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Exploding Mic Debunked... Again, By Basic Physics Newton’s 3rd Law is non negotiable: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. If the microphone allegedly exploded with enough force to kill a man, the mic itself should have been violently blasted away from the direction of the...

211,227 görüntüleme • 19 gün önce •via X (Twitter)

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"But where's the flash?" Watch this CNN demonstration of 6g of PETN being ignited by open flame. What happens? The PETN burns with a visible flame for several seconds. Then it detonates. The detonation happens so fast there is no visible flash — the camera goes straight from fire to debris field. And here's the key: the fire that WAS there is blown OUT by the blast wave. This is not a shaped charge. This is unconfined PETN in open air. No flash. No fireball. The blast wave actually extinguishes the existing flame. Why? Three reasons: PETN's reaction zone is measured in microns and completes in nanoseconds (Anderson et al., Propellants Explosives Pyrotechnics, 2022). At gram scale, the entire detonation event is over in single-digit microseconds. A 30fps camera captures 33,000 μs per frame. The event occupies <0.03% of one frame. The visible "flash" people expect from explosions comes from compression-heating of surrounding air — not the explosive itself. At gram scale there simply isn't enough gas volume being heated to produce visible light that registers on a standard camera. In a shaped charge, it's even less visible because the energy is directed INTO the target as a hydrodynamic metal jet (Munroe effect), not radiated outward as heat and light. The Hezbollah pager attacks (Sept 2024) used 3-6g PETN per device. Watch the CCTV footage — no fireballs. Just a pop and casualties. Sandia National Labs detonates ~32mg PETN and researchers stand next to the chamber in safety glasses. No flash. No fire. "No flash = no explosive" is a Hollywood education, not a physics one. Joe Rogan shaw

Jon Bray

25,456 görüntüleme • 3 ay önce

There's been an unfortunate incident in LA with a Uhaul plowing into a crowd of anti-Khameini protestors This man should never have been able to get near the crowd with a uhaul but some info about the situation seem to be - signage on the truck is anti both the shah and the current ayatollah. is this his actual position or is this camouflage to have gotten into the protest to perpetrate an attack? "no Shah, No regime, No Mullah" Mullah is a religious leader so possibly referring to the current leader and not a king like Pahlavi Timeline appears to be - anti-Khameini protestors try to rip signs off his vehicle and are bashing on the windows and eventually his passenger side window is broken - guy in uhaul then stutterstops forward into the crowd, eventually accelerating further, then stuttering again, then full stopping down the road - there is a man surfing on top of the uhaul in the 3rd video, below I have posted another video showing the man on top of the uhaul trying to take the posters off the side, so he is likely part of the anti-Khameini protestors - uhaul driver is taken into custody by police is this a case of police not having the street sufficiently blocked off and so a guy was able to get a uhaul in here? He should not have been able to drive a uhaul this close to a massive protest crowd There are a lot of people saying this is a terrorist attack, it is possible it could be one but I don't think there's enough information to accurately assert that at this time The chronology of events also shows it is possible that the driver was in fear of his life since protestors were banging on the uhaul, windows, and removing signs+ eventually breaking his window Whatever turns out to be the actual case, it is an unfortunate event and as of right now a seeming silver lining is that no deaths have been reported

Kirsche 🥥 🧁

41,247 görüntüleme • 6 ay önce

As of this morning, every brand-new Car sold in Europe is mandated by law to watch its “driver”, and the reason to worry is the opposite of what everyone is screaming about. The camera is not filming your face. The law explicitly bans that. It rather tracks your eyes. The danger is not what it does today. It is what it is now physically positioned to do tomorrow. This became binding across all 27 countries today, the 7th of July 2026, and no member state can opt out, because road safety is an EU competence and EU law overrides national law. Every new car and van, roughly 18 million of them a year, must now carry an infrared camera, usually on the steering column, that follows the driver's gaze. Look away too long, six seconds under 50 kilometers an hour, three and a half above it, and the car warns you with a sound, a light, or a buzz in the seat. The stated reason is real. Distraction causes up to 30 percent of crashes, and the Commission projects the wider safety package will save 25,000 lives by 2038. The outrage dissolves on contact with the actual text. The law actually fully forbids facial recognition and any biometric identification of anyone in the car, and the footage is legally barred from leaving the vehicle. No recording, no transmission, no police feed. As written today, this is a safety beeper, not a spy. But look at what already sits beside it. Think about it.. come on!! Europe's cars already run always-on systems that do transmit, the automatic crash caller that dials emergency services, the black-box event recorder, and over-the-air software that rewrites the car remotely overnight. The sensor was just made universal. The wall keeping it private is a single legal paragraph, and the same law already schedules its own review for 2027 to read cognitive state and body movement, while suppliers openly sell using the identical mandated camera to watch the passengers too. So this is the quiet architecture of every threshold. The permanent thing is physical, a camera now bolted into 18 million dashboards a year. The thing protecting you is a mere sentence, and sentences are the easiest part of any system to revise. Europe hardwired the eye. It left what the eye may see as the one part that can still be changed later. Hmm 🤨

Shanaka Anslem Perera ⚡

648,519 görüntüleme • 8 gün önce

On the Oreshnik and the eternal question about the warhead There is a particular type of commentator who, after every Oreshnik strike, routinely asks the same question. Was there even a warhead in it this time? The question is meant to suggest that the weapon, without a classical explosive payload, is somehow fake or less dangerous. What it really reveals is that the person asking does not understand how the system works. A conventional ballistic missile carries explosives or a nuclear warhead. The destruction comes from the detonation at the target. The missile is essentially the delivery service. The Oreshnik works differently. It is an intermediate-range missile (range around 5000 kilometers) carrying multiple independently targetable reentry vehicles (MIRV). These reentry vehicles enter the atmosphere at roughly Mach 10 to Mach 12, with Russian sources claiming higher in some cases. That works out to 3 to 3.5 kilometers per second on terminal approach. This is where the physics comes in. Kinetic energy is calculated as E = 0.5 times mass times velocity squared. Velocity enters the equation as a square. A reentry vehicle of a few hundred kilograms, on impact alone, releases energy in the range of several tons of TNT equivalent. With multiple submunitions per missile, that adds up. A tungsten or steel core entering the ground at this speed produces temperatures of several thousand degrees through friction and compression shock. Bunkers and hardened installations are not destroyed by an explosion, they are destroyed by the sheer force and heat of the impact itself. The technical term is kinetic penetration. Now to the actual answer for the warhead-askers. Yes, the Oreshnik is nuclear-capable. This was part of the design from the start, not a retrofit, but a built-in configuration option. Russian officials have stated this openly. The carrier is there. The only question is what it carries. But that is exactly the point the warhead-asker skips over. The whole point of the Oreshnik is that even in its conventional configuration it achieves an effect that previously required nuclear weapons against hardened targets. To destroy an underground command bunker, historically you needed a small tactical nuclear weapon. Today a reentry vehicle at Mach 10 with a few hundred kilograms of mass is enough. No radioactive fallout, no crossing of the nuclear threshold, no political price attached to a nuclear use. In a strike on a major city, the nuclear configuration would, in this conflict, almost certainly not be deployed. Not because it does not exist, but because it is neither necessary nor politically tenable for that purpose. The conventional version is sufficient to send a message without crossing the threshold above which entirely different chains of escalation are set in motion. In short. The question "was there a warhead in it?" misses the point. The Oreshnik does not need a large warhead, because its velocity is the weapon. It can carry a nuclear warhead, at any time. It just does not do so in the current conflict, because it does not have to.

Zlatti71

36,467 görüntüleme • 1 ay önce

⚾️ It is no secret that elbow injuries, specifically UCL injuries, have been on a rise in recent years ➡️ The reason for this is so multi-factorial that it is impossible to pinpoint any 1 reason for an injury 💪 With the constant improvement in the development of pitchers, both skill side and S&C, we are seeing an increase in velocity across all levels of baseball 🎟This is obviously a Great thing for Punching Tickets but also leads to more forces being passed through the medial elbow 🔥There are really 3 proactive actions we actions we can take to counteract this: 1) Address pitching mechanics if there are deficiencies 2) Appropriately manage chronic/acute AND Total workloads 3) Increase the capacity and stress the elbow can handle 🔥 We will specifically dive in to the 3rd component of this in this thread. In short, the answer is simple, GET STRONG FOREARMS 3 WAYS VALGUS FORCE IS DISPERSED ✅ Radiocapitellar Joint Compression When a valgus stress is applied to the elbow, it is attempting to open up or gap the medial (inside) portion of the elbow. This is also the Orthopedic Test for a UCL injury. While this force is trying to gap the medial portion of the elbow, it is also compressing the lateral side. When the radius and lateral humerus compress, this acts as a stopping point for the elbow going into that valgus motion ✅ Forearm Musculature In addition to the UCL on the medial side of the elbow, there is also a group of forearm muscles that span that area and attach to the same portion of the elbow, the medial epicondyle. These muscles include: Pronator Teres, Flexor Carpi Ulnaris, Flexor Carpi Radialis, Flexor Digitorum Superfiscialis, and the Palmaris Longus. With that specific attachment to the medial epicondyle and their respective distal attachments, these do a great job of accepting the valgus force and protecting the UCL. There is some research that states FCU does the best job of the muscles listed, but we believe the best action is to strengthen all of them. The best ways to attack this is with movements including: finger flexion, wrist flexion, Ulnar deviation (moving pinky towards medial elbow), and Pronation of the forearm ✅ Ulnar Collateral Ligament (UCL) What doesn’t get absorbed by the first two structures is placed on the UCL. Previous research has shown that a UCL with no other structures involved is able to withstand ~35 nm of force before failure The Problem is: Every Pitch produces far more than 35nm of Valgus Stress. This shows us just how important the other 2 mechanisms are! * Exercises in the videos should be a complement to your entire S&C Program and is not designed to replace it

Armored Heat

33,221 görüntüleme • 3 yıl önce

Lads. Sit down and give me your ear a while, for I have watched from the water long enough and the hour is upon us whether we have the stomach for it or not. You remember. Or your fathers told you, or their fathers did, and the knowledge of it is in the marrow of you whether you drew breath in those days or not. The moors in the grey hour before dawn. Wet heather soft under the boot. Peat smoke rising from a low stone chimney a mile out across the bog, thin as a prayer. A sky the colour of a gun barrel and the gulls lamenting above the headland. The smell of turf burning, and wet wool, and the ferrous tang of the sea when the wind swung around out of the Atlantic and put the taste of iron on your tongue. A man could walk that land and know every stone of it was his by inheritance, because his grandfather had broken his back upon it, and his grandfather before him, back through the generations until you reach men whose names are lost and whose bones are in the soil you are standing on. The potato fields. God be good to us, the potato fields. Lazy beds cut straight as a gunwale, the ridges black and shining after a night of rain, women bent double with creels lashed to their backs and the children at their skirts, drawing the crop up by the hand for there was never any other means devised nor wanted. Hands split open at the knuckles and never entirely healed in this life. Hunger within living memory. Grandmothers who had seen the blight with their own eyes and would not speak of it from the year of it until the day they were laid down, save that a crust was kept always on the dresser which no soul in that house was permitted to touch. Not ever. Not for any reason under heaven. And the chimney sweeps. Wee lads no heavier than a sack of meal, black to the bone with soot, their lungs ruined before they were old enough to marry and old men entirely by thirty. Up the flues at first light, the skin worn off them by the brick, eyes crimson at the rim, breathing the black in with every draw of air. And the coal miners a half mile beneath our feet, down in the wet dark, the roof of the world muttering over their heads, the canary gone silent, a man's whole existence measured out in the shilling a ton and the dust he carried home in his chest to cough up of a Sunday morning into a rag. Fathers who descended and were never hauled up again. Widows at the pit head with the shawl drawn over the head and no tears remaining in them for they had spent those long ago. That was the tariff paid to keep the hearth lit. That was the reckoning of being warm in winter in the Ireland that was. And after the labouring week, Friday evening, and a man had earned the peace of what followed. Home first. Peeled the day off him in the yard. A shower of ice cold moor river water out of a tin bucket punctured with holes, hung on a nail on the gable wall, the water running clean down the back of him and carrying the week's dust and sweat away into the drain. Scrubbed till the skin was pink beneath the grime. Clean shirt laid out by the wife. The hair combed down with a drop of water. Then, and only then, did a man set himself to the table. A meat pie from the baker, tenpence if he was known to you, a shilling and no change if he was not, put down upon a proper plate. Fish and chips for threepence, the salt and vinegar soaked through the newspaper, but carried home and ate slowly at your own table with your people around you, not walked with through the streets like some vagrant tinker off the road. A man ate as a man who had earned his portion, for he had. And later, with the dishes cleared and the kettle set, down the road to the tavern. Low beams black with a century of smoke. A turf fire muttering in the grate. The air thick with pipe smoke and the vapour of wet overcoats steaming themselves dry on the backs of chairs. A pint of stout, cold and black as a cove at midnight, elevenpence laid down on the counter, a head on it thick enough to strike a match upon. A second one because you had it coming to you and no man present would dispute it. A fiddle starting up in the corner of its own accord. The old men in the snug who remembered matters the history books had long since mislaid. A song before the bolt was thrown on the door. The walk home beneath a firmament crowded with stars, the stout warm in the gut of you, the week behind you, and your own door waiting with the latch unlocked for you had no enemies in that parish. That was the country. That was the covenant. Honest labour, plain food, a cold wash, a hot meal, a cold pint, your own tongue in your own mouth, your own soil beneath your boots, and no man standing above you save the Almighty Himself. Now regard her. Regard her close. The fields disposed of to men who have never set foot upon them and never shall. The harbours signed away by the stroke of a pen in a room you were not admitted to, and foreign keels dragging out of our waters the living that sustained this island for a thousand years, while our own boats rot at their moorings for want of a quota. The tradesmen undercut by imported labour and imported goods. The shops shuttered along every main street from Donegal to Cork. The young ones scattered to London and Sydney and Boston and the Gulf because there is nothing remaining for them beneath their own roof. And the entirety of this rotten arrangement dressed up in the soft mannerly language of progress by men in towers of glass who could not tell a lazy bed from a grave, nor a trawler from a tugboat, nor an honest day's work from a pension plan. And now they arrive with the next imposition. A digital identity. A number assigned to each soul. A card required to buy your bread. A code required to draw your own earnings out of your own account. A file kept on every man, woman and child from the cradle forward. Permission asked to move. Permission asked to speak. Permission asked to earn. A levy upon every breath drawn and a regulation upon every step taken. No. And no again. And no for a third time so there is no misunderstanding of it. We do not require your digital identity. We did not request it. We did not vote upon it. We do not consent to it. We do not need your permission to exist upon the soil our forefathers are buried in. We are a free people. We have carried ourselves this far upon our own two backs. Through famine and empire and civil war and black lung and blight and the emigrant ship out of Cobh, we have come this distance under our own steam, and the arrangement appears to be serving us well enough without your intervention. We buried our own. We fed our own. We raised our own roofs and took our own fish and reared our own children in our own tongue. We are in your debt for nothing. Not a signature. Not a biometric scan. Not a single solitary inch. And while we are upon the subject, let us speak plainly of the tax man, for he has gone too long without proper introduction. The tax collector and the tax man are the one article under two names, and the article is a parasite. There is no dressing it up finer than that. A man who produces nothing, who grows nothing, who catches nothing, who builds nothing, who mends nothing, who has never in his professional life lifted anything heavier than a pen, and who arrives at your door with the full apparatus of the state at his back to carry off the fruits of labour he did not perform. He is a middleman between your sweat and some scheme dreamt up in a committee room by his own kind, and the great majority of what he takes is consumed by the machinery of the taking itself before ever a penny of it reaches the road or the hospital or the schoolhouse he claims to be funding. And I will go further while I have the floor. Finance itself, the whole apparatus of it, money breeding money in the dark without a hand laid upon a tool or a spade turned in the earth, is slavery dressed in a good suit. It is the oldest swindle known to man and it has never been anything other. A man who produces nothing yet lives off the productive labour of others through the charging of interest upon money conjured out of nothing is a parasite of a rarer and more refined order than the tax man, but a parasite all the same, and between the pair of them they have the working people of this island bled white and lectured at for the pleasure. A man who will not work with his hands, nor with his back, nor with his mind at some honest problem of the real physical world, is no man that I recognise. He is a ledger entry in a suit. The country was not built by ledger entries. The country was built by farmers and fishermen and masons and smiths and sweeps and miners and shipwrights and midwives and mothers, and those are the people whose say should carry in her councils, and no other. Here is what I put to you. Let each man and woman of this island direct the first tenth of their earnings themselves, by their own judgement, to the purpose they see as worthy. The school down the road. The lifeboat station. The hospice. The widow on the corner. The roof of the chapel. The harbour wall. Whatever it may be. Let the people who earned the money decide where the money travels. You will find the roads mended and the ports dredged and the schools standing and the old ones cared for inside of five years, and done better and for less, because the hand that earned the coin knows the weight of it and will not squander it upon consultants and committees. And let us have done with the paper currency and the numbers in a screen that can be frozen at the whim of a clerk in a tower. Bring back the coin. Gold for the great transactions. Silver for the weekly commerce of a working life. Copper for the small change of the day. Metal you can bite. Metal you can weigh. Metal that cannot be conjured out of nothing by a keystroke, nor erased out of existence by another. Real money for real labour. A coin in the hand is a free man's wage. A number in a database is a collar around a free man's neck, and they are fitting that collar now while we stand arguing over the colour of it. Feel it in your gut. That is not nothing. That is your blood relating to you what your ears will not hear. That is every forebear who starved and fought and coughed the black dust into a rag and descended the shaft regardless, standing at your shoulder and saying no further. Not one more field. Not one more harbour. Not one more son upon a plane. Not one more free man converted into a number in a ledger for the convenience of the parasites. This is the hour. Make no error about it. Ireland is redeemed in this generation or she is lost beyond recovery, and every true son and daughter of her knows it in the marrow. There is no middle ground remaining. There is no waiting it out. There is standing now, upon your own two feet, or there is watching her go under the waves for the last and final time. So stand. Stand with your farmers. Stand with your fishermen. Stand with your tradesmen and your miners and your sweeps and your mothers and your old ones. Raise the tricolour. Speak the tongue. Walk the land. Hold the line in the streets of every town and city and do not break it, for they are relying upon you to break and to go home and to forget by Tuesday. She is calling her children home. Every stone of her, every breaker on her western shore, every acre of wet heather and every coal in every hearth the length and breadth of her is calling. Answer her. Take her back. Every field, every harbour, every last inch of her. Take her back, or lose her entirely. There is no third road open to us.

SiriusB

15,437 görüntüleme • 2 ay önce

When a spacecraft leaves Earth, it doesn’t just fire its engines and head straight to its destination. In many missions, especially those going beyond low Earth orbit, there’s a more subtle and elegant strategy at play, one that uses gravity itself as part of the navigation system. This is often called a gravity assist, or a slingshot maneuver. But in the case of missions like #Artemis II, what’s being used is a closely related idea known as a free-return trajectory. At first glance, it might sound simple: the spacecraft goes to the Moon, loops around it, and comes back. But the physics behind it is anything but simple. Instead of relying on continuous propulsion, the spacecraft follows a carefully calculated path through the gravitational field of the Earth–Moon system. It is launched with just the right speed and direction so that, as it approaches the Moon, the Moon’s gravity bends its trajectory. The spacecraft is effectively flung around the Moon, redirected onto a path that naturally brings it back toward Earth. No major engine burn is needed for the return. Small trajectory corrections may still be required, but gravity does the heavy lifting. That’s the key. This kind of trajectory is not just efficient, it’s also safe. If something goes wrong with the spacecraft’s engines or onboard systems, gravity itself ensures the return. It’s an inherent backup plan, built into the trajectory from the very beginning. The same fundamental idea appears in gravity assists used across the Solar System. When a spacecraft flies past a planet, it can gain or lose speed by exchanging momentum with that planet. From the spacecraft’s point of view, it’s as if it has been accelerated without using fuel. In reality, it has borrowed a tiny amount of orbital energy from the planet itself. That’s how missions like Voyager reached the outer planets, and how probes continue to explore regions far beyond what their onboard fuel alone would allow. But there’s an important distinction. An interplanetary gravity assist is typically used to change speed and direction, often increasing the spacecraft’s energy. A free-return trajectory, like the one used in Artemis II, is designed for something more specific: a path that naturally loops back to Earth without requiring additional propulsion. It’s less about gaining energy, and more about shaping a trajectory that guarantees a return. To understand why this works, it helps to stop thinking in straight lines. In space, motion follows curves defined by gravity. The spacecraft is constantly falling, first toward Earth, then toward the Moon, and then back toward Earth again. What looks like a loop is really a continuous free fall through a changing gravitational landscape. This way of navigating space reveals something deeper. We tend to think of engines as the drivers of motion, but once a spacecraft is on its way, gravity does most of the work. The art of spaceflight is not just about thrust. It’s about knowing when not to use it. #GoodLuck #Artemis NASA Artemis

Erika 

234,769 görüntüleme • 3 ay önce

🚨BREAKING: Another ICE agent has been caught on video illegally pointing a firearm at a U.S. citizen, in Lemonwood, California. In the video, an unmarked ICE vehicle is stopped in the middle of the road… no vehicles are in front of it, and nothing is preventing them from driving forward. Instead of continuing to drive down the road, the ICE agent is blocking a pickup truck from turning, while pointing a gun, out their window, directly at the driver of that truck. The truck backs up, but the agent still keeps the firearm pointed at the driver. Only AFTER people begin honking their horns does the agent lower their weapon, and drive away. The law states that pointing a firearm at someone is considered a serious threat of deadly force. It is only justified when an officer has an objectively reasonable belief that they are facing an immediate threat of death, or serious bodily harm. It is not legally allowed to be used to control traffic, and it is not legally allowed to be used as intimidation. And that’s exactly why this video should be alarming to you. The agent is not boxed in… nothing is preventing them from driving down the street. Meanwhile, the agent is the one preventing the truck from continuing its turn. And they are doing so while pointing a gun at the driver. So, the question becomes… What immediate threat justified the ICE agent to stop their car, and point a firearm at a U.S. citizen? Because we are seeing a growing pattern, of publicly documented incidents, where ICE agents point firearms at legal observers, journalists, and bystanders during enforcement encounters… when they are not facing an immediate threat of death. That is not how public safety works. Pointing a firearm at someone is one of the most serious things an officer can do, because it instantly escalates an encounter into a potential deadly force situation. And that is exactly why the law is supposed to restrict it. Every unnecessary drawn gun increases the risk of a wrong judgment, and a fatal mistake. And when there is no accountability, for when that line gets crossed, drawing a gun because the normal for every situation. And when it becomes normal, more people’s lives are put in danger.

Jesus Freakin Congress

231,220 görüntüleme • 19 gün önce

"Pros won’t use generative AI, and when the bubble pops, nobody will ever talk about it again." No. That’s delusional. 1/ Generative AI is already being used professionally at the level of big studios like Disney ($1B to OpenAI), and there’s zero doubt that studios like Industrial Light & Magic, Netflix, Hollywood VFX experts, etc. are already experimenting with it too. Or do you think they’re idiots? They’re not idiots at all. They have the experience and, more importantly, the DISTRIBUTION POWER. The point is: someone with taste, judgment, and storytelling experience, basically from their living room, will have access to (almost, or not even almost) the same capability as the big guys, because the pure "making stuff" skills have been commoditized, and the new way to create is just NATURAL LANGUAGE. What hasn’t been commoditized is good taste, the ability to create great stories that move people, and the ability to get them in front of people. So in the end, what wins is story quality and distribution. Having good taste, making a name for yourself, and owning strong IP (Marvel, etc.) will still matter. That’ll be true right up until AI is genuinely opinionated and can create by itself: if it comes to that, with zero human direction, stuff as good as (or better than) the very best human experts today, and on top of that, interactive in real time... Because yeah: there’s nothing in this universe that actually prevents that from happening. BUT WE’RE NOT THERE. For now, generative AI is a tool that needs direction and taste to make anything decent. And I hope it stays that way for a long time, because otherwise that’s going to be a brutal hit to humanity’s ego. 2/ On the "bubble": you have to distinguish between a stock valuation bubble (possible, I actually believe it) vs a bubble like some people imagine where it "pops" and we never hear about AI again. That obviously makes no sense given how insanely useful it is. It can only grow, and it’s going to grow fast, regardless of any stock market drawdowns (the internet kept growing even when valuations got nuked in 2000). Either way, the near future is going to be extremely interesting.

Javi Lopez ⛩️

75,190 görüntüleme • 5 ay önce