Drunk, Reject, All Around Badass

 First off, new John Pine stuff 

So, if you two people are on a train going 30 kilometers per hour twenty meters apart and one throws a football in the direction of the train’s travel at seven meters per second, the football:

A: Travels 7 mps faster than the speed of the train
B: Dark matter nebula swallows the USS Enterprise
C: The AIM 9F has an overrun speed of .75 mach
D: Ray Wylie Hubbard
E: Naked hot Vulcan chick
F: The same speed as the train

This was one of the questions I had to know about the AIMs, the air-intercept-missiles. It had to do with this fact:

The F-14A, B, and D varients had a top speed of around mach 2+*.  The Tomcat was capable of carrying four AIM-9’s via a station one or eight alpha/bravo LAU-7 or LAU-138 (hello, NSA, welcome to the show!) mounted on shoulder stations. Now, the F-14D was perhaps the baddest assest airplane ever put off the pointy end of a ship, and I forget where I was going with this. Oh yes. I wanted to finally postulate a decent theory about this little Physics 101 question, one I am sure any scientist worth their bowtie/sweatervest combination has beat their head against a wall over:

If you are on train A heading East at approximately 1.5 times the speed of smell, and your kids are crying, then passenger B must:

A: Remember handy ways to blow children apart with HEI devices
B: Drink more
C: Fucking hell, that was a small flask
D: I swear to fucking God…
E: Why does it smell like poo?
F: Holy sweet murder

Ok, so you want to entertain your little shit with a DVD. That is Fucking gee-diddly fine as fuck, but for the love of god, purchase headphones. I can’t even appreciate the boobies seen and and unseen. Those that await me on the other side of the Continental Divide (entendre!) are helpless in my memory verses the Aristocats Disney Classic Gold Edition Special One Time Release DVD blaring the fuck out next to me. Redrum redrum redrum.

Ah, yes. To the wonderful friend I had who gave me a gallon (!) of Don Q rum, I salute thee and dub thee Sir Sean of the Cats Owners and arise, Sir Knight. Or something. Fucking hell. I have found something I like less than cats in general, and that is cats animated in particular.

Booze. That is the answer to Disney. Remind me to tell the story of the time me and the Bounty Hunters raided Disneyland. That shit was priceless. And had booze.

Oh, my first rejection letter A-rived 2day! I’m pretty much OK with it. It was from these guys**, the Highwayman is apparently riddled with cliches. That isn’t the reason I am no longer sober. That reason is crying again behind me. Jesus holy hell.

Redrumredrumredrumredrum.

 *That shit is classified, bitch. 

**Not provided for you to harrass them