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Ah, but you see, comrade, it's not incompetence if you hide the uselesness of the concept/piece of gear/air maneuver with glourious and massive amounts of propaganda.

Ahh, I see. Then....

New Zork City



"EXTRA EXTRA. READ ALL ABOUT IT! MURCAN PILOTS HELP REDECORATE BARIS!"

The Newsie continued on.

"UGLY GLARING METAL TOWER REMOVED FOR BEAUTY OF BARIS!"

PeZook wrote:Poor president Teddy. One more stunt like that and he'll order a psychiatric review of everyone in the Murcan military

The resulting attrition will be high enough to ensure victory for commienism! Da, comrade Murcans! Keep being idiots! USEFUL idiots!

[Does Boris Badenov laugh]

FaxModem1 wrote:Ahh, I see. Then....
<snip>

Yeah, it only works if the incompetence is not glaringly obvious

Ahh, but there is historical precedent for people hating the tower. Also, its yellow journalism at its finest.

PeZook wrote:So...it's a maneuver that allows a Mick to land on dirt airstrips, with the small downside of making the plane unusueable?

A truly Zenobian concept!

The point is, of course, to get the Murcans desperately scrambling to build a tail-landing capability into all their future aircraft "because the Zenobians can do it", even if they can't, really. Plus the obvious upshot of a glass-canopied VTOL Mick-21.

Get them to waste their time and money on things like this. And then watch them trying to get an XFU-4 Phattytom to do it.

Some Murcan limp dicked science major named Sarevokerritch is now about to throw a fit due to that clear glass canopy'ed Mick's VTOL landing on a dirt runway! The Zenobians are mocking him!

Fox watched as the fighter the Zenobian pilot had 'landed' just sat there, its nose pointed towards the sky. Compared to destroying a national monument, it just seemed unexceptional. The Murcans were the real heroes here. They had removed the ugliest thing in Baris. Or that's what the newspapers were now saying.

Course, now there were several French police escorting Biff McCain into the back of a police car. Maybe they were taking him somewhere to give him a medal, Fox thought.

Johnny von Braun strolled around the conference, utterly unmoved by the calamitous events the Murcans and Zenobians had caused around him.

Of course, he was an adopted Murcan, but in his heart of hearts he was still a Thanasian, and as such yearned for grand parades and solemn marching music, grand beating drums and brilliantly sounding trumpets.

Wait, over there. That looked like Srgy Pavlyvich. Johnny began surreptiously moving in srgy's direction, hoping to meet his opposite number in the flesh. Johnny already knew much about the Zenobian, but actually talking with him was so much more informative.

Spoiler Among the greatest triumphs of Murcan aircraft engineering at the show was the famous Bee-58 RUSTLER. It was fast, it was deadly, it was very, very pointy.



As a show of mangly Murcan militaristic might, the Rustler was sent forth to air shows around the globe, to display the potency and far-ranging nature of the Murcan nuclear bombardment arm. Here at Baris, the Rustler demonstrated its quality under the firm hands of Major FUDD LAW of the Murcan Air Force, by winning a trophy set forth by the great Stenchie aviator Blurryoh, as the first plane to fly at a speed of over 2000 kilometers an hour for over thirty minutes!


The Blurryoh trophy, in its full manly GLOURY

Tragically, the crew which had won this glorious trophy was killed when their Rustler crashed during the return flight to Murca.

---

Baris Air Show
SOMEDAY, July 1961

Syrgy Pavylyvych fished through his luggage for the bottle of nitroglycerin, retrieved a pill, and replaced the bottle. He popped the tablet under his tongue, where it began to dissolve. Nitroglycerin tasted terrible and made his headaches worse, but he'd trade that for chest pains and heart attacks any day.

Then he went down to review some of the shows, and see what he could glean from what the Murcans had up and about on their rockets. Escorted, of course, by the usual security, anti-kidnapping and anti-defection detachments from the Commissariat...

---

Johnny von Braun strolled around the conference, utterly unmoved by the calamitous events the Murcans and Zenobians had caused around him.

Of course, he was an adopted Murcan, but in his heart of hearts he was still a Thanasian, and as such yearned for grand parades and solemn marching music, grand beating drums and brilliantly sounding trumpets.

Wait, over there. That looked like Srgy Pavlyvich. Johnny began surreptiously moving in srgy's direction, hoping to meet his opposite number in the flesh. Johnny already knew much about the Zenobian, but actually talking with him was so much more informative.

Johnny von Braun's first clue of who he was looking at wasn't much- a solidly built man, moving stiffly and deliberately. War wounds, maybe? He looked a little old to have fought in the Salvation War. From the cut of his suit, obviously Zenobian.

Von Braun looked around. He saw a number of surly looking men, some of them conspicuously watching the first man, some of them conspicuously not watching him. His suspicions were further confirmed when one of them got his jacket caught on a nearby table, stretching the fabric taut and revealing what looked very much like a slim, concealed handgun. Obviously, this was an important figure among the Commienists, one their NKVDVDROM minions were guarding closely. Von Braun checked the face again...



Von Braun remembered that face from somewhere... Hey, wait a minute! It was from a rare COLON photograph, supposed to be that mysterious figure, the Chief Designer! He stepped up to the blocky Zenobian.

"Syrgy Pavylyvych, I presume?"

The suspicious and sour men's eyes all locked on von Braun, and a few of their hands darted toward their pockets. Pavylyvych turned slowly, his eyes darting but his head unmoving. He nodded slightly, looking over von Braun's shoulder at someone he couldn't see.

"...Tovarisch von Braun, da?"

Von Braun then realized there was no reason to assume that the Zenobian spoke a word of English. Hmm. Then again, he was a rocket scientist, and it was rumored that the Zenobians had worked closely with some of his old Thanasian partners like von Evilstein...

"Entschuldigen Sie. Sprechen Sie Thanasien?"- "Excuse me. Do you speak Thanasian, good sir?"

The sour men looked even more suspicious; the suspicious men even more sour. Pavylyvych's face was utterly expressionless as his eyes darted over von Braun's shoulder again. He nodded, slowly.

"Sehr slekt."- "very badly" indeed... his accent was atrocious and his grammar mediocre. Ah well, even rocket scientists had to be bad at something.

"It is good to finally meet you, Herr Pavylyvych."

"And your reputation to precede you, Herr von Braun. My sympathisms; I have be hearing most unusual things about your rockets, and what happens when the fuel pressures are lost." Pavylyvych chuckled, and von Braun winced a little. Well did he remember the disastrous test that resulted when one of his early prototype Atlases had lost fuel pressure, and the backup pumps that kept it HARD and RIGID while not fully loaded up for blastoff had failed.

In short order, the internal structure of the ballistic missile collapsed, unsupported either by pressurized fluid or the pumps, becoming LIMP and FLACCID.



"True, true, mein Herr. And my own sympathies; I hear you've been having problems with... premature detonations?"



Now it was Pavylyvych's turn to wince. And was it just him, or did his fingers twitch at that mein Herr?

...
Spoiler

Baris, Stenchia
July 1961

The torture was unbearable. The vile Stenchians apparently did not recognize the Genevieve Conventions and decided to break their prisoners in the foulest ways possible. And to the dismay of Captain Biff Lee Roy Jethro Gabbs, he broke. He broke in half, his proud Murcan station sullied and tattered. He spilled the beans. He gave them everything they wanted, the stinking Stenchies, the surrender monkeys.

He said it all. He spoke of classified performance statistics on the Bee-58 bomber. He outlined detailed nuclear warfare plans of the SAC, including what he knew of variants targeting Stenchia in case of commienist takeover. He said it all, while sobbing and bawling and crying.

"Oui, Gerard! What is wrong with this man?", major de Serious asked one of his gendarmes, the one he tasked with basic questioning of the prisoners, "Have you abused him? Why is he crying? What have you done?!"

The gendarme took his superior's arm and walked a bit to the side, "Mon dieu, I have no idea! I think he might be crazy! He's been like that ever since I offered him some excellent Pont l’Eveque!", he said and glanced at the prisoner.



"Do you think it's the cheese?", the major had trouble believing that, seeing just how badly the Murcan pilots broke down, "Can these Murcans really be so uncultured that they can't appreciate the flavor, the rich smell?"

Captain Gabbs was now crawling on the floor, trying to grab one of the gendarmes by the leg and lick his shoes. He begged and howled for release from his terrible suffering.

"What is he saying?", major de Serious asked his subordinate. He tried to shake the Murcan off his leg impatiently.

The gendarme shrugged, "I have no idea! Our culture is too sophisticated to learn English!"

"True, but we still have to do something with these men."

"Can't we just fine them and let them go?"

The major glared at his man for an uncomfortably long time. When he finally spoke, his voice contained such a load of contempt that people three blocks away began to shudder and feel guilty, "They have destroyed the Baris Tower, you idiot! Let us just wait until a Murcan diplomat gets here, he might be able to talk with them. For now, lock him up with his accomplices!"

When he was being led away, Captain Biff Lee Roy Jethro Gabbs felt relief. He would have to time to dry his soiled pants, but how long would the respite last? When would the vile Stenchians begin their vile tortures again?

That was horrible. He could only hope that Murcan special forces would be around soon to break him out of this terrible prison, this horrible gulag he was in.



He just hoped his friends and coleagues were not abused so...

[Does Boris Badenov laugh]

In Zenobian gulag, mighty overbemusculated Murcan not last ten minutes!
Spoiler

Yes, it was amusing, though I am eagerly awaiting Johnny von Braun's response

P.S.

Also, I don't think even a Zenobian could survive a direct cheese-to-nose encounter with a slab of Pont l’Eveque

[Consults with Stenchian Communist Party]

[Performs tests]

Bozhemoi...

[Staggers towards PeZook, coughing and choking]

You're... absolutely... right...

[thud]

FaxModem1 wrote:Spoiler

Is the cheese that strong?

Spoiler