by: someguyfromcanada · 3372 days ago
Bob had (I think) seven children through affairs. His wife Rita also had an affair that produced a child that Bob adopted.
My sister lived in Jamaica back then and knew all the "reggae royalty". She disliked Marley for being a misogynist but hated Peter Tosh even more for the same reason. She also says the local culture was that it was absolutely normal for both men and women to have many children with many different partners regardless of marital status. But she still likes the music.
I have no problem separating professional from personal lives unless it is a politician who is being hypocritical.
by: kleinbl00 · 4479 days ago
________________________________________________________________________________________ “Do you think they're dreaming?”
Marco and Jennifer watched the steadily-spinning SkyArc on the coilscreen. A countdown timer marked the hours in the upper right. In the upper left an endless parade of bright and earnest young men and women ticked by, one face after another.
“It's more like being in a coma,” Marco responded, then sipped at a full glass of bordeaux. It was their second bottle.
“People dream in comas, don't they?”
“Yeah, I guess. Some of 'em.”
“What do they do if something goes wrong?” Jennifer's brow furrowed. She dropped the expression immediately; she'd done it in the mirror the other day and had seen far too much of her mother staring back. Damn crow's feet.
“What can they do? It's not like they can up and launch a rescue mission off the Skyhook or something.”
“But I mean, with them all asleep like that...”
“They ain't all asleep. There's a pilot that supervises the switchover from launch laser to ramjet. Then he goes under and wakes up on the flipside.”
“One pilot?”
“Sure. Eating, breathing, pooping people consume a lot more resources than the sleepers. Why?”
“I dunno. Sounds like a terribly lonely job.”
“Sounds like an awesome job.”
“Why didn't you try out, Marco? You're the right age,” Jennifer asked, then sipped her wine.
Marco set down his glass and walked towards the dishes. “Not a lot of call for Le Cordon Bleu out in deep space, let alone the Santa Rosa Culinary Institute,” he said, the vaguest tinge of regret in his voice. “Shoulda kept at the algebra.”
“Well I'm glad you're still here,” Jennifer confided, her eyes warm. “That was the best damn mac'n'cheese I've ever had.”
“Damn right,” Marco responded. “I'll bet he likes the apple pie, too.”
Jennifer blanched then set down her glass and straightened her apron. “Did I really just leave him out there?”
“Relax!” Marco responded. “He didn't look like he was eager to go.”
Jennifer shot Marco an uncertain look and skulked through the double doors. Dining Alone sat staring into space, one hand idly playing with his wedding ring.
“I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to keep you waiting - “
“No problem,” Dining Alone said, and folded his napkin on the table. “I enjoyed the space. And the meal – Tragideli's has nothing on you.”
Jennifer smiled wide. “That means a lot, thanks.”
“So is it always this busy?”
“No, some days we've got two tables going at once.”
“That's a shame. You deserve more business than that.”
“It's not all that bad. Or it didn't used to be anyway. Tony told me that before all the space commerce headed out to Star City, lotsa folks from Virgin and SpaceX and NeoOrbital called this neighborhood home. Maybe after this SkyArc thing blows over some of it will sweep back here.”
Dining Alone fixed her with a penetrating gaze. She found it invigorating – and she couldn't look away.
“Are you going to make it that long? Say, nine months or so?”
“You know something I don't?”
“Yes.”
There was no jocularity in his tone and no mirth in his eyes. She smiled her smile and shrugged off his seriousness.
“I can always lay off another waitress, I guess.”
“I don't see any waitresses around.”
“Drat. He sees through my subterfuge. Guess you better tip pretty big then. My chef really wants you to try the pie.”
Dining Alone fixed her with a smile of his own. “And the tab. I'm late as it is.”
“And I'm guessing you can't exactly keep them waiting, can you?”
“You know my boss?”
“I've had my run-ins,” Jennifer said, and turned gracefully on one heel. The bordeaux put a twitch in her hips as she walked away. Right. Blame the bordeaux.
“They stopped the countdown,” Carlo said as she walked through the double doors. He was busily whipping up a crème Anglaise in a small saucepan.
“Why would they do that?” Jennifer asked as she pulled the completely un-cut pie from the walk-in.
“Nobody knows. But they sure are exercised about it. I haven't seen this many talking heads since the invasion of Kashmir.”
The coilscreen had switched to an expensive, frenetic newsroom where talking heads dueled each other for supremacy. SkyArc still spun in one corner, two tickers of non-information playing out beneath a white man with a beard and an earnest Asian woman with perfect English. Jennifer cut a generous slice of pie and put it on a plate, then walked towards the microwave.
“Are you kidding me?” Marco said, stopping her. He had the broiler fired up. He opened the door – it was blast-furnace hot. “How's a microwave gonna caramelize the sugar? What kind of kitchen do you think I run?”
Jennifer let Marco take the plate from her and, without missing a beat, return to his Anglaise. He deserved to work more than he did. He deserved to earn more than he did. She felt a familiar pang of guilt then put it down with a familiar swig of wine.
“Don't they, like, miss their launch window or something if this goes on too long?”
“Yeah, probably,” Marco responded, “But nobody knows for sure what that is. Virgin's been pretty cagey about the launch profile. They won't even say who's flying the thing.”
“Maybe he got cold feet,” Jennifer said reasonably.
“Fat f'ing chance! You know how many guys would kill for that job? How many they must have standing by?”
“No, how many?”
Marco glared at her. Smartypants. “Well Virgin ain't sayin' but prolly lots. Prolly dozens.”
“Prolly!” Jennifer responded, the gleam in her eyes goading Marco just a little.
Marco glowered and grabbed the slice of pie out of the broiler. Hot, steaming, golden, perfect. He drizzled it with the crème Anglaise. Jennifer grabbed the POSPad off the counter and touched its screen – Dining Alone's much-too-meager bill registered in the lilting and whimsical fonts her designer had picked out for her back when she had money. She debated charging him more for the macaroni – but that wasn't like her. Anything she made off of him tonight was more than she would have made otherwise and you just don't tempt karma like that.
Jennifer walked through the doors and presented the pie with a flourish. Dining Alone gazed appreciatively at it and picked up a spoon.
“Fabulous. Thank you.”
“Let me know if you need anything else,” Jennifer said. She left the POSPad discreetly at the edge of the table and turned to give him some space.
“Jennifer.”
Jennifer turned around. He was studying the POSPad.
“Yes, sir?”
“I'm at a point in my life where my assets are... liquid. You seem like a good investment. How much to get you through June?”
“I thought you weren't coming back for a long, long time.”
“I'm not.” Dining Alone bit into the pie. He nodded, pleased. “But I'd like to dine here again. And if all goes well, Virgin is going to announce the construction of a second Skyhook about ten miles off the coast. Jobs and commerce will follow with groundbreaking to commence next February.”
“If all... what goes well?” Jennifer pursed her brow at the man. He did not look at her.
“You're going to be in the middle of a boomtown if you can hold out. I'd like to help. Consider it an investment.”
“And you know this how?”
“I just do,” he responded. “That's enough to keep us both out of trouble.”
“Right,” Jennifer said. “Which is why I would love to entertain any offers at the office of my lawyer in the morning, mister...”
“I won't be here in the morning,” Dining Alone said flatly. “Like I said, I'm going away. This is a one-time, non-negotiable offer.”
Something's rotten in the state of Denmark, she thought to herself. This doesn't happen to people.
“Like I said, leave a big tip.” Jennifer smiled at the man.
He smiled back, calculating. “I've always been fond of Jennifers,” he said as he picked up the POSPad and gestured on it. “Have it your way.” He pressed the POSPad with his thumb with a flourish and set it down next to his fork. His eyes returned to the far horizon, a mischievous glint giving them new light. Quite clearly, Jennifer wasn't to take the POSPad – she returned to the bar and polished the glassware. Again.
Jennifer discreetly watched Dining Alone polish off the rest of his pie. He set the spoon down and very clearly didn't make a move for the door.
“I thought you had somewhere to be,” Jennifer asked him.
“My ride will be here any minute, don't worry,” Dining Alone responded, then returned his attention to infinity.
“Well thanks for coming in. I hope wherever you're going isn't too awful.”
“Me too.” Dining Alone fixed her with a smile. Two tall, official and unforgiving men walked through the front door, their eyes on Dining Alone.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Is my plane ready?” Dining alone turned and glanced at the men. They did not favor him with any humor whatsoever.
“You were expected over an hour ago - ” the shorter of the two started.
“You can't leave without me,” Dining Alone said. He stood up and straightened his coat. He turned to glance at Jennifer, watching.
“I hope to see you again, Jennifer. Good luck with your endeavors.”
And with that, Dining Alone walked out of Jennifer's Bistro, a thug on either arm. Jennifer watched him go then grabbed the POSPad. Glanced at it. Stared at it.
Cursed inwardly. Roger E. Erickson, whoever the hell that was, had tipped her a million dollars. Which would never go through of course. Her uncle Bob had done that when the tax-man was finally about to catch up with him. Ran around the country running up his cards like crazy, then headed into the desert on a one way journey with a .38 caliber hollow-point. Took her dad six months of legal wrangling to rid himself of Bob's debts. Victimless crime her ass.
Jennifer stomped into the kitchen, storming. Carlo turned to her. “They started the countdown again,” he said.
“Like I care,” she growled.
“What bit you in the ass?” Carlo asked. “Prince Charming turn you down or something?”
“Prince charming NSF'd his tab,” Jennifer shot back, thrusting out the POSPad.
Carlo took it from her. He studied it. His eyes grew wide.
“No... no he didn't,” Carlo said softly.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Like some shady inside trader headed off to prison has that kind of cash kickin' around - “
“I just cooked for Commander Erickson,” Carlo said with wonder in his voice. A childlike smile crept across his face.
“Who the hell is Commander Erickson?”
Carlo glanced meaningfully into Jennifer's eyes then pulled out his phone. He tapped a series of keys and the coilscreen changed. SkyArc, SkyArc with colonists, SkyArc with inset of Skyhook, SkyArc with long-angle shot of a business jet, SkyArc with file photo of Dining Alone...
“Turn it up,” Jennifer said, flatly emotionless.
“...and now that all crew have reported in Virgin Enterprises has released the names of the non-colonist crew. As you know, intense secrecy has surrounded the actual operations of the Virgin SkyArc but we are able to report that Mankind's first interstellar mission will be piloted by a Commander Roger Erickson, USAF Retired. We're scrambling to gather information about Commander Erickson to bring to you but we can report at this time that anonymous sources are telling us that last hour's delay was in some way related to staffing. We now go to Rebecca Jung in the field - “
The announcer gave way to a smart young woman standing pointlessly in an unnamed suburb somewhere. Neither Jennifer nor Marco heard a word she said.
“He... did say he was going away for a while,” Jennifer offered up lamely.
“Now you gonna let me put mac'n'cheese on your hoighty-toighty menu?” Marco asked, pleased with himself.
Jennifer looked up at the rollscreen and the troubled countenance of Commander Roger Erickson, the man who dined alone. Then she looked down at the the one and its associated zeroes on the POSPad. Karma.
“Anything you want, Carlo. Anything you want.”
by: am_Unition · 1640 days ago
I feel like young Bob Dylan would be disappointed in old Bob Dylan.
by: kleinbl00 · 1688 days ago
One of the side effects of the Trump White House has been forcing the close collaboration of states Attorneys General in order to accomplish anything at a national level. They've gotten pretty good at this; WA's attorney general has his kills painted on the side of his fighter plane:
- Bob has filed more than 40 lawsuits against the Trump Administration, and has not lost a federal case. Judges have ruled on 21 of these cases. Washington state’s legal record under Bob’s leadership is 21-0. Twelve of these decisions are final and cannot be appealed.
I haven't looked nationally, but I'll bet other states are similar. If they join on with Barr, they have to
- Give Barr all their work product
- Surrender the direction of their suits to Barr
- Eat shit if Barr settles with Google
So no - there's no reason for the states to join the lawsuit when it is openly, transparently about Trump being a distraction and making your parents wonder the exact same thing. You can tell them that this is like Cartman showing up at the last minute and demanding Kyle make him leader and give him all the materials for their group project because he ran out of Cheesy Poofs.
by: OftenBen · 1432 days ago
The graphic novels are mostly unique stories that get referenced either directly or obliquely in the novels, i enjoy them a lot. I think a few of them are re-tellings of parts of the books, and Storm Front might be a full length graphic novel somewhere. There's also short stories that have been published in some major anthologies that are plot relevant AND a companion mini-trilogy of short stories called "Working for Bigfoot" that are great world building and color on top of being hilarious.
Toot Toot and Bob are great fun and are some of my favorites and the Fandom favorites in general. In an interview when Jim was asked about the inspiration for Bob he says that he was directly a insult to a former writing teacher who said you can't have a character just be a talking head who delivers exposition. So Jim made a talking head that mostly delivers exposition and ribald remarks.
by: humanodon · 4030 days ago
The lady that first taught me how to swim now works at a grocery store near my parent's house. From what I recall, swimming lessons were done early in the morning before school, starting in spring and held in the concrete WPA era pool that is now being torn up to make way for a modern pool with better filtration. I think I was six. It was shortly after pre-school, which I remember because I was able to take swimming lessons with two of my friends from pre-school who went to other elementary schools in the district.
At that time of the morning it was often foggy and the shaggy trees surrounding the pool dropped needles and helicopter seeds into the dark green water, which smelled more of pond and less of chlorine. We'd practice kicking in the "guppy" section of the pool and wear styrofoam "bubbles" strapped to our backs to practice bobbing in the "whale" section of the pool, where a dangerous looking diving board was located.
After swimming lessons, my dad would give us juice boxes and feed us cheese curls before dropping us off at school. I guess this is a fond memory because I've always liked swimming. And cheese curls. I'm still a strong swimmer and whenever I do bobs in the pool I feel like I'm six again.
by: OftenBen · 2322 days ago
Hit me with quotes.
I finally got around to reading The Laundry Files and I'm loving it.
Book three, The Fuller Memorandum, opens up with
- “I wish I was still an atheist. Believing I was born into a harsh, uncaring cosmos – in which my existence was a random roll of the dice and I was destined to die and rot and then be gone forever – was infinitely more comforting than the truth. Because the truth is that my God is coming back. When he arrives I’ll be waiting for him with a shotgun. And I’m keeping the last shell for myself.”
It's super new-atheist-edgy at first, totally admitting that. However it also connects to this sub-theme of a lot of other urban fantasy taps into in different ways, the idea that there are incomprehensibly powerful, negative forces at play in the world and there is real bravery in opposing them with every possible resource. In The Dresden Files this comes across as Dresden's cheek and wise-cracking even in the face of titanic magical opposition like Faerie Queens, literal fallen angels and dark hoary old gods, as well as their literal conflict. Butcher plays this off as just a character quirk but it's a great piece of characterization (That worked really well for Spiderman) that serves to give an extra layer of meaning to the various challenges that Dresden overcomes.
Bob Howard of The Laundry Files is damn close to British Harry Dresden. There is even a scene in The Fuller Memorandum where Bob is having a contemplative moment on a train after finishing a book that is blatantly described as being about a wizard private eye in Chicago, so this whole thing is very self-aware. Charles Stross knows his audience and caters heavily to the 'geek' crowd in that way. In fact there has been a case made that a lot of urban fantasy is essentially a power fantasy for kids who grew up reading Harry Potter.
Anyways, post your quotes. If you've read Dresden or The Laundry recently I'm happy to discuss. I'm starting The Apocalypse Codex today.
Cheers
by: thenewgreen · 5007 days ago
Do any of you know of examples when actual warfare between two classes has occurred as a direct result of increased taxation on the wealthy?
I’m curious what the GOP think this phrase can do for them? I can only guess that its design is to confuse the electorate much like the phrase ”death panels” during the Healthcare debate. Unfortunately, it’s always about marketing and rarely about solutions.
There’s a great line in the movie “The American President” when Kirk Douglas’ (President Shepherd) gives his big speech at the end and says… “We have serious problems to solve and we need serious people to solve them. And whatever your particular problem is, I promise you Bob Rumson (GOP) isn’t the least bit interested in solving it. He is interested in two things and two things only, making you afraid of it and telling you who is to blame for it. That ladies and gentleman, is how you win elections” –I for one, hope President Obama can do as effective of a job in calling out the “Bob Rumson’s” of the moment.
Here is the link to the speech from the movie:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWRVbWMvi7c
As an aside: At the end of the speech he references a bill to congress about cutting emissions to solve the “global warming crisis”. –This was 1995, can you believe we still have people in politics that refuse to believe it is occurring?
[edit] the actor is Michael Douglas, not Kirk Douglas
by: kleinbl00 · 582 days ago
- Quite a few people posted variations on, “what is even the point of art critics?” So let me say what purpose an article like the one I wrote might serve.
First: With regard to the paintings themselves, simply repeating press-release hype isn’t healthy for anyone. It happens all the time that artists get stuck doing whatever first brought them success, and dealers or marketers encourage them to just do the same thing because it’s the easiest thing to sell, thereby undermining what could be a more enduring career.
This is patently false. Art and art critique is entirely about repeating press-release hype, particularly if you're writing for ArtNet. This is very much as if eBay wrote an article saying "Beanie Babies are hyped and not worth collecting, as the hype is part of the art." I mean, yes? But eBay doesn't exist without Beanie Babies, and art doesn't exist without hype.
- That brings me to the second point, which is where the case of Devon Rodriguez is specifically interesting. Basically, I’m arguing that we should think of his social media posts as part of his practice, to be reviewed in and of themselves. These are, after all, not just how he got famous; in some sense they are what he is really famous for. And they are in many cases clearly staged.
This is ArtNet arguing that the art itself lacks value because the value is in the TikTok posts. Which, also, duh. But the whole of the article makes the point that art such as this is flash-in-the-pan bullshit and that any collector might as well go buy jpegs.
So the surprise at the backlash is disingenuous, particularly when the artist straight-up calls out the author for "gatekeeping." Which is exactly what he's doing. That's all fine art is, really; does Charles Saatchi vouch for it? Well then it's worth a bajillion dollars. Try and explain Warhol's valuations to the Instagram audience, I dare you. That's the whole point: if rich people think it's worth money and you don't, then it's worth money. They are rich, therefore their tastes are refined, and the further from your tastes their tastes are, the more refined they are.
UTA spent a lot of money to convince the public that their flash-in-the-pan street busker was actually a prima ballerina because UTA is all about convincing the public. The art world went "nah" because the art world is all about eschewing the public. I reckon Ben Davis doesn't much write for the public, or he'd realize that his whole role in this affair, as far as UTA and Devon Rodriguez are concerned, is to make Youtube Reaction Face to his brilliance. Except I think Ben Davis knows this, and knows that the hoi polloi losing their minds over the fact that Maxfield Parrish still isn't a "true artist" is the whole schtick.
Rich people get to anoint their artists while alive by buying early and selling to their hangers on (IE, the crypto ICO model). Poor people get to anoint their artists by pointing out that their shit is still good when they're decades dead.
That's a David Hockney. It sold for $26m in 2020.
That's a Bob Ross. They sat in PBS offices around the US until the early 2000s, when the wave of nostalgia finally convinced some to try selling them on the open market to make ends meet.
Ben Davis is in the business of telling the world that the David Hockney is worth $26m and the Bob Ross is not for the express purpose of pissing off Devon Rodriguez fans, so that David Hockney fans can see how unlike Devon Rodriguez fans they are celebrate their fine appreciation of Jeff Koons and gossip about bananas duct-taped to the wall of Art Basel which is in Miami for grift purposes.
by: wasoxygen · 943 days ago
August 18 1998 10:00 CDT (August 18 15:00 UTC)
Transcript of Fossett Press Conference -- August 17, 1998
Mark Wrighton: You've had a great and successful mission.
I'm joined here by members of the media, with your
Mission Control director Alan Blount. So good to have
you back on Earth.
Steve Fossett: Well, frankly Mark, it's good to be alive.
MW: Well, we were all very worried about you yesterday,
I can assure you of that. It was a harrowing
experience for you as you've given an account of it.
I'm sure people here would like to hear first-hand from you.
SF: OK, I'd be glad to do that.
Judy Jasper: Go ahead, Steve.
SF: OK, so I had left Australia and flying at 29,000 feet.
And we felt that was high enough to clear and go over
the top of the thunderstorm. And somewhere around, well,
the middle of the night, I started a decent at only 500
feet a minute. But apparently, I was pulled down. I looked
outside and I was still above the clouds but I was
pulled into the thunderstorm, and then the hail that was
being thrown off the top of the thunderstorm cooled off the
balloon and I started a 1,000 feet a minute descent. I
turned on the burners to try to reverse that and the balloon
started going up 1,000 feet a minute. And then I was solidly
in the thunderstorm and started the up and down draft
motion, going down at 1,500 feet a minute and then up at
1,500 feet a minute. At that point, I believe the balloon
ruptured on the ascent because it's only designed to take
about a 1,000 feet a minute. So then I started a descent,
and my bariometer maxes out at 2,500 feet a minute and it
was pegged at the maximum going down more than
2,500 feet a minute descent all the way. So then I turned
on the burners full blast to try to -- even though I had a
ruptured balloon -- there's some hope of slowing it down
with a lot of hot air. And as I was going through the
thunderstorm the balloon was just being thrown from one
side to another. It was visibly tearing and tremendous
amounts of hail -- the hail would just come in just huge
sheets and cover me. And I looked around and looked
again at the bariometer and saw that I was still descending
in excess of 2,500 feet a minute and I said out loud,
"I'm going to die." So I decided to keep on working and
keep the burners going, and then when I got to only
1,000 feet off the ground I cut away a lot of tanks hoping
that would give the balloon some lift and soften the
impact. And then I laid down on the bench in the capsule
for the impact. And happily, the impact wasn't too bad. I
had no injury whatsoever from the impact, even though I was
apparently in excess of what was believed to be
survivable in a balloon. And I think that's probably because
not only laying on my back, but also the capsule
absorbed the impact in the water. The capsule immediately
turned upside down and started filling with water. And
since the burners were still going full blast, that started
a fire with the propane tanks and started to burn the capsule
from the outside, and the capsule was being filled with fumes
from the resins, fumes and smoke. And it was half full
of water. I managed to get my EPIRB, which is a satellite
locator beacon, and a life raft, and then dove out of the
capsule -- which then the hatch was below me - dove out of
the capsule with EPIRB and life raft in hand. So,
once I got out of the capsule with those two items, I had
known that I would live.
MW: Steve, that's just an incredible account. I don't know
how you can remember all those details, but you're an
extraordinary person. We are really fortunate to hear
first hand from you, and we're so grateful for your safety.
Alan Blount is here with us. He's been director of Mission
Control. A lot of people, Steve, have been working
very hard on your behalf -- both in the Washington
University community and your Mission Control team. I
thought I'd give Alan an opportunity to speak with you
here, and then perhaps to invite the media to ask questions.
Alan Blount: Steve, as I said earlier, we're just absolutely
delighted to hear that you're OK. We were very
concerned about you all day, and as you probably understand
it was many many hours before we had any detail.
All we could do, and all the press could do and anybody
else could do, was just guess and conjecture at what
your condition was.
SF: Well, I think at first my first reaction when I realized
the balloon was tearing was what a disappointment this is
that I was probably closer to success at that point than --
well, we really expected to be successful. And then, my
first realization was that this was such a good shot at
this and that my team -- many of them had been working on
this full time for the past month and some had been working
all since January -- that there is a huge amount of
commitment by the team, so this is a disappointment all
the way around. And then you just have to be thankful for
what you do have and I realized that, well, forget about
the disappointment of the mission failing, it was time to
worry about surviving.
JJ: Well, Steve, we know you went into the raft with only
your EPIRB. What has happened to you since then and
what was the rescue like?
SF: At first I tried to hang on to the balloon to maintain
contact with it so, hopefully, I could get back into the
capsule when the fires would die down. I did that for about
an hour while some of the tanks were exploding. But,
it was quite a storm and so the balloon was being blown
around. I was having a hard time holding on to it. And
then, twice the balloon came down on top of me -- I was
in the raft. I was being suffocated by all the fumes and
having this heavy balloon on top of me, so I got out and,
unfortunately, I didn't have any line and I lost contact with
the balloon envelope. Floated the rest of that night until,
oh, probably 9 o'clock in the morning time, and then the
French -- because see, I was in French rescue territory
associated with New Caledonia -- the French came by in
a jet search and rescue airplane and dropped a life raft
to me. So then I was protected from there on as far as
from the cold and the elements. Then, the Australian
rescue forces came out and maintained a watch until a boat
could get to me -- middle of the night. So, this was 24
hours after the crash when a schooner named Atlanta
picked me up with its crew of 4 sailors, who were doing an
around the world sailing trip. I spent last night, then, on
this boat, Atlanta, and then this morning, I was transferred
onto the New Zealand ship Endeavor, which is where
I'm calling you from now.
JJ: Steve, we'll go ahead and take questions from the media
and I'll repeat them to you so you can hear.
SF: OK.
JJ: The question is how do you maintain your calm and your
wits about you coming down like that so you can
think clearly and you can try to save yourself?
SF: Well, it's a lot of pressure, and if you don't already
know by experience what to do and by prior knowledge
-- if it isn't ingrained into you -- you won't be able to
figure it out in that type of extreme situation. So, I think
I've been trained well in balloons. I've had a lot of time
in this type of balloon -- Rosiere balloons -- and so, I think
I made the correct decisions when I was coming down. Without
very much experience I never would have had a chance to make
those correct decisions.
JJ: What is the key to your survival?
SF: Well, I've realized from my sailboat racing and ballooning
that the key is the satellite EPIRB. You must be
able to take that with you when you abandon ship -- whether
it's this balloon or whether it's a boat -- because
that's the only way of putting out a beacon telling the
rescue services where you are. They can't find you otherwise.
So, the key to the success was getting out of the balloon with
the EPIRB and also the small 12 pound life raft that I
had, so that I was able to not suffer from exposure during
that first night.
JJ: Steve, when did you activate the EPIRB? Did it activate itself?
SF: Well, they come both ways. This one is a manually activated
EPIRB, and so I turned it on as soon as I was --
I turned it on during my descent and I had it on a test
mode. Apparently, it did send out an initial beacon, but it
didn't continue when it was in test mode. And then when it
got daylight -- see, I had no head lamp or anything, I
couldn't see exactly what the settings were on the EPIRB --
when it got daylight, then I turned it to the proper
on-transmit position and transmitted continuously until the
French rescue plane dropped a raft to me.
AB: Steve, I have a question. Do you know what time it was that
you started to descend and what time you hit the water?
SF: No, I don't. I think perhaps you have my latest automatic
position report. I think that's as close as we can get,
is the latest report you got in Mission Control.
AB: Unfortunately, we were about 2 minutes away from the
hourly downloads so that entire last 58 minutes or an
hour is not available.
SF: But you had one from the previous hour, is that correct?
AB: Yes, we did from the previous hour. It doesn't show
anything unusual. I don't know if there's any way to
retrieve the information from the Aerobot science package
in the capsule. You might have Atlanta look into that, if
there's anything they can bring from the Aerobot. I think
that that's a possibility. You might also be interested in
knowing that there is a scientist from Florida who e-mailed
us a photograph that he had taken of that storm. He
specializes in photographing lightening strikes. That storm
that we thought was so benign as you approached it had
10,000 lightening strikes that night.
SF: The crew of Atlanta told me that it was a real fireworks
show that night and so that was quite a surprise to us.
We didn't expect anything nearly that severe a storm.
JJ: The question is what kind of damage has been done to the
capsule, and what do you plan to do with it?
SF: The capsule is a partly burned after the crash...
(Phone contact with Steve is lost. Press conference continues
with Alan Blount.)
AB: ... three computers which, if they're full of salt water
now, they're ruined I'm sure. There were some cameras
that were placed on by a documentary company, and they are
going to try and retrieve the film from that as I
understand. But this was film that was taken of him inside
the capsule during the flight.
Reporter: As he was going down?
AB: Possibly, yeah. And there's some thought that some of
that film, even though it might be wet, should be
salvageable. And then there's the burner and so forth, which
has some value. He has a parachute there. I don't
know if -- you know a lot of the stuff when it gets wet,
it's probably not worth a whole lot. But I'm sure they're
going to save everything that they can and go from there.
Reporter: Will they sink the capsule?
AB: That was the impression I got, yes.
Reporter: What are his plans now, once he reaches Townsville?
AB: He plans to be in route to Townsville for 2 1/2 days.
After reaching Townsville, he plans to go to Sydney.
And then after Sydney, I don't know. He didn't tell me.
Reporter: Mission Control alerted him to the storm. How
instrumental was that?
AB: We knew the storm was there. It was a slow moving storm,
but there wasn't a great deal we could do about
it. The impression that we had -- and Bob Rice and I had,
and Bob Rice and my brother, who preceded me, had
some conversation about it -- and the indication was that
at 29,000 feet he shouldn't have had any problem
climbing and getting over the storm. He was fairly
close to his pressure ceiling, which means that there
wasn't a whole lot further that the balloon could go without
a serious penalty in helium and the possibility of rupturing
with going too high, too fast, anyway. So there was a limit
on how much we could do. He was tracking towards the
north end of the storm, and from the looks of what we'd
seen on the satellite photographs, he really just got into
the very very edge of the north end of the storm anyway.
So a few miles further north and he probably would have
missed it, based on what we could tell. Any other
questions that I could handle?
Reporter: Did he say whether or not he's going to do this again?
AB: He did not say. I did hear one report earlier that he
wasn't even discussing that at this point, and my
experience with him is that he'll spend some time to think
it over and make a decision.
Reporter: Did you learn anything new from his comments tonight?
AB: Oh, I learned a great deal new, yeah. It's not too
many pilots who go through the center of a thunderstorm
and can tell what the experience is like in any kind of
an aircraft.
Reporter: Was that the best route to take do you think,
in the southern hemisphere?
AB: Through a thunderstorm? (laughter) Yes, yes, it is
the best route that I've seen so far in respect to
thunderstorms. There are thunderstorms in the northern
hemisphere just as easily [as] in the southern hemisphere,
so that's not different. Last January he encountered a
thunderstorm, and when he approached that thunderstorm it
was off the south coast of Ireland and then throughout
Europe. We were advised by the meteorologist at the time
that the storm was up near his height, that he could expect
to go through cloud and that, at that time, there was the
possibility of embedded thunderstorms in the cloud, which
is a very similar situation to what we had here. He was
lucky that time. Fortunately, this time he was over water.
He wasn't over water part of that trip.
Reporter: Would you characterize his survival then as miraculous?
AB: I think you can categorically say that anybody who flies
or is in the middle of a thunderstorm and comes out
the other end alive is miraculous.
JJ: I think we have a satellite problem. I'm sorry. Are there
any more questions for Alan? (pause) I'd like to thank
you all for your patience, and for following this story.
Thank you to those of you on the bridge. It is our plan to
close the media center shortly. Hereafter, we will continue
to post bulletins on the hotline and the web page as
things come up. If you'd like to schedule an interview
with Mr. Fossett or whatever, I'll be talking to him about
what his plans are -,ward to visiting with you soon, where
he's going to be, where he might hold a press
conference and what the situation is. We haven't had any
conversations about that yet. So thank you all very very
much.
(Phone contact with Steve is restored.)
AB: Steve, Buddy is here and he's been in touch with Joe.
Joe has made arrangements to salvage the capsule if
you are interested. If so, we'll give him your phone
number and have him call you tonight. Is that something you
want to pursue?
SF: We have a salvage operation underway right now, where
the schooner Atlanta is going to go out and they're
going to retrieve certain things like a briefcase, cameras
and film out of the capsule. The rest of the capsule is
destroyed, and so they'll scuttle the capsule and they'll
pick up the balloon and the fuel tanks -- just to get them out
of the water so that they'll not be floating around -- and
get those back to Australia for disposal.
JJ: Steve, how are you feeling and what did the doctor say?
SF: Actually, there's nothing wrong with my health at all.
So, I'm just feeling perfectly normal.
JJ: How are your burns?
SF: There's still a little bit. You can still see the
leftover burns, one on my wrist and one on my nose. They're
very small, just half inch burns each one of them.
JJ: Here's the classic question. Are you going to try this again?
SF: Well, in any event I would not be able to get ready for
the winter season in the northern hemisphere, which is
December and January, because I've had a total loss of
equipment and it would not be possible to be ready. I
have some serious questions whether I should keep on trying.
See, each attempt represents a risk, and you just
can't go out and expose yourself to those risks over and
over again. I may never try again, or I may wait and see
how the other teams do for a year and then consider it.
But no, I will not be going this winter season. I will be
watching the other competitors.
AB: You are about to, at some time tonight, have a call,
I think, from Richard Branson, so I'm sure he'll be
interested in that answer.
JJ: And Alan Noble has tried, and he's been calling daily
to check on your welfare. He was very concerned. Are
there more questions?
SF: Oh, that's really nice.
AB: Baron Hilton also called with concern. He was very concerned
about you also, Steve.
SF: OK, great.
JJ: Basically, the question is your competitive spirit,
and if the other teams went if your competitive spirit would
encourage you to do so also.
SF: Well, of course I'm very competitive, but this is not
the only form of competition. I'm more likely to turn this
over to the competitors and let them take their best shot
at it, and just myself continue in sailboat racing for my
competitive objectives.
JJ: Was this the most serious risk you've faced, and was
it the most dangerous situation in ballooning or any other
sport you've faced?
SF: Yeah, this was the closest to being killed ever in my life.
JJ: Has that changed your perspective?
SF: It highlights the danger of ballooning. There are
certain things that we're able to prepare for. For instance,
doing an ocean landing, just a normal ocean landing, as I've
described satellite beacons, all of this is presumably
survivable but high risk. But having the balloon rupture
is not something we're prepared for, and especially in a
thunderstorm, so I would say this is outside the bounds
of anything we can possibly control. And the only way to
avoid exposure to that is either fly at much higher altitude
in a pressurized capsule or not fly at all.
JJ: If you never try again, is the distance record enough
of an achievement?
SF: Well, I'm rather proud of setting a new distance record,
and we did some other things on this flight. It was the
first crossing of the Southern Atlantic and the first
crossing, and I might predict the last crossing, by balloon
of the Indian Ocean. I think we will be able to look back
on this flight as being a successful flight in so far as
it did set some fine records.
JJ: What did your wife have to say when you talked to her?
SF: Oh, she was just very glad that I'm well and wanted to
know what she could do to help figure out how I'm
going to get home.
JJ: Do you have anything special you want to do once you get home?
SF: I'd like to sit back and smell the roses and live a life
like a normal person for a while.
MW: Well Steve, this is Mark Wrighton again. All of us at
Washington University are extremely proud of you.
You should be very proud of Alan Blount and those responsible
for your mission. It has been extraordinarily
successful. We're very grateful that you're back safe,
and I'll look forward to visiting with you soon to help you
enjoy some of the finer aspects of life. Congratulations
on a great mission.
SF: Thank you.
JJ: Thank you Steve, and I'll talk to you soon.
SF: OK, very good. Bye.