Totally Blowing Stuff Up Tuesdays: Back With a Bang!

*takes a deep breath*

Ah, it's good to be back!

So, to answer your questions about yesterday: things went well. I wasn't able to do my presentation because of a software incompatibility issue; I had a more up-to-date copy of MS PowerPoint than the school's computer could handle. So, instead, I spoke extemporaneously to the kids about what it is I do in the field of neglected diseases, and then I talked to them about chemistry. After that, we looked at the periodic tables, and then I did my experimental examples. Glowing water? A total fucking hit. Freezing cold ice packs? Knocked their socks off! Baking soda and vinegar volcano? Probably wouldn't have wowed them as much if I wasn't such a showman.

Take that red, seizure-inducing strobe light guy!!!

Most importantly? My daughter wasn't embarrassed to have me be seen in public. She even wanted me to stay and eat lunch with her.

I'll take that father of the year award now, thankyouverymuch.

As I mentioned yesterday, I decided against bringing a canister of highly flammable solvent and matches to an elementary school. Oh, sure, they have fire extinguishers and insurance and such, but I didn't want to be THAT guy. You know, the guy who burned down the school? The hero to countless elementary school delinquents for my legendary case of accidental arson? Yeah, him.

However, a couple of kids did ask me about explosions.

"Do you know anything about explosions?" they asked.

Fuck and to the yeah, little ones. Gather 'round whilst I tell you all about the best ways to blow some shit up!

Okay, so I didn't precisely tell them how to blow some shit up, just that yeah, you can make some explosions. Especially if you crank the lid on the bottle real tight before running away and pretending like you weren't in the area at all that day. *insert angelic halo here*

Mostly, they wanted to know about dry ice and dynamite/TNT. I reminded them that TNT was discovered by Alfred Nobel, and that the world was so thankful for his gift of high-grade explosives that they named an element after him: Nobelium, number 102.

Instead of talking about explosions and dynamite and dry ice and shit, let's just get to the video. And what a video it is. May I present to you, Fire in the Fireworks Factory!

Around the 1:22 mark, did anyone else think that billowing smoke cloud looked a little like Godzilla?

This whole thing was magnificent...unless you're that poor sonuvabitch holding the camera there at the end. It makes me wonder: If you piss yourself does that slow the flames down and give you just that much longer to writhe in agony and terror during your final moments...

Anyway. I like how things started out slowly--a pop here, a bang there--then, when things got out of hand, they really got out of hand. And it was all building toward that final blast. Personally, I really enjoy the slow motion, where you can see the shockwave traveling through the air and the surrounding buildings as it races toward the camera. That, my friends, is an explosion.

So, what have we learned today? Aside from explosions are awesome if you're not standing near them? The lesson here is that fires in fireworks factories are a lot more aesthetically pleasing than fires in other buildings. Plus, an enormous vat of barium chloride makes lovely green fireballs in the sky when it explodes.

Like Frankenstein's Gamer

As my children have gotten older, they've become increasingly more computer game savvy. My daughter, like me, enjoys sitting and playing Civilization III for hours on end. Both my kids fight over the use of the Gameboy, and they even act civilized toward one another long enough to make it through missions of Lego Star Wars together. It's truly a feat to behold when they actually work together to achieve a common goal.

If only something like that would happen to the living room floor.

I digress, however! My daughter--my eight-year-old daughter--knows just enough about Civ III to be dangerous. She knows the mechanics, but the finer aspects of the strategy are still eluding her. For instance, she'll start a war with a neighboring civilization, but not have enough soldiers to complete the overall invasion and conquest of said civilization. It's something that, I assume, she will develop and learn to appreciate over time.

As much as she enjoys playing the game, she also enjoys watching it. This entails her standing at my right shoulder, staring at the screen.

Since I'm still in an emotional trough--though it's big enough now to be a cellar, I assume--I've been cranking through some Civ III for a the better part of a week and a half now. For some reason, it's a little bit cathartic to sit and play and watch the pixels take out my frustrations on my neighbors. France, I have my eyes upon you...

Sunday night, after an afternoon spate of cleaning and organization that left our house slightly less chaotic but much better smelling, while I dinner was cooking and while my wife and I both were winding down from the day, I popped in the Civ III disk and started playing.

My daughter came in and took up her usual place at my right elbow, watching. Except, the problem is, she's an eight-year-old girl, and so her mouth never. stops. making noise.

(Before anyone gets bent out of shape, the five-year-old boy only falls silent long enough to swallow his food and to sleep.)

And so here she is, going to town, telling me what I should be doing in the game. "Oh, you should irrigate there!" "Are you going to fight them?" "You should research gunpowder, it gives you musketmen." "Oh, oh, you definitely need to research and build Sun Tzu's Art of War!"

And on. And on. And on.

Being that I've been married for ten years, I'm fairly good at tuning out female voices. However, when it's one long string of syllables mashed together at such a rate and quantity that it's impossible to decipher where one word or thought ends and the other begins, the task of tuning someone out becomes a lot less easy. My last nerve was being poked and prodded and trod upon verbally to the point where I thought I was going to snap.

However, as much as I wanted to turn and scream "SHUT THE FUCK UP!", some part of my subconscious said, "Hey, Father of the Year, maybe take a moment and tell her why you're doing what you're doing, so that she can learn. Also, it's not cool to scream 'Shut the fuck up' in an eight-year-old's face."

Sage advice, that.

And so, what began as an exercise in frustration and annoyance turned into a lesson in how to play Civ III for her, and a lesson in patience and tolerance for me.

I'll take my award now.