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FOR YOUR EYES ONLY
One March 3, 1969 the Untied States Navy Established an Elite School for the top one percent of it's Pilots.
It's purpose was to teach the lost art of aerial combat and to ensure that the handful of men and women who graduated were the best fighter pilots in the world.
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They Succeeded.
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Today, The Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School.
The Flyers call it...
TOP GUN
HIGH PRIORITY INTEL
In 2023 the Navy, in its infinite wisdom decided that the program had become stale. The recent graduates were missing something. Thy had lost their edge, they had become soft, whiney, woke pieces of horseshit. No longer able to engage in the dog fight that is a conversation with an unknown woman, they had become reliant on the easy kill of the dating app.
So the Navy, determined to turn the tide on the shit-show depressing decline of good old fashioned masculinity, sounded the Vaganus and assembled, for one last time, the only group of men they knew could be relied on to steady the ship.
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The Navy called it RP's Stag Do, the Men called it:
MOJO: Gentlemen, you have just done an incredibly brave thing. You've agreed
to wingman our brother RP in his most perilous mission yet, Operation Marriage.
What you should've done was prevent him from volunteering for the mission in
the first place! You should've directed him to ‘land that plane!’ Gentlemen, I'm
not going to lie, by signing up for this task your egos have written checks your
body can’t cash. You're busted, your boyish good looks are all but gone, you
forgot how to chat up women years ago, your once legendary drinking skills are
now a disgrace, with a history of eyeing up girls way out of your league and 1 fat
chick in a mini skirt!
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And let's not bullshit fellas. The odds of anyone returning home as anything but
a broken man ain't the best in the Navy but God damn it if we ain't gonna give it a
try.
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By volunteering you have shown that you are one hell of a good mate to RP.
Maybe too good. I'd like to promise you a nice relaxing weekend, but I can't.
Instead, I've gotta do something here, I still can't believe it. I gotta give you your
dream shot! A chance to prove me, to prove the world wrong. A chance to show
theres still jet fuel in the tank, to show you're not busted, to show you're not
done, to show that behind the veil of respectability and responsibility that we all
wear, lies the boy, the man, you once were. You characters are going to:
Gentlemen, you are the 1% of all Mookapaloozans -- the elite, the BEST of the
best. We'll make you better.
This expedition is of course about ushering in a new era for our brother RP. He
has zeroed in on his life wing{wo)man and now intends to engage (in fact he
already has) in the dogfight which we all know as Marriage.
However, before he does so we have the priviledge, nay the reponsibility, to
protect him as he buzzes the tower 1 final time.
With such an elite group of veterans, expected standards of performance are
high. Detailed in the following pages of this briefing document are a list of basic
requirements of you as the Top Gun class of 2023.
These are not difficult gentlemen and so of course, failure to execute on these
will result in clear and severe consequences.
Also contained in the following pages are your callsigns. These, and only these,
callsigns should be used to address one another for the duration of the
expedition.
In case some of you wonder who the best is, only time will tell, but I can promise
you this gentlemen; Life is short. Time is fast. No replay. No rewind. So enjoy
every moment as it comes.
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