US Navy Mammal Programs
When I was in the Navy, I had a (secret) office (CTF-168.0) not far from the (secret) mammal program training center. Ok, one of two training programs. One trained sea lions and the other trained dolphins. (more from Ryan here) As with K-9s, the dolphins all had names, and handlers were responsible for their care, training, and control during deployment. Fast forward a few years. I sat on the stern deck of my 32′ Sea Ray in its slip at Alamitos Bay (Near Long Beach, at least 100 miles from the mammal program), cooking a couple of steaks on the BBQ and living the life. One of my girls said, “Dad, look, a dolphin.” Sure enough, a gray bottlenose dolphin had its head up, looking at us from the swimstep area. He wore a harness, and on the harness was a name, “Shredder,” with a tag that said he was US Navy property and that if found, I should call. So I did. Shredder was known to be naughty, as his name suggests.
The dolphins were trained at NOSC Seaside (the base names change all the time), and the sea lions were trained near the SEAL Delivery Vehicle Team One area of Naval Expeditionary Base San Diego (Glorietta Bay). SDVT-1 is in Washington State now, and I’m sure that the sea lions have moved on in the relentless march of time, but they were interesting. More here if you care. Whereas it was secret, they have ripped the Band-Aid off, and you can now read about it (and CTF-168.0) online. The secret CTF-168 replaced CTF-157 when it fell into disrepute in that Navy way of things. You can read about CTF-157 on Wikipedia too.
One reason the Straits of Hormuz are now free of sea mines is that mammal partners were trained to detect and mark them. So this post is a little about then and now. A 50+ year commitment to using mammals in de-mining paid off in the shallow waters of the Straits.
In the Iraq War (Ryan)
Bullet Points:
** Leftists have never limited their campaign to attacks on the character of Confederate soldiers. After George Floyd’s drug overdose, the same Bolshevik mobs that burned cities and toppled monuments went after Washington, Jefferson, and other Founders. Their pattern is consistent: replace honor with dishonor. One of the most egregious accusations is the claim that Thomas Jefferson fathered children with Sally Hemings. Leftists deceitfully present this as settled fact. It is not. The 1998 DNA work only showed a Jefferson-line Y chromosome in one Hemings descendant. That narrows Jefferson down to about 1 in 25 possibilities. A Y-chromosome test can show that a child belongs to a male line. It cannot identify the one man inside that line. In the Jefferson–Hemings case, the DNA result places the father among Jefferson males. It does not isolate Thomas Jefferson from brothers, nephews, or other kinsmen who carried the same haplotype. That is why treating the test as a closed verdict is deceptive. It is the same as someone, centuries from now, declaring you the father of an illegitimate child when the genetic match only proves the child belongs to your family—your brother, an uncle, or another relative. The lab work narrows the field. It does not finish the identification. Anyone who talks as if it does is selling you a load of BS. – not settled science.
** Space Cadets – A new service academy will train Space Force officers, NASA personnel and others, President Trump announced. Pres. Trump signed an executive order to create the new service academy, similar to the Army and Navy’s, and shared the decision while speaking at NASA’s Johnson Space Center at an event honoring the members of the Artemis II mission. Trump, who created Space Force in his first term in 2019, said that the new Space Academy will “educate and train an entire generation of skilled service members, engineers, and civil operators.” It will also be similar to existing military service academies. “It’s called the U.S. Space Academy,” Trump said. “That’s a big deal. So you think of West Point, and you think of Annapolis, and you think of the Air Force Academy, and you think of the Coast Guard academies. Great, they’re all great. But we’re going to have now the Space Force.”
** For over a century, the Permian Basin has been the beating heart of American energy. But on January 14, 2026, the U.S. Geological Survey dropped a bombshell report revealing a massive, previously untapped prize hidden far beneath the surface. Scientists have officially estimated 1.6 billion barrels of undiscovered oil and an incredible 28.3 trillion cubic feet of natural gas locked in the deep Woodford and Barnett shale formations in Texas and New Mexico. What makes this discovery so wild is the depth. These reserves are buried as deep as 20,000 feet underground—far deeper than most of the resources we’ve pumped out for decades. Since the 1990s, older drilling methods only managed to recover a tiny fraction of the oil from these stubborn rocks. But thanks to the incredible evolution of modern drilling technology and Texan engineering, what was once considered unreachable is finally becoming accessible.
In Arizona
*** Cinco, a male jaguar that has been spotted roaming southern Arizona’s Sky Islands, was seen on trail camera footage again just days ago. Learn more in Et Cetera. Arizona is the only U.S. state that has Jaguars as part of its native fauna.
*** The Trump administration has begun preconstruction work on a border wall along a stretch of the Tohono O’odham Nation in southern Arizona, pressing ahead over the tribe’s objections. Tribal leaders said contractors and armed federal agents entered the reservation early Tuesday without permission, drilling soil-sample boreholes at three locations while officers guarded the crews. (They don’t need permission) U.S. Customs and Border Protection says Congress funded the 62-mile project and a federal judge affirmed its legal authority, describing the area as a major smuggling corridor. Once the wall is in place and the smuggling route is closed, it will impact the tribe’s income.
*** I visited the Lowell Observatory in Happy Jack, AZ. (right) It is off Lake Mary Road and is not open to the public. It’s in active use, and its 4.3-meter telescope (above) is an impressive piece of kit. The Lowell Observatory (headquarters) in Flagstaff occasionally arranges tours of the facility for small groups. They have a separate solar telescope in an adjoining building that images the sun every day (when there aren’t clouds to block the view).
Red Mist – a novel by Larry B. Lambert and Jules Smith
© Larry B. Lambert and Jules Smith, all rights reserved.
In a spartan room with bare bunk beds, Alan Frazier, 28, with a brown crew cut, blue eyes, and cut muscles, sits on the lower bunk, shirtless. Rain pounds on a window that looks out into a stormy sky over the godforsaken ruins of what must have been a very nice town. He can’t recall how he got where he is or precisely who he is. A worn OD green duffle bag rests on the deck, next to his bare feet. There is a name, FRAZIER, A; SSG; XXX-45-5277; ODA5116; US Army, and it is hand-stenciled, maybe by using a template and a Sharpie. He knows what ODA5116 means. He understands that it means that he’s assigned to the First Battalion, Fifth Special Forces Group, based at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. When in town, he lives off base in a small, poorly furnished bungalow and has a mongrel dog named Rex that his buddy’s girlfriend is taking care of while he is deployed.
Looking away from the rain on the window that has hypnotized him, a mirror hangs from a wall, and he stares at an unshaved man that he doesn’t recognize, all the time suspecting that he’s looking at himself. Scars and bruises of varying age crisscross his torso. Fresh, unstitched cuts stretch from his hairline all the way down to the bottom of his ear. They are not deep, but they bled a lot and are still weeping, dripping down onto his shoulders and chest. There is another cut, lower on his face, crudely stitched. He recalls taking a few tucks at it with a surgical needle and thread from his aid kit. It distorts his lip slightly. Other wounds form an inkless tattoo carved crudely onto the flesh of his upper chest, ‘de oppresso liber’. It could use stitches too. He knows what it means, and in probing his memory he realizes that he does not speak Latin. He suspects that he may have carved it into his own chest. He looks down at the knife resting in a puddle of blood on the mattress next to him. Yeah. He turns in the mirror to see an ink tattoo on his shoulder. Crossed arrows. He knows what that represents as well. The details of how, who, where, and when he was inked remain fuzzy.
You can’t survive certain experiences. But sometimes, despite the odds, you do, and afterward you don’t fully exist precisely because you failed to die. The failure gives him a pang of guilt.
Death brings with it a sense of authenticity that Alan Frazier does not feel. He is disturbed because in a strange way he is inauthentic. That lack of sense of self embraces him coldly.
He’s not the only man in the room. There are others wearing T-shirts and BDUs, and plate carriers are spread here and there. Some of the armor appears to have been struck more than once and is in disrepair. Their firearms are on the bunks, very close at hand. Many have green tape here or there to perform a personalized function. A man sits on a bunk across from Frazier, methodically field-strips his rifle, then reassembles the component parts, oiling, wiping off oil, stripping oil, and swabbing the bore. A small mountain of cleaning rags surrounds him, and he smells of solvent and oil.
“Patrick, knock that shit off.” Patrick ignores him and begins to tear down his rifle for the eighth or twentieth time. Frazier doesn’t know how many times.
He realizes that he knows that the man’s name is Patrick.
The rain plays in sheets across the glass of the only window in the room that serves as a temporary barracks. The others either stare into space or they watch the rain beating on the windowpane. Patrick is the exception, and it has become unclear to Alan whether he is a robot or SFC Patrick O’Donnell, 18B, Special Forces Weapons Sergeant. Doc Colter, MSG Malcolm Douglas Colter Jr., 18D, Special Forces Medical Sergeant, should help if it’s a human problem rather than a robotic issue, but he is watching the rain on the goddamned window along with everyone else. Colter is not completely motionless. He’s dragging a plastic safety razor over his bald scalp – again. That inattention to Patrick O. further underscores his concern that Patrick is a robot and not an authentic human being. If he was human, he’d be loading those empty magazines instead of stripping and reassembling his M-4.
What were the magazines emptied into? And if it was a firefight, who picked them up and brought them here after they were emptied? Such are his thoughts.
He hears thunder in the distance and flashes of light play across the window. Frazier, Alan R., can’t tell for sure whether it is artillery or thunder, but as he resolves what he just heard against his memory, it is definitely thunder and lightning. It lacks the high-order crack of military explosives or demolitions such as C-4. The flash of lightning is different too, with its flickering intensity.
Nobody flinches when a door opens and sunlight streams in. Her shadow precedes Olga, a woman of thirty-five who is attractive, but not in a glamorous way. Hers is a natural beauty, worn with intelligence and dignity.
Blank eyes turn toward her.
“We need you all to gear up and go back into the cauldron.”
Rain slashes Alan’s face as he runs, his eyes staring vacantly ahead as his legs pump evenly, his feet chopping through mud, jumping over rocks, solid footing despite the landscape. His uniform looks as though he climbed through razor wire. His armor has taken hits, and we can see through the camouflage fabric into the ballistic plate below. He carries his rifle with a practiced ease and slides one magazine out, replacing it by rote. He runs toward the threat without fear or rancor, slinging the rifle, sliding a hand grenade out of its pouch. He straightens out the pin and then pulls it as he runs, allows the spoon to release, counts one-two, throws and drops. BANG!
None of the men move except for SFC Patrick O’Donnell, who stands and looks for more cleaning rags, ignoring Olga completely. Doc Colter has moved his razor from his scalp to his cleanly shaved face.
Olga now faces WO2 Jason Miles, skin black as anthracite, the old man of the outfit at age thirty-five, 180A, Assistant Detachment Commander. Something in Frazier’s memory triggers. Captain Carlos Sanchez, 18A, Operational Detachment Commander, had his head blown from his shoulders. Frazier’s brain recorded the event from behind Carlos. There was a loud pop, and the captain’s head burst like a balloon. It happened in the caldera that Olga is calling the cauldron. That means that Jason is now the boss.
But Jason’s attention turned from Olga back to the rain on the window.
“Warrant Officer Miles, I’m addressing you directly. Your men need to gear up and recon that target site again. We need to know what’s going on and you are the only ones who can do it.” Olga isn’t in Jason Miles’ chain of command. She’s a spook, a CIA case officer. Even if she was the Army Chief of Staff, it wouldn’t have had much impact on Jason.
The warrant officer’s hand moved from his knee to the zipper of his trousers, and he reached in, pulling out his meat and began to pound it softly, in an absent, almost asexual way — watching the rain.
Pat O’Donnell has found more cleaning rags, and he’s back on his bottom bunk hard at work.
Staff Sergeant Frazier, Alan R., has returned his gaze to the window and the rhythmic sheeting rain.
Olga has left the building and walked out to her white Land Rover with USA diplomatic license plates and Icelandic national license plates, parked out front. She takes a satellite phone from a bag on the front seat and speaks into it.
“They say that it’s raining, Mr. Lawson.” Olga Shearer tells the man in charge as he steps out of the haze-gray OV-22 Osprey with no markings that had just landed vertically and very loudly. “They’re combat ineffective. They won’t re-engage.”
Lawson folds the briefing papers that Olga cabled to him earlier in the day. He puts them in his pocket and looks up at the clear, blue sky through dark aviator sunglasses, absently running his fingers through his thinning white hair. “Raining?”
“That’s what they say.”
“All of ’em?”
Olga shrugged a ‘yes’. Bryce Lawson has been around The Company for a long, long time. Rumors abounded that it was Lawson himself who’d deflowered the Virgin Mary. Others suggested that he’d held the cloaks of the Romans while they pounded the nails into Jesus-on-the-cross. Some said he pounded the nails himself, giving the Roman executioners tips as he did so. A lot of people fear Bryce Lawson, but Olga doesn’t know anyone who understands him beyond the legend that grew up around him. He looks so normal, just an old guy — but still possibly the same guy who gave advice to Eve in the Garden.
Olga has never met him before, and the man she walks next to doesn’t impress her with any of those allegedly well-deserved reputations, but there is something about him that she can’t quite put her finger on. Maybe it is confidence? In a world of uncertain people, Lawson screams certainty. Breathes confidence. And while surrounded by insanity, radiates quiet competence.
He knows what’s going on and he may have a plan.
*****
Identify the Aircraft
1 & 2
3
two graphics
4
Parting Shot
End
(1) Thuds and KC-135.
(2) Bell 206L TexasRanger.
(3) Looks like an Su-17.
– Kle.
That was fast. Outstanding
Identify the Aircraft
1 – Boeing KC-135
2 – Republic F-105 Thunderchief
3 – Bell Model 206L Texas Ranger
4 – Russian Sukhoi Su-17M Fitter
Outstanding
At Camp Perry this year, there was a gentleman walking about the Viale range wearing a shirt emblazoned “US Space Force Rifle Team” in big letters. Or maybe, Shooting Team, I don’t recall exactly. I wanted to ask him if their team was using phased plasma rifles in the 40-watt range (in space, nobody can hear you scream about making a bad wind call), but had something else going on at the time, probably whining about my bad wind calls, and missed the opportunity.
Maybe he was a Terminator in a skin suit doing a little advertising? Who knows what SkyNet is up to?
🤣
Speaking of Camp Perry —
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Never made it there, although I entertained the notion in my younger days. My game was NRA Highpower Rifle. I did eventually make it to Master class. This post from 2009 has stuck with me–
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https://blackforkblog.blogspot.com/2009/08/m1s-for-vets.html
I’ve been to the other side of Camp Perry.
On the other side of the fence on the west side? Eugene would be proud of you. Lots more firing activity than normal over there this year, although I assume that’s variable.
It’s humbling to attend a rifle presentation, for sure.
While I’m at it, some history (downloadable for free PDF) —
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https://bobrohrer.com/sea_stories/end_of_an_era.pdf
Col. Dick Culver’s ‘Shooting Pages’ was my internet hangout for years. I exchanged a few emails with him over the years. Stories like this popped up often from him and several others with deep ties to the shooting community.
It’s missed.
Same here. Here’s my current source.
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https://bobrohrer.com/jouster_tales.html
Oh Damn! Wall; ” We’re building the wall, and Mexico will pay for it.” APDJT circa 2019. The Natives, still on the Rez, have their enviro heads and precious sovereign nation pride blinding them to see simple common sense. They are some of the worst hit data groups of loosing their virgin daughters to narco gang trafficking!
The Native American Grifters have always been and will always be a pain in the arse. It’s about time the Feds stop treating them as friendly and good and start treating them like the threat to the US so many are.
My understanding was that Native Amerind women suffer from appallingly high rates of Serious Bad Things being done unto them in general. In other words, sadly narco traffickers are only one (and probably not the major) source of harm. I could be totally off base on this, but seem to recall reading these depressing stats somewhere vaguely official.
Be like Lawson.
In retrospect, Sally Hemmings was treated decently.
Some might say she was abused or forced.
If Jefferson had not treated her so lovingly, we’d never have heard of her.
Just trying to sully Jefferson’s good character in order to diminish America and its Founders. If possible the history anarchist types need to be ignored and removed from positions of influence.
Leftist/Jefferson: The Lefts common tactic that gives them permission to say “See!See!”, whether true or not…but… literally just read this over at Dailytimewaster (h/t CW):
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“According to Neo News, Trump was born as Dawood Ibrahim Khan in the now-Taliban-controlled Waziristan region of the country in 1954. After his parents were killed in a car accident, a British Indian Army captain took little Dawood to London, where the Trump family later adopted him and brought him to America, the report claimed.”
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Can these people get any more demented? Well, they ARE a Pakistani shop…which means this will get picked up by CNN et al in, 3,2,1…
Will listen to The Five to see if Tarlov spouts it as fact, assuming the audience gag reflex meter has subsided after her last time.
I thought they booted Tarlov off the 5.
Didn’t know…losing viewership is not a good business model (unless you are CNN). At least now MrsPaulM won’t have to ask me who I’m yelling at when no one is around (as I listen with earbuds). ‘No, Hon, it’s not old man syndrome where we yell at the air for no good reason.’
Oh, I’m sure you shout for no good reason at times….
You are correct…
– Fox News liberal Jessica Tarlov stepped away from “The Five” for a tropical getaway after President Donald Trump unloaded on her in a blistering Truth Social post when she said we need more gun control laws to stop school shootings. The trip comes right on the heels of a fiery on-air exchange with Gutfeld that had both of them raising their voices and talking over one another.
PJ Media: “She will not be missed.” 😂
I love a dose of good news…
>Trump was born as Dawood Ibrahim Khan in the now-Taliban-controlled Waziristan
This is news to me. BUT! That would be AWESOME. A real Brotherhood of Man story right there. Muslim-born ethnic Pashtun becomes billionaire in New York City. Twice becomes US President. This just goes to show SO many good things:
1. The US is NOT racist.
2. The US is NOT Islamophobic.
3. There CAN be trust and cooperation between a Muslim and both American Jews AND the nation of Israel, even if the Muslim is a Waziri wildman (even other Pashtuns consider them thus).
4. There CAN be trust and cooperation between a Muslim and an open homosexual.
5. Truly the US IS the land of opportunity that some random Waziri orphan can become a billionaire, with just a bit of Luck and Pluck (TM).
See, everything is how one looks at something. Excellent argument to the positive.
On oil and gas in North Texas. I lived about 12 miles NW of LSP in Hill County, Texas 20 years ago. They had found “dry gas” in the Barnet Shale about 9,000 feet down and were doing seismic surveys of that area. We heard reports from more than one vector that there were more petroleum deposits found around 15,000 feet down. Discliamer: we retained 65% of the mineral rights on the 102 acres we owned when we sold it. They still haven’t drilled there because of it being “dry gas”.
Wet natural gas is generally more valuable per unit in the raw market because the extracted NGLs command high prices as chemical feedstocks and fuel-blending agents, whereas dry gas is nearly pure methane. I’d think that you could still drill and extract at a profit. 15,000 feet is a deep drill (Gas under high pressure), and it has to pencil out at $9 million to drill + storage topside, along with other associated costs – maybe a $10 million problem.
Re: “Scientists have officially estimated 1.6 billion barrels of undiscovered oil and an incredible 28.3 trillion cubic feet of natural gas” in the recently identified deposit.
~~
Back before 2020, ’17 I think, someone said it’s best to consider the Permian Basin as infinite – we’ll never use it up – but called it permanent rather than infinite. This just reinforces the wisdom of that. Another interesting aspect is that in 1987 they said we had 20 years of oil left. 2007 was the TEOTWAWKI. In 2017, ten years after we were supposed to run out of oil, they said we were down to a mere 46 years left. One of those things people allege, and you’ll see cited online regularly, was that a hundred years or so ago, one of the people first establishing the oil industry came up with the term “fossil fuels” to try to make everyone think they were rare and therefore precious, not just that stuff that came out of the ground and made a mess. The more I pay attention to that field, the more likely that story sounds.
I’m not a petroleum engineer, nor am I a geologist enough to gainsay anyone about the prospect of oil a staggering 20,000′ below the surface. The Mohorovičić discontinuity (Moho) in West Texas is about 40 km (avg). Oil is a hydrocarbon, and speculation about the formation of complex hydrocarbons is…interesting.
20,000 feet is a long distance when you want to change the drill bit.
No kidding. A lot of casing under pressure.
The nay-sayers have based all their “Oil’s running out” on the petroleum industry’s own reports that the easily-accessed oil and gas, you know, using 1880’s technology, is running out.
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Using tech from the 1950’s and that will not be pumpable in 50 years or so.
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Using tech from the 1970’s and that will not be pumpable in 100-150 years.
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Using modern post 2000 tech? We don’t know. At least 500 years.
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And that’s assuming that the oil and gas don’t refill the fields. Which they do. Refill that is. But it does require continuing evolution of equipment and techniques.
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After all, petroleum is the 2nd most common liquid on/in the crust of this planet. Water being the first, of course.
Oil & Gas
I still wonder: where did the carbon come from, it weren’t dinosaurs; I’m 99.9% certain of that.
a large (many) carbon astral bodies impacting the surface many millenia past perhaps?
impaction of a helium-burning stellar core undergoing the triple-alpha process (essentially three ⁴He nuclei impacting simultaneously) forming ¹²₆C).
Since you posed the question, I think most of the complex carbon on Earth came from biological processes, and that tectonic subduction of carbon back into the mantle and below has managed it over geological time. Clearly, carbon is produced in stellar endgames and is blasted into space by novas, supernovas, etc. Heavier elements come from neutron star collisions and other similar events. The process of converting elemental carbon into hydrocarbons (see Titan) doesn’t necessarily involve life. The jury is out on a lot of this, IMHO.
And here I thought oil came from dinosaurs. (Ok, I’ll see myself out…with ‘the beatings will continue until morale improves’ sound clip in my head.)
They say all the gold on the Earth (all the gold everywhere!) came from “extreme cosmic events in space” (supernova explosions or neutron stars colliding) and it all just fell here by chance. So why not carbon? Then again they say there are lakes of hydrocarbons on Saturn’s moon Titan, & I’m doubting there were dinosaurs there so that’s a mark in the ‘just fell there’ column.
As a side note… If gold got here like they say (just flung out into the universe from different places), in amounts that are still found here today (and all thru the past), there is a chance you might find gold asteroids out there!
Poul Anderson’s 1977 novel Mirkheim postulates a (near-Jovian, IIRC) planet that barely survives intact, albeit much scoured and ablated, after a neighboring supernova. But as a result, the planet dubbed Mirkheim is covered with not only heavy elements such as gold, but also “stable transuranic elements” of incalculable value for industry. Needless to say, once this is discovered, war becomes all but inevitable between the forces vying for monopoly control of this resource. I think it’s one of the final books in Anderson’s Polesotechnic League series.
The question isn’t so much carbon. Stars all produce carbon fused from hydrogen/helium. It’s complex hydrocarbons. Nobody knows how they ended up on Titan.
Unique conditions appear to be the answer. The Earth may have had such a set of unique conditions as the solar system was forming.
“Titan is unique among the Solar System’s moons because it alone combines the right size, composition, temperature, and energy environment to sustain a thick, permanent atmosphere rich in nitrogen and methane—the essential ingredients for complex organic chemistry, haze (tholins), and stable surface liquids.
Key Reasons Titan Stands Alone
Sufficient Mass and Gravity to Hold a Thick Atmosphere
Titan is the second-largest moon in the Solar System (radius ~2575 km, larger than Mercury). Its gravity is strong enough to retain a dense atmosphere (surface pressure ~1.5 bar, higher than Earth’s). Most other moons are too small; their atmospheres (if any) are extremely thin exospheres that escape easily.
The Right Volatile Inventory: Abundant N₂ + CH₄
Titan’s atmosphere is ~95–98% molecular nitrogen with several percent methane. This mixture, under solar UV and particle radiation, drives the rich photochemistry that produces hydrocarbons, nitriles, and tholins.
Other large icy moons (Europa, Ganymede, Callisto, Enceladus) are dominated by water ice. They have only tenuous oxygen- or water-related exospheres from sputtering or plumes, not a permanent N₂–CH₄ atmosphere.
Triton (Neptune’s moon) has a thin N₂ atmosphere with traces of CH₄ and CO, plus some haze, but it is far thinner (surface pressure ~10⁻⁵ bar) and highly seasonal due to extreme cold.
Ideal Temperature Regime
At ~9.5 AU from the Sun, Titan’s surface temperature is ~94 K. This is cold enough for methane and ethane to exist as stable liquids (forming lakes, rivers, and seas), yet warm enough that they do not freeze solid and that atmospheric chemistry can proceed.
Closer-in moons (e.g., the Galileans) are warmer or radiation-dominated; water ice dominates and any organics are limited.
Farther-out bodies (Triton, Pluto) are colder; volatiles form seasonal frosts rather than permanent lakes and a thick, chemically active atmosphere.
Sustained Energy Inputs Without Atmospheric Stripping
Titan receives solar UV and energetic particles from Saturn’s magnetosphere, which power the chemistry, while its distance and the partial protection of Saturn’s environment help the atmosphere persist. Smaller or more exposed moons lose gases rapidly.”
Grok
94K is not all that cold from a space perspective. One question far from being answered at the moment is whether there are subsurface hydrocarbons or whether they all distilled onto the surface and that’s it.
Naval Dolphins and your opening pic: The original Drones, except undersea, not overhead.
Sea Lions.
Intelligent? Captured at the Seattle Ballard Locks (1990) where they gorged on steelhead trout and salmon returning to spawn, they were relocated to Southern California.
In less than two months they were back.
The skill sets needed to train them must be rare.
>That narrows Jefferson down to about 1 in 25 possibilities …
Reasoned argument is one way to deal with this stuff. Here’s a better way. “I don’t give a crap about Sally Hemmings. I don’t give a crap about ANY of your victimhood narratives. Go away. Drop dead.”
But let’s be careful about criticizing Bolsheviks, eh? After all the people who run this country now are the literal kin of the people who created Bolshevism. Have some respect for your betters.
Snort… Shredder will die at NOSC Bayside, I saw him in his pen in 2015. They ‘tried’ to give him away and nobody will take him, for ‘reasons’… LOL
Re RHT’s post, we did shoots at Quantico for the kids at Walter Reed and those kids just wanted to get back on the gun! Lots of tears there too!
I don’t think they can give him away. They’re trained to bite.
Good too see you writing, keeps the cells working, what? In the meanwhile, we ride against BURNING MAN.
Bring wolves.
IIRC, the rain dance worked well last year.
It surely did, RHT, and yes, wolves, a lot of ’em.
Baa loves Beee