I'm sitting in this exact chair at the moment. I was rear-ended at a red light 6 years ago and have a damaged disc in my neck, so at some point in the last few years I decided it was a good idea to splurge on a good chair. I've owned this chair for 4 or so years now and it's fucking great. It's helped relieve quite a bit of my neck pain and it's comfortable as fuck.

As for plane romance, you can't top the Spitfire.

it is also horrible to think about the conditions these planes were built under. I think much more KZ labour died making these planes than what the planes "achieved" in the field.

my knowledge on this subject is very limited, but i think i read some RAF pilot report saying that these Mes could so easily "outclimb" the spitfire, and if the spitfire pilots tried to follow, they would waste large amounts of fuel. So that became a "standard" tactic for the waffe pilots, fly low, and climb faster than any plane had ever climbed before to surprise attack.

One early "glory" moment for these jets was than one alone took down a flying fortress, and the crew on the flying fortress didnt even see what hit them.

I agree.

I was the same way as a kid. Every boy I ever met was. We all wanted to be pilots, and we all had our favorite planes. Mustang, Spitfire, Corsair, the P-58, etc.

My grandpa was training to be a tail-gunner in a bomber when the war ended, and he gave me some of his old training manuals, and I tell you, I was in heaven. I was holding the real deal in my grubby little mitts. Lost them along the way, but I'm sure you understand.

It's the whole gestalt of the era. The uniforms looked cooler. The Big Band music came and went. The technology was something we could still basically wrap our heads around. Abbot & Costello movies were big.

The reality of it all, especially for Europeans, must have been horrifying, but it's hard to look at that footage and not wish I was there.

This video has been declared a duplicate; transferring votes to the original video and killing this dupe - dupeof declared by MarineGunrock.

*dupeof=http://www.videosift.com/video/Spitfire-buzzes-reporter-NSFW-language

That sound ... keep your Spitfires, Hurricanes, Typhoons, Mustangs, Thunderbolts, Lightnings and Yaks, i've seen them all. But the DB 605 ... that sucker goes straight to the spine, i always get the shakes when i hear it live.

Doc Holliday (1851-1887)

DocJohn Henry Holliday was born in Georgia in 1851. An educated man, John learned mathematics, the sciences, and earned a degree in dentistry (hence his nickname, “Doc”). He disliked the teeth trade, preferring to spend his time playing poker, and after being diagnosed with tuberculosis, he went west to partake of the dry climate.

Despite his genteel upbringing, what Doc really liked to do was have a good time. His idea of a good time involved gambling on cards, drinking whiskey, and enjoying the attentions of a lady or two. A really good time featured all three at once. It has been said that he drank three quarts of whiskey on an average day, and when he got serious about the job, could kill five or six.

Together with his occasional paramour, “Big Nose” Kate Elder, Holliday went on a violent, lucrative, and whiskey-soaked spree through the territories. He tended to leave town under threat of arrest or one step ahead of a posse, and at one time was wanted for various crimes in Kansas, Texas, Missouri and Arizona. He holed up for a time in Tombstone, Arizona, arriving shortly before the Earp brothers, with whom he became embroiled in the animosity which led to the gunfight at the OK Corral.

His TB worsened, causing him to regularly cough up blood. Strong whiskey seemed to stem the hacking, so Doc drank from dawn to dusk. He checked into a hospital for consumptives in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, where, as a wealthy man, he bribed nurses to bring him his self-prescribed medicine. Otherwise, he remained a model patient until he died. He was 36 years old.

Big Nose Kate (1850-1940)

Known at various times as Kate Fisher, Kate Elder, or Kate Cummings, Mary Katherine Haroney was born in Budapest, Hungary, the oldest child of a wealthy physician. Her father moved to Mexico in 1862 to act as the personal physician for Emperor Maximilian I. In 1865, when the Mexican government imploded, the Haroney family relocated to Davenport, Iowa, where Dr. and Mrs. Haroney managed to die within the year, leaving Kate an orphan.

The intervening years are a blur, but by 1874 Kate was living in Dodge City, Kansas, where she sold her charms in a brothel owned by Nellie Earp, wife of James Earp, the less famous older brother of Virgil, Morgan and Wyatt. While living in Dodge, Kate met Doc Holliday, who would be part of her life for many years.

Kate could match Doc drink for drink, and her temper was, if anything, even more volatile than his. She carried a derringer in an ankle holster, and when crossed, could curse a trailhand back into church. After she’d had a few, her verbal tirades took on a cosmopolitan flavor as she assaulted her opponents in a hair-raising potpourri of Hungarian, French and English. Many times, sadly, when Kate slipped into banshee-mode, her target was Doc Holliday.

They were quite the couple. The phrase “love birds” can share space in the same sentence as the words “Doc” and “Kate” only as a means of defining what they absolutely were not. We’ve all had friends like Holliday and Big Nose (hopefully without the shootings and stabbings), or witnessed their like. You know, they start the night acting like Siamese twins attached at the lips, drinking and dancing without a care in the world, then, for reasons even they probably don’t understand, they spend the next few hours auditioning for the Springer show—yelling, chasing, crying, slapping, pouting—until, just at the very apogee of ugliness, they make up and sneak off to screw in the laundry room. Such was the daily reality of Kate’s relationship with Doc Holliday.

Kate’s epic drinking habits once got her and Holliday in a whole hill of trouble. They had been fighting and Kate, in a cloud of rage, went to a saloon, where she encountered Tombstone sheriff Johnny Behan. He was sitting with members of the feared outlaw gang, the Cowboys, lead by a rancid little psycho called Curley Bill Brocious and his frequent partner in crime, the gunman Johnny Ringo. (At a saloon in Prescott, Arizona, Ringo, a specialist at shooting unarmed men, offered to buy a man a whiskey, but when the man ordered a beer instead, Ringo shot him dead.)

The Cowboys were involved in a feud with the Earp brothers and Doc Holliday, a feud that Sheriff Behan encouraged because he was a weasel and felt threatened by the Earps’ influence in “his” town. When Kate thundered into the saloon, the boys saw an opportunity. Someone, surely one or more of the Cowboys, had recently robbed a Wells-Fargo wagon and murdered the driver. The Cowboys and Behan bought Kate as much whiskey as she could drink and persuaded her to swear that it was Doc Holliday who had done the deed, which she did right on the spot.

Kate recanted after she sobered up. Doc forgave her, and their relationship continued along its usual tempestuous course until Doc finally became so ill he required hospitalization. They never saw each other again, and Kate returned to Arizona, where she lived well into her 90s.

The building that was once the Grand Hotel in Tombstone is, today, Big Nose Kate’s Saloon. Numerous visitors have claimed that Kate’s ghost haunts its back rooms and corridors. Big Nose Kate was a hellion in life, a free spirit, an ass kicker and a name taker, so her lingering spirit is likely one spitfire of a spook.
-Modern Drunkard

Uh, ok. What part of I love Prodigy do you not understand? My roommate for 4 years was a DJ, who spun mainly D&B, but all sorts of different electronic tracks. I've listened to pretty much everything the Prodigy has done... on vinyl, and mixed in with his sets since he loved them to.

So shush. Spitfire isn't their best track by a long shot. It's a 5 second long clip that loops for about 4 minutes. Avoiding their more commonly known tracks (psychosomatic attic insane!), my favorite track of theirs is Narayan: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyRrCTJjigw

>> ^ShakaUVM:
I love Prodigy, but honestly... not one of their best songs. At all.


QFT

dupe, sorry...

http://www.videosift.com/video/Spitfire-buzzes-reporter-NSFW-language

*discard

lol! i'm guessing that was the first take.

BTW, it's actually a Supermarine Spitfire (Mk5, I think)

Edit: This appears to be a dupe
Original here

regardless of your views ... i think this song speaks volumes. the dixie chicks, deservingly so, won 5 grammys last night: record of the year, song of the year, album of the year, best country album, best country performance (by a duo or group with vocal)

make of it what you will ... but i couldn't be happier that they were finally validated, and dare i even say vindicated for speaking their mind a few years ago.

natalie maines was a little spitfire last night!! go chicks!!!!

Oooh, crazy Latin spitfire...me likey.