#Detonators

[gotankgo]

on this day in 1982

Dead Kennedys + Minor Threat + M.D.C. + Zero Boys + Detonators

[rightnewshindi]

रामेश्वरम कैफे में ब्लास्ट के बाद सर्चिंग में मिलीं जिलेटिन की छड़ें-डेटोनेटर्स, अलर्ट मोड पर पुलिस

रामेश्वरम कैफे में ब्लास्ट के बाद सर्चिंग में मिलीं जिलेटिन की छड़ें-डेटोनेटर्स, अलर्ट मोड पर पुलिस

Bangluru News: बेंगलुरु के रामेश्वरम कैफे में ब्लास्ट के बाद पुलिस ने गश्ती बढ़ा दी है. इस दौरान अब सर्चिंग के दौरान पुलिस को जिलेटिन की छड़ें और डेटोनेटर्स मिले हैं. पुलिस ने विस्फोटक सामग्री जब्त कर इस मामले में एफआईआर दर्ज कर ली है. पुलिस के मुताबिक घटना 17 मार्च की है. बेलंदूर पुलिस स्टेशन के पीएसआई रेवन्ना सिद्दप्पा गश्त कर रहे थे. इस दौरान ही उन्होंने देखा कि चिक्कनायकनहल्ली प्राक्रिया…

[testormblog]

Bullets and Explosives

I loved denotating explosions: their clouds of dirt, their noise and obliterating an earthen mound I had constructed.  Each one had to be bigger than my last.

With the war not long finished, warfare to capture young boys’ imaginations, mine included.  I learnt about the major battles at school.  Hollywood portrayed Ally service men as heroes.  The Cold War split the world into east and west.  The Korean War was happening.  Nobody knew if another global conflict would erupt.  Hence, I like most boys of my generation believed we should be combat ready and engaged in play activities to be so.

The bush provided perfect cover for my mock battles.  I dug trenches and fortified them with pretend guns.  Dad didn’t own a gun.  Sometimes, we borrowed his brother’s ex Army 303 rifle to go fishing in the river at low tide when the mullet were visible amongst the reeds.  He’d fire the 303 into the water to stun the fish.  Then we’d grab them as they floated to the surface.  Dad wouldn’t let me shoot however.  Still, he didn’t mind me collecting his spent shell cases for my pretend armoury.  Neither did he care when the live bullets in his shed disappeared.  Pop always had plenty more to share.  Perhaps, Pop acquired these during his days working near the US Army Base at Camp Cable.

I itched to use that ammunition.  I just needed an opportunity and a willing participant.  I reasoned an explosion in an open paddock would be safer than in the scrub.  My school mate, Ron, was enthusiastic.  He exclaimed, ‘Brilliant!  I know where and nobody will see what we’re up to.’

So, Ron invited me for an ‘innocent’ play date.  After morning tea, he announced he’d show me around his family’s farm.  We grabbed a shovel from the shed supposedly to wield against snakes.  We snuck off to a small ravine at the back of the farm.  It was the perfect spot to build our mock military installation for subsequent destruction.  We ensured no cattle were grazing nearby and dug a safety trench away from the denotation site.  We loosely packed a pile of bullets in the ravine’s bank.  I lit a fire under them.  We then ran to our trench for cover and waited for the fire’s flames to reach them.

‘Pop and whiz!’  Those bullets exploded loudly in every direction.  Very scary!  Disappointingly, the bank didn’t blow up.  After a discussion, we decided not to repeat this exploit.

t t t

The highlight of my year was Guy Fawkes Night on 5th November.  At school, I was taught that Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators almost blew up the English Parliament in 1605.  The Parliament subsequently decreed English citizens should annually celebrate King James’ escape from assassination with a bonfire and burn a Guy Fawkes’ effigy placed at its apex.  Australians inherited this custom and my community wholeheartedly supported it.  I thought lighting a bonfire to celebrate an explosion that didn’t happen seemed absurd.

Nevertheless, Reggie and I agreed this opportunity was too good to ignore.  For each of the next few years, we spent the prior three months collecting fire fuel from the neighbouring farms.  I liked swinging an axe and a bush hook.  Whilst we never asked the farmers for permission, none gave us any grief.  We lugged the tinder to my parents’ property where we’d build the bonfire.  We made a Guy Fawkes effigy from a hessian bag stuffed with chaff and dressed it in old clothes.  Being the smaller of us, I climbed a ladder to place it at the top of our eight metre high precarious stack of firewood.  On the night, everybody around joined our families to enjoy the spectacle.

Each year, we planned a more spectacular bonfire than the previous.  Thus, we needed to pillage firewood from further afield although we didn’t like lugging it far.  So, Reggie struck a covert deal with the Station Master.  We’d strip the Railway Reserve of timber and borrow Bethania Station’s flat top to transport this to the fire site beside the railway track.  We didn’t realise the Station Master had conned us.

Reggie and I added fireworks to our repertoire and scoured the countryside for bottles to fund these.  We bought every type of firework the local general store sold: Catherine whirly wheels, sparklers, roman candles, penny bungers and rockets.  We determined where to put them and the order we’d ignite them to achieve the most dramatic effect and noise.  We lit roman candles to shoot stars.  We hurdled penny bungers concealed in handfuls of mud at the ground to create noisy explosions.  We launched rockets from beer bottles set up on fence posts.  I liked the rockets the most; they exploded in the air.  In a time when people feared darkness, these mesmerising light displays conquered their fears and gave them a sense of wonderment.

I didn’t mind the bungers either.  They were good for pranks.  The smallest bunger, a Tom Thumb, was two and half centimetres in size.  Once, I lost a couple.  Odd for me because I closely guarded them.  Strangely, my toddler brother’s breathing deteriorated.  Eventually, Mother took him to the doctor.  I watched the doctor extract my red and green Tom Thumbs from his nostrils.  Like me, Gary had light fingers.

By thirteen, I wished to blow something big up.  After much debate with Reggie, I proposed we lay a line of denotators along the railway track about thirty metres away from the year’s planned fire.  We knew denotators were easy to pilfer.  My dad, a fettler, kept a supply on his railway trike.  The Station Master also had a supply.  Track gangs laid three denotators at intervals along railway tracks to warn engine drivers of track closures for work or obstacles like fallen trees and wash outs.  Trains were to stop before they reached the third denotator.

We planned for the huge PB15 steam engine, which hauled the daily goods train, to ignite the denotators.  This would set off a sequence of miniature explosions.  Yes, our plan was highly illegal!  However, Reggie squared it with the train’s regular engine driver.  The driver was very willing to participate.  In fact, most of the community knew the plan.  That year’s Guy Fawkes Night, everybody, living in Station Street, gathered outside to watch the steam engine ‘explode’ before their eyes.  Of course, it didn’t.  The detonator explosions were too small to cause any damage just hellish noise.  Against the night’s darkness, they framed the giant black engine in incandescent white light.  The community loved the spectacle as well as Reggie and I.  In a roguish way, it saw us as heroes and we escaped reprimand.  That was our best Guy Fawkes celebration ever.  The next year, Reggie started work with the Railway and I replaced explosives with cricket balls.

Sadly but wisely, Guy Fawkes Night is a tradition now lost to young boys.

[life-gives-you-lemons]

"the a in lgbtqia stands for ally!" wrong. it stands for atomic bomb.

[sillyromantic4ever]

Chapter XXI: “Unleashing Haran, Part III” from Beneath the Armor, Volume I

Excerpt: “Time slows down, and [Talia’s] Mandalorian blood begins to simmer with disdain towards these slavers. She thinks of why they are here at Ralrua in the first place and what they have done to the Wookiees—and all for the sake of credits. Anger mixes with bubbling contempt throughout her veins, and her hand firmly clenches her lightsaber hilt. The Dark Side croons to her in an enticing melody, coaxing her to unleash haran upon every single person on the level. With the smoke and the men’s apprehension distorting their judgment, they will hardly be able to grasp what is happening. She can do it; she can catch them unaware. Like Sith Inquisitors and stormtroopers in wartime, these men do not deserve a chance to reconsider their options.”

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28495434/chapters/115004674

[parisoonic]

i am not immune to a meme

[paper-mario-wiki]

Extended Skydiving!

(i love the detonator)

[benevolenterrancy]

May your hardened heart be woken By the soft and distant song Of all you left here unspoken All the shards we keep stepping on - Take this body home Take this body home Call the wind, and let her know Take this life outgrown Take this broken soul Call the stars, call them all And take it high, take it far, take it home

[wife-beam]

you know one of my favorite little bits in volume 1 is during the demon invasion:

“Shen Qingqiu kicked Luo Binghe aside, having made his preparations. With this one strike, he’d ensure there were no winners.

However, he was not sent flying by Sha Hualing’s palm strike, nor did he cough up fresh blood as his body self-destructed and killed him.”

sqq, poisoned and knowing he can’t beat shl like this, prepares to take her down with him through self destruction. this is SO early on in the novel and on the first read, you don’t really know what he’s talking about. how can he prepare for there to be “no winners”? anyway i love him. guy who won’t shut up about prioritizing his own life while falling on every sword available

[morkshark]

Who are you, really?

[carby]

chat is this chat? bro is cooked? bro chat is cooked mama? bro is mama chat slay! Bro has gyatt rizz chat. Bro is in his cooked era! It's giving Goon cave grindset chat. Chat mama is this glizzy toilet? F in the chat bro is rizz

[somerandomdudelmao]

SHAKE THE TINY TELLO JAR

[waitineedaname]

scum villain is great because the main characters do shit like forcefeed each other their blood and blow themselves up in the other's arms, and these are the actions of the good ending versions of these characters

[felldragon]

‼ need help getting emergency furniture

hi! i was all set to move to new england this week. but due to factors outside of my control (including the hurricane), everything blew up on me. it is no longer safe for me to live there.

i have to move into an apartment by the 18th, and i am very lucky to have secured something... but... the issue is i have thrown away most of my furniture (the place i was moving to was furnished), and i need at least a bed and a desk. i have some options but they are totaling around $560... x_x i can get away without a desk i think, but i at least need something to sleep on, i have chronic pain and an air mattress won't be suitable for me in the long run (But i'll try to make it work as long as possible!).

thank you very much for any help, even if you're simply spreading this....

300 / 560

☕ + 🍵 ; ask for other payment options.

[marty--party]

i have SO much shit to do with vacation packing, artfight prep AND making a portfolio for a zine, but i really wanted to get this out before i left! happy late birthdays to danganronpa's assigned-queer-at-birth characters 🎂🎉

[rustedhills]

Disney, releasing Wish: "so it's all about legacy--the new generation surpassing the old, overcoming the evils perpetuated by them, relinquishing singular power... and there's an old man in a tower, uh... animal sidekick, i guess..., ah... magic...?

Miyazaki, just out of frame, sledgehammer raised: