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08-07-2016, 07:30 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-07-2016, 07:56 PM by
Kharon.)
Outed! – by my mates; bugger it.
Contradiction, confusion, conspiracy and cock-up; words used in the endless cycle of theory, counter theory, new theory, old theory and reworked theory – all related to 370. This, from all spectrums; from the dedicated hard working ‘speciality groups, through independents to the fly-by-night chancers who make up stories by the mile and cut ‘em off as needed. What’s a simple country boy supposed to make of it all? That’s what I’d like to know; yes, I would. Why RR was 'not invited' is another - but I digress.
So, I asked a team of wise owls (who, by the way, we beat at darts) what they made of the general hodge-podge of white noise. “Well” says one worthy “it could be that something, somehow has gone awry; something worse than a maniac with a fully loaded aircraft, hell bent of making a statement”. “Ok” says I; “so, what could be worse?”. “What else needs this level of ‘jiggery-pokery’, smoke and mirrors then?
“Think grasshopper” intones the worthy as his comrades nod wisely and look at me. Just like the old days, thinks I, ask a question and the rotten old buggers happily sit back, supping ale, watching my poor old wooden head being tormented; delighting in destroying the half baked answers I can construct with plain, old fashioned logic. Not tonight; I vow it, no tortured brain cells for me; no sir-ee.
“Well”, I starts; “I reckon ET got it: pinched it; and buggered off to Mars”. That’ll hold ‘em I think. Nope; wrong again (curse it).
“Bollocks K” says owl two, (passive like) – “we know that you have a substituted the meaning of ET, you really mean Electronic Terrorism; we can discuss that here, among friends, if it pleases you”.
Thinks - How in the seven hells? – but denial was off the table; they knew. “Construe boy” says P7; “spit it out”. I can, when the gods favour me, beat the old man at darts, which I had – so it was a challenge not to be taken lightly; a fumble in the ruck now meant the beers my darts had won would be forfeit. I took a moment, knocked off a quarter pint and began.
“Well – there are only three arguments to which I cannot find a counter argument”. “Take for example the notion that the PIC was ‘the pilot’; it could have been any pilot” Then consider the argument that only a ‘skilled’ pilot could had ditched the aircraft in one piece – then consider ‘auto-land’”. “For every argument there is an equally compelling counter point”. "I have, I freely admit, given up the idle pastime of chasing the wild goose and fishing for red herrings”. “So, I begin at the front end – means, motive, opportunity, ‘skills’ and ‘specialised’ knowledge”. “Last to first – specialised knowledge; of computer systems”. “There are, in this world, some people with a frankly terrifying ‘knowledge’ of how computers work; how programs are written, how to access those programs, how to manipulate those programs; and, how to ‘interfere’ with every single one of ‘em”. “There are folk who know exactly how to gain entry into the most sophisticated of protection ‘systems’, they can do this without the knowledge of not only the average Joe; but, of the Joes who protect these systems”. "This is documented, provable, quantifiable and meets all the requirements of ‘truth’ being proven”. (N.B. I cunningly avoided mentioning the other two and seem to have gotten away with it – Shush).
“In short, gentlemen; there are more competent, qualified ‘hackers’ than there are pilots; lots more”. “Consider this, a flash drive, stuffed into an electronics bay port, by one determined individual, could have created all or any manner of electronic mayhem, throughout the entire aircraft’s systems”. “It is not beyond the bounds of logic that the aircraft was hi-jacked by it’s very own system”. “If: and it is a big, speculative IF this occurred, then only this would require and explain the level of ‘cover-up’ and ‘confused messages’ those outside of the inside circle are receiving; I rest my case”.
Well, no one fell about laughing and P7 got the next round in; which was a good thing, - all that talking made me bone dry. There was a quiet interlude during which ale was thoughtfully sipped : “Come” says the old man – “double or square the next rubber”.
Oh, I dare say, in due course, the wise owls will take my dissertation apart and carefully continue my inadequate education; they always do. But so long as I can win (again) at darts and manage a six pint order – I can and will continue to learn from older, wiser heads. One thing certain; I kept ‘em off my case tonight – tomorrow; well, we shall see.
That’s it. ET explained to the wise owls. But ‘tis my own pet theory; no facts to support it; no evidence to back it up; just my two bob, spent as best pleased me.
Toot toot.
PS; will someone, please, teach the thing in my back paddock how to use the bloody telephone- I can’t speak the lingo.