IRC-Galleria

"'Fuck the press,' said Wintergreen. 'Show them these.'
'Are they true?'
'What the fuck difference does it fucking make if they're fucking true or not?' asked Wintergreen. 'It gives them another fucking story when they find out we lied.'
'Now you're talking my fucking language, sir,' said the adjutant to the commandant of marines.
'And I applaud your fucking honesty,' admitted a colonel. 'Admiral?'
'I can live with that. Where's the fucking cockpit?'
'Inside the fucking wing, sir, with everything else.'
'Will a crew of two,' asked someone, 'be as effective as a fucking crew of four?'
'More,' said Milo.
'And what the fuck fucking difference does it fucking make if they're fucking effective or not?' asked Wintergreen.
'I get your fucking point, sir,' said Major Bowes.
'I don't.'
'I can live with that fucking point.'
'I'm not sure I get that fucking point.'
'Milo, what's your angle?'
There were no angles. The flying wing allowed the aircraft to be fabricated with round edges in material deflecting radar. What was being fucking offered, explained Wintergreen, was a fucking long-range airplane to roam over fucking enemy territory with only two fucking fliers."

Joseph Hellerin Closing Time, ihana, kummallinen kirja :D