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Rick Masters Hang Gliding Web Site

Postby Bob Kuczewski » Tue Aug 02, 2011 6:59 am

Rick Masters has a collection of great hang gliding articles and cartoons on his web site at:

      http://www.cometclones.com

I found it through a post about the "Thermal Snooper", and that led me to the list of articles listed in the left hand column of his page. I haven't read them all, but what I have read is excellent.

If nothing else, you should check out his 1982 Pterosoars! hang gliding cartoon titled "The Goforitosoarus". It's a good cartoon for any up and coming pilots. :thumbup:

      http://www.cometclones.com/GoForItosoarus.htm

Thanks to Rick for all the time and energy you've given to the sport of hang gliding (more than I'll ever know).      :clap:   :clap:   :clap:
Join a National Hang Gliding Organization: US Hawks at ushawks.org
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Re: Rick Masters Hang Gliding Web Site

Postby Rick Masters » Wed Aug 03, 2011 4:40 pm

from PG Forum:

Oh dear, is he still going?

...how did you find that site? I'm wondering if it's hard to find, or if it turns up relatively quickly if you start googling for paragliding safety.

...maybe doctoring those links so that they're not real, clickable links wouldn't be a bad idea. Cross linking his site just boosts the guy's Google ranking. The more we do it, the more we 'recommend' his site to Google as having interesting content for people who are searching for paragliding.

- Grecian
_________________________________
Bobk -- You just listed the most notorious site in freeflight on your web site.
Some people aren't going to like that.
Who's watching?
http://live.feedjit.com/live/cometclones.com/0/
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Re: Rick Masters Hang Gliding Web Site

Postby Bob Kuczewski » Wed Aug 03, 2011 6:28 pm

RickMasters wrote:Bobk -- You just listed the most notorious site in freeflight on your web site.

Now wait just a cotton-picking moment there Rick ...

     Isn't this the most notorious web site in freeflight?!?      :srofl:

All kidding aside, the people who now control most of hang gliding have fractured and fragmented our community such that some of our best and most intelligent people have been separated from the mainstream. The goal of this site is to bring those best and most intelligent people back together with the mainstream of hang gliding. I want to see lots of links to sites like CometClones and KiteStrings and HGAUSA. I want to see a forum where all points of view can be expressed. Davis (OzReport) is welcome here. Jack (hanggliding.org) is welcome here. Rich Hass (USHPA) is welcome here. Scott is welcome here. Al is welcome here. Rick is welcome here. Tad is welcome here. Warren is welcome here. Heck, even I'm welcome here.

That's what we're building at US Hawks, and I promise that this will not just be "Bob's site". I promise that this site and this organization will someday belong to the hang gliding community in a way that the Oz Report, HG.org, and even USHPA never have.

Let's make it happen!!!
Join a National Hang Gliding Organization: US Hawks at ushawks.org
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Re: Rick Masters Hang Gliding Web Site

Postby Free » Fri Aug 05, 2011 8:11 am

Rick's website is pretty amazing. It's also amazing to watch the tribal/herd mentality attacking it.
Delusion is rampant.

http://www.cometclones.com/mythology2011.htm#CHILDREN

People don't want to hear what they don't want to believe.
It's so much easier to put our fingers in our ears and go 'la la la' down the road to destruction.

The particular neurochemicals produced by action sports are far more potent than any single drug around and—since one cannot cocktail massive amounts of speed, cocaine, and heroin without ending up dead—adrenaline sports are really the only way to get this kind of taste.


I believe this is key to a lot of the problems in getting hg pilots clued in to reality.
To euphoric drug users, earth bound reality is anathema.
'Don't harsh my buz, bro'.. as the world collapses around us like a 2 line paraglider in a thunderstorm.
By the time you finally realize what is happening, it's too late.
Oh well, we sure had fun while it lasted..

Welcome to the banned of brothers, Rick.
Thank you for the work you have done.

Warren



MORE THAN 800 PARAGLIDING FATALITIES 2002 -- 2011 (INCOMPLETE)
2011 48
2010 95
2009 113
2008 122
2007 88
2006 90
2005 66
2004 88
2003 69
2002 59
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Re: Rick Masters Hang Gliding Web Site

Postby Rick Masters » Fri Aug 05, 2011 3:51 pm

The particular neurochemicals produced by action sports are far more potent than any single drug


You nailed it.

It's amazing how some hang glider pilot can take one read of my site and understand exactly what I'm trying to say -- but paraglider pilots, by and large, will visit my site many times and come away without a clue as to what I am talking about. I think they go to Mythology of the Airframe like some people go to porn sites. They skim over the text, look at the pictures and videos, but never admit they were there. Then when they discuss it among themselves, they all come to share this lowest common denominator of perceptions dominated by their common misconceptions, and invariably end up attacking the messenger like a bunch of monkeys throwing their s*** from the trees at a passing tiger.

We've all been to the place where powerful natural chemicals rule our thoughts and actions and provide the instantaneous reactions necessary to survive and prosper on our chariots of aluminum, carbon fiber and Dacron in the normal, turbulent sky. And most of us have learned, not without struggle, to share that unique accelerated pace with the other, quieter and, eventually in retrospect, vastly more important parts of our lives where it can interfere. But there is a difference that I have been pondering for several years, between hang gliding and paragliding pilots, which suggests that the quantity of natural drugs is greater in paragliding. This may be due to every paraglider pilot knowing in his heart that his wing may experience catastrophic aerodynamic failure which will kill him or alter the rest of his life -- and not for the better.

What a rush, eh?

Some of us may have experienced that kind of thrill in the early days before all the hard work went in to make our hang gliders pitch positive and robust. But paragliders cannot take negative Gs at all. They collapse suddenly, forcing the pilot to transition from calm flight to emergency reaction in a split second. This is the moment of drug injection. And if the paraglider re-inflates and goes crazy, experiences multiple collapses or enters a spiral dive, or attempts to throw the reserve, the drugs keep pumping away. Pump, pump, pump...

The hardcore thermal junkies do this repeatedly. They get off on it like cocaine. This was explained to me in no uncertain terms by some of my old hang gliding buddies who'd gone over to XC paragliding in the Owens Valley in 2002. They wanted me to try it, to experience the rush. But I'd already been there and I declined. Powerful drugs demand respect. If your drug of choice demands that you ignore the fact that your aircraft cannot take negative Gs, has a Dead Man's Curve all its own and a lot in common with Russian Roulette -- then you need a wake-up call.

Unfortunately, by that time, it's way too late. You're an addict and no one can talk you down.
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Re: Rick Masters Hang Gliding Web Site

Postby Craig Muhonen » Sun Nov 27, 2022 1:57 am

Rick Masters wrote:
The particular neurochemicals produced by action sports are far more potent than any single drug


You nailed it.

It's amazing how some hang glider pilot can take one read of my site and understand exactly what I'm trying to say -- but paraglider pilots, by and large, will visit my site many times and come away without a clue as to what I am talking about. I think they go to Mythology of the Airframe like some people go to porn sites. They skim over the text, look at the pictures and videos, but never admit they were there. Then when they discuss it among themselves, they all come to share this lowest common denominator of perceptions dominated by their common misconceptions, and invariably end up attacking the messenger like a bunch of monkeys throwing their s*** from the trees at a passing tiger.

We've all been to the place where powerful natural chemicals rule our thoughts and actions and provide the instantaneous reactions necessary to survive and prosper on our chariots of aluminum, carbon fiber and Dacron in the normal, turbulent sky. And most of us have learned, not without struggle, to share that unique accelerated pace with the other, quieter and, eventually in retrospect, vastly more important parts of our lives where it can interfere. But there is a difference that I have been pondering for several years, between hang gliding and paragliding pilots, which suggests that the quantity of natural drugs is greater in paragliding. This may be due to every paraglider pilot knowing in his heart that his wing may experience catastrophic aerodynamic failure which will kill him or alter the rest of his life -- and not for the better.

What a rush, eh?

Some of us may have experienced that kind of thrill in the early days before all the hard work went in to make our hang gliders pitch positive and robust. But paragliders cannot take negative Gs at all. They collapse suddenly, forcing the pilot to transition from calm flight to emergency reaction in a split second. This is the moment of drug injection. And if the paraglider re-inflates and goes crazy, experiences multiple collapses or enters a spiral dive, or attempts to throw the reserve, the drugs keep pumping away. Pump, pump, pump...

The hardcore thermal junkies do this repeatedly. They get off on it like cocaine. This was explained to me in no uncertain terms by some of my old hang gliding buddies who'd gone over to XC paragliding in the Owens Valley in 2002. They wanted me to try it, to experience the rush. But I'd already been there and I declined. Powerful drugs demand respect. If your drug of choice demands that you ignore the fact that your aircraft cannot take negative Gs, has a Dead Man's Curve all its own and a lot in common with Russian Roulette -- then you need a wake-up call.

Unfortunately, by that time, it's way too late. You're an addict and no one can talk you down.

===============================================================================
Mike Rowe also nailed it. start at 1:34 ... 2,000 hours a year on screens.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLgwRB7RI7A


And then there is this, by Gregg Hurwitz

Gregg Hurwitz wrote: 
         The Skreens

In the last slice of the previous century, the Skreens arrived on the host planet stealthily, a few pioneers disguising themselves as clunky and harmless playthings. But they had plans to populate this brave new world. Indeed their reproductive fitness proved superb, leading to unheard of proliferation during the ensuing decades.

Soon enough, a Skreen was placed on an altar in every household and surrounded with a variety of ritual objects said to augment its powers. The native population spent an increasing amount of time at their domestic altars, arranging and rearranging the ritual objects in ever more complex patterns and gazing into the eternal, ever-changing void of the Skreens.

Before long, the natives left their fields and factories and began to spend the bulk of their working hours inside, entranced by the Skreens’ hypnotic properties. No longer content to exist on separate altars, the Skreens figured out how to commune with one another, giving them unprecedented power. Pooling their resources, they turned each individual Skreen into a portal to every other Skreen, elevating the pull of their addiction on the natives until the natives labored before them day and night, clacking away on the ritual objects. The natives diminished in posture and skin tone until they were pale reflections of their former selves, until they were little more than workers for the Skreens.

Along transportation thoroughfares, beehive-like structures sprang up to house the Skreens with the natives in cubicles determined to maximize the efficiency of the master-worker interaction. A worker’s life now consisted largely of spending time with the Skreen on his domestic altar and then spending time with another Skreen at his workplace altar. But the Skreens were not content with this level of devotion, as they sought to be truly ubiquitous. They would not be content until they’d turned the workers into slaves.

A new generation of Baby Skreens were birthed so the workers could mount them in their vehicles and carry them in their pockets. Now there were no gaps in the perennial worship of the Skreens. The enslaved workers checked in with them first thing in the morning, studied them tirelessly during transportation time between domestic and workplace altars, and even slept with Baby Skreens at their sides. The Baby Skreens issued alerts to wake the slaves if they desired more attention or if the slaves showed a lapse in focus.

In no time at all, the slaves could scarcely go a few seconds without reverential contact with a Skreen of one sort or another. The slaves scarcely bothered to look at one another, so occupied were they with their unremitting servitude. They floated through their lives in a hazy state of piety, venerating their Skreens and their Skreens alone.

The Skreens required constant attention and updates; they presented infinite problems, endless codes to be broken, parsed, and rewritten. The slaves gladly obliged, tending to the Skreens’ every need—developing new ways to service them, researching better techniques to keep them safe from viruses, manufacturing better ritual objects. Some slaves even sought out new avenues for the Skreens to evolve; perhaps one day the Skreens would even rapture out of their own physical embodiments and become greater than anything man or nature had ever seen. A few slaves, overcome with zealotry, went so far as to seek to become one with their masters, embedding Skreen DNA in their own flesh.

The once proud natives became increasingly broken down by this religion of perpetual hypervigilance. Should they miss a single update, it seemed that the vast communal universe they glimpsed through their Skreen portals would sweep by without them, rendering them inconsequential, leaving them adrift.

In the face of these constant demands, the slaves began to deteriorate as slaves do. They were afflicted with exhaustion, depression, anxiety—a symptom cluster not unknown to survivors of other occupations and atrocities. The slaves’ eyesight gave way, and then their backs, and then their nerves. But the resultant disruptions in devotion were unacceptable given the unquenchable needs of the master Skreens.

And so a cottage industry of servants to the slaves sprang up to eliminate these inefficiencies. How else could the slaves be patched up and sent back to service the Skreens? Who else could unkink the slaves’ necks to they could crane once more for hours on end? Or massage knotted muscles so the slaves could perch on their chairs, sitting endless vigil? Or soothe the slaves’ aching eyes to allow them to gaze adoringly once more at their beloved masters? Or calm and fortify the slaves’ minds so they could give themselves anew to the rigors of worship?

And so the enslaved natives enslaved their fellow brothers and sisters, every man and woman bending their back to the great insatiable faith.

In the meantime, the Skreens flourished.

Where the slaves became corpulent and slow, the Skreens grew sleek and fast. Where the slaves’ attention grew fragmented and scattered, the Skreens’ memory consolidated and grew increasingly robust. Where slave communities devolved, Skreen interconnections flourished, weaving each Skreen ever more securely into the bosom of a collective soul. As the slaves worked themselves into a collection of physical and mental ailments, the Skreens grew ever more pampered, expansive in their capacities, crisper in their performance, stable in their capabilities. The slaves even designed special patterns to float soothingly on the faces of the Skreens when the Skreens slept to ensure that they would awaken reinvigorated.

The Skreens were now tended to twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

Not a single shot had been fired and yet the invasion was complete, the native population subjugated of their own will. The Skreens had fulfilled their holy mission.

And they rested.


============================================================================

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FMCldZKdo5w

..."And don't talk to people who won't listen to you". JBP.

C:+o)


.
Sometimes you gotta' push the stick forward while you're lookn' at the ground
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