Manual The Interceptors Club & The Secret of the Black Manta

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New posts. Search forums. Log in. We now offer lifetime memberships! Check out our latest lineup of customized stuff at: The Official Paracast Store! JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding. Thread starter LiquidCoax Start date Aug 25, Tags black project manta secret aircraft steve douglass ufo ufos usap. What top secret model do you think it is?

Northrop Grumman RQ Some new aircraft we have no idea about. Results are only viewable after voting.


LiquidCoax Skilled Investigator. I was curious to know if anybody knew of any updates on those mystery craft which were spotted and photographed by Steve Douglass and Jeff Templin over Texas and Oklahoma last year? USI Calgary J.

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We were definitely playing a better team game towards the end of the season, and that gives us hope. Nicko v The Wolverines. The Wings are still somehow in the playoff race despite suiting up a line-up that has been smashed by injuries all season, and no more than now where Dats, Zetterberg, Ericsson, Helm, Abdelkader and Weiss lead something like 10 first-team absences, meaning the Wings are a defacto Grand Rapids Griffins as they face up to the might of the Crosby-led Penguins today.

So what? So true.

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Choose your attitude. Go Babs. Go Wings. On Saturday night, I went to a poker game being run by a friend from work. Turns out that Ben has a lot of trouble at passport control whenever he enters the USA — or did, pre- Abbottabad. Sometimes the entire passport team would ask to pose for a photo. Some have played professionally or semi professionally. Intimidating just to hear about.

So I went in, knowing I was up against it.

The Interceptors Club & The Secret of the Black Manta

Two tables of 8 players each. Two rounds of play. Best combined finishes went to the final table. Naturally, I was dressed as a cowboy. He was wearing a truly appalling and genuine Hawaiian shirt, so lived his preach. That afternoon, getting ready for the evening ahead, I donned my trusty cowboy shirt from a ramshackle second hand shop in Williamsburg, New York, and cowboy boots from the same store, and headed to the Icehouse to coach one of our rival Summer League teams, the TigerSharks. Say what? You thought this was about poker. Well, eventually it is but first there was a game to get through, as they were down a bench coach.

We were definitely setting new trends in bench coach fashion. We were coming off a disappointing loss on Thursday night, never quite able to get the Interceptors rolling in the fog that envelopes the Oakleigh rink when degree humidity outside meets a melting iceblock inside. The Blackhawks played really well on a night where the goalies could barely see beyond the red line, so pucks could come out of nowhere.

It was my first taste of hockey coaching and it turned out that I loved it. Suddenly, here I was, two years into this whacky hockey journey, with a change room full of armoured players listening to my pre-game advice. How did that happen? And what I do know? Only just enough, apparently, and yet not enough, because the game against the Devils was a draw. I tried to observe and advise stuff other than the obvious and battled with not knowing all the players, yet found myself totally caught up in the moment, desperately wanting my team to win; a TigerSharks team that I was thrilled to beat a couple of weeks ago, while wearing my Interceptor 17 jersey.

Now I was a cowboy, willing them to find that final goal. Suddenly I could see how much fun coaching would be, if you had a team for a whole season. Maybe, if my knee collapses completely, or I get too old to skate never! Battling 15 other players, 14 of whom I had never met and had no connection with.

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And as I said at the start, this I where I found yet another thing I love about hockey. Sitting outside on the deck playing for hours on a hot night, a couple of strange smelling cigarettes and light beers down, I finally took off my cowboy shirt to reveal a Zetterberg 40 Red Wings T-shirt underneath. The most stylish coaches in Summer League Rec D. Pic: Rachael Hands. I used to play for Queensland in goals, inline and on ice, in juniors. Do the maths. Sixteen players in a card game: three, including me, with a hockey connection. At the northern Brunswick end of Sydney Road, on a Saturday night. There are allegedly a thousand or so registered players in Australia, plus a few thousand keen fans, and yet here were three of us, out of What are the odds?

Spitfires v Tigersharks.

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Waiting for a whistle to start things off. Pic: Zac Arato. Quite the weekend. Well played, Swans, and thank you for the distraction.

A paid-up dinner of Young Liberals chortled and applauded. Big Cat Place prepares for a face-off against the Tigersharks. Overseas, things were even stranger. American being America, there was a report of a man in a black ski mask being spotted near a window and so a neighbor strode out, invoking his goddamn Constitutional Right to bear arms and to defend property, and shot the intruder dead. Then took off the balaclava and found out it was his year-old son.

This was on the same day that Fox News America was busy following a police car chase in Arizona after some guy had carjacked a vehicle and taken off. The coverage was being enjoyed by the Fox audience right up until the bad guy stopped his car, got out and shot himself in the head, live on national TV. In one report on that story, it was pointed out that five British police have been killed by gunfire in the past decade. In the same period, American police have been slain. Over the weekend, of course, in Tennessee, in the USA, there was also a conference of those opposed to gun control.

The point of all this is to provide context to my hockey battles of the weekend. I played twice and was mildly frustrated both times at how my skating is going, or not going, depending on how you look at it. Several of my hockey mates on the move in Spitfires v Tigersharks action. But I still need to work on moving my feet. I still need to get those first few quick steps to put distance between me and back-checkers on a breakaway. Even so, driving home on Sunday night, I was very aware that my world and the wider world had bigger issues than whether I can train myself to have faster wheels by the time summer league starts in a fortnight.

Context can be a good thing sometimes. On Sunday, a bunch of our new summer team, The Spitfires, took on another actual team, the TigerSharks. Was that to get the chicks? Hockey remains a lot of fun though. It was a very clean game on Sunday; hard-fought but with great spirit.

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Just the way it should be. Even so, the Spitfires won the day. Once they woke up, it was a nil-all draw, but we had lots of chances and played well. Life is never boring.