Tag: flying machines

JUNE 8, 1988: THE EYES OF JAPAN ARE UPON YOU

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Japanese carrier All-Nippon Airways announced in 1988 that painting eyeballs on its jets cut bird collisions by 20 percent. The menacing-looking eyes painted on the engine intakes of its jet aircraft frightened away the birds, preventing them from throwing themselves at the plane during takeoff.

This conclusion was drawn after a controlled experiment in which the Japanese domestic

Another misstep: passengers in the rear compartment complained about congestion and lousy meals, passengers up front (ten to a wing) were annoyed by collisions with birds
Another misstep: passengers in the rear compartment complained about congestion and lousy meals, passengers up front (ten to a wing) were annoyed by collisions with birds

airline painted the evil eyes on 26 of its Boeing 747’s and 767’s, leaving the rest of its fleet eyeless. After a year, an average of only one bird had hit each of the eyeballed engines while nine birds struck each unpainted engine.

The airline estimated that the reduction in bird strikes during the testing period reduced the damage to its aircraft from $910,000 to $720,000. Consequently, All-Nippon said it would paint eyes on all its large-body aircraft.

Continuing its program of thinking outside the fuselage to reduce costs, the company in 2009 planned to ask all passengers to use restrooms before boarding. During a four-week test, agents at the gates suggested that passengers use terminal restrooms to relieve themselves before getting on the plane. All-Nippon’s bathroom experiment was a way to cut fuel consumption, thereby resulting in decreased carbon emissions and lower costs. Travelers, however, did not warm up to the plan, finding it embarrassing and offensive. The plan went the way of the eyeballs. Oh yeah, the eyeballs were removed from planes in 2000 because – well, the company didn’t say why – just eye strain, perhaps.

The Killer Bee Chronicles Continue

When last we visited our gang of killer bees (yesterday) they were holding our happy home hostage. Having attacked me and left me swollen up like a giant bullfrog, they were celebrating, getting a real buzz on, so to

Killer bees at two o’clock

speak.

The hive, I might point out, was in the wall behind our bed. They were in there – not just a handful but a whole  army – trying to tunnel their way through the plaster and lath to mount a massive shock and awe attack as we slept.

They might have been the depraved, cowardly black hats from a vintage western movie who have driven the last bit of law and order out of town. We needed that staple of vintage westerns, the guy in the white hat on a silver horse – the guy who would ride in during the last reel to vanquish the evildoers and save the day in an action-packed climax.

Enter the Beebusters. They didn’t exactly ride in in the last reel and race to an action-packed climax. They studied a lot. They took pictures. They discussed, made plans, took more pictures.

Finally, after an eternity of waiting, the day of reckoning arrived. The Beebusters themselves arrived late morning with loads of paraphernalia and a plan. First they would seal off our bedroom. Then from the outside, they would seal off the entrance so that no one could enter or leave. Then they would open up the wall and start vacuuming like crazy, capturing the critters in their specially rigged shopvac. It

Beebusters at work

sounded a bit reckless to me, but I wasn’t vacuuming, so let them be reckless.

I should point out that it’s all about the Queen Bee who sits on her throne inside the hive while all the drones bow a lot and buzz “Yes your majesty. How high, your majesty?”  If the Beebusters can capture this Queen Bee, all the obsequious, bootlicking drones will follow her wherever she goes (Sort of like the obsequious, bootlicking Republicans bowing before Queen Donald).

But what if you can’t find the Queen Bee, I asked. It seems they were prepared for this possibility. They would use a make-believe queen if necessary. The little girls from across the street both began jumping up and down and shouting “I want to be a make-believe queen. I want to be a make-believe queen.” until we hosed them down and got on with our work. The make-believe queen is actually a drone in drag who will lure his fellow drones into “The Box.”

“The Box”

“Come into the box, my dears. It’s nice in the box. Nothing bad in here. Just me. And I’m sooo hot. C’mon handsome. Fly right in and we’ll have such a good time.” They will eagerly follow this siren into the bowels of “The Box” just as if he were the real thing. Bees are industrious, but they’re none too smart.

It was a big job – there were approximately 43,267 bees in our wall, and the Beebusters were able to bring most of them back alive. They now live in a pleasant retirement community on a farm far, far away.

But the killer bees hadn’t been gone two weeks when I discovered a gigantic anthill in one of our flower beds. Radioactive fallout and steroids have made the ants themselves monstrous, capable of carrying off small dogs and children. We gave them the little girls from across the street and a few strays that wandered into the yard, but they’re not satisfied. Does anyone know where I can get a giant anteater?

APRIL 3, 1667: THE LIONS ARE COMING, THE LIONS ARE COMING

Posted on by rdaybell

In addition to being a member of the British peerage, Edward, Marquis of Worcester, who died on April 3, 1667, was a bit of a dabbler, a sort of ersatz inventor, and author of an odd little book witn the catchy title A Century of the names and scantlings of such inventions as at present I can call to mind to have tried and perfected. The book, written some ten years earlier, describes, as the title suggests, a hundred speculative projects, none of them, however, detailed enough to allow a reader to actually put them into practice: secret writing with peculiar inks, explosive devices that would sink any ship, ships that would resist any explosive devices, floating gardens, a method to prevent sands from shifting, automatic assault pistols and cannons, a timer for lighting candles at any time during the night, a hundred-foot pocket ladder, flying machines.

Although many of his ideas foreshadowed later inventions, it is unclear whether he had thought through the methods by which they would work. One idea was put to work with success although unusually so. As the owner of Raglan Castle, he had constructed some hydraulic engines and wheels for bringing water from the moat to the top of the castle tower.  During the Civil War, Roundheads (supporters of Oliver Cromwell with bad haircuts) had approached the castle with not the best of intentions. The Marquis had his waterworks put into play. “There was such a roaring,” he later wrote, “that the unwelcome visitors stood transfixed, not knowing what to make of it.” On cue, one of the Marquis’ men came running toward them shouting that the lions were loose. The intruders tumbled over one another down the stairs in an effort to escape, never looking back until the castle was out sight.

Edward suggested that when he died, a model of his engine should be buried with him: “I call this a Semi Omnipotent Engine, and do intend that a model thereof be buried with me.”[

Fast Forward Four Hundred Years

And another ersatz inventor with a bad haircut.  Dean Kamen was mostly a master of hype. Among his contributions to society are an all-terrain electric wheelchair and a device that uses compressed air to launch SWAT teams to the roofs of tall buildings in a single bound.  Interestingly enough, Kamen’s father was an illustrator for Mad and Weird Science.

The most famous of his inventions by far was a closely guarded secret that he claimed would change the world when made public. Unveiled in 2001 to major drumrolls, the Segway is an electric, self-balancing human transporter. It landed pretty much with a thud.  Adding insult, Time Magazine included the Segway at the top of its list of the 50 worst inventions.

British entrepreneur Jimi Heseleden begged to differ. He bought the Segway company in 2010. Unfortunately, he died that same year when he fell off a cliff while riding his Segway.

Listen Up Roundheads

The aforementioned Time list of the worst inventions included such sure-fire ideas as Hair in a Can (you spray it on, guys), Tanning Beds,  Smell-o-Vision, Hula Chair and Venetian-Blind Sunglasses. The Almanac has visited some of these in the past and will visit others in the future.

APRIL 3, 1667: THE LIONS ARE COMING, THE LIONS ARE COMING

Posted on by Richard Daybell

In addition to being a member of the British peerage, Edward, Marquis of Worcester, who died on April 3, 1667, was a bit of a dabbler, a sort of ersatz inventor, and author of an odd little book called A Century of Inventions. The book, written some ten years earlier, describes, as the title suggests, a hundred speculative projects, none of them, however, detailed enough to allow a reader to actually put them into practice: secret writing with peculiar inks, explosive devices that would sink any ship, ships that would resist any explosive devices, floating gardens, a method to prevent sands from shifting, automatic assault pistols and cannons, a timer for lighting candles at any time during the night, a hundred-foot pocket ladder, flying machines.

Although many of his ideas foreshadowed later inventions, it is unclear whether he had thought through the methods by which they would work. One idea was put to work with success although unusually so. As the owner of Raglan Castle, he had constructed some hydraulic engines and wheels for bringing water from the moat to the top of the castle tower.  During the Civil War, Roundheads had approached the castle with not the best of intentions. The Marquis had his waterworks put into play. “There was such a roaring,” he later wrote, “that the unwelcome visitors stood transfixed, not knowing what to make of it.” On cue, one of the Marquis’ men came running toward them shouting that the lions were loose. The intruders tumbled over one another down the stairs in an effort to escape, never looking back until the castle was out sight.

Fifty more clever ideas

The Marquis’ 100 nifty inventions most likely did not inspire Time Magazine to create its list of inventions at the turn of this century, although it could have.  The Time list heralded fifty creations that it called the worst of all time.  Wretched Richards Almanac has visited some of these in the past and will visit others in the future (like on April 5).  The list includes such sure-fire ideas as Hair in a Can, Tanning Beds, Venetian-Blind Sunglasses, Smell-o-Vision, Hula Chair and many more.

 

 

JUNE 8, 1988: THE EYES OF JAPAN ARE UPON YOU

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Japanese carrier All-Nippon Airways announced in 1988 that painting eyeballs on its jets cut bird collisions by 20 percent. The menacing-looking eyes painted on the engine intakes of its jet aircraft frightened away the birds, preventing them from throwing themselves at the plane during takeoff.

This conclusion was drawn after a controlled experiment in which the Japanese domestic

Another misstep: passengers in the rear compartment complained about congestion and lousy meals, passengers up front (ten to a wing) were annoyed by collisions with birds
Another misstep: passengers in the rear compartment complained about congestion and lousy meals, passengers up front (ten to a wing) were annoyed by collisions with birds

airline painted the evil eyes on 26 of its Boeing 747’s and 767’s, leaving the rest of its fleet eyeless. After a year, an average of only one bird had hit each of the eyeballed engines while nine birds struck each unpainted engine.

The airline estimated that the reduction in bird strikes during the testing period reduced the damage to its aircraft from $910,000 to $720,000. Consequently, All-Nippon said it would paint eyes on all its large-body aircraft.

Continuing its program of thinking outside the fuselage to reduce costs, the company in 2009 planned to ask all passengers to use restrooms before boarding. During a four-week test, agents at the gates suggested that passengers use terminal restrooms to relieve themselves before getting on the plane. All-Nippon’s bathroom experiment was a way to cut fuel consumption, thereby resulting in decreased carbon emissions and lower costs. Travelers, however, did not warm up to the plan, finding it embarrassing and offensive. The plan went the way of the eyeballs. Oh yeah, the eyeballs were removed from planes in 2000 because – well, the company didn’t say why – just eye strain, perhaps.

The Killer Bee Chronicles Continue

When last we visited our gang of killer bees (yesterday) they were holding our happy home hostage. Having attacked me and left me swollen up like a giant bullfrog, they were celebrating, getting a real buzz on, so to

Killer bees at two o’clock

speak.

The hive, I might point out, was in the wall behind our bed. They were in there – not just a handful but a whole  army – trying to tunnel their way through the plaster and lath to mount a massive shock and awe attack as we slept.

They might have been the depraved, cowardly black hats from a vintage western movie who have driven the last bit of law and order out of town. We needed that staple of vintage westerns, the guy in the white hat on a silver horse – the guy who would ride in during the last reel to vanquish the evildoers and save the day in an action-packed climax.

Enter the Beebusters. They didn’t exactly ride in in the last reel and race to an action-packed climax. They studied a lot. They took pictures. They discussed, made plans, took more pictures.

Finally, after an eternity of waiting, the day of reckoning arrived. The Beebusters themselves arrived late morning with loads of paraphernalia and a plan. First they would seal off our bedroom. Then from the outside, they would seal off the entrance so that no one could enter or leave. Then they would open up the wall and start vacuuming like crazy, capturing the critters in their specially rigged shopvac. It

Beebusters at work

sounded a bit reckless to me, but I wasn’t vacuuming, so let them be reckless.

I should point out that it’s all about the Queen Bee who sits on her throne inside the hive while all the drones bow a lot and buzz “Yes your majesty. How high, your majesty?”  If the Beebusters can capture this Queen Bee, all the obsequious, bootlicking drones will follow her wherever she goes (Sort of like the obsequious, bootlicking Republicans bowing before Queen Donald).

But what if you can’t find the Queen Bee, I asked. It seems they were prepared for this possibility. They would use a make-believe queen if necessary. The little girls across the street both began jumping up and down and shouting “I want to be a make-believe queen. I want to be a make-believe queen.” until we hosed them down and got on with our work. The make-believe queen is actually a drone in drag who will lure his fellow drones into “The Box.”

“The Box”

“Come into the box, my dears. It’s nice in the box. Nothing bad in here. Just me. And I’m sooo hot. C’mon handsome. Fly right in and we’ll have such a good time.” They will eagerly follow this siren into the bowels of “The Box” just as if he were the real thing. Bees are industrious, but they’re none too smart.

It was a big job – there were approximately 43,267 bees in our wall, and the Beebusters were able to bring most of them back alive. They now live in a pleasant retirement community on a farm far, far away.

But the killer bees hadn’t been gone two weeks when I discovered a gigantic anthill in one of our flower beds. Radioactive fallout and steroids have made the ants themselves monstrous, capable of carrying off small dogs and children. We gave them the little girls from across the street and a few strays that wandered into the yard, but they’re not satisfied. Does anyone know where I can get a giant anteater?