News and Commentary on Space
This is the same video the rental agency in Iceland made us watch before they would hand over the keys.
If driver’s education here were as graphic as the segment on seatbelts at 4:38, I’m guessing we’d have a lot fewer traffic deaths.
It gets better and bigger every year…
I missed the anniversary last week due to other time commitments, but here’s a suitably ethereal shot of the “monument” at Cape Canaveral’s LC-34:
Three weeks in Iceland, as seen by my GPS unit:
High-speed video of droplets of liquid nitrogen rolling across a hot surface, demonstrating something we’ve all seen while cooking but probably didn’t know had a name — the Leidenfrost Effect:
From Wikipedia:
The effect can be seen as drops of water are sprinkled into a pan at various times while it is heating up. Initially, as the temperature of the pan is below 100 °C (212 °F), the water just flattens out and slowly evaporates. As the temperature of the pan goes above 100 °C (212 °F), the water drops hiss on touching the pan and evaporate relatively quickly. Later, as the temperature goes past the Leidenfrost point, the Leidenfrost effect comes into play. On contact the droplets of water do not evaporate away so quickly. This time, they bunch up into small balls of water and skitter around, lasting much longer than when the temperature of the pan was much lower. This effect lasts until a much higher temperature causes any further drops of water to evaporate too quickly to cause this effect.
This works because, at temperatures above the Leidenfrost point, when water touches the hot plate, the bottom part of the water vaporizes immediately on contact. The resulting gas actually suspends the rest of the water droplet just above it, preventing any further direct contact between the liquid water and the hot plate and dramatically slowing down further heat transfer between them. This also results in the drop being able to skid around the pan on the layer of gas just under it
[via Eileen]
Dave “JournoList” Weigel digs around at AboveTopSecret and discovers what may be some postings from Jared Loughner, under the userid “Erad3″:
If the NASA Space Shuttle is able to reenter from the orbit of the Earth then the NASA Space Shuttle is able to reenter because of the heat of 1,500 °C.
The NASA Space Shuttle isn’t able to reenter because of the heat of 1,500 °C.
Hence, the NASA Space Shuttle isn’t able to reenter the orbit of the Earth.If the NASA Space Shuttle is able to reenter from the orbit of Earth then the NASA Space Shuttle is in orbit.
The NASA Space Shuttle isn’t in orbit.
Therefore, the NASA Space Shuttle isn’t able to reenter from the orbit of Earth.
They “syllogism” format sure looks familiar from Loughner’s known rantings.
It also reminded me of the old Robert Lavelle “Space Ends and Moves” spam emails from several years ago, which those who worked in the aerospace industry or at NASA at the time may recall.
Not sure if this means anything, but given Loughner’s apparent personal obsession with Giffords and the fact that her husband is a Shuttle commander, there could be something there motivating his ranting about NASA.
[hat tip: el Presidente]
This article brings back memories. Many of them bad. My ride in high school and my first quarter in college was a pale green 1971 Chevy Vega, which my folks had bought mainly for us kids in 1980 when my great-aunt decided to spend more of her time in Florida. Said car had IIRC 2000 miles on it at the time.
So, what went wrong with this particular Vega?
In short, it sucked and then some. But on the bright side, I think I was the only one of my friends in high school who had a car of his own, and it was at the same time the type of car that tempered said friends’ temptation to bum rides. And for all its flaws, it was surprisingly reliable as long as I kept a wrench and a couple extra thimble filters in the car.
But one priceless illustration of just how bad the rust problem was happened on my last day of high school. Being a teenager, I had a terrible habit of locking my keys in my car, and did just that on the last day of school. But not to worry — while I was too large to do so myself, I had one of my smaller friends get down on the ground next to the driver’s door, reach up through a hole rusted in the floorboards, push away the piece of plywood and the floormat, and pull the keys out of the ignition. Problem solved!
The Vega limped along until November 1987. Since I couldn’t have a car on campus my first two years at MSU, there was no point keeping the thing around. So, we fired it up (barely, since it had been sitting in the driveway untouched since mid-August) and drove it to the junkyard — where we had to pay the guy $45 to take the thing.
Apparently we have to be wary of pantybombers on ski slopes now, too.
It’s a windless morning at Steamboat Ski Resort, and Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” pulses through a bright Gondola Square. Shuffling across the slushy snow, skiers line up to board the Steamboat Gondola, but first they must unzip, de-layer, and turn out their pockets. Like travelers at Denver International Airport, these would-be gondola riders must run through a gauntlet of security checkpoints before taking to the skies.
After ticket scanners confirm that skiers’ lift passes are legit, a panel of uniformed police officers pats everyone down and inspects backpacks for contraband such as alcohol. Refuse the search, and that $97 day-ticket becomes null and void. Still, on this bluebird day, one baby boomer flexes his ’60s-honed flower power and bucks the system. “You don’t have any right to search me!” he shouts. Throughout the loading zone, heads swivel toward the lone renegade. The cops try to respond to him in hushed tones. But he won’t be quieted. “You have no right!” he repeats.
This is one of those rare occasions where I agree with a hippie.
Of course, this isn’t TSA in action, so it’s not really about pantybombers or some illusion of security. Instead, the justification used is that it’s to maintain the family-friendly atmosphere of the ski resorts and to thwart theft. I wonder when malls will start implementing pat-downs and pocket searches under the same justifications — after all, there’s plenty of room for obnoxious behavior at malls, and an ever-present problem with theft.
With every day that passes, I’m more amazed at my virtually hall-monitor-free experience in Iceland. We laughed at the fact that the Land of the Vikings outlawed the sale and private ownership of souvenir swords, of all things, but at least they didn’t have security people on every corner looking for any reason to rifle through your belongings and clothes and feel you up with an invasive touch-search.
I don’t know why, but I like this. If I were independently wealthy, I could see myself doing quirky things like this.
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A young girl sets out to prove herself by resolving a long-forgotten mystery. But when she gets close to the truth, what she thought was a harmless adventure becomes a threat to the future of the independent commercial settlements on Mars.
