Thursday, February 09, 2012

Police blogger.




JOURNAL ARCHIVE: 10/14/07 10:58 AM
The absolute worst part about law enforcement is having to deal with the lunatics. There are a lot of them. It's like we are a magnet for the crazy people. They follow us home and have no objective other than to disrupt our lives


[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 14 October 2007 excerpt ends]





JOURNAL ARCHIVE: 11/14/07 5:00 PM
What's this guys name: Uruquhart?

Another dirty cop and pending convict

JOURNAL ARCHIVE: 11/14/07 5:11 PM
Why do I have to be the magnet for these goddamned zombie lunatic motherfuckers.


[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 14 November 2007 excerpt ends]





JOURNAL ARCHIVE: 11/15/07 4:57 PM
WHY DO I HAVE TO BE THE MAGNET FOR THESE GODDAMNED LUNATICS!!!!!!


[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 15 November 2007 excerpt ends]





JOURNAL ARCHIVE: 12/17/07 6:17 AM
WHY THE HELL DO I HAVE TO BE THE GODDAMNED MAGNET FOR THESE GODDAMNED ZOMBIES!!!!


[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 17 December 2007 excerpt ends]





JOURNAL ARCHIVE: 04/04/08 8:17 AM
I am cursed to be a magnet to these psychopath zombies that follow me everywhere I go. They have to constantly remind me they are psychopaths.

It is an obsession with them to tell me they are psychopaths.

I am cursed to be a magnet to their lunacy.

JOURNAL ARCHIVE: 04/04/08 8:20 AM
Their only purpose in life is to stalk me and to demonstrate their obsession with disrupting my life.

I am a magnet for psychopaths.


[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 4 April 2008 excerpt ends]










[ Bill Gates-Microsoft-Corbis-Nazi the cowardly International Terrorist Organization violently against the United States of America actively instigate insurrection and subversive activity against the United States of America with all Bill Gates-Microsoft-Corbis-Nazi staff partners contributors employees contractors lawyers managers of any capacity as severely treasonous criminal accomplices and that are active unlawful obstructions, combinations, or assemblages, or rebellion against the authority of the United States that actively make it impracticable to enforce the laws of the United States in the United States and in the Severely Treasonous and Criminally Rebellious State of Washington by the ordinary course of judicial proceedings ]


http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/shortcuts/2012/feb/08/police-blogger-night-jack-fair-cop?INTCMP=SRCH


theguardian


For police blogger NightJack, it wasn't a fair cop

He won an Orwell prize for his writing. But since being identified against his wishes as NightJack, detective constable Richard Horton hasn't penned another word


Patrick Kingsley

guardian.co.uk, Wednesday 8 February 2012 15.00 EST


Detective constable Richard Horton – the blogger formerly known as NightJack – is an unlucky man. In 2009, after winning an Orwell prize for his anonymous chronicle of life as a Lancashire police officer, his identity was disclosed against his wishes by the Times – a discovery that was revealed this week to have been made through the hacking of his email.










http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0061578/releaseinfo

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Country Date

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http://www.nature.com/news/2011/012345/full/news.2011.525.html


nature


Published online 7 September 2011 | Nature | doi:10.1038/news.2011.525

News: Explainer

Fukushima's reactor cores still too hot to open

Six months after the disaster that caused three meltdowns, efforts to stabilize the Japanese nuclear power plant continue.

Geoff Brumfiel

On 11 March, a magnitude-9.0 earthquake struck off the coast of Sendai in Japan, knocking out power at the nearby Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant. In the hours and days that followed, three of the plant's six reactors melted down, triggering a series of explosions and fires at the site. Six months later, what progress has been made to stabilize the plant, and what is yet to be done?

What is happening at the site right now?

On any given day, 2,500-3,000 workers are on site. Many are cleaning up radioactive debris scattered by the explosions. Others are installing and operating systems to decontaminate radioactive water. Still others are erecting a shroud over the Unit 1 reactor, to prevent further contamination from the meltdown spreading to the environment. Similar covers may follow at Units 2 and 3, which also melted down (see Video).

Are the reactors stable?

Not entirely, but they are much more stable than they were six months ago. After the earthquake, the three reactors operating at the time shut down, but their uranium fuel continued to decay and release heat. The systems that keep the fuel cool in an emergency stopped working, and in the first hours after the accident the fuel became so hot that it probably melted. The melting is thought to have created a mess at the bottom of the reactors and released hydrogen gas that eventually ignited, causing explosions.










http://www.e-reading.org.ua/bookreader.php/79701/Clancy_-_Red_Storm_Rising.txt


Clancy Tom, Red Storm Rising [ RACKETEER INFLUENCED AND CORRUPT ORGANIZATIONS US Title 18 ]

Tom Clancy

Red Storm Rising


"Anything friendly coming in?"

"Sir, we got a MAC C-141 twenty minutes out, eight more behind it at five-minute intervals, all inbound from Dover."

"Tell them to turn back, and get an acknowledgment! Keflavik is closed to all inbounds until further notice." Simon turned to his telecommunications man. "Tell Air-Ops to radio SACLANT that we're under attack, and to get the word out. I-"

Klaxons, erupted all around them. Below, in the early-morning shadows, ground crewmen pulled red-flagged safety pins off the waiting interceptors. Edwards saw a pilot drain a Styrofoam cup and begin to strap himself in tight. The starter carts next to each fighter belched black smoke as they generated power to turn the engines.

"Tower, this is Hunter Leader. We're scrambling. Clear those runways, boy!"

Simon took the microphone. "Roger, Hunter Leader, the runways are yours. Scatter Plan Alpha. Go for it! Out."

Below, canopies were coming down, chocks were pulled away from wheels, and each crew chief gave his pilot a smart salute. The shriek of jet engines changed to a roar as the aircraft started to roll awkwardly off the flight line.

"Where's your battle station, Mike?" Simon asked.

"The met building." Edwards nodded and headed for the door. "'Luck, guys."

Aboard Sentry Two, the radar operators watched a broad semicircle of blips converging on them. Each blip had "BGR" painted next to it, plus data on course, altitude, and speed. Each blip was a Tu-16 Badger bomber of Soviet Naval Aviation. There were twenty-four of them, inbound for Keflavik at a speed of six hundred knots. They had approached at low altitude to stay below the E-3A's radar horizon, and, once detected, were now climbing rapidly, two hundred miles away. This mission profile enabled the radar operators to classify them instantly as hostile. There were four Eagles on Combat Air Patrol, two of them with operating AWACS, but it was close to changeover point and the fighters were too low on fuel to race after the Badgers on afterburner. They were directed to head for the incoming Russian bombers at six hundred knots, and could not yet detect the Badgers on their own missile-targeting radars.

Sentry One off Cape Fontur reported something worse. Her blips were supersonic Tu-22M Backfires, coming in slowly enough to indicate that they were heavily loaded with external ordnance. The Eagles here also moved off to intercept. A hundred miles behind them, the two F-15s kept on point defense over Reykjavik had just been topped off from an orbiting tanker and were charging northeast at a thousand knots while the remainder of the squadron was even now leaving the ground. The radar picture from both AWACS aircraft was being transmitted by digital link to Keflavik's fighter-ops center so that ground personnel could monitor the action. Now that the fighters were rotating off the ground, the crews for every other aircraft at the air station worked frantically to ready their birds for flight.

They had practiced this task eight times in the past month. Some flight crews had been sleeping with their aircraft. Others were summoned from their quarters, no more than four hundred yards away. Those aircraft just back from patrol had their fuel tanks topped off, and were preflighted by the ground crews. Marine and Air Force guards not already at their posts rushed to them. It was just as well that the attack had come at this hour. There was only a handful of civilians about, and civilian air traffic was at its lowest. On the other hand, the men at Keflavik had been on double duty for a week now, and they were tired. Things which might have been done in five minutes now took seven or eight.

Edwards was back in his meteorological office, wearing his field jacket, flak jacket, and "fritz" style helmet. His emergency duty station-he could not think of his office as a "battle" station-was his assigned post. As if someone might need an especially deadly weather chart with which to attack an incoming bomber! The service had to have a plan for everything, Edwards knew. There had to be a plan. It didn't have to make sense. He went downstairs to Air-Ops.

"I got breakaway on Bandit Eight, one-two birds launched. The machine says they're AS-4s," a Sentry controller reported. The senior officer got on the radio for Keflavik.

MV JULIUS FUCIK

Twenty miles southwest of Keflavik, the "Doctor Lykes" was also a beehive of activity. As each Soviet bomber squadron launched its air-to-ground missiles, its commander transmitted a predetermined codeword that the Fucik copied. Her time had come.










http://www.e-reading.org.ua/bookreader.php/79701/Clancy_-_Red_Storm_Rising.txt


Clancy Tom, Red Storm Rising [ RACKETEER INFLUENCED AND CORRUPT ORGANIZATIONS US Title 18 ]

Tom Clancy

Red Storm Rising


KEFLAVIK, ICELAND

"Kef-Ops, the bandits are all turning right back after launching their ASMs. So far it's been two birds per aircraft. We got fifty-make that fifty-six inbound missiles, and more are being launched. Nobody behind them, though. I repeat, nothing behind the bomber force. At least we don't have any paratroopers headed in. Hunker down, guys, we now have sixty inbound missiles," Edwards heard as he came through the door.

"At least they won't be nukes," said a captain.

"They're shooting a hundred missiles at us-they don't fuckin' need nukes!" replied another.

Edwards watched the radar picture over the shoulder of one of the officers. It was eerily like an arcade game. Big, slow-moving blips denoted the aircraft. Smaller, quicker blips were the Mach-2 missiles.

"Gotcha!" hooted the enlisted radar operator. The leading Eagle had gotten within missile range of the Badgers and exploded one with a Sparrow missile--ten seconds after it had launched its own missiles. A second Sparrow missed its separate target, but a third appeared locked on it. The first fighter's wingman was just launching at yet another Russian. The Soviets had thought this one out, Edwards saw. They were attacking from all around the northern littoral, with lots of space between the bombers so that no single fighter could engage more than one or two. It was almost like-

"Anybody check the geometry of this?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" The captain looked around. "How come you aren't where you belong?"

Edwards ignored the irrelevancy. "What's the chance they're trying to draw our fighters out, like?"

"Expensive bait." The captain dismissed the idea. "You're saying they might have launched their ASMs from farther out. Maybe they don't fly as far as we thought. Point is, those missiles are ten minutes out now, the first of them, with about a five– or seven-minute delay to the last. And not a Goddamned thing we can do about it."

"Yeah." Edwards nodded. The Air-Ops/Met building was a two-story frame structure that vibrated every time the wind hit fifty knots. The lieutenant took out a stick of gum and started chewing on it. In ten minutes a hundred missiles, each carrying about a ton of high explosives-or a nuclear warhead-would start falling. The men outside would get the worst of it; the enlisted men and the flight crews trying to get the airplanes ready to race off. His assigned job was merely to keep out of the way. It made him a little ashamed. The fear he could now taste along with the peppermint made him more ashamed.

The Eagles were now all airborne, racing north. The last of the Backfires had just launched their missiles and were turning back northeast at full power as the Eagles raced at twelve hundred knots to catch up. Three of the interceptors launched missiles, and they succeeded in killing a pair of Backfires and damaging a third. The "Zulu" fighters which had scrambled off the deck could not catch the Backfires, the commanding controller on Sentry One noted, cursing himself for not having sent them after the older, less valuable Badgers, some of which they might have caught. Instead, he ordered them to slow down, and had his controllers vector them towards the supersonic missiles.

Penguin 8, the first of the P-3C Orion antisubmarine warfare aircraft, was rolling now, down runway two-two. It had been on patrol only five hours before, and its flight crew was still trying to shake off the sleep as they rotated the propjet aircraft off the concrete.

"Tipping over now," the radar operator said. The first Russian missile was almost overhead, beginning its terminal dive. The Eagles had hit two of the incoming missiles, but courses and altitudes had been against them, and most of their Sparrows had missed, unable to catch the Mach-2 missiles. The F-15s orbited over central Iceland, well away from their base, as each pilot wondered if he'd have an airfield to return to.










http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0451079/quotes

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