Exactly what I was thinking! As soon as they walked out the doors I immediately thought of The Mist.

Landing rockets is hard. Really hard. Make your brain hurt from thinking hard. I wonder what actually happened? Sounds like the post-landing fuel venting--created a pool of explosive vapor and stuff came in contact with an ignition source?

Next time it lands, I'm sure we'll see it bathed in a fine aqueous mist.

"Limbo"
by Violeta Päivänkakkara
from the album "Love in the Mist"?

Violeta. Reminds me of Letta.
Latin for "purple"; Latin(v) for "joy"

I'll point out a couple of significant differences in the way you characterise Joe's comment and what your Dear Leader said -
1. Biden made this statement in public and to their faces, and...
2. It was clearly said in a joking manner and meant to be in the spirit of camaraderie judging by the reaction he got from the troops.
Very different than the way Donnie snidely and backhandedly disrespected those who gave their lives many years ago and who still serve today. The fact that Mr. T could not be bothered to attend the memorial in France for these fallen heros because he was worried about mussing his ridiculous comb over (due to a misting rain) adds insult to injury.
So, technically, you are correct in ascribing Bidens quote, and probably not one of the smartest comments he has made, but you evidently can not understand, or don't want to admit, that the situations and context were totally different. Seems a little trollish to me, but that's just my take.
Btw OAN, really?

Can you back that up with facts and logic?

Tom Sawyer

A modern day warrior
Mean, mean stride
Today's Tom Sawyer
Mean, mean pride
Though his mind is not for rent
Don't put him down as arrogant
He reserves the quiet defense
Riding out the day's events
The river
What you say about his company
Is what you say about society
Catch the mist, catch the myth
Catch the mystery, catch the drift
The world is, the world is
Love and life are deep
Maybe as his skies are wide
Today's Tom Sawyer
He gets by on you
And the space he invades
He gets by on you
No, his mind is not for rent
To any God or government
Always hopeful yet discontent
He knows changes aren't permanent
But change is
What you say about his company
Is what you say about society
Catch the witness, catch the wit
Catch the spirit, catch the spit
The world is, the world is
Love and life are deep
Maybe as his eyes are wide
Exit the warrior
Today's Tom Sawyer
He gets by on you
And the energy you trade
He gets right on to the friction of the day -RUSH

Yeah, it's been a while for me too. The best one I remember was living off Valencia street in the Mission district of San Francisco. I dropped, went to sleep for a hour and woke up and the floors literally had mist flowing through the apartment like some sort of ethereal fantasy movie. When I went outside the fence was waving/bending in a mesmerizing way and the houses were continually sinking into the ground. I looked at some flowers and they were infinitely growing. The best part was looking in the mirror, it was like one of those youtube videos where someone takes a photo of them-self every day for a year - every second it was like a different photo of myself except very organic watching myself grow old, bald and with a beard and then back to normal, lol. It was fun, but I'd never do it again without some anti-anxiety pills around for the last 6 hours which I found to be fairly annoying. Plus, as Shpongle puts it "LSD? Do DMT." (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3cgNm_f2ow)

Doesn't Netflix have Dagon and Necronomicron: Book of the Dead? I looove John Carpenter's Apocalypse Trilogy and The Mist RULES! Frank Darabont has also made many a Stephen King flick (Shawshank especially).

Off the top of my head, I would say HP Lovecraft isn't simply about madness driving horrors, it's biological horror, rather than supernatural. So almost anything by David Cronenberg, a lot of Japanese and Korean film, such as Akira, Uzemaki, The Ring movies, (which is based upon a Japanese folklore, but in modern times became biological horror, the Ring is actually a hybrid biological, technological virus), etc.

Also, the Matthew McCant-spell-his-last-name's True Detective breeches the Lovecraftian realm on a subtle and then not so subtle way in the end, such as the concept of "black stars" in a constant daytime of white background. I would say it's pre-Lovecraftian mythos from authors in the 1800s writing nihilistic almost biological horror, more just heavy uncomfortable writing. I can't recall the primary author who inspired Lovecraft beyond Bram Stoker's The Lair of the White Worm.

Anyway. I love horror, thrillers, suspense, nihilism, pulp and gothic literature.

Good questions. My family operates farms for wheat and corn, and I've been involved in that process, so I can take a stab at answering the last bit:

Corn stalks get quite tall -- 6 feet / 2 meters or so. Each stalk usually has 1 or 2 ears of corn. On our farm, the experience I had suggests that each plant needs quite a lot of healthy leaves for Photosynthesis as well as quite a lot of available ground water. Irrigated corn often produces 2-3 times as many bushels per acre as compared to "dryland" / non-irrigated corn.

So the issues I can see potentially clashing between corn production and vertical farming are:

1) You'd have a greater space requirement for layers of corn since you'd need probably 8-10 feet per layer, as compared to what looks like 2-3 feet per layer for leafy vegetables in the video. Approximately one story per layer wouldn't allow for the massive footprint savings like in leafy plants without getting extremely tall, which would be expensive for water pumping etc.

2) Corn root systems are pretty deep to support a tall and relatively bulky stalk. Getting that to bite into a thin layer of fabric / recycled plastic to provide structural support for the plant would be difficult. I think you'd need to have a thicker bottom layer *and* to manually place further support lines on the stalks as the plants grow, which would get very labor intensive and therefore expensive.

3) The vertical nature of a corn stalk suggests that the overhead motion of the sun might be pretty important for getting light exposure onto all of the leaves. Fixed overhead lights might mean that the top leaves get plenty of light but the ones lower on the stalk would be shaded by those above and get nothing -- which isn't a problem if the sun progresses through low angles at sunrise/set to overhead at noon throughout a day. So you might have to have lighting that hits from all sides to account for that with corn, which would again add expense.

4) To maximize the output, corn needs a LOT of water. Pumping that up the vertical expanse to get lots of levels could easily get problematic. Corn will grow without optimal / abundant watering, and their misting system would likely be more efficient than irrigating to add ground water, but the main benefit of vertical farming seems to be high output in a small land footprint on the ground. So without LOTS of water, you'd be limiting that benefit.


So basically, my guess is that vertical farms are a fantastic idea for squat, spread out plants like lettuce, but a lot of the advantages disappear when you're talking about something tall like corn. I could easily be wrong about any/all of that though.

Trade secret method was probably the old school "catch them early in the morning before they swarm and mist the nest with diesel fuel. The vapor penetrates the nest and kills them.

Problem is, it's not exactly legal to mist a few gallons of diesel into the environment. It's a lot cheaper than the foam stuff though.

Sadly I'm going to have to call 'fake'.

First, "project blue beam" is a conspiracy theory idea that claims things like the planes that flew into the twin towers were really holograms, or that there's an alien invasion program creating odd holographic images to confuse humans, or aliens are using holograms to present us with a false messiah/Jesus/Gawd/4 horsemen of the apocalypse. Uh...yeah.
Second, I notice that only a single person in the background audience has a reaction that might be attributed to seeing a whale jump at you, the rest just clap casually.
Third, there are many clear artifacts at the whale's edge where they photoshopped it in.

I wish holograms were at this level today, and they should be, but they aren't. Projecting white into a bright 3D space doesn't work without smoke or mist to project on, and even then it's only really visible when the surroundings are darker.

That's when they go to phase 2:

Replace the water mist with a urine mist.

If she was drinking Moon Mist or Dr. Thunder, I would have promoted this.
(It will still get to #1 without any help though!)

When Morgoth in that day of doom
had slain the trees and filled with gloom
the shining land of Valinor,
there Fëanor and his sons then swore
the mighty oath upon the hill
of tower-crownéd Tún, that still
wrought wars and sorrow in the world.
From darkling seas the fogs unfurled
their blinding shadows grey and cold
where Glingal once had bloomed with gold
and Belthil bore its silver flowers.
The mists were mantled round the towers
of the Elves' white city by the sea.
There countless torches fitfully
did start and twinkle, as the Gnomes
were gathered to their fading homes,
and thronged the long and winding stair
that led to the wide echoing square.

There Fëanor mourned his jewels divine
the Silmarils he made. Like wine
his wild and potent words them fill;
a great host harkens deathly still.
But all he said both wild and wise,
half truth and half the fruit of lies
that Morgoth sowed in Valinor,
in other songs and other lore
recorded is. He bade them flee
from lands divine, to cross the sea,
the pathless plains, the perilous shores
where ice-infested water roars;
to follow Morgoth to the unlit earth
leaving their dwellings and olden mirth;
to go back to the Outer Lands
to wars and weeping. There their hands
they joined in vows, those kinsmen seven,
swearing beneath the stars of Heaven,
by Varda the Holy that them wrought
and bore them each with radiance fraught
and set them in the deeps to flame.
Timbrenting's holy height they name,
whereon are built the timeless halls
of Manwë Lord of Gods. Who calls
these names in witness may not break
his oath, though earth and heaven shake.

Curufin, and Celegorm the fair,
Damrod and Díriel were there,
and Cranthir dark, and Maidros tall
(whom after torment should befall),
and Maglor the mighty who like the sea
with deep voice sings yet mournfully.
'Be he friend or foe, or seed defiled
of Morgoth Bauglir, or mortal child
that in after days on earth shall dwell,
no law, nor love, nor league of hell,
nor might of Gods, nor moveless fate
shall defend him from wrath and hate
of Fëanor's sons, who takes and steals
or finding keeps the Silmarils,
the thrice-enchanted globes of light
that shine until the final night.'

Eärendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow was fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid.

In panoply of ancient kings,
in chainéd rings he armoured him;
his shining shield was scored with runes
to ward all wounds and harm from him;
his bow was made of dragon-horn,
his arrows shorn of ebony,
of silver was his habergeon,
his scabbard of chalcedony;
his sword of steel was valiant,
of adamant his helmet tall,
an eagle-plume upon his crest,
upon his breast an emerald.

Beneath the Moon and under star
he wandered far from northern strands,
bewildered on enchanted ways
beyond the days of mortal lands.
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice
where shadow lies on frozen hills,
from nether heats and burning waste
he turned in haste, and roving still
on starless waters far astray
at last he came to Night of Naught,
and passed, and never sight he saw
of shining shore nor light he sought.
The winds of wrath came driving him,
and blindly in the foam he fled
from west to east and errandless,
unheralded he homeward sped.

There flying Elwing came to him,
and flame was in the darkness lit;
more bright than light of diamond
the fire upon her carcanet.
The Silmaril she bound on him
and crowned him with the living light
and dauntless then with burning brow
he turned his prow; and in the night
from Otherworld beyond the Sea
there strong and free a storm arose,
a wind of power in Tarmenel;
by paths that seldom mortal goes
his boat it bore with biting breath
as might of death across the grey
and long-forsaken seas distressed:
from east to west he passed away.

Through Evernight he back was borne
on black and roaring waves that ran
o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores
that drowned before the Days began,
until he heard on strands of pearl
where ends the world the music long,
where ever-foaming billows roll
the yellow gold and jewels wan.
He saw the Mountain silent rise
where twilight lies upon the knees
of Valinor, and Eldamar
beheld afar beyond the seas.
A wanderer escaped from night
to haven white he came at last,
to Elvenhome the green and fair
where keen the air, where pale as glass
beneath the Hill of Ilmarin
a-glimmer in a valley sheer
the lamplit towers of Tirion
are mirrored on the Shadowmere.

He tarried there from errantry,
and melodies they taught to him,
and sages old him marvels told,
and harps of gold they brought to him.
They clothed him then in elven-white,
and seven lights before him sent,
as through the Calacirian
to hidden land forlorn he went.
He came unto the timeless halls
where shining fall the countless years,
and endless reigns the Elder King
in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;
and words unheard were spoken then
of folk of Men and Elven-kin,
beyond the world were visions showed
forbid to those that dwell therein.

A ship then new they built for him
of mithril and of elven-glass
with shining prow; no shaven oar
nor sail she bore on silver mast:
the Silmaril as lantern light
and banner bright with living flame
to gleam thereon by Elbereth
herself was set, who thither came
and wings immortal made for him,
and laid on him undying doom,
to sail the shoreless skies and come
behind the Sun and light of Moon.

From Evereven's lofty hills
where softly silver fountains fall
his wings him bore, a wandering light,
beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.
From World's End then he turned away,
and yearned again to find afar
his home through shadow journeying,
and burning as an island star
on high above the mists he came,
a distant flame before the Sun,
a wonder ere the waking dawn
where grey the Norland waters run.

And over Middle-earth he passed
and heard at last the weeping sore
of women and of elven-maids
in Elder Days, in years of yore.
But on him mighty doom was laid,
till Moon should fade, an orbéd star
to pass, and tarry never more
on Hither Shores where mortals are;
for ever still a herald on
an errand that should never rest
to bear his shining lamp afar,
the Flammifer of Westernesse.