August 22, 2003
, and George C. Marshall (SSN 654).
Henry M. Jackson
Senator Jackson served as a member of both the Joint Committee on Atomic Energy and the Armed Services Committee for many years and was the ranking Democratic member of the Armed Services Committee at his death. He was an expert on nuclear weapons and strategic issues and a member of the Select Committee on Intelligence.
Hyman G. Rickover
Admiral known as the "Father of the Nuclear Navy." Led development of the U.S.S. Nautilus, the world's first nuclear submarine.
William H. Bates
William H. Bates of Massachusetts was devoted to the vital importance of the nation's seapower. He served in the U. S. Navy for ten years, resigning his commission as Lieutenant Commander after being elected to Congress to fill the vacancy caused by the death of his father, George J. Bates. Congressman Bates served as representative from Massachusetts' sixth district from 1950 until his death in June 1969, becoming the senior Republican member of the House Armed Services Committee and the second ranking House member of the Joint Atomic Energy Committee. He was a vigorous advocate and effective supporter of the development of nuclear power for Naval vessels.
L. Mendel Rivers
Mr. L. Mendel Rivers served in the U.S. House of Representatives for 30 years. As chairman of the House Armed Services Committee in the 89th, 90th and 91st Congresses, he maintained an abiding commitment to America's defense posture.
Richard B. Russell
In Washington he became known as a supporter of a strong military, agriculture, and, unfortunately, segregation. He was appointed to the Senate Appropriations Committee, which he chaired for years.
Ethan Allen
A notable victory of the Green Mountain Boys under Ethan Allen, occurred on the morning of May 10, 1775, when they silently invaded the British held Fort Ticonderoga and demanded its surrender "In the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress". The captured cannon and mortars were transported across the snow covered mountains of New England and their installation on the heights over Boston Harbor enabled Washington to force the British to leave that important seaport.
George C. Marshall
America's foremost soldier during World War II, served as chief of staff from 1939 to 1945, building and directing the largest army in history. As a diplomat, he acted as secretary of state from 1947 to 1949, formulating the Marshall Plan, an unprecedented program of economic and military aid to foreign nations.
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August 21, 2003
A: No. Unless we really do, then yes. We need a policy decision made here, I think.
Q: Frank sure seems violent and sadistic. Is he like that in real life?
A: Everyone on the internet assumes a new persona. ItÂ’s like a rule. Frank isnÂ’t really sadistic. Not even to monkeys. Frank may not even be a male! No oneÂ’s met him, so we donÂ’t know for sure.
Q: So he doesnÂ’t really hate monkeys? ThatÂ’s a relief, because monkeys are so cute.
A: Oh no, he hates them. He kills them on sight, just in very non-sadistic ways.
Q: He doesnÂ’t blend them like I keep hearing about, does he? ThatÂ’s sick.
A: No. Frank is afraid of monkeys, so he picks up their limp bodies with a stick and throws them over the back fence to his neighbors dog.
Q: WhatÂ’s with the weapons he constantly brandishes?
A: Frank is into the eastern culture and martial arts. Martial arts were invented by the orientals because they had gunpowder but thought the only use for it was fireworks. They needed something besides knives and sparklers, so they invented Kung Pao (literally: spicy Pao). Later, when Americans were perfecting Manifest Destiny, the resident Indians (another eastern culture) reacted by doing Kung Paleface and massacring the white man. The US Army invented the Cattleing gun and shot cows at the Indians, which horrified them because they worship sacred cows and won't even eat at Burger King. The defeated Indians all moved to Cleveland and Stanford, Connecticut, except for those who opened casinos to screw the white man out of his money twenty-five cents at a time.
Q: So what’s this ‘Axis’ thing I keep hearing about?
A: The Axis of Naughty is a group of small-time wannabe writers who lack real social lives, so they post various articles and read each others work and act like those cliques you hated in high school.
Q: Where does Frank fit into this picture?
A: Same boat.
Q: There are a lot of GlennÂ’s around. Who are they?
A: Glenn is witty, insightful, and above the petty tribulations of the common man. The other is in the same boat as the rest of us. Uh, I think he's black too.
Q: Rocket Jones compared Frank to Aquaman. ThatÂ’s just mean.
A: He felt bad about it and wrote a letter of apology to DC comics.
Q: How did Jennifer get to be head of the Axis?
A: She promised to send pictures of herself in her underwear to everyone who voted for her.
Q: Pretty clever! Can I see the picture?
A: Nope. I got the good picture because I voted for her first. Everyone else got a joke picture.
Q: Can I ask some more questions?
A: Depends on the comments I get.
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01:09 PM | category: Axis of Naughty
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Now here and here are a couple of big projects. This is the kind of stuff that Bill Whittle talks about in his essay Trinity. People pushing the envelope and doing awe-inspiring things - as a hobby. Because it's fun.
Once, a group of us were discussing 'rocket-widows' and 'rocket-widowers' (yes, there are lady-rocketeers), and one friend talked about her husband who worked with satellites. His point was that the rocket is just a vehicle to get the important part - the payload - to where it needs to go. To him, rockets were about as interesting as a bus.
Probably like most of you are thinking, eh?
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08:13 AM | category: Rocketry
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Posted by: Ted at
08:11 AM | category: Space Program
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06:15 AM | category: Politics
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August 20, 2003
Mookie is home. I heard about the music situation. My wife let the girls pick out their traveling music, and it was best described as a 'compromise'. Translation: no one was happy with it.
Thanks to DFMoore for this link. If I have to read Maureen DowdÂ’s crap, at least I can treat it like a word game and have some fun with it. Much easier on the blood pressure.
If this is true, then itÂ’s your moral obligation to not go.
The Maestro composeth.
Victor is the originator of the InstaTactic. What an evil and twisted mind he has, which is a good thing since heÂ’s on our side. Now if we could just get him to tweak those colors a tad. The text is about two shades too light on that background.
Kevin at Wizbang offers good advice:
Quick Tips for a successful Wedding Reception
Do: Have an open bar
DonÂ’t: Invite trailer trash
Visit Susie. SheÂ’s recovering from Monkey Pox. If you must bring a gift, I'd suggest anything but tins of popcorn.
Need a suggestion for that hard-to-shop-for pervert on your list? Try this. Hell, I'm tempted, just for the conversation value. Makes a great paperweight for your desk at work too!
And finally, Jennifer seems to be having site problems. At least I haven't been able to get there. A conspiracy theorist whispered in my ear that it's sneaky plot to renege on her offer of cheesecake. HmmmmÂ…
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Burning Nitrocellulose BP* is sorta like a party that gets WAY out of hand.
Think of the Saltpetre molecule as an unhappy family. Handsome, dashing, not too faithful Mr. K (Postassium) is stuck with homely, unresponsive Ms. N, who is kind of a loner generally but is very protective of her three lovely daughters, all named O. Actually, it was the daughters that attracted Mr. K in the first place. There are eight such families in this party, all exactly alike. Pretty dull, huh?
Think of Sulfur as eight attractive middle-aged women holding hands in a circle.
Think of Carbon as an eligible young sailor, who is not much interested in the ladies in the circle but has his eyes on the lovely daughters.
Still, nothing happens until some additional couples come into the room behaving in a romantic and suggestive manner. Then:
Each Mr. K gets excited, lets go of Ms. N and grabs an S from the circle. Each Ms. N gets disgusted, lets go of her daughters; thus 24 of them are turned loose.The twelve C-men descend upon the now-free O's like wolves, and each one ends up with an O on each arm. Each Ms. N, alas, ends up alone, but it's OK; she's used to it.
Now all the happy new couples are looking for space and some distance from the others. They push hard against everybody else, and rush for the door. If the door isn't big enough, they may just push out the walls.
8KNo3 + S8 + 12C ==> 8KS +8N + 12C02 + heat.
21 molecules that are solid at room temperature have *suddenly* become 28 molecules, of which 20 are gases at room temperature. In addition, a great deal of heat energy has been released, forcing these products to expand further. Of course the reaction is never pure, and further reactions take place after all this is exposed to the outside air while still hot.
* Nitrocellulose BP is simple black powder held together with Nitrocellulose binder. It's the kind of rocket motors you buy at hobby shops, and it's safe and reliable.
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08:20 AM | category: Rocketry
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Once again, this attack proves that as far as the terrorists are concerned, the only good westerner is a dead westerner. And the word 'civilian' is defined as 'easy target'.
In response to the murder of Sergio Vieira de Mello, the top UN official in Iraq:
the Mercosur trade bloc saying in a statement that "this aberrant criminal act constitutes an attack on the whole international community."
Think theyÂ’re starting to get it?
Meanwhile, Australian Prime Minister John Howard condemned the bombing and said Vieira de Mello's death underlined the fact that "nobody is safe from terrorists."
"There is no hierarchy of targets when it comes to the mindless acts of terrorism," he said.
Well, we already knew that he got it, but it's nice to hear it confirmed.
French President Jacques Chirac expressed deep dismay and anger in a message to the UN secretary general, saying: "Such hateful acts arouse nothing but indignation and the strongest condemnation."
From the French, he means. From the Americans, it means weÂ’re going to hunt you until we find you. Count on it.
Earliest reports from the scene quoted UN officials as complaining about the lapse in security and pointed fingers at the US. That nonsense has stopped.
Annan said the U.N. plans to reevaluate its security measures.
Except for a new concrete wall built recently, U.N. officials at the headquarters refused heavy security because the U.N. "did not want a large American presence outside," said Salim Lone, the U.N. spokesman in the Iraqi capital.
Latest reports say that the cement truck was parked on the other side of a concrete security wall, on an access road near the hotel. Basically, since the terrorists were kept farther away from the target, they used a bigger bomb.
Security wasnÂ’t breached.
Tuesday's bomb blasted a 6-foot-deep crater in the ground, shredding the facade of the Canal Hotel housing U.N. offices and stunning an organization that had been welcomed by many Iraqis in contrast to the U.S.-led occupation forces.
The above blip can be filed under 'Everyone automatically hates the Americans'. In the big fathead folder labelled 'Media'.
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07:22 AM | category: Politics
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August 19, 2003
Dr. Suess probably made a fortune on the side writing porn.
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02:35 PM | category: Square Pegs
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Frank works for the online-dating service owned by NetFlix.
For anyone in the DC Metro area, the Greaseman is back. He's sunk to doing a late-afternoon show on "Country that Rocks", down near Fredericksburg. I was never a fan of his, but it's still sad.
Frank wants all the ladies to vote for him as 'sexiest blogger'.
Frank has extremely tiny feet.
Haiku of Love (dedicated to Frank)
Oo, oo oo oo oo
oo, oo oo oo, oo Frank oo
Frank, oo oo oo oo
(sorry, the Babblefish translator doesn't do monkey to english via japanese. It's ok though, because Frank understands.)
Frank claims to be a superpower. He ranks right up there with Aquaman in super-ness, alrighty.
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01:37 PM | category: Axis of Naughty
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Thanks to American ingenuity, we've managed to invent what no one thought possible: the 12,000 calorie salad.
Ground beef, beans, guacamole, sour cream, cheese, and - if there's any room left - a few shreds of lettuce.
You might ask, "is it healthy?" Yes it is. Because it's a salad.
Good stuff.
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12:39 PM | category: Square Pegs
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Some claim that this war is all about the oil. They are wrong. Read my lips, especially those way in the back who can’t hear me (and next time get here earlier).
This war is about links. We do not need oil. How can I make such a claim? Let me explain. Think about a vast deserted wasteland, hostile to human life. A person without proper training and equipment would last mere days before dying lost and helpless. Yes, I’m talking about the bedroom of a teenager - specifically Mookie. Parents will understand and confirm the truth of my words. Now the desert of the middle east is a lot like Mookie’s room. The same dangers and pitfalls. The same forbidding terrain. The same potential to discover vast wealth under the seemingly worthless surface!
Tell me, where the logic is of going for oil against Frank, when we have a potential bonanza already literally under our thumb feet? Especially since while said oil exploration is going on, we can sit comfortably downstairs and have a pre-discovery party, and I can make a nice pot of homemade soup and we can play pictionary or trivial pursuit. On a side note, I presume that no one will object to the Clampett method of oil exploration. At best, up from the ground comes a-bubbling crude. At worst, we’ll have rustled up some food. Makes a nice change from Wagglty Tail energy drink.
Geography is also against Frank and his ridiculous claims about this being ‘about the oil’. I mean, he lives in Florida for pete’s sake! Now if he were claiming that this war was about the retired senior citizens, then that would be believable. It’s Florida, after all. Or maybe he’s screaming that we’re attacking him because we covet ‘people who can’t work a voting machine’. Plenty of those where he lives. My in-laws live in Florida and after the last election I sent them a bumper sticker that said, “Don’t Blame Me, I Voted For Gore and Buchananâ€. They were not amused.
There is no oil in Florida [DNW!] (Like the DenBeste-esque hook there? I gave him the idea. Really! It’s the truth, just ask me.)
Frank compares himself to greatness. He sees himself as powerful and all-knowing in a historical sense, yet his actions indicate a lack of perspective and an inability to learn from history. Note that I am comparing actions here, I am not making personal comparisons (unless it makes you giggle). Fully engaged in a war with the Axis of Evil Naughty, his reaction is to immediately turn and attack a ‘sleeping giant’, a giant who awakens and turns his vast resources against the soon-to-be-crushed Frank. Remember that cartoon titled “The Last Great Act of Defiance� A mouse is flipping off an eagle diving straight at him, sneering into the face of death. That mouse is Frank-like, and that mouse is an idiot. He’s gonna be dead. Instantly. So quickly you can’t even put it on the next cartoon, because it’ll be long over by then. But people loved that mouse. Because people are stupid, which is what Frank counts on. He has no respect for you. You are beneath him, he believes.
He sees himself as an epic leader, a leader who will be remembered through history. But he is doomed to irrelevance, like a certain other ex-leader. People will remember Frank when he occasionally pops into someone’s comments and makes a nonsensical remark implying his imminent return to power. He will then disappear again, sadly hiding Gollum-like, never comprehending that he’s mostly forgotten and not even worth pursuing any longer.
Some have compared Frank to Wile E. Coyote, and there are valid points to be sure. But this misses the mark in that Wile E. Coyote actually had a goal in mind when he did stupid things – namely to catch the Roadrunner. Closer examination of motives shows that Frank is actually closer to Marvin the Martian. He even claims to look good in black!!! What he doesn’t say is that he also looks good in the leather tu-tu. In fact, he’s been spotted in his neighborhood with a scrub brush tied to his head (although we won’t see that in his Peace Gallery I bet). Now in all fairness, reports of his unusual haberdashery are based on eyewitness accounts from the admittedly elderly. Their eyesight is not always crystal-clear, but we feel safe in trusting in their wisdom, gained through long life and experience (which is probably why most of them want nothing to do with Frank either).
So if Frank is indeed Marvin the Martian, then that makes us – the Axis of Evil Naughty – Bugs Bunny and Duck Dodgers of the 24 1/2 Century! While he frantically waters his Martian Birds to meet our threat, we are stealing his Illudium Q36 Explosive Space Modulator. Ha! And when he resorts to summoning Gossamer, know that we are well-groomed and prepared with scissors and aprons to catch the excess hair.
Indeed.
Frank, Frank, Frank - relent and add our links now, before it is too late. You cannot afford the second front. You cannot run and hide forever. Get it right this time and vote for peace. Offer the olive tree, not just your ‘negotiated’ branch, the whole unconditional tree.
Do the right thing, and you may just hear that earth-shattering kaboom!
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10:41 AM | category: Axis of Naughty
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Some claim that this war is all about the oil. They are wrong. Read my lips, especially those way in the back who canÂ’t hear me (and next time get here earlier).
This war is about links. We do not need oil. How can I make such a claim? Let me explain. Think about a vast deserted wasteland, hostile to human life. A person without proper training and equipment would last mere days before dying lost and helpless. Yes, IÂ’m talking about the bedroom of a teenager - specifically Mookie. Parents will understand and confirm the truth of my words. Now the desert of the middle east is a lot like MookieÂ’s room. The same dangers and pitfalls. The same forbidding terrain. The same potential to discover vast wealth under the seemingly worthless surface!
Tell me, where the logic is of going for oil against Frank, when we have a potential bonanza already literally under our thumb feet? Especially since while said oil exploration is going on, we can sit comfortably downstairs and have a pre-discovery party, and I can make a nice pot of homemade soup and we can play pictionary or trivial pursuit. On a side note, I presume that no one will object to the Clampett method of oil exploration. At best, up from the ground comes a-bubbling crude. At worst, weÂ’ll have rustled up some food. Makes a nice change from Wagglty Tail energy drink.
Geography is also against Frank and his ridiculous claims about this being ‘about the oil’. I mean, he lives in Florida for pete’s sake! Now if he were claiming that this war was about the retired senior citizens, then that would be believable. It’s Florida, after all. Or maybe he’s screaming that we’re attacking him because we covet ‘people who can’t work a voting machine’. Plenty of those where he lives. My in-laws live in Florida and after the last election I sent them a bumper sticker that said, “Don’t Blame Me, I Voted For Gore and Buchanan”. They were not amused.
There is no oil in Florida [DNW!] (Like the DenBeste-esque hook there? I gave him the idea. Really! ItÂ’s the truth, just ask me.)
Frank compares himself to greatness. He sees himself as powerful and all-knowing in a historical sense, yet his actions indicate a lack of perspective and an inability to learn from history. Note that I am comparing actions here, I am not making personal comparisons (unless it makes you giggle). Fully engaged in a war with the Axis of Evil Naughty, his reaction is to immediately turn and attack a ‘sleeping giant’, a giant who awakens and turns his vast resources against the soon-to-be-crushed Frank. Remember that cartoon titled “The Last Great Act of Defiance”? A mouse is flipping off an eagle diving straight at him, sneering into the face of death. That mouse is Frank-like, and that mouse is an idiot. He’s gonna be dead. Instantly. So quickly you can’t even put it on the next cartoon, because it’ll be long over by then. But people loved that mouse. Because people are stupid, which is what Frank counts on. He has no respect for you. You are beneath him, he believes.
He sees himself as an epic leader, a leader who will be remembered through history. But he is doomed to irrelevance, like a certain other ex-leader. People will remember Frank when he occasionally pops into someoneÂ’s comments and makes a nonsensical remark implying his imminent return to power. He will then disappear again, sadly hiding Gollum-like, never comprehending that heÂ’s mostly forgotten and not even worth pursuing any longer.
Some have compared Frank to Wile E. Coyote, and there are valid points to be sure. But this misses the mark in that Wile E. Coyote actually had a goal in mind when he did stupid things – namely to catch the Roadrunner. Closer examination of motives shows that Frank is actually closer to Marvin the Martian. He even claims to look good in black!!! What he doesn’t say is that he also looks good in the leather tu-tu. In fact, he’s been spotted in his neighborhood with a scrub brush tied to his head (although we won’t see that in his Peace Gallery I bet). Now in all fairness, reports of his unusual haberdashery are based on eyewitness accounts from the admittedly elderly. Their eyesight is not always crystal-clear, but we feel safe in trusting in their wisdom, gained through long life and experience (which is probably why most of them want nothing to do with Frank either).
So if Frank is indeed Marvin the Martian, then that makes us – the Axis of Evil Naughty – Bugs Bunny and Duck Dodgers of the 24 1/2 Century! While he frantically waters his Martian Birds to meet our threat, we are stealing his Illudium Q36 Explosive Space Modulator. Ha! And when he resorts to summoning Gossamer, know that we are well-groomed and prepared with scissors and aprons to catch the excess hair.
Indeed.
Frank, Frank, Frank - relent and add our links now, before it is too late. You cannot afford the second front. You cannot run and hide forever. Get it right this time and vote for peace. Offer the olive tree, not just your ‘negotiated’ branch, the whole unconditional tree.
Do the right thing, and you may just hear that earth-shattering kaboom!
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10:41 AM | category: Axis of Naughty
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August 18, 2003
Posted by: Ted at
02:42 PM | category: Axis of Naughty
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August 17, 2003
An interesting scene in the movie took place at an international conference of scientists, when a European expert insisted that the world should wait and see what happens, because he believed that everything would be ok if mankind didn't interfere. An American admiral devised a solution that required intervention, and after some debate the Euroweenie demanded that America not act unilaterally. In fact, he called for an 'international vote' to make the decision. The Americans ignored him and went to save the day.
Sound familiar?
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02:44 PM | category: Cult Flicks
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Bonding With The Boys
About 2 weeks ago, I was looking around the Web for the BIGGEST sky rocket that I could get shipped to me via common freight carrier.
I located a fireworks importer in Wisconsin who had this mondo sky rocket -- biggest thing I had ever seen -- called a SkyDragon. These things are 48 inches tall and are mounted on a 1/2-inch wooden dowel.
Pure aerospace engineering. I plopped down a bunch of money and had him send me two cases of these things. They arrived at the freight dock a few days ago and I had to drive the van over to pick them up. Two boxes each 2 feet by 2 feet by 4 feet in size containing 80 rockets each. The 'Class 4 Explosives' sticker on the side of each box was a real bonus. I am gonna have to save them for the scrapbook.
That night, me and the kiddos had a gen-u-ine rocket launch ceremony. I placed one of these beauties in a liter-size glass bottle and the bottle fell over. Hmmmm-- this thing was waaay too big. I looked around the shop for a pipe to set it in, but realized that the only dirt I could drive the pipe into was in plain sight of my neighbor's house. I knew he was a cool guy, but I didn't want him to call the cops. You see -- 'projectile-type' fireworks are totally illegal in this county. I was surprised that the Buncombe County Sheriff Department wasn't waiting for me at the loading dock when I picked these things up.
Anyhow, I finally rigged a launch pad by prying up one of the driveway drain grates with a crowbar and sitting the stick into the deep pit. Looked sorta like an ICBM silo with its hardened lid slid aside. I asked which of my three kids wanted to light the fuse, but all took a few steps back and politely declined. Chicken-shits. Kids just aren't made the same nowadays. They fulfill their danger quotient by shooting bad guys in video games. About as far from real danger as you can get, if you ask me. I told the little weenies to stand back as I bent to light the device with a Bic lighter. The lady at the fireworks importer promised me that these things would NOT make any noise. I told her that they HAD to be relatively quiet so I could shoot them off in my neighborhood without causing "undue alarm". She said I wouldn't have any problem. I emphasized the particular legal problems I would have if there were any type of loud report at apogee. I emphasized the fact that I lived right next to a National Park and that any type of firework that was discharged or assumed to be discharged on that property would get me sent before a FEDERAL judge right before I got sent to the COUNTY judge She again assured me I would have no problem.
That lying bitch. That rocket engine had a burn time about as long as any I had EVER seen, and the ascent echoed off the surrounding trees. Diamond shock pattern extended from the back end. It kept going and going and going. When it hit apogee at about 1000 feet, the rocket disintegrated into a huge shower of silent red sparks. Pretty cool, I thought... until the shower of sparks burned out and suddenly transformed into a cloud of EXTREMELY bright and loud explosions. The kids scrambled into the back door "Three Stooges" style (ie: where all three try to get through the same closed door at once) and left me standing in the smoking haze waiting for the cops to arrive. The dogs that live along our street were all barking their heads off at the apparition they had just witnessed in the night sky. That ended the fireworks test for the night.
The next day, my oldest son Doug and I decided we were gonna "neuter" one of the rockets so it wouldn't make any noise. I took him into the closet where I store the gardening tools and he saw these two huge cases of fireworks standing there. The kid went nuts. He wanted to open BOTH boxes so he could see what all 159 rockets looked like lined up next to each other. This kid has promise. I told him: "Since mom only thinks I have a few of these things lying around, maybe that wasn't such a good idea." He mulled that over for a few seconds, then gave me a real big smile in agreement. We pulled one of the rockets out of the box and re-locked the closet door. He and I both sat down on the driveway and proceeded to take it apart.
It was a standard issue big-ass Chinese sky rocket. I bet they used these to kill people 500 years ago. As I sat there taking layer after layer of paper off, his brain was filling with the details of construction. Tissue, cardboard, plastic, fuses...etc. Realizing that he was mentally storing the design for some future project sorta made me shudder. All I was thinking was the fact that this thing was probably put together by a political prisoner in a hellhole somewhere who is probably gonna get "executed" so they can sell his internal organs on the transplant market. Probably not too far from the facts, but I managed to do a bit of explaining to him from the standpoint of aerospace engineering regarding how the thing worked.
Doug is probably the only 4th grader in the U.S. who can now describe the principle of thrust using a control volume model. The rocket was pretty simple. It had a very large booster engine topped with a warhead that contained the red sparkly things that exploded. Removing the warhead was as simple as giving a quick twist, and I assumed the neutered rocket would fly higher without the payload. I was correct. Doug and I did a daylight "stealth" test and were able to add about 50% to the altitude attained the previous night. We decided to modify four more rockets and put them aside in the closet for easy access. When this was done, Doug had a jar full of stuff that came out of the warheads including: 12 fuses about 3-inches long each, some paper, 4 plastic nosecones and a big handful of these little black balls about the size of 12-gauge buckshot that turned out to be the 'red sparkly popper things'.
It appeared that the outer layer was a simple gun powder coating designed to quickly burn off as red shower of sparks. I surmised that the inner core had some kind of magnesium thermite that gave off an intense white light and a loud bang. Pretty cool if you ask me. Lots of energy packed into one teeny little ball. I didn't want to see the popper thingies go to waste, so I told Doug we were gonna put them in a hole in the ground and set them off. He gave me another big smile. It's amazing how kids think alike... even when separated by 30 years. As I was digging a shallow hole with my hand, Doug asked if it would be alright to put an army man next to these things so that "When they go off, it would look like he was getting shot with a machine gun". Dang.... exactly what I was thinking. I agreed and he ran off to his room to dig something out of the mess.
He returned in about 3 seconds, out of breath and holding a cheap plastic imitation of Robert E. Lee on horseback and a Civil War cannon. I pointed out that they didn't have true machine guns in the Civil War, but we would overlook this for the purpose of the demonstration. He handed me the action figure and I placed it and the cannon next to a rather large pile of black beads from which a few of the fuses extended. I figured that three inches of fuse would take 2 seconds to burn, so I had at least that amount of time to stand up and take a few steps back. I neglected to recount the night before... when the warhead ignited IMMEDIATELY upon reaching apogee. Tricky Chinese. They had installed extremely fast-burning fuse in these things and that fact totally escaped me.
I squatted next to Robert Lee and gave a short eulogy. Doug laughed. I took the trusty Bic lighter and placed it next to the fuse. One flick got the lighter going and THIS IMAGE IS ONE I WILL REMEMBER FOR A LONG TIME. My hand holding a lighter next to a pile of explosives. There is usually a short but noticeable mental pause that occurs immediately before something bad or really stupid happens. It is where that little voice in your head says: "You dumbass."
The fuse burn time was in the 1/1000ths of a second range. The pile of little popper thingy's immediately ignited into a tremendously brilliant ball of fire. All I could think was "...th...th....thermite..." Unfortunately, when they are viewed at ground level, these little popper thingies become REALLY BIG POPPER THINGIES and have a tendency to jump up to
15-feet in every direction from their point of ignition. I instantaneously became engulfed in a ball of fire that sounded a lot like being in a half-done bag of Orville Reddenbacher's popcorn. It was all over about as fast as I could snap my fingers.
After the smoke cleared, Doug started laughing his butt off. That meant I was still in one piece. Doug does not laugh at dismembered limbs. He said I jumped about 10-feet, an action that I do not remember. I checked my clothes for burn marks, and found none. He checked my back to make sure it was not on fire. No combustion there. The driveway was peppered with black holes where the concrete had been scarred from these things. A close one. Another REAL close one. My mind ran the tapes again to re-hash what it had seen. All I remembered was being inside something akin to a 30-foot diameter ...... flaming dandelion. Whew.
We examined Ol' Robert E. at ground-zero. Instead of a machine-gun peppering, he got nuked. He and the horse he rode in on... and his cannon too. One side was untouched, but the other side was arc-welded. Real warfare. Doug examined it real quiet-like and then started laughing again. I assume he will remember the finer points of the lesson as he grows older. When I now speak of "almost being burned beyond recognition" he will have a slightly better understanding of what I mean. I hope that this vivid image tempers the knowledge he now has regarding rocket construction. Oh well.
After all, if your dad isn't gonna teach you how to get your ass blown off, who will?
Posted by: Ted at
12:46 PM | category: Boring Stories
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August 16, 2003
So it's me and the boys. Two male dogs and yours truly, for a change the house reeks of testosterone instead of estrogen. Ahhhhhhh. So what's on the agenda you might ask. Non-stop porn? High-carb beers and corn flakes for dinner? A reenactment of my bachelor party?
Nay, dammit. Those all sound wonderful except this morning something happened to me that makes Freddy vs. Jason look like a Lifetime movie.
Kidney stone.
If you're on the ground, curled up in a fetal position, then you've had the experience. If not, then I sincerely hope you never do. Mine are the minor 'grain-of-sand' variety, and it's nature's way of telling me to drink more water. A lot more. So I've spent the day chugging cranberry juice (acid is good for it's disolving effects) and water and tea and anything else liquid, and running to the bathroom every ten minutes. The worst is over, I'm past the screaming and dread phase, and I'll be fine by monday.
Figures the girls are gone. No one here to 'aw poor baby' and listen to me whine. The damn dogs just sleep and do other dog things like lick themselves. Right now, I'm not even jealous of them. It's a karma thing I'm sure, because I couldn't score any new porn last week at work, and the only thing in the house are 3 ancient tapes that would probably disintigrate in the VCR. Not that I need them, I could probably recite the dialog on them from memory.
You know what? Even in the present circumstances, I have the house to myself for 2 more days. It's still a good weekend.
Posted by: Ted at
02:55 PM | category: Boring Stories
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NASA defines space as beginning at an altitude of 50 miles. If you could steer your car straight up, you could drive to space in less than an hour.
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11:56 AM | category: Space Program
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August 15, 2003
More coming soon, I'm sure. I grounded her for no good reason and she's pissed off!
Posted by: Ted at
09:47 PM | category: Axis of Naughty
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Pick up your pens! Sharpen your wits!
Here are two to get you started:
Restless sleep again
Has dark dream that no one knows
Secret monkey love
Strike fierce ninja pose
Yell 'Rarr' into silvered glass
Once again scares self
Posted by: Ted at
11:49 AM | category: Axis of Naughty
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Post contains 126 words, total size 1 kb.
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