The Darwin Awards Countdown to Extinction Part 11

An extremely loud explosion and a searing flash of heat knocked me over. I caught a brief glimpse of a burning projectile disappearing at high velocity into the night sky. The recoil of the launch had driven the tube a foot into the ground, and the open end of the pipe sported a distinct bell shape. Luckily the pipe had held, and had not blown up in my face. Stunned, I staggered back into the shop and knocked over a six-foot length of exhaust pipe. Instead of the usual crash, I heard nothing but a high-pitched buzzing.

Break time was over! I carried on working.

Half an hour later I was surprised by two cops tapping me on the shoulder. They were a wee bit agitated, as they had been addressing me for a while and thought I was ignoring them. After much shouting and several written messages, it became apparent that they were investigating a loud explosion heard behind the twenty-thousand-liter propane tank at the gas station next door. The tank was ten feet away from my test site, behind a wooden fence!

The gas station had, of course, been evacuated. Due to my impaired hearing, I had failed to notice the four fire engines outside and was blissfully unaware of the mayhem going on next door. Naturally enough, I denied any knowledge, but my burned and deaf state didn't help my case. Then a curious cop followed the oxy-acetylene hoses outside . . .

The burning projectile disappeared into the night sky.

The incident cost me a severe telling-off by the cops and permanent hearing issues, but I count myself lucky. I must confess, though, sometimes I sit back and wonder . . . What was I thinking?

And where did that c.o.ke can end up?

Reference: Anonymous [image]

Reader Comments

"Admit it, the thought would cross your your mind, too." mind, too."

"Still working on that spud gun. Just upping the ante . . ."

"Remember acetylene + oxygen in balloons?"

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At-Risk Survivor: A Cus.h.i.+oned Blow Confirmed by Darwin Featuring aerosol, an explosion, and cigarettes CIGARETTESSmoking destroys more than lung cells . . . if you try hard enough. Darwin's archive includes dozens of mishaps, from solo smokers wrapped in gauze (a mummy costume; a medical treatment) to military groups smoking near munitions (in the Philippines; in the Ukraine), from shooting yourself with b.u.t.ts to falling from a bus while sneaking a f.a.g, there are Darwin's archive includes dozens of mishaps, from solo smokers wrapped in gauze (a mummy costume; a medical treatment) to military groups smoking near munitions (in the Philippines; in the Ukraine), from shooting yourself with b.u.t.ts to falling from a bus while sneaking a f.a.g, there are too many ways too many ways cigarettes can hurt you. Please do whatever it takes to give up this dangerous habit. cigarettes can hurt you. Please do whatever it takes to give up this dangerous habit.

13 OCTOBER 2008, GERMANY One evening, a forty-two-year-old man fixed his punctured air mattress with a tire repair spray that, like all solvent-based aerosols, is flammable. Furthermore, he repaired the puncture while keeping the windows in his loft apartment tightly closed. The next morning, this airhead lit a smoke just before he opened the valve to deflate the air mattress. The resulting explosion wrecked most of the furnis.h.i.+ngs, part of the roof, and blew a window from the wall. The damage was so severe that a structural engineer condemned the flat! Narrowly missing a full-blown Darwin Award, our hero was taken to a burn-care unit and managed to recover from the brutal "attack" by his mattress.

Reference: presseportal.de

Another unsatisfactory mattress is featured in Wetting the Bed, p. 101.

At-Risk Survivor: Homemade Howitzer Confirmed by Reliable Eyewitness Featuring a homemade holiday cannon!

An eyebrow-raising story from an emergency room doctor

5 JULY 2006, OHIO I was the lucky orthopedics resident on call the night of July 4th. Midnight pa.s.sed quietly but as dawn broke the next morning, the telephone rang. A fellow was in the trauma unit suffering partial amputation of a finger due to an explosion. I figured that this was a typical firecracker injury and headed over to attend the patient.

I found a gentleman peppered with thousands of black spots-gunpowder embedded in his face, chest, and arms. His left middle finger was essentially missing, and the s.p.a.ce between his right thumb and index finger split wide open. His airway was intubated and he also had a chest tube-far more intervention than would be required for a routine firecracker injury.

The man's wife told me what had happened in plain words.

Hubby had built a small cannon in order to celebrate Independence Day. He and his lady both had been drinking heavily throughout the evening. When they regained consciousness the next morning, the gentleman figured he might as well finish off the unused gunpowder. He packed his homemade howitzer, using a cutoff broomstick. in order to celebrate Independence Day. He and his lady both had been drinking heavily throughout the evening. When they regained consciousness the next morning, the gentleman figured he might as well finish off the unused gunpowder. He packed his homemade howitzer, using a cutoff broomstick.

While packing the cannon he was also sucking on a cigarette. Lo and behold, the ash fell and ignited the powder. The broomstick fired into his chest, ripping through his hands en route as hot gunpowder sprayed out of the cannon.

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We took him to the operating room to clean his wounds and complete the amputation. As we removed the stub of his finger, I confided my grave concerns about his future to the attending physician. He looked at me, puzzled. I asked, "How is this man going to be able to drive without his left middle finger?" without his left middle finger?"

Reference: Erika Mitch.e.l.l, MD

Another finger injured in It's The Cure That'll Kill You, p. 205.

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At-Risk Survivor: Nitrating the Unknown Confirmed by Reliable Eyewitness Featuring school, a hammer, and explosions

1970s Thirty years ago, my college installed new granite tables in the chemistry lab, and somehow a bet got started on who could scratch the tabletop first. The bet went uncollected for a couple of years: Those granite surfaces were pretty st.u.r.dy. Then along came my friend, "Ma.s.s Destruction."

Armed with an explosive blasting cap and a ball-peen hammer, he was determined to win that bet. Placing the cap on a table, he swung the hammer and hit it squarely. The hammer exited the lab at a high rate of speed over his shoulder. By some fluke, n.o.body was injured. Ma.s.s Destruction did win the bet-the granite was cracked through!

Here is the explanation of how his nickname came about. Earlier that year he had been a.n.a.lyzing an organic sample when the professor came by and casually asked where he was in the procedure.

"I'm nitrating the unknown."

"You didn't get a reaction at the last step?"

"Nope."

It turned out that the professor had added too much denaturing agent to the unknown (glycerin) so it was not identified at the proper stage. Ma.s.s Destruction was now casually stirring 250 ml of nitroglycerin on an ice bath! The professor encouraged him to keep stirring-gently-while he evacuated the other students and called the bomb squad.

After the bomb squad had made all the needed arrangements to dispose of the nitroglycerin, they graciously allowed Ma.s.s Destruction to push the b.u.t.ton on the detonator.

Reference: Anonymous

Darwin wishes to point out that the Nitroglycerine Situation was not the fault of the students, who was working with an "unknown" and trusting teacher.

MICROWAVE SCIENCE* Take two candy Peeps, arm them with jousting toothpicks and pit them against each other in the microwave.* Zap a CD on low power to watch the pretty fractal crackle.* Nuke grape halves to generate b.a.l.l.s of plasma.Home science that is safer than it sounds.

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At-Risk Survivor: Against the Odds Confirmed by Darwin Featuring an explosive and a vehicle

26 NOVEMBER 2009, DARWIN, AUSTRALIA Perhaps you wouldn't think twice about bringing a pen or pad of paper home from the office, but an explosive? For six months, a Darwin resident had stored this pilfered "office supply" in his home. Ever since the device had been brought home from work, it had just sat there doing nothing. It seemed so uneventful that the twenty-nine-year-old man admitted to police that he had driven over it three times driven over it three times in his motor vehicle, to see what would happen. in his motor vehicle, to see what would happen.

Against the odds, nothing!

Bored, he finally contacted Northern Territory police to have the explosive removed from his possession. The officers confirmed that the device was, indeed, a badly crumpled detonator. "It goes without saying," Superintendent J. Emeny contradicted himself, "that any kind of explosive device has the potential to cause serious injury and should be left alone." He added that the man's decision to drive over the device was "risky."

Reference: abc.net.au At-Risk Survivor: Caps'n'Hammer Kids Unconfirmed Personal Account Featuring a hammer, a roll of caps, and a misbehavin' kid

SUMMER 1969 For the youngsters in the audience, caps are tiny explosive charges sold for use in toy guns. Squeeze the trigger and a striker hits the cap, making it explode with a pop.

I had a pack of caps that were individually "printed" on adhesive-backed paper. Having experimented with using a hammer to detonate them, in true dumb-kid fas.h.i.+on I moved on to supersize it. I stacked the caps an inch and a half high, knelt down on the sidewalk, and hit the stack with a two-pound ball-peen hammer.

The resulting explosion kicked the hammer back clear to my shoulder, missing my fragile young face by inches. No harm except for a bruise on the shoulder and ringing ears, but an alarming near-miss nonetheless.

Sometimes I wonder how any human male survives childhood.

Reference: Anonymous [image]

In a related story . . .

At-Risk Survivor: Pulling the Pin 1967, PENNSYLVANIA I was nine years old. Fireworks were illegal in our state, but you could buy rolls of caps. A "friend" showed me how to make a decent firecracker out of them. Take a straight pin and load the caps onto it by pus.h.i.+ng the point through the center of each powder-loaded circle, folding the paper accordion-style. Fill the pin about half full, then pull the caps off while keeping them as tight together as you can. Wrap the wad in a tissue, twist one end to make a wick, and light the wick for a nice little bang from your homemade firecracker.

Kids all know that bigger is better.

Kids all know that bigger is better. I figured I would use a large pin to make a large firecracker. There was a hatpin in Mom's sewing box and I started loading that colossal pin with a roll of caps. There is no telling how long I worked on that firecracker. I probably had two inches of caps stacked up by the time I was ready to pull them off and wrap the wad in tissue.

I gave the wad a tug, but it wasn't sliding off the pin. I tried harder, still no luck. The head of the pin didn't give me much to hold on to, so I put the pin between my teeth and gave a big tug . . .

That stack of caps exploded with the sound of a shotgun sh.e.l.l. I was standing there with black powder all over my face when my folks and brothers ran into the room. Although my ears were ringing and my lips were tingling, I was required to explain what I had done. Once they stopped laughing, my folks checked to be sure all my parts were still intact.

Fortunately they were!

Reference: Ross Pavlik [image]

At-Risk Survivor: The Mettle of the Kettle Unconfirmed Personal Account Featuring explosions and food

The Terrible Teakettle Incident-first time on public view!

Sunday morning I went to the kitchen to make tea, put the kettle on, prepared the cups, and while waiting for the kettle to boil I thought I'd fill my lighter. I got the lighter fuel out, but it was a bit low and quite cold, and it didn't pour well. When this happens, I usually run hot tap water over the can to warm it, but as I already had hot water in the kettle, I decided to steam it for a minute or two.

You can see where this is going, can't you? Wish I had! But I had not yet had my tea, so . . .

I balanced the can on top of the kettle, leaving the kettle lid open. Then I got distracted and the next thing I heard was the sound of the kettle boiling furiously. I turned around just in time to see the fuel container disappear into the mouth of the kettle.

I thought, Oh dear me! Oh dear me! (or words to that effect) and rushed over to switch off the kettle. I pressed the switch and the gas can let go with a mighty (or words to that effect) and rushed over to switch off the kettle. I pressed the switch and the gas can let go with a mighty BANG! BANG! The kettle was instantly transformed into bright yellow, lethal plastic shrapnel. The kettle was instantly transformed into bright yellow, lethal plastic shrapnel.

A few moments after the explosion, I regained my senses sufficiently to realize I was suffering from a deep gash in my thumb, a couple of possibly broken ribs, and one little finger swollen up like a Newmarket sausage. The microwave had a b.l.o.o.d.y great dent in the side and the kitchen looked like Beirut.

My wife trots to survey the damage, and she says, "If it was the friggin' gas can that did it, where is the friggin' gas can?" At this point I hadn't realized that the can had left the scene of the crime. I looked left-not there. I looked right-not there either. I looked up.

"I think it went thataway!"

There was a neat 50mm hole punched straight through the suspended ceiling. I moved the ceiling panel and found a ragged 75mm hole in the plasterboard above. With the aid of a flashlight, I could see the scorched remains of the can jammed up in the joists, minus top and bottom but otherwise intact.

All the while, I had been bleeding copiously over the remains of the kitchen. I put a Band-Aid on my thumb and had a look at my ribs, which were not broken but sported a kettle-lid-shaped bruise. When I realized that I wasn't seriously damaged and that the house was not in flames, I looked around and saw the funny side and p***ed myself laughing. My wife, however, was not amused.

No sense of humor, some people.

Reference: Barry K.

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At-Risk Survivor: Boom Boom Bees Unconfirmed Personal Account Featuring explosions, alcohol, and bees!