Airwolf!!
by Ernest Cline
At the dawn of the Paleolithic Period
when the first humans left their caves,
mastered the secrets of fire,
and start making tools
with which to hack civilization out of the wilderness
This was mankind’s first, tiny step toward an unseen singular goal
that would take millennia to achieve.
The centuries that we spent devising
physics, mathematics, chemistry, engineering, metallurgy...
All of our combined knowledge and technological advancements as a species
were to finally culminate in the creation of a machine of such flawless beauty
that it now clearly stands out as human civilization’s crowning achievement:
Airwolf.
In 1984 the world’s most brilliant scientists and engineers were assembled in secret
for the sole purpose of constructing the world’s most advanced
Mach One Plus attack helicopter.
This would be more than just an instrument of war.
It would be a work of art.
And no expense was spared in this, mankind's boldest endeavor to date.
The original Da Vinci parchments were consulted.
Extrapolations were made.
Fifth generation Swiss craftsmen were flown in merely to construct the dashboard.
There was painstaking attention to detail.
And upon its completion,
those present were unable to do anything
but stand and marvel
in wonder and in awe
at the sleek, black aerodynamic perfection...
that was Airwolf.
And I know there are voices of dissent shouting,
"What about Blue Thunder? What about Knight Rider?"
Fuck Blue Thunder.
Fuck Michael Knight!
And to hell with Street Hawk and Firefox.
Airwolf
Airwolf is the adjective we should use to describe anything
of majesty, beauty, and intensity.
Something that is simply fucking bad ass.... is Airwolf.
James Brown's music is Airwolf.
Shakespeare is Airwolf.
Sex so good it makes your spine ache and your knees buckle?
That's Airwolf.
And nothing is more Airwolf than Airwolf.
Airwolf is the Holy Grail. The Golden Fleece.
The thing you want that you cannot have.
When you go sprinting through the mall
desperate to fill the emptiness in your life
through the purchase of name brand clothing and electronics
You will never achieve satisfaction.
Because the one brand name you really want
is the one you can never have.
Airwolf?
Oh, I’m sorry, we're all sold out.
That item was only available for a very limited time
and in very limited supply.
One.
And only one man stepped forward to purchase it.
String Fellow Hawk!
And he bought it for the bargain basement price
of having the solid brass balls to steal it from the US government,
when, in their hubris, they were foolish enough to ask him to be the test pilot!
You don’t ask a guy with a name like String Fellow Hawk
to fly your top-secret black helicopter.
Why?
Because he is obviously going to steal it!
He's obviously a prototypical American anti-hero,
for fuck sake!
He lives in the mountains.
He plays the cello.
His name is String Fellow Hawk.
He cannot be trusted.
He's not going to use Airwolf to execute American foreign policy.
He's going to keep it for himself.
Which is exactly what you would do.
Walking out to your back yard to stare at it every night around sunset.
The sight of it filling you such peace and resonant satisfaction
that you would come to believe the perfect haiku
would have just two syllables:
Airwolf
At the dawn of the Paleolithic Period
when the first humans left their caves,
mastered the secrets of fire,
and start making tools
with which to hack civilization out of the wilderness
This was mankind’s first, tiny step toward an unseen singular goal
that would take millennia to achieve.
The centuries that we spent devising
physics, mathematics, chemistry, engineering, metallurgy...
All of our combined knowledge and technological advancements as a species
were to finally culminate in the creation of a machine of such flawless beauty
that it now clearly stands out as human civilization’s crowning achievement:
Airwolf.
In 1984 the world’s most brilliant scientists and engineers were assembled in secret
for the sole purpose of constructing the world’s most advanced
Mach One Plus attack helicopter.
This would be more than just an instrument of war.
It would be a work of art.
And no expense was spared in this, mankind's boldest endeavor to date.
The original Da Vinci parchments were consulted.
Extrapolations were made.
Fifth generation Swiss craftsmen were flown in merely to construct the dashboard.
There was painstaking attention to detail.
And upon its completion,
those present were unable to do anything
but stand and marvel
in wonder and in awe
at the sleek, black aerodynamic perfection...
that was Airwolf.
And I know there are voices of dissent shouting,
"What about Blue Thunder? What about Knight Rider?"
Fuck Blue Thunder.
Fuck Michael Knight!
And to hell with Street Hawk and Firefox.
Airwolf
Airwolf is the adjective we should use to describe anything
of majesty, beauty, and intensity.
Something that is simply fucking bad ass.... is Airwolf.
James Brown's music is Airwolf.
Shakespeare is Airwolf.
Sex so good it makes your spine ache and your knees buckle?
That's Airwolf.
And nothing is more Airwolf than Airwolf.
Airwolf is the Holy Grail. The Golden Fleece.
The thing you want that you cannot have.
When you go sprinting through the mall
desperate to fill the emptiness in your life
through the purchase of name brand clothing and electronics
You will never achieve satisfaction.
Because the one brand name you really want
is the one you can never have.
Airwolf?
Oh, I’m sorry, we're all sold out.
That item was only available for a very limited time
and in very limited supply.
One.
And only one man stepped forward to purchase it.
String Fellow Hawk!
And he bought it for the bargain basement price
of having the solid brass balls to steal it from the US government,
when, in their hubris, they were foolish enough to ask him to be the test pilot!
You don’t ask a guy with a name like String Fellow Hawk
to fly your top-secret black helicopter.
Why?
Because he is obviously going to steal it!
He's obviously a prototypical American anti-hero,
for fuck sake!
He lives in the mountains.
He plays the cello.
His name is String Fellow Hawk.
He cannot be trusted.
He's not going to use Airwolf to execute American foreign policy.
He's going to keep it for himself.
Which is exactly what you would do.
Walking out to your back yard to stare at it every night around sunset.
The sight of it filling you such peace and resonant satisfaction
that you would come to believe the perfect haiku
would have just two syllables:
Airwolf