[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][quote]From The Atlantic Wire: Today’s strangest headlines in global defense news come courtesy of the Russian news agency RIA Novosti, which reports, based on a tip from an anonymous aquarium employee, that the Russian Navy has enlisted the Ukrainian military’s dolphins. Ukraine’s sea lions have also “become Russian,” since they, like the dolphins, are housed and trained in the Crimean city of Sevastopol, territory now claimed and controlled by Russia.
“The work will save unique scientific developments that were abandoned due to Ukraine’s reluctance to finance the research in the field.” In other words: Silly Ukraine, you didn’t realize how valuable your dolphins were! [/quote]
TERRANCE GAVAN – SHRIKE’S DOLPHIN EXPERT
I have no idea just how far this technology runs but I am looking at a picture of a bottlenose dolphin playing nice with a fully armed atomic warhead.
It’s small, but General Randolph Coltnicky (Ret) – a former Pentagon nuclear strategist – says that it still packs a punch.
“I’m looking at that sumbitch now… and I recognize it as one of Kruschev’s ol’ BIZNES479 half kiloton floaters,” says General Coltnicky, with only the slightest sliver of a grin dispatching from those cold pencil thin lips. “We called the 479 a floater because it….”
“Floats?” I chime.
“Well, of course it floats, arsehole” says Coltnicky, and a rueful, but strategic glimpse of hell shines out from a hard pentagonal stare. “But we used to say that if old Vladimir or Irena Dolphininski nestled that bastard down snug in the raht’ place? Old Bizness 479 could deliver a whole passel of targeted floaters. Know what ahm’ sayin’ Slick? So’s what would y’all writers call that? Redundancy? Or irony?”
“Well, General Coltnicky? I’d call that a mix of batshit crazy and awful goddam’ scary,” I reply, staring harder now at that disturbing photograph of that killer dolphin nudging his potentially lethal bobbing ball of neutrons and neuroses.
“You’re goddam right, and everyone should be nervous as a three-legged-longtail cat in a room full of rockin’ chars!”
“What do you think Vladimir Putin could do with a squad of death dolphins General, sir?” I ask.
“That crazy sumbitch Putin?” says Gen. Coltnicky, a ghoulish grin smoldering just above the Eastwoodian cleft in that square-jawed chin. “Well, that sumbitch Putin could use it on an aircraft carrier or a goddam cruise ship. Or he might just swim one up to Miami Beach. Christ knows son! Who can ascertain what’s goin’ on in that cursed bastard’s head.
“Why when I was on the Russkie file, not too long ago, we had a psychological profile done up on Mr. Valerie Vladimir Tolstoy Peter Piper Putin, and every manjack of them psy-op shrinks we got down to Guantanamo said that that sunofabitch was a stone cold psychopath. So Slick, you’re askin’ me how you should feel… and I’ll tell you right now, how you should feel Slick,” says Gen. Coltnicky, slamming his fist into the table, rattling the cutlery.
“Be afraid. Be very afraid Slick.”
Gen. Coltnicky grabbed me by the shoulder in what I first assumed was an avuncular hug, but the manic marine grip belied any notion of paternal good will.
“Flipper’s gone rogue Slick!”
“Flipper’s gone rogue.”