Wisdom from my father who art on earth.

[Anonymous 42]

The year was around 1953, my father (a bottom feeder on a B-36 atomic flight crew) was rubbing the brass the wrong way, his commanding officer, instead of reprimanding him for some s~~~, simply said to him “officer Tower, why make enemies when you can make friends?” and walked away on the tarmac with nothing else to say. That simple gesture changed a young man’s heart raised by a miserable psychotic back stabbing lying single mother and I can tell because it struck him so profoundly that he passed it on to me. The mental and emotional abuse that man endured was horrendous and left him bitter, until he walked among real men and only men! No women to pollute his new and improved upbringing!

That was something I just wanted to share with you men cheated out of having fathers in this unjust, unfair, unequal, unethical, immoral and illegal society left in the wake of feminism and gynocentrism.

There’s only two paths in life, one is good, the other is bad, better to have friends than enemies, don’t let the bitterness destroy you, clean out your cup everyday!

Early B-36, the single wheels were causing runways and taxiways to crack and deteriorate, single wheels are reminiscent of previous bombers.

Shortly thereafter came 4 wheel trucks to distribute the weight, however, the enormous titanium struts and gear were not designed with lateral forces in mind that were created by the retrofitted trucks. Like going from shoes to skis, the older pilots keep twisting the landing gear by not flaring out soon enough on excessive crab angle Xwind landings, many twisted their ankles under the extreme forces involved in crab angle landings.

Experimental track gear was also considered.

Engine failure was a common event, they would just flair out the prop and continue the mission, many times 2 or 3 engines would give them trouble given they were running constantly just as if they were on a bombing mission like the 8th air force was always in the air bombing Germany not even a decade prior, much of the way SAC operated mirrored WWII developed strategies, the plan was to go to nuclear war dropping atomic bombs within minutes of an attack on the United States, then to continue from bases around the world in one massive scramble to get the bombers flying with eggs in their baskets.

The one thing my father was disappointed about was Col. LeMay’s order to end all nose art and have one uniform logo for Strategic Command.

[Anonymous 43]

Thanks Tower. Thanks for sharing. My father was a college professor and an author of textbooks. The man was solid and dependable. Because he was a teacher, his day was over at 4pm. He would come home and the first thing he would do was spend time with me usually throwing a ball with me and my brother. Every Christmas we always got a new nerf football because we would wear it out. We wore finger grooves in the football. If the weather was bad, we would play pool or cribbage together. Between 4:30 and 6, we did stuff together. After dinner he made sure our homework was done.

We did yard work together, he taught me carpentry, painting, plumbing, car maintenance. With summers off, we would take road trips, museum visits, historical sites and special interest conventions.

The best piece of wisdom he passed on to me was Do the necessary work, and make time for your family. Work sucks, your children are the joy on earth.

I took this philosophy when raising my kids. My job as father was to teach the kids how to function in the adult world.

[Anonymous 42]

Anonymous wrote:

May 7, 2020 is 651 days from now.

[Anonymous 43]

I met a man today who was divorced before his wife pushed his twin daughters out of her ovipositor. He has never seen his children. He is off the hook in November.

God rot all poisonous whores.

[harpo-my-“SON”Participant 2410]

Thanks Tower Enjoyed that even though My father was and is very much in my life.

I was bound to be misunderstood, and I laugh at those who misunderstand me. Kind mockery at the well intentioned, but unfettered cruelty towards those would be prison guards of my creative possibilities. This so as to learn as much from misunderstanding as from understanding. Taking pleasure in worthy opponents and making language fluid and flowing like a river yet pointed and precise as a dagger. Contradicts the socialistic purpose of language and makes for a wonderful linguistic dance, A verbal martial art with constant parries that hone the weapon that is the two edged sword of my mouth.

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