Aces High Bulletin Board
General Forums => Aces High General Discussion => Topic started by: Citabria on August 20, 2003, 08:20:00 PM
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fear not, forthwith have I delivered unto you the sacred story of the struggle of all mortal dweebs chronicled by monks in b17s in their spare time whilest they climbed high into the heavens of thinner air with their turbocharged radials...
http://www.freehomepages.com/scrunnels/book_of_dweeb/bod.htm
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The Mythic Flipturn of Antioch
(sigh)
Verse One
For many art they who wouldst be Vets...
Verse Two
And like all who are dweebish, questeth they for the forbidden tricks of the aces. Nontheless wilt I pass unto thee the knowledge of the "Gods," knowing full well that thou art too dweebish to fully understandeth.
Verse Three
First wilt thou flyest that most foul sorceress, the P-38L. Take thou if thou wilst thy J-model or F-model, but perisheth wilt thou in fiery conflagration.
Verse Four
Useth thou thy WEP to climbest to untold heights. Thou shouldst use thy "little +" in thy attitude ladder to determine thy "straight up" direction. Much rudder wilst thou requireth, and yea, verrily even a modicum of skill, if thou wouldst master the vile flip-turn. Fear not, o dweebs, thy Lightning rudder shalt functioneth even at zero airspeed, for thy Godsteed is anointeth with yon holy "blown flight surfaces" and becometh a whirling dervish below stall speed, yet will it not plummeteth, neither shall it departeth from controlled flight.
Verse Five
Zero shall be the number of thine airspeed, and the number of thine airspeed shall be zero. Fly thou not 20 knots; neither fly thou 50, excepting that thou then proceedeth to zero. 100 knots is right out.
Verse Six
When thou reachest zero, if skill thou havest, straight up shalt thou yet pointeth. Thence heavest thou upon thine holy control column with all of thy feeble dweebish strength, and cryest thou out thy magic word "Shazam!"
Verse Seven
Fearest thou not, thy mythical beast Lightning shalt stalleth not; neither wilt it spin, like yon base Corsair or hapless Dweebfire, or all manner of real aircraft. Verrily wilt thy magic Godsteed flippeth instantly and pointeth back upon thy unsuspecting attacker. Then wilt thee rend yon unbelievers asunder and streweth the Rolling TerrainTM with base aircraft parts and pulpy dweeb matter.
Verse Eight
Of course, thou must also "mastereth" thy foul headon attack technique. Fear not, for as with all things dweebish, who better to attempt it than dweebs.
Verse Nine
Mark well these words, and forsaketh them not: try not yon foul manuever if thou spyest the Messerschmidt of the Apocalypse upon thy tail. For large planform wilt thou exposeth whenst thou flippeth, and huge cannon hath he, and few are the Messerschmidt visigoths who wilst not feed on newby flipturn harp seals.
Verse Ten
And thus were MORE 38L Flipturn Dweebs begat. And it was good.
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The Book of Jedisis
Verse One
In the beginning, there was Air Warrior, and it was good, And many partook thereof, and became Dweebs, and were smiteth repeatedly from on high by the Gods, and were vulcheth by other Dweebs, and were feared by the C-lander Runstangs. But after a time, the Dweebs learned to take flight from the uncapped field, and to ignoreth the false books of wisdom which sayeth "Thou shouldst fly the P-38, thou newbies," for all who have tried knoweth that the Air Warrior Godsteed named Lightning is not the province of the mere Dweeb. So the Dweebs learned the mythic Spitfire, and went round and round, and thus was born Loop Warrior, andthere was much killing and rejoicing, for the Dweebs believed that now they were not Dweebish any longer, but were now Vets. But yet the voice of DoK was heard from on high...and it sayeth, "Nay, Dweebs art thou still." And thus was the Dweebfire born.
Verse Two
So the Dweebs toiled on, and many learneth the mysteries of the treacherous Hog, and the dreaded Wurger, and verrily did they Boometh and Zoometh, and vulcheth many Dweebs from lo their very takeoff fields, and driveth they their vaunted K/D into the heavenly realms above 1.0. "And now," they said. "Now art we not vets? Art we Dweebs no longer?" But yet the voice of the most wretched vulched newby Dweebs rang forth from the ashes of their burning Zekes below. "Nay!" they cried. "Thou art but Dweebs with cannon!" And thus was born the Vulch Dweeb.
Verse Three
And then did the Air Warrior Gods become enraged, and in their endless quest for tribute and fresh multitudes of sheeplike Dweebs and harp seals to smite did they embrace the vile Windows 95. And the heavens were swept into turmoil. And yea the Air Warrior Dweebs did magically become Vets! At least in their own minds. For there were many base Dweebs to be vulched. And there was much bubble gum, and killing, and rejoicing, and crying "Mommy!" And from the ashes of the great civilization now plunged into the eternal gloom of Relaxed Realism emerged the Golden Child. And it was Warbirds. And it was good.
Verse Four
And yea many Air Warrior Gods, and Vets, and Dweebs were reborn in the conflagration that was version 0.99. And lo, though they cried out for respect and tribute, they learned that alas, their beloved Holy Hit Bubble had been smiteth verrily, and behold, they were all Dweebs again. And the Dweebs believeth the Holy Online Helpfile and "mastereth" they the dreaded Fork-Tailed Devil which had so beguiled them in Air Warrior, and with this flying Ark of the Covenant swept they all before them into fiery death, and driveth they their Econ Ratios to untold heights. "And NOW," proclaimeth they. "NOW art we Vets! Indeed, Demigods we may be!" But their voices were drowned out by laughter. And all the other Dweebs did proclaim, "Nay! Thou art STILL Dweebs. For as all know, the Godsteed named Lightning is but a sorceress, and it doth fly only by magic! Thou art inconsequential to its trail of death." And thus was born the 38L Dweeb.
Verse Five
So they hung their heads in shame, and learneth they to fly the most vile defiler of the Consecrated Air Combat ... Dora the Beguiler. And quickly did they fly, and many did they slay. And never did they turn from their paths, but kill didst they from in front at many leagues distance, and sneaketh from behind at great velocity did they, and delivereth their 20mm enemas and showereth the countryside with airplane parts. And when in their ignorance they were pounceth upon from on high by yon circling blue Hogs, runneth did they at great speed to their own fields and impaleth they their offenders on the great Spike of Otto, and then gleefully didst they turneth and feast on the entrails of now wounded and pitiful Hog-flesh.
Verse Six
"And NOW!" they shrieked. "FINALLY art we Vets! Scourges of the Sky are WE!" Yet again, from the smoldering blue wreckage came the icy cry, "Nay, foul ack-runner. Thou art but headon Dweebs." And thus was born the Headon Dweeb, the Dora Dweeb, and the Ack-running Dweebs. And as the pitiful Dweebs began their long quest through the Promised Land of Rolling TerrainTM, and were blinded by the Sun GlareTM in search of their Holy Hurricane and the Zerstorer, did the voice of Doc rain down from on high and sweepeth them in a sandstorm of despair: "For all who play at Warbirds shalt always be Dweebish. Dweebs wert thou born. Dweebs thou art. Dweebs shalt thou be." And it was good.
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Gods of War
Verse One
Long wandereth the Dweebs in the wilderness, searching in despair for the lost runway of HTField. Many were the souls which droppeth as dust when first the visigoth Pentium and then the kraken of Windows 95 were made manifest and mandatory. There was much wringing of hands and gnashing of serial cables, for lo though they were masters of the headon and denizens of the dragless flip-turn, yet were they Dweebs.
Verse Two
"Doc!" they cried. "Hast thou forsaken us in our Dweebishness? We will fly Warhawks, but please, givest us thine Sharkmouth artwork." Yet still Doc speaketh not. But yay, as they gathered wood with which to burn their craven Doras, speaketh another from on high, and it was Flet. And Flet sayeth, "Let there be scenarios." And they were good.
Verse Three
And there was much rejoicing as the Dweebs clambered aboard their hapless Zeros and went forth to smite the Pagan Wildcats. And there was much furballing and torpedoing and accusations of cheating, and DoK in his hate-heaven squealed with glee, for this was The Vision. And it was evil. Yet it was also good.
Verse Four
And though the Dweebs were defeated by the blue hordes, yet were they unbowed, for appeareth on the horizon more scenarios, and again taketh they to the air on the wings of Saint Frank, and bindeth they their joysticks in the fully aft position, and lowereth they their flaps, and outturneth they all who came before them, and slayeth they the blue host with their pitifully few yet fearsome cannon shells. And though they were again vanquished by the vile blue Whistling Death which swept over them and carved off their origami wings with 50-caliber spears of cold steel, yet did they arise again and again, never forsaking Saint Frank, and remaining faithful to him to this day. And thus was born the Ki-dweeb.
Verse Five
And though many now believed that they were Dweebs no longer, none wouldst thus speak, for remembereth they the wrath of Doc. And the Gods were pleased, and spake they all as in one voice, and sayeth, "Let there be Weekend Warrior." And it was good. And the Dweebs clambered into their Dweebfires, knowing full well that none would call the name of Dweeb to the only British plane enableth by the Gods, and smote they mightily the slothful Messerschmidts, and drove they the Luftwaffe Dweebs from the sky. And though they knew that humility was rewardeth by the Gods, yet was their joy so great that as one they proclaimed "Dweebs are we no longer, for we are scenario Vets!" But they were wrong, for the scenario was not over, and the Gods were angered. For yay did the sky darken, and split open and spew forth fire, and through the smoke rode the Four Wurgers of the Apocalypse. And on their canopies was tattooed the number of the Beast, and the number was 190.
Verse Six
And lo were the Spit-dweebs swept from the sky, and raineth British aircraft parts onto the Euro terrain for forty days and forty nights, and long could the vile scream of BMW engines be heard over the still flat and lifeless scenario terrain. And as the Spit-dweebs floateth silently to earth, yearning yet again for their .45s, did Doc finally speaketh.
Verse Seven
"Do not despair, oh Dweebs, for no scenario can there be, without targets. Soon willst thou true Vets be. Perhaps in two weeks." And the Dweebs looked skyward, and dreameth they of Sun GlareTM, and smileth, for flyeth again would they. And it was good.
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The University of Dweeb
Many were they who milleth around in yon crowded Warbird skies, and vile was the heav'nly conflagration and great was the destruction and name-calling which layeth upon the Rolling (but not so Rolling as it once was) TerrainTM.
And in the fullness of time did yon newbie pilot Dweebly venture upon the scene, and readeth he yon holy Helpfile, and marketh he well the mystical newsgroup and yon sacred Scroll of Argo, and thus didst he yon Godsteed chooseth, and calleth he it by its legendary name Lightning.
And spinneth upon the runway didst he, and trumpeteth didst yon stallhorn, but yea, verrily didst he finally ariseth and taketh wing. But knoweth not of Flaps didst young Dweebly, and crasheth he to earth in fiery death, and picketh he many cannon shells from lo his very buttocks, and screecheth he, "A pox on thee, vile Zeke dweebs, for two canst that foul stallfight game playeth!"
And ariseth again didst he, in yon whirling dervish Oscar, and many Zekes didst he reapeth and send flaming to earth. But soon learneth he that tho yon flying matchbox was the ambrosia of his mighty Oscar, little else couldst he dent with his Holy Popguns of Antioch, and lo didst he return once again to the Godsteed.
And learneth he many magical incantations, and riseth he up on high, and spinneth and flippeth, and sweepeth he down on yon pitiful Hogflesh and Fiery Spit, and rendeth he much dweebish entrail onto the bloody airfields below. And yea, drag worryeth him not, and chaseth he down many a Mustang, and runneth he swiftly from yon vile FM-2 and Hurricane, and learneth he the magic of the nose-mounted convergenceless headon cannon. And soon didst the cries of "P-38 Dweeb!" ringeth in his ears, and though loveth he dearly his mighty Godsteed, yet didst he tire of magic, and yea, more didst he tireth of exploding into pieces with only a fleeting glance of a gray blur in his 90-degree field of view. And thus beginneth his courtship of Dora.
For lo, swift was Dora, and powerful her mighty thunderbolts, and quickly falleth he under the spell of the Wurger of the Apocalypse. And yea didst he WEPpeth back and forth through yon endless furball, and master of headon and collision code didst he becometh, and like wheat from the scythe didst the dweebs falleth. And never couldst they catch him (except for yon occasional elfin Lightning on pixie-dust) and rolleth he endlessly and lureth them onward didst he, even unto their very doom in his mighty fields of ack. And lo didst the calls of "Doradweeb!" and "Ack-runner!" ring in his ears, but heedeth them not didst he, for Dora had beguileth him, as she didst with all those who are dweebish.
But lo, one day didst cannon shells raketh his beloved Dora, and yea didst critical pieces departeth from his holy airframe, and as he looketh up, verrily was the SunglareTM eclipseth by yet another Rising Sun, and though tryeth mightily to follow he didst, yon green phantom couldst he not catcheth, and flyeth up didst St. Frank on his heavenly wings of Nakajima, and swoopeth back down upon young Dweebly it didst, and splattereth him upon yon countryside, and realizeth he, as he transporteth to his tower, than lo, had he been verrily Boometh and Zoometh.
And so didst young Dweebly biddeth fairwell to the temptress Dora, and for a time travelleth he with St Frank. And clever was St Frank, for climbeth he without peer, and speedeth he back down upon yon unsuspecting Mustang dweebs and separateth them from lo their very wings didst he. And verrily didst Dweebly learn of the mystical Dogfight Flaps, and turneth he even with yon Godsteed, and blasteth it from the sky. And lo, climbeth he even up to yon vile hammerhead turn Messerschmidt dweebs, and applyeth he the Holy 20mm Enema of Antioch to their nether regions, and laugheth didst he at their pitiful Walther P-38 fire from beneath their hapless parachutes. But lo, tiny was the ammo load of St Frank, and many were the sorties in which he creepeth cretinously away at high speed, unarmed, with cries of "Ki Dweeb!" ringing in his ears. And lo, on occasion when he didst checketh his back-and-up, seeth he dots high above, and wondereth he what manner of battle couldst there be so far from earth .
So one day, climbeth young Dweebly high above the mongrel carnage of the endless Dance of the Dweebs, yea, high above the magical "10" on his sacred Altimeter, and spyeth he many blue and silver planes, and creepeth he closer, and watcheth he their hunt, as they swoopeth down upon yon floundering Stallfish like mighty eagles of the sea, and feedeth upon yon Spitfire and Zeke. And so, followeth the Blue Planes didst he, and tryeth to catch them and sweep these high altitude scavengers from the sky. But LO! Tho catch them he couldst, flicketh and rolleth away didst they, and never couldst he bring his Holy Cannon to bear at such great speed. So speedeth he UP again, and avoideth he the Blue Planes, and swoopeth he down upon yon hapless Spits....and misseth! And again streaketh he back UP, and swoopeth down upon yon matchbox Zekes...and misseth again! And thinketh he "What manner of sorcery mayest this be? For never hath St Frank forsaken me." But alas, St Frank compresseth, and walloweth like yon Holy Hippo above 400 knots. And lo, verrily didst yon "ping-ping-ping" sound in Dweebly's ears, and explodeth didst he, for forgetteth he didst about yon Blue Scavengers.
And thus resolveth he to fly the Blue Planes, and worryeth not about cannon ammo, for armeth was he with many multitudes of shiny brass Bullets of Antioch, and much couldst he Sprayeth and Prayeth. And lo didst he climb, ... er, hi didst he climb into yon heavens, and even didst he the mythical "20" of sacred heights reacheth. And swoopeth down didst he, and misseth often at first, but grinneth with delight as yon "500" on the Holy Indicator of Haste was surpasseth. And swoopeth he again and again, and speweth he out Holy Hailstorms of 50-caliber, and rendeth he finally the wings of many hapless Zekes and Spits, and lo, even the unwary Dora and St Frank were powerless to avoid the Blue Roller Coaster of Death. And as his aim improveth, and he learneth to set his Holy Convergence not to 200, as the Wisedweebs of the Stallfight counseleth, nay, but to 400 or yea verrily, even 500, lo didst his score and killstreaks grow. For learneth he the secret: thou mayest kill at 450 kts, or thou mayest run at 450 kts, but thou mayest only die at 150 kts.
And yea, though the tiny voices of the dweebish herd below proclaimeth that he was indeed an "alt monkey" and an "alt dweeb," verrily was he a LIVE dweeb, and verrily were they about to be dead ones. And Dweebly smileth, for he knew it was good to be a dweeb. And it WAS good.
many more versus on the link. :D
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i think Fester has spent way too much time in that monastery....
Quick hide your sheep.
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you guys have never heard of the book of dweeb?
man what a bunch of n00bs.
I didnt write it, I just think its hilarious
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The AH gene pool needs some serious chlorination when ppl don't find this funny.
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The Looping Dweebfire
Yea, in the land of yon holy 2.0 Rolling Terrain (tm), did the Godsteed nameth Lightning reign supreme over the lowly dweebs. "Now art we vets! Slayeth we all lowly dweebs who doth dare oppose us! Yea for we are mighty! Out rolleth, out turneth, and diveth we at yon more rapid speed than even yon looping Dweebfire. Flip turn, dropeth flaps and beguile doth we thy sacred holy flight model. We dost needeth not your so called physics!"
And then didst the blue pastel sky crack open, yea ever more ferociously than whatst any dweeb hath spyed before! The Godz of iMOL then spoke: "Dweebs of yon holy Rolling Terrain (tm), many gifts hath we for thee. Yea, i give thee a new sacred holy flight model. When thou diveth at yon great speeds collapse wilt thou godsteed into a many dweebish pieces. And nay, no longer may thou dropeth thy flaps and turneth at yon un-holy vellocities. Fixeth hast we roll inertia, spins, and ever closer to calling thy dweebselves Vets shalt thou be. Giveth we unto ye dweebs the Rolling Planeset, and most holy be thy Rolling Planeset. And great confusion did sweep the land of yon holy Rolling Terrain (tm). Lastly, unto ye hapless Dweebfire, we grant thee gifts of greatness! Nay, no longer shalt thou toil under thy yoke of Induced Drag. Nay, out turneth ye, and runeth down ye all dweebs who defile thou Dweebfire, with great speed and cannons as yon Dora the Beguiler."
Thank the Godz of iMOL for these most holy gifts didst the dweebs, and gazeth did they upon most un-holy, alien-dweeb Lightnings, and viscous plans of vengeance didst the dweebs make. "Fear ye dost we not dweebs!" Shreeked the 38L dweebs, "for we are Lighnings! Mighty are we and smite all our foes and falleth their dweebish pieces down to yon holy Rolling Terrain (tm) in great number! Vets art we!"
And hence, didst the 38L dweebs cryeth in horror. Diveth down upon the hapless 38L dweebs didst the looping Dweebfires of the Apocalypse at un-holy speeds. And turneth they the looping Dweebfires at great vellocity, and sloweth didst they not, for yon elliptical wings hath been annointed with magical powers. And smiteth thee the Lightning dweebs with two 20mm cannon, obeyeth they not yon holy drag wich strangelith even their most dweebish brethen, yon "Yak From Hell." Spineth the 38L dweebs, dropeth alien flaps couldst they not. Nay, glacial epochs didst come and go whilst the Godsteed Nameth Lightning rolled completly. "RAF dweebs art we no longer! RAF Vets may thou now call us!!"
But nay, the dweebs hadst not completed their flaunting. Rolleth at great speed didst the Uber Hawg dweebs. And slayeth they even yon Runstang, for with great prowess were the Uber Hawg dweebs instilled. Wieldeth they cannon more dweebish than yon holy Whoricane. "Post-war though we may be, Nay, Vets art we now!!" Boasted the Uber Hawg dweebs.
Lo did blue aircraft pieces fluttereth earthward to yon holy Rolling Terrain. And from the flaming wreckage cryeth the Uber Hawg dweebs. "Dweebfires! Thou art most unholy and posseseth skill dost thou not!"
"Speakest thou from thy flaming wreckage!" remarked the looping Dweebfires. "Nay, haveth we much skill, and smite all foes who oppose us! Vets art we now!" Nay, no other godsteed could opposeth the Looping Dweebfires of the Apocalypse.
And so didst every dweeb fly the Looping Dweebfire. And turneth they at great, unholy speeds and nay, loseth they not their momentum. Smiteth they other looping Dweebfires with cannons of Dora the Beguiler, and believeth they themselves all to be Vets.
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Originally posted by Blue Mako
The AH gene pool needs some serious chlorination when ppl don't find this funny.
It would probably be funnier if it attempted to sound more philosophical with an oracle appeal rather than scriptural. As it stands, beyond dweebish and more dorkish.
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Just a few days after I joined Warbirds back in '98, I ran across the "Book of Dweeb", Awesome!, it not ez to find out there, wtg on link
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Originally posted by DmdMac
It would probably be funnier if it attempted to sound more philosophical with an oracle appeal rather than scriptural. As it stands, beyond dweebish and more dorkish.
Laugheth Out Loudeth
Anyone who doesn't apprciate the Book Of Dweeb just doesn't get it :rolleyes:
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Chronically unfunny.
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http://www.virtualpilots.fi/feature/articles/bookofdweeb/
What is The Book of Dweeb?
Expnalation quoted from "WarBirds - The Story so far..." book, published by Burbank Books 1999.
By Mark "Jedi" Taub
The original Chapter 1 of The Book of Dweeb came about after reading a thread on Argo's about "What is a Dweeb?" Docdoom posted the first reply and is was a reasonable denitition, but I felt it didn't go far enough, and missed the essential Dweebishness in all Warbirders. So I thought of all the different sorts of Dweebs I had encountered, and all the Dweebish things (well, maybe not ALL) that I myself had done. I felt that Dweebishness is an almost mythical, legendary phenomenon in online air combat, so I thought I'd frame the post in a sort of Biblican, ancient style.
The original post was well-received, so I followed up with Chapter 2, which focused on specific types of "uberplane dweebs." This chapter spawned a number of submissions by other players, tagging on to the post with their own "chapters". At that point there were enough parts to create a collection, so I started saving them. In general, the rest of the chapters I wrote were in response to a thread in Argo's newsgroup which generated significant Dweebish controversy, or demonstrated a lesson applicable to all Dweebs.
DX5 was written in response to a thread where someone had trashed his sstem by installing an early version of DirectX 5.0. I had some instructions for eradicating DX5 and restoring DX3 given to me by Spinny, so I posted it up, Book-style. Appendix F was written in response ot the "Great P-38 Flipturn Debate", when some Dweeb, rather than learn real ACM, wanted to know just how to perform the magic trick. I posted a sort of scolding expnalation, suggesting that, while possible in WarBirds, a real plane would not be well-served by the maneuver. Revelations was written when Microsoft Fighter Ace came out, in response to the discussion of its relative "merits" and the, er, good intentions of Billgatezebub.
The Dweebs of Christmas was written a day or two before Christmas 1997 and coincided with a number of discussions and whines regarding hoped-for improvements to be seen in future versions. It was a "Christmas present" to the newsgroup... Sorta. University of Dweeb was written in response to a thread on the different "new" kinds of Dweeb, like those cretins who would dare to use altitude to their advantage, instead of being manly and getting killed in the endless furball.
Finally, CON-flagration and CON-alot were recaps of the Famous Saturday Night Con Missions of 1997 and 1998, one written from the standpoint of a non-Convention Warbirder, and one written as a Con participant.
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The one about AW was funnier IMO.
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The Disaspora
Or " The scattering of the dweebs"
"Verily in the year before the Millenium it came to pass that the Gods didst not seeeye to eye. A great falling out between the gods didst happen. Many perhaps were the causes, yea, much gnashing of teeth and tearing of rament was heard. AGW was filled with attacks
& counter attacks. Thunder & lightning filled the Unfriendly Skies (tm) and it was not good.
It came to pass that the Great Lord HT did release Warbirds to a destroyer greater even than BillGatesebub to be known as iEN. Much doom was fortold, and much doom has come true.
The dweebs didst shudder & quake with fear.
And in time it came to pass that even those who worked for the corporate bosses in the Hot Lands didst come to the point where they said no more. These were the rifts
that have devided the once united into three. And the Three shall never more be ONE!
As the Gods have been split into three, so also did the dweebs cast about. Some into one camp didst leave with much shakeing of dust, and many angry posts. Others stand fast and
point to WB III ever on the horizon.
iEN which tho it art spelled with but a small I is really about the BIG I, fussed much and accomplished little in the comeing year. Verily they give little yet prattle on about the heavenly WB III. Truly nothing seems sacred or holy to them, and they even didst have the gall to force connect via the iLZ foulness. Verily these were the darkest
of dark days when friend turned against friend.
HT & Pyro, whom it seemed had forsaken us all, didst at last unveil their master plan. With just 5 others HT worked long and hard. Great magicks didst they call down, long and hard did they labour, Nay STILL labour.
Aces High didst they call it, and build it well they did. Though incompletith it was, yeah, still some say is. Yet it gave the dweebs much that they had cried for in the old days.
Open beta arrived with a thunderclap and a flourish. Flat rate priceing they proclaimed, and the Millenium was ushered in with fanfair and dreams of new flight models.
Still I have not yet spoken of the 3rd, those who were told they musteth pick up all they had and move to the tarheel country. They who rightously rose up and said nayeth to the iEN.
Many moons have they labored also, many have been those who can be found in their camp.
Yet still they have not controled the magic, nor released even a beta. Yet the hopes of many dweebs follow this star. Great promises have they made, and much talk of war in all it's shapes.
Three are the great stars in the heavens, and their number is three. Three are the boards where the devout gather to talk. Each sayith they follow the one true faith. Yet each
is but a part of what once was.
Many are those who still pay by the hour, and do cast covetous glances at the heavens.
Yet stubborn are they also, determined to see the promised land of WB III. Verily they say they are just as many as they ever were. Yet I must beg of them one question. On thy honor, where haveth thine VETS gone?
Many are there also who revel in the new world created. Forsooth the grass is greener on the other side. The hills lush and sweet. Clouds dost drift hitther & yon and it is good. Many have come here from the OLD wars of AW, verily from all walks of life do they come
in never ending stream to partake of 2 weeks of bliss!
Here may be found more old vets in one place than any have seen before. As as wouldst be expected, every hair is split thrice & thrice again. Yet the shadow remains in the deepest corners. What of Playnet, what magics do the rats do in their secret caves.
Yet the faithfull followers of HT and his band are rewarded often for thy faith.
Many features are released, yea even tanks doth now crawl upon the ground. Even now they wait for the latest improvments promised by pyro.
Truly, the once promised STRAT doth exist, and grows ever stonger. New planes with new attributes are delivered often.
Many times hast I cast the runes of fortune, yet unclear the path yet lies.
Enough verily to put away such worries for the time. Enjoy ever sunrise and sunset, throw caution to the winds and enjoy today. For truly, who knows what the morrow brings, feast or famine.
Revelation to St Pyro
I am the Alpha and the Omega Sayeth HiTech, who is and who was and who is to come. In the right hand of Hitech is a scroll written within and on the backeth. Sealed with seven seals it is and containeth it all flight and gunnery data within. Yay, even pertaining to roll & turn data. Guarding this scroll is Pyro who proclaimeth with loud voice. "Who is worthy to open the scroll and break it's seven seals?
Who here is so undweeblike so as to be worthy?" And no one in Aces High, none who flew above it, nay nor crawled upon it's terrain in tanks, nor flew long bomber missions was worthy. Then Saw who is also known as Saintaw spoketh. Weep not, lo the CO of the squadron of JG2 must surely be a vet and above all possible dweebishness. Let Ripsnort open the sacred scroll and it's seven seals. For Ripsnort hath surely mastered all of the planes, and understandeth them well. Verily he hast not begrudged flying the goon for capture, and doth
master all he meets in single combat.
And between the Rolling Terrain (TM) and the Clouds in the sky I saw a C- 47 flying without wings, as though
it had been shot down in flames yet still didst it flyeth. And when Rip hath taken the scroll from the sacred goonie the three countries didst cease their furballing, yea, all didst RTB. All the Squadron CO's (Which art
as elders to us dweebish brethren) knelt and chanted. Worthy thou art to take the scroll and to open it's seals.
For thou hast been here since Beta, and thy squadron multiplieth beyond counting.
Now when Rip opened one of the seals, & I heard Natedog sayeth "COME!". And I saw and behold, a white Pony, and it's pilot had 6 .50's and a helmet was given to him, he went out killing and to kill.
And I heard Superfly say "Come!", and out came the N1K2-j with the red meatball on it's side. Its pilot was permitted to take peace from the earth. So that all should die in the HO he gave it 4 20 mm.cannons.
And when Rip hath
opened the third seal I heard Yankee say "Come!" and behold the 109 cometh forth and the CO's chanted.
Boometh thou may, and zoometh mightily, but never shall thou turnesth, nay not even a little.
When Rip opened the 4th seal behold a pale horse, and it's riders name was Death. And HO's followed it, and they were given power over all lower than themselves for verily this was the F4u-C and it could kill with 4 fingers of god Hispano's, with large ammo supply.
Now when rip opened the 5th seal I saw those slain for their lack of dweebishness, verily almost vets hath they been, and ambushed because others dost fear their skill. They cried out with loud voice, " O Lord HiTech how
long before thou wilt judge and avenge our deaths on those who fly above the earth?" Then they were each
given a new 190 and told to wait a bit longer. Until the number of their fellow 190 drivers should be complete.
Those who were to be killed as they themselves had been killed.
When Rip opened the 6th Seal I looked, and behold there was a great earthquake. The sun became hid by
clouds, and the full moon red as blood. And the stars of the sky fell to the earth and became dweebfires, both
V & IX. The sky vanished like a scroll that is rolled up. And every mountain and hill was removed, and the
land was flat. Then the multitude of players from Warbirds that had not switched hid in the dirt, and rocks, and
trees. Fall on us and buryeth us in the ground they pleaded, for we hast been fooled by talk of WB 3.0 and art
dweebs.
Then I saw Natedog, Superfly, Yankee and Pyro standing at the 4 corners of the terrain. Holding back the 4
winds that no wind shouldst blow on earth, or sea, or sky. Then I saw Ronni ascending to HiTech, saying do
no harm unti we hath checked the passwords of the faithful. And I heard the number of those with paying
accounts and tho large it was still more there were who hath flown the 2 weeks free yet not joined.
When Rip opened the 7th seal there was silence in heaven for about 5 minutes, and the radio buffer was
empty. Then there came forth a C.205 with desert camo on it's wings. Fast it was, yet it turneth on a dime.
Quick it's climb, yet faster yet it's dive, and controlable throughout. Only 2 20mm didst it carry and 2
machineguns but lo, much ammo didst it carry and far would it fly on 75% gas. And the smart old pilots
climbed high with it and fell on the spitdweebs, and niki's. Dove on the pony's and hawgs. Truly here was
death for all dweebs for those who wouldst learn to fly to his planes strength.
At this point Rips wife walked in & roused him out of his drunken stupor saying "Dammit get off that computer
and take us camping!" For truly it beith friday and I want to blow this town!
Verily In the words of Jedi "Though some art vets, all art dweebish" he whined as she harried him towards
the door.
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This is the most important book EVER.
lol!
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... fresh and green are the pastures where the nitrook seeks solace (and sheep)
.. near restful waters he parks yon cv edifice and porks the unholy spit dweebs who come in pilgramage to pay homage to the mighty lord earthworm.
... and yay though I walk through the valleys of mindanao no evil shall I fear, for tho art with me and thy spits and la7 shall protect me all the days of my life.
Great read Fester Really enjoyed that
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Long ago, I was graciously permitted by the Scribes Of The Book to add a latter-day epistle to The Cannon, which I herewith include:
http://kenshelby.us/docs/psalm-of-bino.html (http://kenshelby.us/docs/psalm-of-bino.html)
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Long ago, I was graciously permitted by the Scribes Of The Book to add a latter-day epistle to The Cannon, which I herewith include:
http://kenshelby.us/docs/psalm-of-bino.html (http://kenshelby.us/docs/psalm-of-bino.html)
Bino with the long reach! ;) come back and fly Bino, big Battle of Britain mission tonight!
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17 year old thread and the book of dweeb still makes me smile when I read it.
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I had never seen this before :uhoh :rock AWESOME