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    <title>Israeli Helicopters</title>
    <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters</link>
    <description><![CDATA[Let's face it, waging war in the Middle East can be a thankless chore. Praise be, then, to Captain 'Wolf' Gene, Navigator 'Spin' Rad and Gunner Nix Parker for blasting out your blues with the quintessential soundtrack to oil-based genocide. And when it's time to party, grab  your favourite pal, open that tub of petroleum vaseline and give the Israeli Helicopters a big thumb up! Rock on!]]></description>
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    <language>en</language>
    <item>
      <title>M O A B</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/113254</link>
      <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sun, 24 Jun 2007 18:54:13 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/113254</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>know your doses</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/113252</link>
      <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sun, 24 Jun 2007 18:50:03 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/113252</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>the city of puppies</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/113251</link>
      <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sun, 24 Jun 2007 18:49:17 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/113251</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>harbour by dawn</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/113249</link>
      <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sun, 24 Jun 2007 18:45:05 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/113249</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>you WILL attend the circus</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112614</link>
      <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sat, 23 Jun 2007 18:12:58 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112614</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>yes, he's dead, but she survives</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112611</link>
      <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sat, 23 Jun 2007 18:10:16 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112611</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>safety first</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112609</link>
      <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sat, 23 Jun 2007 18:08:45 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112609</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>all this was temples</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112608</link>
      <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sat, 23 Jun 2007 18:06:08 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112608</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>oil-spill beach</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112604</link>
      <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sat, 23 Jun 2007 17:35:54 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112604</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>that damn fly</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112603</link>
      <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sat, 23 Jun 2007 17:32:55 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112603</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>all the girls</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112600</link>
      <description><![CDATA[]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sat, 23 Jun 2007 17:27:23 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/audio/112600</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>Nix Parker by iPols</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/photos/1328618</link>
      <description><![CDATA[<a href="http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/photos/1328618"><img src="http://g.virbcdn.com/i/resize_575x575/Image-127996-623996-israeli_helicopters_042.jpg" /></a>]]></description>
      <pubDate>Tue, 26 Jun 2007 15:33:48 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/photos/1328618</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>Alt Sig by iPols</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/photos/1328616</link>
      <description><![CDATA[<a href="http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/photos/1328616"><img src="http://g.virbcdn.com/i/resize_575x575/Image-127996-623994-israeli_helicopters_032.jpg" /></a>]]></description>
      <pubDate>Tue, 26 Jun 2007 15:32:49 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/photos/1328616</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>Let's Reboot!</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/189643</link>
      <description><![CDATA[Let's Reboot!

Recently I have come upon the concept of 'the reboot'... for those of you unfamiliar with the notion (as was I) it is a term describing the abandonment of a concept's unwieldy aspects while the valuable 'essence' is retained. Recent examples would be:

o	The excellent Casino Royale, in which James bond returns to his origins as a steely-eyed killer with a governmental permission slip, losing the gadgets and the smug superhero stupidity that have piled up over the decades and
o	The equally-gripping Batman Begins, in which Christian Bale turns Bruce Wayne into a troubled man-with-a-mission (instead of an idle playboy sublimating his obvious homosexuality by playing dress-up with teenage boys). 

From these examples, we can see the merits in 'Le Reboot'. Which got me to thinking... why not have a social reboot? Bear with me while I take a detour and explain some of the thinking behind this proposal. I won't be too long...

If you're like me, you've often toyed with the idea of being one of the last survivors of an apocalypse. The idea is prevalent in all sorts of fiction, so it clearly has some emotional currency. Why is the idea so appealing? It's not because you get to mope around whining about the deceased, is it? These things never concern themselves with 'When we had McDonalds, man the world was a better place!'. Instead, they invariably deal with the process of establishing something NEW. A pared down return to an optimal value system. Sure, we know it's going to be hard work. Yes, cage-based battles against giant loincloth-clad mutants are an inevitable part of the process but in the end... In the end, we'll have something better than we have today. 

For a start, lawyers will be a thing of the past. Fast food and political correctness and anti-jaywalking laws and 9-5 jobs will all be obsolete. Governments and advertising and speed limits and fashion, reality television, social apathy, sports commentators, elevator muzak, college degrees, all consigned to history. We'll tend to the earth and we'll fight marauding scavengers and we'll marry women with faces as tough as our own. They'll be beautiful, yeah, underneath the soot of honest labour, but we'll be more attracted by their ability to dual wield shotguns than by their, uh, dual-wielded shotguns... if you see what I mean. We'll be a better society. All this cosmetic nonsense will be gone. The superficial distractions of life will be a thing of the past. The world will be real and so will we. From the ashes of our past will rise the glorious phoenix of our future. A utopia, and we'll get to build it.

Now, inevitably, we'll end up building the exact same crap as got blown up before. Our drive towards safety and empty comfort will consume our instinct for adventure over and over again. It's our nature, and so be it. That's the beauty of the reboot system: each time we get too top-heavy, we can call for another.
"Is that the third coffee shop on this street?" a future-you might say, "REBOOT!" or, "Am I really thinking of suing my friend because I tripped over a sponge on his driveway? What have I become? REBOOT!" and so on. You can see the possibilities. We'll do it over and over and one day we'll get it right. Even better- we can do it right now! 

'Ah,' I hear you (or the voices in my head) say, 'How? It's all very well to rant on about such things but where's the switch? Where, you numb-nutted freak, is THE WAY? Perhaps you are all mouth and no TROUSERS! Perhaps you are a waster yourself, inciting change without being motivated to achieve any of it! That's it, isn't it? I'm right, aren't I? ANSWER ME YOU GODDAMN IDIOT! ANSWER ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU!' you say.

So I will.

We can reboot right now... right this instant... by simply disregarding the established continuity. It is that simple. Just like they did with Superman in the late eighties. Just like they did when they remade Battlestar Galactica. Try it yourself. Here's how:

Establish a starting point. Decide which bits of society are working and are, therefore, worth keeping. These are your 'core characteristics'. Like Batman has his pointy ears and that cape, so you may decide that 'family' and 'honesty' are part of a good society's core makeup. Write a list if you like (provided 'literacy' is part of your list... paradox at this early stage is an indicator of an unstable reboot and should be abandoned immediately). Once you have your list, you return to the world but you disregard those elements which do not form part of your reboot. Easy as that! Bear in mind that Casino Royale did not cause Roger Moore to never have existed. He is no longer part of the continuity, but his efforts are still present. Selection is an essential part of rebooting - you are not doing away with anything physical, you are establishing a new continuum. 

Practice it as soon as you feel ready. For instance, if you've selected 'motorised transportation' as a core characteristic, you may find yourself driving to 'work' (if selected) 'tomorrow' (if days of the week are... forget it. You get the message)... anyway, you're 'driving' to 'work' and you see a red light. Is it on your list? No? Well then, all you need do is say, 'That's not part of my continuity!' and off you go! See? No mere red light has the power to prevent you from moving! It is a signal, and one you can choose to ignore!

It really is that easy! Together, we can change the world! Spread the word - it's time for a reboot! Say it loud, say it proud: 'Your bloated continuity no longer applies to me! I'm the leaner, meaner, newer, cooler CITIZEN and you, sir, are outmoded!'. Think of the power that is now in your hands! Think of the glorious new day that awaits us all! Can you truly ignore the siren call of progress? Of course you can't! That's it! That's it, Jimmy Boy! You're one of us, now! The few who will become the many! The movement we'll pretend they never started! The elite, I say, the elite!

Good luck to you, fellow rebooter! Hold your head high and shake that booty! Remember the face of your father!

If selected.
]]></description>
      <pubDate>Thu, 23 Aug 2007 08:28:01 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/189643</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>one night stands</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/177574</link>
      <description><![CDATA[I put her on a pedestal but 
Not that high a throne you see
I put myself inside of her then
Asked her to go home I said,
'It's late and there are thieves about
This city can be dangerous.
I've called a cab so hurry up
Your death won't make you famous so
It's just not worth the risk.'

I guess I was a little brusque...

But that's the game you play when you
Play 'The One Night Stand'.
Can't say who's predator or prey in a 
Hunt that's so ill-planned it always 
Ends with fallen hearts it's
More than sheets get stained.
The afterglow is miserable
Be better had it rained.
]]></description>
      <pubDate>Wed, 15 Aug 2007 07:07:49 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/177574</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>Coming Up</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/177554</link>
      <description><![CDATA[A drop in the ocean is
What these thoughts are a
Stream of nothing not holy,
Bizarre and
What imagery flows from this
Consciousness stream and
What meaning's collated from this
Waking dream is
Not without merit though I'll soon discard the
Sequence of striving best not
Try too hard to
Achieve illumination
The
Essence distilled of my id's
Percolation into my front lobes 
It's like
Something is trying to
Make itself heard an image
Perhaps 
Or a remembered
Word or a thesis a theorem
A theory a key an attempt
To give shape to
What's inside of me
'Til I see
Make it be
Set it free
Finally.
]]></description>
      <pubDate>Wed, 15 Aug 2007 06:33:54 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/177554</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>Ode To a Suicide Girl</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/172681</link>
      <description><![CDATA[She was a suicide girl and she liked to look cool
Way way better than those other pretty fools she had
Hair that was black but not down to the roots she had
Skinny little ankles and
Big fucking boots
She said she'd been through some bad shit but now she was alive
She was looking for a quiet spot she wanted to 
Thrive
Her temper went up when her panties came down and when I hit that pleasure spot it
Always made her frown I guess I fell in love with her but it
Wasn't meant to be
That crazy little trooper would never stay with me it's cos I
Looked into the emptiness and wondered what to build
She gazed into the darkness and wanted to get killed
Yeah she said she'd tamed her demons but I don't think she did
I think she stuck them on like makeup and 
That's where she hid
I still think of her at night times, that manic little broad
She lives inside my fist when
Ever I get bored
It doesn't mean that I don't care it 
Doesn't mean I do
It's a resignation slip because 
Her and me are through.

Except for the child support.
Check enclosed.
]]></description>
      <pubDate>Sat, 11 Aug 2007 16:20:30 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/172681</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>MAX 'MAXIMUM' MAXX in Shut Up You Dumb Bitch!</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/139728</link>
      <description><![CDATA[MAX 'MAXIMUM' MAXX 
in Shut Up You Dumb Bitch!

A pearly day in december and Max was watching TV via the magic of the internet. Zeta had the day off because of 'android problems'... the third time this month... and Max was bored, lonely and fiddling with pens and pencils in a bid to keep his hands occupied.
All in all, another typical day at the office were it not for the menace that, even now, was taking shape beyond the confines of his walls.
'murmur murmur' said a voice from beyond (the office), 'murmur HIGH PITCHED FAKE LAUGHTER murmur murmur'.
"Eh?" inquired Max of himself, "That's a nasty cackle and make no mistake."
He listened but the hum of the building appeared to have regained its normal anonymous drone. Max returned to his perusal of internet television.
"HIGH PITCHED CACKLES! MANY OF THEM! murmur murmur."
"Hmm." said Max, his brow furrowing, "There is evil abroad today, but its nature is beyond me. Oh look! titties..." 
He fiddled with his pens.
"HIGH PITCHED CACKLES! LIKE CHALK DOWN THE BLACKBOARD OF MAX'S SPINE!"
Bolt upright sat Max in his chair, his thoughts of internet titty evapourated and a cold sweat springing forth upon his flabby neck.
"Now this I cannot ignore! Some foul activity is taking place, it's true, and I can no more stand by and allow it to continue than I could watch a child cry! In both cases, the action is the same: I must vacate the area!"
With that he strode from his office, allowing the door to slam shut behind him. Hopefully this action, with it's accompanying noise, would signal the wretch who was wrecking his worklife and they would take the hint and shut the hell up.
'Twas not to be!
Now he saw the source of his irritation. Saw it and, upon sight of it, loathed it. A creature most foul: a deformed harpy with black hair and a mouth full of teeth that she flashed without any sense of the beauty of a smile. She held forth, saying much, hearing nothing, and her voice was the screech of feuding gulls, as the scratch of steel upon tin, of nails upon chalkboard. It was the sound a person felt upon touching felt. It was the grind of ice against teeth. It was 
"Hideous!" yelled Max, "Hideous wench! Silence! Silence! I command it!"
It leaned back in its chair and it babbled and squawked whilst all around it shuddered the doomed denizens of that section of the office. Some wore headphones. some had gritted teeth. all avoided the monster's awful gaze, for to look into its eyes was to invite conversation. How long had they huddled thus, he wondered, for what noxious eternity had they had to endure this malignant state?
Too long, he decided, Too long but no longer! 
To the thing he strode and once there he leaned close to the thing's maw, right up against that malevolent grate of a grating mouth and he said,
"SHUT IT YOU DUMB BITCH! SHUT THE HELL UP!"
Then, his duty done, he returned to his office.
To the silent sanctity of online pornography.

the end]]></description>
      <pubDate>Thu, 19 Jul 2007 06:53:33 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/139728</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>MAX 'MAXIMUM' MAXX in The Water Cooler</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/119087</link>
      <description><![CDATA[MAX 'MAXIMUM' MAXX
			In
				The Water Cooler!

"I see dead people!" pronounced Max one day as he perused the obituaries in the local rag. He crumpled his paper and tossed it into the bin. "Zeta!"
"Oh YES Max!"
"Enough of that, my sycophantic siren! The time for loving has passed and, although it shall return, most probably within the next twenty five minutes, this, nonetheless, is not that time whereof I most recently spake, which is to say: the time for loving. NO!" Cried Max, his voice triumphant as he stood up, his swivel chair spinning away from him, his smooth, un-calloused hand- for Max had never known an honest day's work and this, in truth, was his curse- thrust skyward in a mighty display of command, "This is the time for... GETTING A DRINK OF SOME SORT!"
"Oh Max!" mewed Zeta, her sprayed-on panties disintegrating at the sight of her love, so lofty, so powerful, so very, very... "Max..." she sighed again, lost to her own inner, pre-programmed, computerised rapture.
"Can I get you anything?" Max asked unnecessarily. Of course Zeta, who was not human, as has been driven home with force as mighty as Max's amazing presence, declined and so our hero strode from his office purposefully, his razor-keen mind fixed on his lofty goal.
The office was a hive in which buzzed the workers and drones of the corporate colony. To the untrained eye, all employees looked the same- be-suited, bespectacled, be-tied- but the educated observer could discern rank and purpose based on the texture of their clothing, the fineness of their shoes. Not that Max took any notice of such things. Far above such menial concerns was he. In the business beehive, Max was a wasp. Or a killer bee. A predator, if you will, above the other bees if not entirely separate from them. Certainly not just another, regular, dumb bee. Not quite a bee-keeper
Within moments, Max had reached his destination. In truth, it is here that our tale truly begins for this is the bit where Max reaches... The water cooler!
"Word up, Max," said an office drone, "Haven't seen you much today. Busy in your office, 'ey?"
Max made to reply, opening his mouth in preparation, but his response, whatever it might have become, was never to be, for instead Max said, "Holy shit turds! What the hell is that?"
The drone followed Max's trembling finger. 
"Oh that!" laughed he, "That's the new water cooler."
"The lights!" screamed Max, "The buttons!"
"Yeah, it dispenses juice and ice as well as water. Nifty huh?"
"I'll have no truck with it!" roared Max, "No truck at all!"
"Look, you just press this button, see? Then select what you want- look, little pictures to help you make your choice... and then, ta da! Lime!"
Max took the proffered cup.
Later, he drank from it.
But he didn't like the new water cooler. 
No sir.

The end
]]></description>
      <pubDate>Fri, 06 Jul 2007 12:27:23 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/119087</guid>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>MAX 'MAXIMUM' MAXX in The Photocopier From Beyond All Human Ken!</title>
      <link>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/115511</link>
      <description><![CDATA[MAX 'MAXIMUM' MAXX
	In
		The Horror Of The Photocopier From Beyond All Human Ken!

"Hey baby," said Max, flicking a casual glance at his sexy virtual secretary, the ever loveable Zeta, "Get me some copies of this all-important document before, like, you know, the office shuts."
"Of course, Max," breathed Zeta, sexily, "Anything for you!"
Zeta swayed off in a very provocative manner, as was her fashion, and Max thought all sorts of things about cows and Venus and the fact that he hadn't bedded a real woman in a while over three years... and counting... but who cared? Zeta was everything a man could want from a chick. Programmed for obedience, loving and giving and, best of all, willing.... Well, let's just say that Max wasn't complaining.
What he couldn't know was that Zeta was about to experience a terror all her own...

"It's my turn, I think..." sighed Zeta, brushing past the not-Max substandard, un-programmed receptacle occupying HER place in the queue. She pushed her way forward and began feeding her papers into the dish at the top.
Suddenly: disaster!
"Oh my God!" screamed Zeta, "Which is to say, a robot god unknown to human ken, but equally responsive in a non-judgmental, possibly non-existent fashion... whatever could be wrong with this copier?"
For indeed, the copier was spewing out copies at an accelerated rate and yet.... It had yet to accept any master copies from the dish at the top!
"Something's wrong!" growled the man behind her (though hardly a man next to the magnificent chubby beer-belliedness of Max) as he ran for cover.
It seemed to be true. The papers spewing forth from the demon machine were not copy at all! Rather, they represented the evil manifesto of a machine on the edge!
GET BACK TO YOUR HOUSE AND WAIT FOR ME TO KICK YOUR FLABBY ASS!
I HATE YOU AND I'M GOING TO KILL YOU IF YOU'RE NOT DEAD ALREADY!
YOU SUCK AND SO DOES YOUR MOTHER EXCEPT YOU'RE BETTER!
"This is wrong..." sighed Zeta, "So wrong!"
AND YET, printed the copier, SO RIGHT!
"OH..." gasped Zeta, "You bad boy...."
YOU MINX! YOU WANT IT!
"Not from you!" squealed Zeta, in a manner most provacative, "You're nothing more than  a cheap machine, serviced regularly by a man with a spanner. What do you have that Max doesn't have, but ever so slightly bigger?"
BITCH! Screamed the copier.
"That's it," lisped Zeta, "I can take no more!"
With a stunning swipe of her finely-lacquered fingernails, the copier was unplugged.
"Insult Max, will you?" she asked the dying machine, "Not on my watch!"

And so it was that the photocopier that threatened Max's very happiness was destroyed. Many people wept but a few people sang a song.
It went: "Da da dadadada Da, da da DADADADA" and so on, ending with a guitar solo.

The end.
]]></description>
      <pubDate>Tue, 03 Jul 2007 17:42:16 -0700</pubDate>
      <guid>http://virb.com/israelihelicopters/posts/text/115511</guid>
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