u/denalidenizen

While this may sound unbelievable, it's the truth. This happened back around 1966. I was a freshman or possibly sophomore in high school. A student had recently arrived at our school from Alabama if I recall correctly but it might have been Mississippi. He and I became friends. Critically, in Alabama (we'll go with that) it was legal to buy fireworks. No so in my northern mid-western state.
Our family rarely went on outings together but on this weekend our parents suggested we all go to a not-too-far away state park and I was encouraged to invite Steve. He was a very polite young southern boy who always said yes mam and yes sir. My folks thought that was very classy.
The park was was not a fancy place. It was out of the way, in the "sticks" as they say. There was a hand pump for water and wooden out houses for..well...you know what they are for. There were several picnic benches scattered around for visitors.
I had been raised in a home with a hand water pump and in fact we also had an outhouse. It was a nice little home on a small, beautiful lake. Our outhouse was a two-hole. This becomes important in a moment. Obviously it was desirable to do ones business alone but when push came to shove the other hole was, and should remain, available to another person should the need arise.
Cue the double hole outhouse at the park. One of us, and I don't recall which one, needed to use the outhouse but much to our displeasure there was somebody in it and he had the audacity to have locked it. The nerve. We could tell it was some guy - but at this point I don't remember how we knew that.
We were a bit put out and as we walked away my friend, who I'll call Steve noticed that on the upper side of the outhouse the mesh was gone.
Out houses typically have some mesh along the ceiling to allow air to move through but keep flies out. This outhouse had none.
Now for the good stuff. Steve had brought an assortment of fireworks, chief among them were cherry bombs from Alabama. He had what seemed to be an endless supply which we had used in a variety of devious ways previously. They are quite the big boom. We used them at times to go fishing. Toss a cherry bomb into a lake and boom...good chance you'd get a fish or two floating up. Dinner. We had done exactly that at the lake where I had been born but no longer lived at.
I should mention Steve was built like a line backer. Well... a short one...but beefy and muscular. Me? Not so much. So the plan that evolved was I would get on his shoulders, he would light a cherry bomb and hand it to me, and I would toss it into the outhouse on the floor. It would not kill the guy...maybe his ears would ring...but he'd live. Good joke. Serves him right!
So I got on Steve's shoulders; he lit the cherry bomb and tossed it to me.
At this point I have to mention the fellow was on the far side of the two holer. I was nervous with a cherry bomb burning down to it's inevitable conclusion so I just wanted to get rid of it ASAP! I tossed it onto the floor...but I didn't. It went it the hole next to us. Next to him. Next to our unwitting, unplanned, unintended vicim. Having rid myself of the danger, I jumped off Steve's shoulders and we ran for our lives. We didn't get too far before the explosion exploded.
We turned around at the sound of the explosion, running at full tilt bogey, just in time to see the door to the outhouse explode off it's hinges and the man inside virtually fly out with his pants around his ankles. I hadn't had time to mention to Steve that the guy was sitting there on the crapper with his head down. He was, and he was paying the price.
The explosion brought forth the contents below him up up up and between his legs where it continued its journey and met his face and torso in an unworldy gruesome manner. The choking, screaming brown painted fellow flying through the air was a sight that immediately caused us to fall to the ground laughing so hard we thought we'd die, but we knew we had to get out of there. This was not a populated place but of course we were not going to hang around, nor did we want to return directly to our family at their picnic table so we circled around and approached from the other direction.
My mother exclaimed about the explosion and I'm sure we said something like, "yeah...that was loud. what happened". Nobody knew.
It didn't take long for us to feel really bad about what happened. The laughter was entirely inappropriate although we would not have been able to express that, we knew on some level it was true. What we DID discuss was what in the hell did this guy do to get home? Simply get in his car and drive away? Go to the water pump and leave behind a trail of human waste? Did he know a cherry bomb or some such thing had dropped into the other hole or did he perhaps think that the vast bucket of human wast below him spontaneously exploded? We never learned and that's just as well.

Steve and I had a few other episodes worthy of a story but those will have to wait. Sixty years ago. Quite something. I got stories. Please feel free to call BS on this. It always makes me chuckle when one of my little adventures is so out there that people just don't believe it :).

I'm really motivated. I've put in several hours but every attempt to follow what seem to be really excellent, sometimes hour long youtube tutorials results in getting to the point where the instructors says something like, "and here is..." or "choosing this..." or "then click on this..." and my window has no such thing and I can't find it in any menu and everything that goes after that point is impossible for me to do. I got over an hour into a video and boom! My window didn't match. Couldn't continue. I deleted Resolve entirely and reinstalled but at some point ended up in a similar situation. Then I went to another training only to find the same thing. It might be a mismatch in versions (I'm on the current 20 on a Mac) or maybe a difference between Mac and PC?? I'm ready to give up but thought I'd beg for your thoughts and ideas on this problem. I can't be alone in this. Can I :) ?

My Swans Come Home

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How do you carry your 360?

360 props