Once, maybe 40 years ago, I was flying through the Alps with my uncle in his small plane. He was a doctor, lots of docs in the family except my father, he was an alcoholic. Anyway the top of a picturesque Swiss mountain opened up and SAM missiles popped out, you know, like the kind that killed Santa. Anyway my uncle adjusted his heading and checked his map, little dribs of sweat standing out on his forehead. Lived to tell the tale.
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