---------- Forwarded message ---------- Date: Thu, 16 Jan 2003 09:25:47 -0800 From: "Major Variola (ret)" To: "cypherpunks@lne.com" Subject: Fear and Loathing in Afghanistan We were somewhere around Kandahar, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit light headed, maybe you should fly...." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like antiaircraft fire, all swooping and screeching and diving around the plane, and a voice was screaming: "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals? Canadians?" (attorney says: "What are you yelling about?") "Never mind, its your turn to fly." No point in mentioning those canooks, I thought, the poor bastard will see them soon enough. We had two go-pills, some anti depressants, and a bag of Xanax for when we got back. Not that we needed all this for the trip, but once you get locked in a serious patrol mission, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that worried me was the dexies, there is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in a fully-loaded F-16 crazed on military speed. Except maybe the politician who sent him.