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This Photoshop disaster looks as if someone noticed it was 5PM and went home, fully intending to finish the job the next day, but hit publish out of habit. See the entire screenshot from the J. Crew online catalog (which shows where her hair ended up) at PSDisasters. Link
Craig Fugate, the current head of the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), knows a few things about how to assess damage in a disaster area. There’s hard data, and then there’s a sense of how things are, developed by experience.
First, there is the well-known Saffir-Simpson Wind Scale. Then there is what he calls the “Waffle House Index.”
Green means the restaurant is serving a full menu, a signal that damage in an area is limited and the lights are on. Yellow means a limited menu, indicating power from a generator, at best, and low food supplies. Red means the restaurant is closed, a sign of severe damage in the area or unsafe conditions.
“If you get there and the Waffle House is closed?” FEMA Administrator Craig Fugate has said. “That’s really bad. That’s where you go to work.”
There are 1,600 Waffle House outlets across the USA, and the franchise policy is to try their best to feed customers even when conditions are difficult. Link -via J-Walk Blog
Who needs a generator when you’ve got the Nissan Leaf, an 100% electric car that can power your house for 2 days via the “Leaf-to-home” system, a converter that attaches to your home’s electric panel and allows for the car’s lithium-ion battery to provide power when it may be otherwise unavailable.With the people of Japan still recovering from the recent disasters, Nissan feels that a symbiotic relationship between electric car and home may be just the thing to keep the lights on when everything else around you is falling to pieces. Link -via PopSci Image via Tom Rafferty at Wikimedia
A massive explosion leveled a neighborhood in San Bruno (a suburb close to San Francisco), California, yesterday night:
After the initial blast, flames reached as high as 100 feet as the fire fueled itself on burning homes, leaving some in total ruins and reducing parked automobiles to burned out shells. At least 120 homes also suffered serious damage.
Witnesses heard the explosion miles away and said it shot a fireball more than 1,000 feet in the air, sending frightened residents fleeing for safety and rushing to get belongings out of burning homes.
"I thought a 747 had landed on us," Barringer told the Times. "It shook our station right to its foundation."
What could’ve caused such an explosion? A ruptured 30-inch steel gas pipeline is suspected. Link (Photo: KNTV)
I used to live near San Bruno and a cousin of mine lives there (she’s okay), so that sort of hit close to home. But have you ever thought about the ground under your house simply exploding?
We may not be at the top of the food chain, exactly, but we at least have our inanimate food conquered. Bread, veggies, milk – these things don’t pose a threat to our existence. At least, not usually. On at least a couple of occasions, some faulty (or just old) construction has resulted in freak accidents that caused a lot of death and injury. Here are the two most famous events.
If you’re going to go out, you might as well go out doing something you love. You hear that saying a lot, but I doubt even the most die-hard beer-drinker would have enjoyed drowning in 232,000 gallons of suds during the London Beer Flood.
The year was 1814, and a very old vat at Meux’s Brewery containing 135,000 gallons of fermenting porter finally decided to give in to old age. One of the metal hoops surrounding the vat snapped; the resulting noise was heard up to five miles away. As if that much on and as if that wasn’t bad enough, it knocked over a bunch of other vats, causing a grand total of nearly 1.25 million liters of beer to spill out onto Tottenham Court Road and other surrounding streets. The gush was so massive and powerful that two houses were entirely destroyed. At a nearby pub – which had probably previously enjoyed their proximity to Meux’s Brewery – a wall caved in, killing a teenage girl who worked there. The Brewery was located in a poor part of town called St. Giles Rookery, which was a bunch of tenements and low income housing. Entire families lived in basements of these buildings, and when the beer suddenly rushed into through windows and walls, people were unable to get out and drowned. All in all, eight people were killed that day. Another person is said to have died from alcohol poisoning the following day.
People capitalized on the tragedy, though – many of the residents ran out to the streets with pots and pans to salvage whatever free alcohol they could get their hands on. And shockingly, some people took to exhibiting their dead friends and family for money. Obviously this was quite the freak accident and people outside of the area were curious. To raise a little money, enterprising citizens decided to show the corpses for a fee. The police had to put a stop to this practice when too many gawkers crowded into one house, which was structurally unsound from the flood. The floor collapsed, dumping the lot of them into a basement that was still half-full of beer.
Despite paying for the funerals of the drunkenly departed, the Meux Brewery was still sued for neglecting their equipment, especially when it came to light that an employee had previously alerted a boss to a crack in the vat that eventually erupted. However, the judge presiding over the trial declared the whole tragedy an Act of God, finding the company free of fault. Something tells me the ruling would be a little different today.
You think drowning in beer is bad? At least you could attempt to swim through the beer. Trying to fight through a sea of molasses would be all but futile.
And that’s exactly what happened in 1919, when a vat of the sticky stuff exploded at the Purity Distilling Company in Boston. The tank was 50 feet tall, 90 feet in diameter and held 2.3 million gallons of molasses. Much like the vat of beer in London, the tank just gave out. First-hand accounts from people in the area said the rivets popping out of the tank sounded like a machine gun being fired. And then came the wave – a solid, 15-foot-tall swath of molasses, 160 feet wide and moving at an astonishing 35 miles an hour. When you consider that molasses is the epitome of “slow,” 35 miles per hour is nearly unthinkable.
It happened at 12:30 p.m., just as a bunch of workers at the factory were taking lunch. They were among the largest group of fatalities, which also included two 10-year-old children and a 65-year-old woman who was just sitting on her porch when the entire house was smashed on top of her. Two entire blocks were practically flattened by the tsunami of syrupy sweetness – buildings in the immediate vicinity were completely knocked clear of their foundations and fell to rubble in a matter of seconds. When it settled, the molasses was waist deep, making it almost impossible for rescuers to wade through and try to save survivors.
Sadly, this disaster definitely could have been prevented. The tank was hastily constructed thanks to the increasing demand due to the war – back then, molasses was used in gunpowder. The foreman who oversaw the construction of the tank had no background and apparently couldn’t even read a blueprint, according to multiple sources. He was in such a hurry he didn’t even bother to test the tank for leaks with water when it was complete, as was standard practice. The vat was immediately filled with molasses, and you’d better believe it started leaking almost immediately. It leaked so much that neighborhood kids could stop by, fill up cans with syrup, and take it home to their mothers. In response to complaints about the leaky monstrosity, the company had the vat painted brown so the leaks wouldn’t be so noticeable. Pretty responsible, huh?
The company tried to make the public believe that the “sudden” explosion was the result of dynamite deliberately planted by anarchists, but the public didn’t believe it – and neither did the judge and jury. It took nearly six years of investigation, but the report found without a doubt that the company had been extremely negligent. U.S. Industrial Alcohol was ordered to pay the families of the 21 victims a total of $1 million. Boston smelled of molasses for decades afterward; some residents say it still permeates the air on the right day with the right wind.
Photo from http://edp.org/molasses.htm.
It was 72 years ago today that the Hindenburg caught fire, resulting in the deaths of 36 people (35 onboard and one on the ground). So why did it catch fire in the first place? Nearly three-quarters of a century later, we still don’t know. But there are some theories out there, and here are a few of them.
This one is for all of the conspiracy theorists out there, but it was widely believed to be the culprit at the time thanks to three pretty credible believers in the theory: Hugo Eckener (pictured), who used to be the head of the Zeppelin company; Charles Rosenthal, commander of the Lakehurst Naval Air Station; and Max Pruss, the Hindenburg’s commander.
When Eckener heard the zeppelin had “exploded,” he immediately thought that someone had intentionally destroyed the airship. Pruss found it hard to believe that something as petty as static would ignite the fabric of the Hindenburg; he said he personally had piloted airships through thunderstorms and that they had even been struck by lightning with no ill effects.
So who would have done such a terrible thing? A couple of books have named the zeppelin’s rigger, Eric Spehl. The fire started in an area that he and his fellow riggers had exclusive access to, and another rigger reported seeing a flash like a flashbulb just before the whole thing went up in flames. Spehl’s hobby – amateur photography – made it seem likely that he knew which types of flash could serve as an igniter.
Another suspect was a passenger named Joseph Späh, a German acrobat who was traveling with his dog, Ulla. He drew suspicion because of his many trips to the freight room by the ship’s stern, supposedly to feed his dog. Stewards said he seems particularly irritated that the flight was running late, and others speculated that his acrobatic career would make it easy for him to climb around in the catwalks to plant a bomb. Späh was cleared and Spehl died in the fire, so we’ll never know if one of them was responsible. One rumor even said that Hitler ordered the disaster because Hugo Eckener was anti-Nazi.
Why the theory is probably wrong: Even Eckener changed his mind: when he later watched the tapes and learned that the ‘Burg had burned, not exploded, he reversed his theory to the static spark theory (see below). And no evidence of a bomb was ever found in the wreckage. They did find some yellow substance originally believed to be sulfur, which can ignite hydrogen, but it was later determined that it was probably just residue from a fire extinguisher, and none of the residue was found anywhere near the stern of the ship.
You know how when it’s particularly dry, you can shuffle along your carpet and shock the crap out of someone sitting on the couch? Same theory, but bigger. The Hindenburg was really behind on its flight schedule – more than 12 hours, in fact. To try to make up for lost time, they flew directly through a storm front with lots of humidity and electrical charge. Between that and a light rain falling at Lakehurst, the mooring lines probably got a bit wet. When they touched down to land, the lines would have grounded the frame they were connected to, but not the fabric stretched around the frame. So when the static electricity sparked, the fabric went up in flames.
Another sub-theory is that hydrogen gas was in the air, perhaps due to a leak, and the static spark ignited the gas. Both of these seem pretty plausible when you consider that historian Douglas Robinson recorded an eyewitness account from one of the passengers saying that he saw St. Elmo’s fire just before the fire fully broke out. Not the ‘80s movie starring Demi Moore and Rob Lowe, the actual electrical weather phenomenon. He had enough time to tell his wife, “Oh, heavens, the thing is afire,” and showed her where the St. Elmo’s fire was occurring before the fabric ignited.
Coming from such a credible source – the former director of NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center – this one seems like it could be true as well. He says it’s not the fact that the ship was struck by lightning that was its downfall – the ship had been struck before and it was fine. It’s because it was landing as it was hit. As it landed, the Hindenburg dispelled hydrogen to lessen its weight and land. The hydrogen mixed with the oxygen in the air and the lightning ignited the fumes.
Why it could be wrong: The fire appeared in a wave motion, which Eckener believed was more apt to happen with a static spark than a lightning bolt.
Mythbusters tackled this one and declared it Busted, but I’ll tell you the theory anyway. The fabric (pictured) around the Hindenburg’s frame had been painted with what they called “dope,” a substance that made the fabric stiff and airtight. However, the substances it was made of were highly flammable in liquid form and still pretty unstable even when dry. The Incendiary Paint Theory says that the volatile substances reacted and caused the spark.
Why the theory is probably not true: The “dope,” which is actually cellulose acetate butyrate, is classified as burning easily if it catches fire, but it doesn’t actually ignite easily and will self-extinguish if there isn’t an external source keeping it burning. Some of the fabric survived the fire, which leads experts to believe the fabric didn’t actually start the fire. The Mythbusters test found just that – while the stuff used to paint the skin was definitely flammable, it wasn’t enough to ignite and destroy the Hindenburg all on its own.
It’s easy enough to believe: one of the bracing wires came loose, snapped, and punctured one of the internal gas cells. This would have caused the hydrogen leak believed to have happened in other theories. Then the static spark theory would have happened, igniting the fumes from the punctured cell. It’s also thought that when the wire struck the cell, it caused a spark which ignited the fire.
Turns out this guy didn’t have a ticket, and a fight ensued, and in the melee a gas tank got punctured. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.
In the Fall of 1814, a tidal wave of beer washed down the streets of London after the world’s biggest beer barrel ruptured. Apart from the brewer’s shattered ego, the wave of beer killed 9 (one due to alcohol poisoning) and left several buildings collapsed:
This peculiar history begins with a party at the Meux’s Brewery where a grand dinner had been organized to celebrate the construction of a giant vat capable of holding 3555 barrels – 610,000 litres – of beer. Being 22 feet tall and having a diameter of 60 feet the vat was in fact so large that the dinner was celebrated within the vat itself which held a staggering 200 guests, the goal being to outdo a competitor who constructed a vat in which he managed to fit 100 guests.
From the Upcoming 
ueue, submitted by Maestor.
