DIY zombie repellent

[KBCraig]

http://www.boredrigid.com/comments/445-Make-Your-Own-Flamethrower.html

[Brock]

Give that kid a cookie!!

[Crocuta]

I forsee a short, but fun life for this young man.

I couldn't get the A-Team theme song out of my head, though.

[Quantrill]

Nice.  I played trombone in a rock/ska band once and turned my horn into a flamethrower.  A garden sprayer filled with 99.9% isopropyl alcohol that shoots the liquid into an already burning butane torch.  Much cheaper and easier to make, but the flame was nowhere near as cool as this guys'.

[Jim Johnson]

Ya, I wrote a big thing about how that was just dangerous.   :blah:
He could have just hooked a propane bottle to the hose instead of spending time making a tank.  They sell that device, at hardware stores, to melt ice and burn weeds.  As a mater of fact, a small one of those is what he was using as a pilot flame.

But then I'm not making as much money as those guys on Jack-ass.  Or Jack-ass II.

Good luck on your Atmoic bomb.  Shielding is for wimps.   :flaming:

[Pat McCotter]

Atomic bomb? How about just a nice reactor in your backyard?

The Radioactive Boy Scout*
When a teenager attempts to build a breeder reactor.

Harper's Magazine Nov 98

Ken Silverstein

Golf Manor is the kind of place where nothing unusual is supposed to happen, the kind of place where people live precisely because it is more than 25 miles outside of Detroit and all the complications attendant on that city. The kind of place where money buys a bit more land, perhaps a second bathroom, and so reassures residents that they're safely in the bosom of the middle class. Every element of Golf Manor invokes one form of security or another, beginning with the name of the subdivision itself--taken from the 18 hole course at its entrance--and the community in which it is nestled, Commerce Township. The houses and trees are both old and varied enough to make Golf Manor feel more like a neighborhood than a subdivision, and the few features that do convey subdivision--a sign at the entrance saying "We have many children but none to spare. Please drive carefully"--have a certain Back to the Future charm. Most Golf Manor residents remain there until they die, and then they are replaced by young couples with kids. In short, it is the kind of place where, on a typical day, the only thing lurking around the corner is a Mister Softee ice-cream truck.

But June 26, 1995, was not a typical day. Ask Dottie Pease. As she turned down Pinto Drive, Pease saw eleven men swarming across her carefully manicured lawn. Their attention seemed to be focused on the back yard of the house next door, specifically on a large wooden potting shed that abutted the chain-link fence dividing her property from her neighbor's. Three of the men had donned ventilated moon suits and were proceeding to dismantle the potting shed with electric saws, stuffing the pieces of wood into large steel drums emblazoned with radioactive warning signs. Pease had never noticed anything out of the ordinary at the house next door.

A middle-aged couple, Michael Polasek and Patty Hahn, lived there. On some weekends, they were joined by Patty's teenage son, David. As she huddled with a group of nervous neighbors, though, Pease heard one resident claim to have awoken late one night to see the potting shed emitting an eerie glow. "I was pretty disturbed," Pease recalls. "I went inside and called my husband. I said, `Da-a-ve, there are men in funny suits walking around out here. You've got to do something.'"

What the men in the funny suits found was that the potting shed was dangerously irradiated and that the area's 40,000 residents could be at risk. Publicly, the men in white promised the residents of Golf Manor that they had nothing to fear, and to this day neither Pease nor any of the dozen or so people I interviewed knows the real reason that the Environmental Protection Agency briefly invaded their neighborhood. When asked, most mumble something about a chemical spill. The truth is far more bizarre: the Golf Manor Superfund cleanup was provoked by the boy next door, David Hahn, who attempted to build a nuclear breeder reactor in his mother's potting shed as part of a Boy Scout merit-badge project.

...

[KBCraig]

Ya, I wrote a big thing about how that was just dangerous.   :blah:
He could have just hooked a propane bottle to the hose instead of spending time making a tank.  They sell that device, at hardware stores, to melt ice and burn weeds.  As a mater of fact, a small one of those is what he was using as a pilot flame.

Yabbutt... you can't get a 25' stream of flame with a weed burner!

They're great for lighting charcoal, though.

This was a kid project. If he was thinking like a grown man, he'd be using stainless Cornelius kegs, so he could use real napalm. 

[Jim Johnson]

Yabbutt... you can't get a 25' stream of flame with a weed burner!

Drill out the main gas orifice to about a 1/4 inch and call me back with the length of that stream.

[Kat Kanning]

Just as long as never cross the streams!

[KBCraig]

Just as long as never cross the streams!

That would be bad. Extraordinarily bad.

[eques]

Total protonic reversal.