would hurt itself. Like one time one of them fell over backwards and hit its foot the wrong way, so he had to not only pick it up, but give medical help, too. He seriously had to prop up the penguin, take off his glove, and pull on each of the penguins little webbed toes, pull on their legs. Sort of like how I'm pulling your leg right now.
http://www.reddit.com/r/todayilearned/comments/1xqevb/til_during_the_korean_war_air_force_pilot_james/cfdzn19
The Air Force; they're US AF
