Few industrial activities pose so big a challenge as ship breaking. Reducing a freighter the size of a skyscraper to chunks of steel small enough to melt is dangerous, back-breaking work. It took 80 men armed with cutting torches and Herculean stamina 12 weeks to dismantle the Tristan at a dock near Shanghai last year, a process photographer Raphael Olivier called loud, smelly, and “totally Mad Max.”
Sketch commission for Just-Add-Water! His character Isabelle grows with contact to water, so she’s gotta be careful about where she goes. Today she just wanted a quiet game of golf with her friend Dave, but they chose a bad time.
If you’d like to see a colored version of this sketch, you can visit his page here!
New York City
Hamilton’s face lit up when he spotted the figure walking down the street, and he was quick to intercept, growing a good foot taller out of sheer excitement, “Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, Sir?” He asked, voice giddy.
Burr arched an eyebrow, giving his apparent fan a wary look, “Well, that depends. Who’s asking?”
Hamilton didn’t even have the decency to appear ashamed with approaching Burr so freely, “Oh, well sure, Sir. I’m Alexander Hamilton! I’m at your service, Sir.” He stuck out his hand, which was now easily larger than Burr’s head, “I have been looking for you.”
Burr had been about to shake when he halted, taking a step back with Hamilton’s last words, “I’m getting nervous.” He confessed.
Hamilton lowered his head, honestly a little hurt that his excitement had been so deeply misconstrued, and he began to shrink until he was at level with Burr’s waist, “Sir,” He began, his voice soft, “I heard your name at Princeton. I was seeking an accelerated course of study, when I got sort of out of sorts with a buddy of yours. I may have punched him, it’s a blur, Sir. He handles the financials?”
“You punched the Bursar?”
Burr was honestly now less frightened for his well-being, and now just totally confused by this strange man.
“Yes!” Hamilton snapped his fingers, reminded of the name for such a person, “I wanted to do what you did, graduate in two, and join the revolution. He looked at me like I was stupid!” Hamilton glared at the ground, and began to dwindle once more, muttering, “I’m not stupid.” He sighed, only to find himself at eye level with Burr’s knees, “So how’d you do it? How’d you graduate so fast?”
Burr shrugged, “It was my parents’ dying wish before they passed.” He lowered himself slowly to his knees, almost as if to console the miniature man.
Hamilton gasped in delight, and the speed at which he returned to normal height knocked Burr into the dirt, “You’re an orphan! Of course! I’m an orphan! God, I wish there was a war. Then we could prove that we’re worth more than anyone bargained for.” He held out his hand to help Burr to his feet.
Burr accepted the help, dusting himself off. This immigrant was too innocent, too naïve, to understand how that plan would get him shot, so he decided to take him under his wing. Gesturing to a nearby pub, he asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”
Hamilton nodded, following Burr into a dimly lit room that reeked of sweat and alcohol, “That would be nice.”
Burr ordered and pressed a glass into Hamilton’s palm, “And while we’re talking, let me offer you some free advice.” He laid his hand on Hamilton’s narrow shoulder, “Talk less.”
Hamilton looked at Burr like he hadn’t heard him right, feeling the hand begin to grow as he dropped inches, “What?“ "Smile more.” Burr knew how hard it must be to hear it, but some things just had to be said.
“Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”
“You can’t be serious.” Hamilton struggled to hold his glass in both hands, bending over to rest it on the ground and lean against it.
Burr sighed and offered Hamilton a sympathetic smile, “You wanna get ahead?”
“Yes.” Hamilton spoke loudly so that his companion could hear him.
“Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead.” Burr was barely able to finish his thought before a loud outburst erupted from a nearby table, forcing Hamilton to cover his ears.
“Ah y-yo, y-yo, yo! What time is it?!” Laurens yelled, standing on a wooden bench and swinging his bottle like a conductor’s baton.
Mulligan and Lafayette grinned from ear to ear, “Show time!” They chorused.
Burr shook his head, especially when Hamilton returned to normal, clearly showing a sort of excited surprise that was slowly becoming expected of the young immigrant, “Like I said…”
Laurens clambered onto the top of the table, “Show time, show time! Yo! I’m John Laurens in the place to be! Two pint of Sam Adams but I’m working on three!” He took a large swig of beer before making finger guns, “Ha! Those Redcoats don’t want it with me ‘cause I will pop-chicka-prop these cops ‘till I’m free!”
Lafayette joined his friend on the table, playfully shoving him back to the floor to sit down, “Oui, oui, mon ami. Je m'appelle Lafayette, the Lancelot of the revolutionary set.” He strutted on the table like he was modeling, twirling about in such a way that his coat fanned around him, “I came from afar just to say bonsoir. To the king, 'Casse toi.’” He flipped off the imaginary king, “Who is the best? C'est moi.” He blew a kiss to Mulligan and leapt to the floor.
Mulligan rolled his eyes and grinned, “Brah, brah. I am Hercules Mulligan. Up in it, lovin’ it, yes, I heard your mother say, 'Come again!’” He wrapped an arm around both Laurens and Lafayette, “Lock up your daughters and horses. Of course, it’s hard to have intercourse over four sets of corsets.”
“Wow, no more sex.” Laurens laughed, and lifted his half-empty glass into the air, calling to the bartender, “Pour me another brew, Son!” Before talking to his friends, “Let’s raise a couple more!” And they both joined him in shouting at the top of their lungs, “To the revolution!” Before Laurens noticed a man so large that he had to kneel just to fit in the rickety old building, and then he spotted the know-it-all in front of him. He gave Burr a a warm smile, “Well, if it ain’t the prodigy of Princeton College!”
Mulligan glanced over, “Aaron Burr.” He nodded.
“Give us a verse, drop some knowledge!” Laurens requested, hoping that Burr had better insight on the revolution.
Burr grimaced at the very notion, “Good luck with that, you’re taking a stand. You spit, Imma sit, we’ll see where we land.”
Laurens spoke over his booing friends, practically indignant, “Burr, the revolution’s imminent. What do you stall for?”
Hamilton finally spoke up, keeping his voice quiet to not hurt the ears of those around him, “If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?”
Laurens blinked in surprise, “Who are you?”
Mulligan took a brave step forward to the giant, “Who are you?”
Lafayette, however, was the first to stand directly in front of the mass of man, “Who are you?” He parroted before looking back at his friends, and speaking at the same time as them, “Who’s this kid? What’s he gonna do?”
In which Hamilton and Burr are sizechangers, based on their emotions. Unfortunately, Hamilton doesn’t know how to control his emotions. I don’t know if I’ll do the rest of the album, but I felt like doing this in between making a Rainbow Quartz cosplay and possibly contracting tetanus. Anyhoo, thanks to @ittybittyhammy for the idea.
“Few of the ammonites occurring in the lower and middle part of the Jurassic period reached a size exceeding 23 cm (9 in) in diameter. Much larger forms are found in the later rocks of the upper part of the Jurassic and the lower part of the Cretaceous, such as Titanites from the Portland Stone of Jurassic of southern England, which is often 53 cm (2 ft) in diameter, and Parapuzosia seppenradensis of the Cretaceous period of Germany, which is one of the largest known ammonites, sometimes reaching 2 m (6.5 ft) in diameter. The largest documented North American ammonite is Parapuzosia bradyi from the Cretaceous, with specimens measuring 137 cm (4.5 ft) in diameter.”
In the 1800s, atheist George Hull had an
argument with a Christian over whether
giants once roamed the earth. Deciding
that people will believe anything in the
Bible, Hull carved a statue of a giant man,
made it appear petrified, and buried it in
Cardiff, NY. He waited over a year before
unearthing the ‘Cardiff Giant’, charged
people to come see it, and by the time
it was revealed as a hoax, he’d made
today’s equivalent of $430,000. Source
In January of 2013, the ocean off the
coast of Onslow, Australia, turned into
a giant beer. What looked like a huge
wall of foamy, amber-colored ale was
actually just a thunderstorm, which had
picked up so much dust that the wind
and rain dumped it all out as it blew by. Source