This drone appears to have stacked rotors, spinning in opposite directions. That’s not exactly a new idea. Prop planes have had opposing rotors on their engines going back to Howard Hughes. It certainly solves the problem of having four or six or eight cuisinart blades hanging off your drone, ready to hack at people and things if you get too close. Great stuff.
While I’m not too fond of the inevitable downfall of Western Civilization due to a killer-drone uprising, I will admit that they can make some mighty fine videos. Even the word drone bothers me. I’d much prefer to call the quadcopters or fancy RC helicopters. Drone conjures images of predator drones delivering high doses of explodey freedom to the furthest reaches of the world. I’d rather not use the same term for something my neighbor uses to watch me through my bathroom window while I’m showering.
Fireworks are a man’s best friend. They make dogs look like angry ex girlfriends, except dogs usually don’t burn your clothes after they’re done ripping them up. Fireworks will still burn your clothes, but you can fix that by simply not wearing a shirt. The average BSBFB reader knows enough to start off shirtless, so that problem probably won’t come up.
This might be a surprise to many of you, but I don’t do well on flights. Overall, I’d say my whole relationship with flying is on the rocks. I’m not afraid of heights, or anything like that. While flying at 30,000 feet in a sealed metal tube might not sound like a picnic, I’m not overly concerned about the heights. The TSA doesn’t bother me very much, either. I’m not a fan of the constant cavity searches, but that’s not where I hide my drugs, so it’s never been a problem. All the stories I hear from my friends are what really turn me off to plane travel.