STUFF: News, Technology, the cool and the plain weird

[MIKA27]

The Absolutely Insane $700 Billion Idea To Fix LA Traffic? Tunnels!

A few weeks ago LA unveiled a sweeping new transportation vision for the city that will swap car-centric planning with more transit, biking, and walking. But a different plan says getting people out of their cars is not the solution. What we really need, are more places for those cars to go. UNDERGROUND.

Last week, the Reason Foundation released its own $US700 billion mobility plan for LA. The plan relies heavily on a future of cars, so many more cars, and so much more land devoted to cars, including at least seven major tunnels that will burrow their way below the city’s mountain ranges connecting one gigantor freeway to another.

New tunnels will slice through the Santa Monica Mountains where people can sit in traffic underground

Don’t like driving? Too bad. There isn’t a cent allocated to light-rail or subway projects:

If they need the flexibility of the automobile, they can use the general purpose lanes for free or pay to use the free-flowing express lanes. If they want to take transit, they can choose fast, reliable region-wide bus rapid transit and express bus.

Let me translate: Angelenos don’t deserve the extremely affordable state-of-the-art rail network that’s being built out for them, so they should spend more of their income on a car payment instead. Oh, and if they can’t afford the pricey express lanes, they will simply sit in traffic with everyone else.

A series of double-decker tunnels will be able to stick at least four lanes of traffic underground

Right, did I forget to mention that part? To pay for all of this, those new tunnels will become toll roads!

Besides the fact that it’s been scientifically proven that wider roads actually makes congestion worse, LA has its own failed case study in this area: The city spent five years and $US1.1 billion to add two lanes to its 405 Freeway and travel times were increased by one minute.

Why stop with the existing freeways? The plan also includes turning smaller LA streets into “managed arterials” — essentially mini-freeways with tolls and some sections that are, yep, underground

The city has made tremendous gains over the last decade with better footpaths, more bike lanes, and some of the most ambitious rail construction in the country. This $US700 billion idea sounds like it was conceived in the 1960s, during the city’s brief love affair with seemingly infinite fossil fuels and prioritising vehicles over people. It’s nice for these “plans” to come along every once in a while to help us realise just how far LA has come.

[MIKA27]

Fifty Years Ago France Launched Its First Satellite, Astérix

European Space History has just posted this awesome movie poster-like orange-blue launch photo of a historic space event that took place on November 26 way back in 1965.

Fifty years ago, France launched its first satellite to low Earth orbit on a Diamant A rocket from the Joint Center for Special Weapons Testing of Hammaguir, Algeria.

With this step, France became the sixth nation — after USSR, USA, Canada, UK and Italy — to have a satellite in orbit, and the third to launch its own. The military satellite was originally called A-1 (the French Army’s first satellite), but was later was renamed to Astérix, after the popular French comic character.

The satellite reached it planned orbit, but its antennae were damaged during the separation of the fairing, so the satellite remained silent. Nonetheless, Asterix is still with us due to the relatively high altitude of its orbit, and is not expected to re-enter Earth’s atmosphere for the next few hundred years.

Here’s the full shot of the launch.

[MIKA27]

Here's The Drone Footage Of That Smokestack Demolition Gone Horribly Wrong

After two unsuccessful attempts to topple a 115-year-old chimney stack with explosives, construction worker Tim Phifer from Pell City, Alabama, decided to bring it down with a backhoe. Bad idea.

The 1.18 million kilogram, 48m tall smokestack did not come down as planned, falling right on top of the excavator. Incredibly, Phifer walked away with only a covering of soot and a few scratches.

ABC reports:

Members of his team instantly rushed in to help, including Phifer’s daughter, Allie Phifer, who was desperately trying to reach him.

“I remember being halfway across the field just looking at him,” his daughter recalled. “I had to stop and I was like, ‘I don’t know if he made it and I can’t make it that much closer.'”

But moments later, one of his team members threw his arm victoriously into the air, giving everyone a thumbs up as Phifer emerged from the rubble.

“I’ve had some stuff go wrong but not like this,” Phifer said.

Phifer claims his decision to stay in the cab, which is designed “to turn over on top of it,” probably saved his life.

MIKA: Take note all... This is the face of someone who just S**t his pants.

[MIKA27]

A Rare Glimpse Of NASA's Prettiest Research Aeroplanes Flying Together

Last week, residents of the Houston area had a rare opportunity to watch a historic aviation event: the formation flight of three WB-57 research aircraft. Why historic? Well, November 19 was the first time that all three of NASA’s WB-57s have been aloft simultaneously since the early 1970s.

The WB-57 was developed from the Martin B-57 Canberra USAF jet bomber in order to fly research missions. NASA explains:

These fully operational WB-57 aircraft are based near NASA’s Johnson Space Center at Ellington Field, home of the NASA WB-57 High Altitude Research Program, which provides unique, high-altitude airborne platforms to support scientific research and advanced technology development and testing. Mission examples include atmospheric and earth science, ground mapping, cosmic dust collection, rocket launch support, and testbed operations for future airborne or spaceborne systems.

The B-57 bombers were retired in 1983, only three flightworthy WB-57Fs remained. Below are a few more photos of the event.

[MIKA27]

The Sinking Of The Titanic Inspired Countless Movies And One Great Invention

The sinking of the RMS Titanic in 1912 shocked the world and inspired countless movies. But there was one scientist who was inspired to come up with something no modern ship would be without: sonar.

There’s some debate about exactly what influences shaped what was originally known as the Fessenden Oscillator. But we wouldn’t have this technology without Reginald Fessenden, a scientist and teacher working for the Submarine Signal Company of Boston in 1913. Fessenden was known for his work with radio, both in academia and at private companies. As more of the world took the sea, and as boats got faster, demand for reliable communication between boats increased.

This was made evident by the sinking of the Titanic. Ships needed to communicate their distress with any available help. People had considered doing this by sending signals through the air. The Fessenden Oscillator let them send signals through the ocean.

The oscillator that Fessenden came up with was essentially a drum-like container. On one side of the “drum” was a little chamber filled with a magnetic field induced by a direct electric current. On the other side of the drum was a metal plate. Connecting the two was a copper tube. Fessenden used alternating current in the tube to create a second oscillating magnetic field, which when exposed to the magnetic field in the chamber, pushed the tube and the metal plate back and forth at nearly any frequency desired.

These oscillations produced sound waves, which carried through the water. When the Submarine Signal Company first put the oscillator on the market in 1913, they advertised it primarily as a means of communication. The communication went both ways. The device could pick up acoustic vibration from the ocean and translate that into messages. Fessenden, when testing the device, realised it picked up more than just deliberate signals. It picked up echoes, especially if the sound waves it produced bounced off a large mass, like a submarine or an ice berg.

It took quite a long time for Fessenden’s invention to be accepted as the earliest method of sonar. The company considered using it as a warning system from the beginning, but the device’s first trial runs — conducted a year after the patent for the device as a signalling system was issued — gave muddled signals, including signals bounced off the bottom of the ocean.

The technology inevitably improved, and sonar caught on. Sadly, Fessenden’s glorious name did not catch on, and so when we refer to sonar we use an acronym (SOund Navigation And Ranging) instead of a much better actualnym.

[MIKA27]

Italians Try to Rid Themselves of a Royal Ghost

When there’s something strange in your neighborhood, you’re gonna call a ghostbuster. When the ghost belongs to a former king who was banished for life from your country, you may need a bigger buster. That’s the case in Asti, Italy, where the ghost of King Umberto II is becoming a royal pain in the Asti.

King Umberto II at work during his brief reign

There have been at least four sightings of what most witnesses believe to be the ghost of King Umberto II of Savoy since 2011, either at City Hall or in nearby Piazza San Secondo. The most recent occurred in early November 2015 when an Asti city employee claimed she had a conversation with the king in a City Hall office. That was preceded by a sighting in September by a shopkeeper and another person. Prior to that, the king’s ghost was spotted in 2012 and 2011. All of the witnesses say the king is dressed as a commoner and appears at around 8 p.m.

Asti City Hall (left) and San Secondo Church in the Piazza San Secondo

Born in 1904, Umberto was the only son of King Victor Emmanuel III of Italy and Queen Elena of Montenegro. They were members of the House of Savoy, which reigned over the Savoy regions of France, Italy, and Switzerland since 1003. After World War II and the fall of Mussolini, King Victor Emmanuel abdicated the throne to Umberto in hopes of saving the monarchy. Umberto’s reign lasted just a month when Italians voted to form a republic. Umberto was banished and forbidden by the constitution from ever returning to Italy. He lived in Portugal and died in 1983.

Why has the ghost of King Umberto II returned to Italy and specifically to Asti? Some witnesses report that the apparition asks about a family in Asti he was acquainted with. Ghost hunters from National Ghost Undercover have been brought in and they think it may to do with the upcoming 70th anniversary of the king’s banishment on June 13th, 2016. Maybe they should see if the king left town at 8 pm.

Italians want the ghost of Umberto out because some hatred and fear of the monarchy still remains. Although Umberto fought with the Allies against Mussolini, many blame the royals, particularly his father, for Mussolini’s rise to power in the first place and the disgrace brought to Italy by World War II.

The team from National Ghost Undercover arrived at Asti City Hall on November 25th and, after detecting the presence of the ghost, recommended the installation of surveillance cameras to capture the image of Umberto.

Will they be able to rid City Hall and Italy of the ghost of Umberto II? That remains to be seen.

[Habana Mike]

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Order now with the BIGMOUTH20 CyberMonday promotion code and get 20% off! Helluva deal!!!!

[MIKA27]

The Story of Orion: Elvis Presley’s Mysterious, Masked Doppelganger Who Hoodwinked the World

In 1978, as the world mourned the loss of Elvis Aaron Presley, a velvet-voiced doppelganger arrived on the scene to claim his place in the hearts and minds of America. Shortly after charting a meteoric rise to fame in the ghostly shadows of Elvis’s legacy, however, one of rock history’s most curious oddities disappeared into obscurity—the victim of a ruthless recording industry, his own ambitions, and the very voice that briefly brought his life uncannily close to the King of Rock and Roll.

Orion Eckley Darnell was a tall drink of water who hailed from Ribbonsville, Tennessee, and sounded, eerily, exactly like the recently departed Presley. He burst out of nowhere into the music world the year after the icon’s death first by lending his gentle Southern drawl to a Jerry Lee Lewis album of duets, crooning “Save The Last Dance For Me” with an unmistakably Elvis-like timbre.

To Elvis fans the music had an ethereal quality, as if they were hearing an Elvis song they never knew existed. So soon after losing Presley to a drug-fueled heart attack at the age of 42, it seemed the impossible had happened: Elvis was alive and well, singing to his adoring public from beyond the grave.

The record was a smash and Elvis’s own label saw the potential. Borrowing unabashedly from a fantasy novel about a rock ’n’ roller who fakes his own death to escape the pitfalls of fame, Sun Records soon introduced the man behind the voice in Reborn, an album whose cover shamelessly depicted an Elvis-like figure crawling out of a coffin back onto the stage.

Orion started making public appearances, always wearing bejeweled masks that obscured his face—Elvis meets Zorro, with a dash of Liberace sparkle. Hot-blooded masculinity coursed through his limber frame, clad in the silk shirts and polyester wing suits of Elvis in his prime. Fame, record sales, and an endless string of groupies soon followed. Orion was on his way to stardom.

There was just one problem: There was no Orion. There never had been. Orion’s hometown of Ribbonsville, Tennessee, was as made-up as his fictional biography and as nonexistent as Dixieland, the Graceland-esque mansion he supposedly lived in, and where fans could send him mail.

The man behind the mask was really a Southern hopeful named Jimmy Ellis, the adopted son of a horse farmer from Orrville, Alabama. He’d grown up dreaming of a career in music but didn’t get a real shot until late in life, when Sun Records owner Shelby Singleton conspired to capitalize on posthumous Elvis mania by launching an elaborate pop fantasy around the character of Orion—a gimmick that worked all too well, as a frustrated Ellis eventually realized.

His bizarre and colorful saga is chronicled in Orion: The Man Who Would Be King, a documentary hitting theaters Dec. 4 that finally gives the spotlight to Ellis, not Elvis, and examines how he became trapped by his own talent and ambition.

The film recounts Ellis’s early life in Alabama, interviewing old friends who recall a gifted young man who surprised everyone when he opened his mouth to sing. Presley’s voice poured right out of Ellis, whose natural born talents led him to pursue a recording career under his own name in 1964. But early brushes with opportunity escaped him. After going to college, he returned home to learn the family business.

Ellis married, divorced, remarried, and re-divorced—a precursor to his famously tumultuous relationships with women, the film hints—but his restless soul never lost sight of his real dream. He moved to Los Angeles, only to reluctantly return home again after spending all of his money on groomers, choreographers, and training he’d hoped would help turn him into a star.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime confluence of events that led to the birth of Orion.

The real Elvis died on Aug. 16, 1977, leaving a void in the pop music landscape. Novelist Gail Brewer-Giorgio published her novel Orion, offering the built-in backstory of an Elvis figure who lived on even when the world thought he’d perished forever. Meanwhile, Presley sound-alike Ellis finally got Singleton’s attention by sending the exec a recording of two Elvis covers, “That’s Alright, Mama” and “Blue Moon of Kentucky.”

Smelling opportunity, Singleton shrewdly pieced together a viral stunt by lifting the myth straight from Giorgio’s book and contracting Ellis to a deal singing tunes in the style of Presley under the condition that he wear a mask and that he could never, ever take it off. Even Giorgio, who never got a dime from the unlicensed theft of her Orion property, seems impressed by the sheer ballsiness of the men who screwed her over as she recalls that period for the camera: “I got nothing. Zero, zilch, nothing.”

The Man Who Would Be King recounts how the charade only piqued the curiosity of Orion’s adoring public, a fandom in need who was just as complicit in the shared fantasy. He sounded just like Elvis, swiveled his hips like Elvis, and played to the crowd like the King himself. Fans distraught over the real Presley’s death found a living, breathing cipher to transfer their adoration onto. He recorded nine studio albums in the span of a few years, toured the globe, and even headlined with KISS, leaving a swooning trail of groupies in his wake.

In interviews with the now-grown son, the old pals, and the girlfriends who knew him best, director Jeanie Finlay sees Ellis through the gaze of those around him: A charismatic performer in his own right who belonged on the stage, but became increasingly exasperated by the persona he was forced to wear even as it made him more and more famous. Ellis bristled at the suggestion that he was a mere Elvis impersonator. He made national media appearances, but wasn’t allowed to reveal his true identity. His true self was inextricably buried within the Orion mystery, which was itself inseparable from the specter of Elvis Presley.

The mask became a burden that stifled Ellis, who desperately wanted to be recognized as an artist in his own right—known by his own name, for his own voice. “He hated the mask the entire time he wore it,” remembers a bandmate. Even he knew he was being exploited by a bad contract that left all the riches in the Sun Records ledgers. Ellis’s discontent came to a head on New Year’s Eve 1983, when he unmasked himself in a dramatic onstage reveal in front of thousands of fans. “He had to be known,” offers songwriter Carol Halupke. Singleton ripped up his contract shortly thereafter, and the Orion fantasy burst.

The Man Who Would Be King assembles an intriguing account of the origin and fate of Orion the rock and roll star who never fully existed, including a cringe-worthy postscript detailing Ellis’s post-prime stabs at a Rick Springfield-styled comeback. But Finlay’s real accomplishment is her exploration of what drove Ellis to live in the myth as long as he did. She pieces together a portrait of a talent searching for his own identity and validation, revealing that Ellis had been the product of wedlock whose mother had given him up at the age of 2 and that his father, identified only as “Vernon” on his birth certificate, might have been Vernon Presley. It’s tempting to buy into Finlay’s evidence that Ellis was the lost half-brother of the real Elvis, a long-held theory among Orion fans. The shadow of Elvis was one Ellis had been living in and hyperaware of his whole life; he’d even recorded a song about it, titled “I’m Not Trying To Be Like Elvis.”

Ellis’s own eerily disembodied voice testifies via archival audio, wistfully recalling the part he played in the ruse. “We preyed not only on the fans but the press,” he says, revealing that he’d always hoped the truth would go public and free him to have a recording career as himself. “I’m happy,” he declares unconvincingly, adding, “I think happiness is a temporary state of mind.” Unfortunately, Finlay does not explain the source of these interviews, a minor frustration that’s amplified once the conclusion of his wonderfully strange American dream is revealed.

The tale of Jimmy Ellis was already bittersweet before it came to a tragic end in 1998, a footnote in the annals of pop culture lore to most of America that nevertheless gives The Man Who Would Be King its surprisingly emotional wallop. It’s easy to see why another Jimmy—Jimmy Fallon—once mocked Orion on late-night television decades after his ephemeral rise and fall, donning a blue mask to warn a snarky new generation of pop consumers away from Ellis’s Elvis-lite output. Through Finlay’s lens we get a more intimate chance to empathize with the man who once was Orion when a much older Ellis appears via home video, warbling alone in his car as he drives through the countryside—no longer in demand from an adoring public and long forgotten by the world, but still singing his heart out.

[MIKA27]

The Priest, the Pianist, a Cat, and a DIY Sauna: One Week in Ukraine’s Forgotten War

The day passes to dusk, and then to darkness, bringing with it the nocturnal chorus of a ceasefire that stops nothing. The first mortar round falls close to the platoon's canteen — a cramped metal box, riddled with mice and dug deep into the cold earth. The explosion prompts the pair of soldiers to glance up from their bowls of stew, their faces lit by a naked electric lightbulb. A subsequent rattle of a heavy machine-gun encourages the younger one, just 19 years old, to close the door and stop the smallest ***** of light from betraying their position. A second explosion signals the end of dinner. "I think we should go," says the older one. They traipse back to the trench, heads ducked down amid an intensifying fusillade of fire.

Do you know the Ukrainian night? So asked the Russian writer, Gogol, as he waxed lyrical about this once-pleasant swathe of Slavic steppe. The men of 2nd Platoon know the Ukrainian night, and there is little enchantment left here.

For hours, they were pinned down by a deadly hail of bullets and rocket-propelled grenades. For months, they have held this small stretch of the front in their country's industrial east. And for more than a year and a half, their allied units of Ukraine's army have been locked in this devastating war, the intensity of which dips and rises with the passing of each truce.

The first day of September saw the signing of the latest peace deal. For weeks, it was remarkably successful, raising hopes that it could herald the beginning of the end of the worst conflict on European soil since the Balkan wars of the 1990s.

Those hopes are fading fast. This month has seen a flare-up in fighting and fiery rhetoric following a two-month lull, shredding the credibility of the fragile ceasefire. Raids and rocket attacks, pitched battles, and trench warfare — all are now returning with greater frequency and ferocity to this war-torn corner of Europe, where more than 8,000 have died and 2.2 million have been displaced since the conflict erupted in April 2014.

For seven days, VICE News embedded with the men of 2nd Platoon, a close-knit and eclectic mix of conscripts, career soldiers, nationalistic volunteers, Soviet Army veterans, ex-cons, and a chaplain. They hold the line on the outskirts of Pisky, a once-affluent neighborhood on the northern outskirts of Donetsk, now dealt near-total destruction by the relentless pounding of artillery.

Undersupplied and living in squalor, the soldiers are fighting a forgotten war. They feel neglected by their own country and the West, and hold the purported ceasefire in contempt. Now they're hungry for a new push. As fighting flared along the 280-mile eastern front, the platoon's warren of muddy trenches offered a ringside view of Europe's latest conflagration and provided powerful evidence that Ukraine's tentative peace is, yet again, on the brink of collapse.

The battered Vauxhall sped south-eastwards towards the front. It belonged to an unusual pair of Russian journalists, clad in full military fatigues, who had offered to give us a lift. The name of their on-board wifi network revealed their unexpected allegiance — "Putin Khuylo," politely translated as "Putin is a dickhead." Slava, a gentle giant who regularly broke into high-pitched chuckles, was behind the wheel; Anna, with cropped hair and an elfin face, sat beside him.

"We run a pro-Ukraine channel on YouTube," Slava explained. "My parents are very supportive of me but, for Anna, it's more complicated." His girlfriend chimed in: "They don't really understand. My brother's blocked me on VK [Russia's equivalent of Facebook] and we don't speak anymore."

The couple live in exile and cannot risk returning to Russia, long accused by the West of actively supporting the rebel military campaign in Ukraine's eastern rustbelt. "We can't go home — it's forbidden," Slava continued. "We constantly move around the front and stay in nearby towns. These are our homes now. We're here to tell the truth."

The day had dawned cold and grey but by midday, the sun had burned through the mist. We checked in at a forward operating base, jumped into a yellow Citroen Berlingo and hurtled towards frontline positions, swerving potholes and shell craters at 80mph.The road passed bombed-out cottages, half-abandoned villages, Red Cross jeeps and the occasional figure toiling in a field. Our driver, Yarik — a young soldier with a Cossack mohawk and easy grin — put on Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony and cranked up the volume.

As we approached the final checkpoint, a pair of soldiers waved us through, and we headed down an off-road trail leading to the trench held by Kuprum (Copper) — the short name for the 2nd Platoon of the 7th Company of the 3rd Battalion of the 93rd Brigade of the Ukrainian Armed Forces.

Their position fringes no-man's land, an overgrown expanse of field littered with mines and unexploded munitions. Rebel lines are within a couple of miles. Kuprum's network of trenches, bunkers, and firing positions is home to a martial tribe who have shed their former civilian skins to adopt a colorful range of wartime identities. Among them are Casper and Conan; Boar and Dragon; Pianist, Papa and Primus; Sabre and Skeptic.

Dragon cleans his AK at a guard post in the trenches.

This last man, real name Yevgeny Pakhomov, 50, is their commander — a softly-spoken First Lieutenant and former animal rights activist who used to campaign for the protection of dolphins. His hopes for peace are swayed by a gritty realism. "There will be more fighting, then another ceasefire, then more killing, and so on. This war will never end," he told VICE News. "Give it 10, 20 years and then Putin will be dead. Things may get a little better then."

Two armored personnel-carriers sit like sentinels above the trench, their cannons pointed into no-man's land. Construction material is dumped haphazardly while cigarette butts are strewn over the parapet. Weaving through mud and freshly-turned earth, the labyrinth of trenches provides scant shelter between each fortified position. Boredom and danger dominate.

But even here, amid grime and a ramshackle existence, there are odd flashes of luxury. Enter a bunker and a very different scene presents itself.

Our home for the week was a subterranean, rectangular room, panelled in wood and furbished with three bunkbeds, lined head-to-toe along one wall. A log-burning stove pumped out heat into the night, a wifi router sent a reliable internet signal, and a large television, mounted in the corner, broadcast a daily diet of news, action films, and gameshows until midnight, when the generator was turned off.

Casper, a young Ukrainian conscript, holds his cat, Schlyoma, in the bunker. After the war, Casper says Schloma is coming home with him.

A mini-galley boasts a microwave, fridge, kettle, and cupboards stuffed with cookies, chocolate, coffee, and herbal teas. Alongside piles of body armor sits a saucer of milk for Shlyoma, the resident ginger tom-cat. Boots, camouflage, combat medical kits, helmets, and military-grade radio sets fill every corner and dangle from every bed. There is even a DIY sauna attached to a neighboring bunker, though scant supplies of water can put it out of action.

Clearly, these men know how to look after themselves. The platoon's nickname, Copper, allegedly stems from a former proclivity for purloining metal from the local ghost town and selling it for scrap.

'Faith in God is nothing without deeds'

Among the most welcoming and charismatic of the fighters was Pianist, the resident chaplain. With a flaming red beard and large metal crucifix hanging from his neck, he conjured up the presence and philosophy of a medieval Slavic warrior.

"Faith in God is nothing without deeds," he said. "If I need to take up arms and kill separatists, then I will. I am a soldier first and a chaplain second."

Despite the deployment of this man of God, formal services are kept to a minimum. "We don't do anything special on a Sunday — every day I'm on duty for these men. In our ranks we have Orthodox Christians, Protestants, Muslims… I will help any man of any faith who needs it."

After sunset, a soldier approached us. "It's time for dinner," said Boar, real name Ruslan. "Follow me." He led us through the darkness, down a muddy slope and into the galley dugout. Officially, this burly man in his late 30s is a machine-gunner, but the men here hold Boar in high esteem as their resident cook.

Ruslan cooks dinner in the platoon's tiny, dark kitchen, a metal shed set in a deep trench infested with mice.

After a brief flurry of chopping, dicing, cracking, and frying, we sat hunched over a pan of potatoes and a 10-egg omelette. As cigarette smoke filled the gloom, mice scurried among sacks behind us, and the occasional crackle of gunfire echoing around us, Boar began his story.

"All my friends now are fighting for the separatists. When they took Kramatorsk last year [a town now held by the government in the east], they went round looking for anyone who supported Ukraine.

"I got a phone call from an old friend of mine who had become a separatist commander — he told me I was on their list. I grabbed my daughter, a few possessions and drove out of town as fast as I could. I later learned that a few minutes after I'd left, they smashed into my house. But I had already gone.

"I began a new life in Poltava further west and spent all my money trying to get things going. Eventually I decided to return to the war. I planned to join the fight with Right Sector [an ultra-nationalistic Ukrainian militia] but the 93rd Brigade offered me a contract and I ended up with them. I've been here ever since."

It must have been hard cutting ties with old friends, I suggested. Does he ever get to speak with them? "Of course — sometimes, we exchange messages," Boar replied. "They tell me they will hunt me down and slit my throat." In the half-light, he gave a faint smile. "But I'll get them first."

A particularly ferocious volley of gunfire resounded over the field. "You hear that?" he asked, his eyes catching mine obliquely in the half-light. "That would be the ceasefire."

Take a trip to the front and you would be forgiven for thinking that war had never stopped. In recent weeks, its intensity has shifted up a gear from post-ceasefire calm to sporadic outbreaks of violence, which are now escalating into something altogether more concerning.

The peace deal signed in February, followed by September's truce, helped dampen the return to the firestorm of blitz and offensive that had raged through the summer of 2014 and the subsequent winter. After this summer's intensifying wave of violence, there were indications that the Kremlin was looking to stabilize the crisis as Moscow turned its attention to the ongoing military campaign to bolster President Bashar al Assad in Syria.

Ukraine's war, however, now appears to be again spiralling out of control. The international watchdog monitoring the conflict, the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) has reported an increase in the use of Grad rockets and mortars — both banned under the February deal. In recent weeks, OSCE monitors have reported a spate of attacks involving anti-aircraft guns, automatic grenade-launchers, and large mortars around the battle-scarred regions of Donetsk and Luhansk.

An SPG-9 anti tank launcher. The soldiers fire off volleys of rounds during the day to sight in the weapons on rebel positions so they can hit them again when fighting begins at night.

Dozens of howitzers and other artillery pieces have been confirmed to be absent from Ukrainian holding areas, despite agreements for the heavy weapons to be mothballed, while the OSCE reports that a "considerable" amount of military hardware continues to move beyond respective withdrawal lines.

The latest attacks do not appear to be freak ruptures on the front nor the action of a local rebel commander gone rogue. Rather, they fit into a wider pattern of escalating violence which threatens to derail the peace plan.

On just one day during VICE News's embed on the front, the Ukrainian Army reported rebel attacks across nine towns as well as explosions and sniper fire in the demilitarized zone of Shyrokyne, a former seaside town long feared to be a possible springboard for an assault on the strategic, eastern port city of Mariupol. Daniel Baer, the US Ambassador to the OSCE, has warned against "a slide back into full-scale violence" and said that the "worrying increase in violence could cause the ceasefire to deteriorate altogether."

'We're not just frustrated — we're angry'

In recent months, the Ukrainian military has had some successes, in so far as it has stemmed further territory loss to the country's breakaway statelets, the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk People's Republics. It has also managed to mobilize more than 200,000 troops in a year — a sizeable figure in a relatively short space of time.

But issues remain, not least with its clunking command structure — an unwieldy relic of the Soviet era. Top brass have been keen to publicize the army's compliance with the crumbling ceasefire deal and insist its forces resort to using heavy weapons only in defense. Many of Ukraine's fighters, however, are frustrated by the limitations placed on their firepower and complain about red tape curbing counterstrikes. In short, they loathe the current truce.

"We're not just frustrated — we're angry. We should be allowed to fire back whenever we want. They can tell me otherwise but this is still a war," said Doc, real name Alexander, a former psychiatrist and 45-year-old deputy commander of Pisky's 18th Platoon. "There is no diplomatic solution. The war will only end when the feet of Ukrainian soldiers touch our border with Russia."

Scanning no-man's land with a pair of binoculars, he stood above a trench in a quarter of the town that lies now in utter ruin, tiny cottages reduced to rubble and a couple of walls. "The ceasefire is one-sided," Doc continued. "They're building up with heavy vehicles and heavy weapons directly opposite us." As if to substantiate his claim, the distinctive noise of a tank rumbled over from rebel-held positions.

'Before, we were heroes. Now, we are nobody'

Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko has condemned "a net escalation in the conflict" and blamed it on "a rise in the number of attacks" from pro-Russian forces. He has also issued a presidential order allowing soldiers to shoot back "as soon as our troops' lives come under threat." While this promises to streamline a notoriously inefficient chain of command, it puts the ceasefire on even thinner ice.

After weeks of relative peace, Poroshenko said this month that Ukraine's armed forces were on a renewed war footing: "We've substantially increased the level of combat readiness and steps the Ukrainian army will make for the defense". His comments came just hours after Kiev reported the deaths of five soldiers from direct rebel attacks in the previous 24-hour period — the highest daily death toll since the ceasefire was agreed in September.

Despite the heightened rhetoric among Ukraine's political elite, the troops feel forgotten — both by their countrymen and foreign allies. "Before, we were heroes. Now, we are nobody," said Viktor, 45, a.k.a. "The Priest." "The rest of the country doesn't want to know us."

Viktor, "The Priest," is stationed in Pisky's dilapidated church building

This swarthy, middle-aged father-of-two earned his nickname after making a bombed-out, frontline church his home. Despite claims that his country has abandoned him, The Priest remains sanguine. "We have a job to do and that's all it is."

The US has pumped more than $250 million of "non-lethal" aid into the Ukrainian military since March 2014, from body armor to night-vision gear, advanced radar systems and an array of battlefield vehicles. And in coming weeks, the next cycle of the American train-and-equip program is due to commence. But what soldiers here want are weapons. And, as far as they are concerned, talk of negotiations are pure anathema.

"There's only a military solution," said Artur, who was among a group of soldiers, smoking cigarettes and sipping cups of sweet, black tea outside Viktor's church one bright, chilly morning. "Anyone who chooses diplomacy is a *****."

But, I asked him, wouldn't an offensive just provoke a fierce response from the other side and provide an easy pretext for Russian aggression? He shrugged off the idea with boisterous defiance. "We're ready to push all the way to border. We'll take on Russia."

A few nights later, an unexpected battle suggested that such a move would not be taken lying down.

Dinner was abandoned by the second blast. The mortar rounds and rocket-propelled grenades began exploding in the pitch-black chill. Arcs of red tracer-fire scored the night sky above a crescendo of assault rifles and heavy machine-guns. Both sides, each stoked with hundreds of fighters, unleashed a barrage of fire for hours.

The men seemed well-accustomed to the pitch and timbre of this deadly reprise. The swift staccato pops of a PKM light machine gun. The heavy hammering of a DShK .50-caliber. The thump of pressure to the chest and persistent ringing in the ears as Soviet-era SPG-9s released their explosive loads.

Welcome to Disco Partisan'

In 2nd Platoon's trench, a couple of hundred metres from the battle's epicentre, the radio buzzed with frenzied exchanges — "Heavy incoming fire"; "18th platoon getting hit"; "Enemy unit advancing towards Lynx". Meanwhile, almost grudgingly, the soldiers ducked down in ditches beneath the mosquito whine of ricocheting bullets.

They chain-smoked through the worst of it, alternating between laughs and curses whenever a shell landed too close for comfort, rocking the earth. One man poked his head up from a bunker during a particularly ferocious exchange. Amid the shadows and repeated flashes, he joked: "Welcome to Disco Partisan."

A pair of dogs — abandoned at the outbreak of war and now adopted by the platoon — faithfully followed the commander, Skeptic, as he moved between firing positions in the trench. They flinched at every explosion but barely let out a whimper as the bombs rained down within 100 meters of the dugout.

Skeptic, the platoon commander, with faithful canine companions Misha and Mukha. Before the war, he was an animal rights activist.

One infantryman, Viktor Bogan, 46 years old and a carpenter before taking up arms last year, continued to tinker away in his makeshift workshop on the edge of no-man's land. He had lost half his hearing in previous fights and seemed nonplussed by the latest outbreak. "I'm only here so my children and grandchildren don't have to face war for themselves," said Viktor.

He was clad in a leather waistcoat, a bandana and worn gauntlets, the Mad Max aesthetic round off by a huge, homemade blade tucked into a deerskin sheath. During lighter moments, his grizzled face would often crease into a generous smile and he would talk of his dream to rebuild his hometown's church, destroyed during the 1917 Russian Revolution.

"Only the older men should be here," he sighed. "It would have been better if the young boys were never sent to this front line."

Once morning dawned grey and cold, the fighting had subsided — some of the fiercest in weeks. Positions remained the same but Ukraine's fragile truce appeared to lie in tatters.

"I had a dream two nights ago that the war will begin again in 121 days. I don't know why that number came into my head. It's silly, really. But these visions of war come to me most nights. Now is not the end of the fighting — it is just a break and it won't last."

We talk of dreams and death and the coming winter through a darkening afternoon. Anatoliy and Svetlana, both on the cusp of 70 and married for 46 years, are decent people cursed by war, yet not corrupted by it. They defy the conflict's occupation of their home in Pisky and refuse to leave. Svetlana tells us of her strange premonition while we enjoy homemade blackberry wine, endless cups of tea and biscuits spread with honey from their beehives.

Somehow, despite the devastation around them, despite the storms of artillery, despite the hatred, their house remains unscathed. It's hard to fathom.

"God," says Svetlana. "That is the only reason. There's no other way. We have survived."

Svetlana and Anatoliy, married for 46 years, have weathered the entire war in their home in Pisky.

Laughter still fills their modest home, as do fleeting hints of darkness. I first met the pair in August, when their garden was still blooming with flowers and fruit at the end of a hot, bloody summer. Their spirited bond clearly remains but recent months have etched fatigue upon their faces.

"The rest of Ukraine has forgotten us," says Svetlana. "They could not imagine what we experience. We've lost more than any politician in power, on either side, ever could."

Our conversation continues for an hour, maybe two. Memories of Pisky before the war and of distant family members intermingle with talk of fear, politics and loss. Putin is mentioned, as is Poroshenko; the couple describe their hopes of holding their 70th birthday parties in the new year.

Finally, Anatoliy rises from his wooden chair and tops up our tumblers with wine — the last round of the day. Dusk is falling and the threat of battle hangs as ever over this little European town.

He raises his glass. "Za mir", he says. "To peace."

[MIKA27]

WATERSHED DISTILLERY OLD FASHIONED

No matter how hard you try, you usually can't make an Old Fashioned like those that trained mixologists crank out. That's where Watershed's Pre-Mixed Old Fashioned comes in, combining the company's 90-proof bourbon with orange and aromatic bitters, raw cane sugar, and Ohio cherry juice. All you really need to do is serve it over ice and you've got a cocktail that's way better than whatever you were trying to throw together in your kitchen. Tip: Hide the bottle, then add an orange twist and some harmless lies before serving to impress guests.

[MIKA27]

The Only Way To Save The Northern White Rhino Is A Jurassic Park-Style Intervention

It sounds like the plot of a Hollywood science-fiction movie. An alien species is dying. Their only hope is for a brood of artificially fertilised eggs created from the preserved DNA of some of the last survivors to be brought back to life in a future world where (hopefully) conditions are better suited to them.

Crazy? Not really: this is the only hope remaining for the northern white rhinoceros (Ceratotherium simum cottoni). The death of Nola, a 41-year-old female who had to be euthanised at San Diego Zoo following a routine operation to treat an abscess, leaves just three individuals remaining in the world. Two are infertile females, the solitary male has low fertility; all are elderly.

After being decimated by poaching, the subspecies appears to have no chance of natural recovery. The three remaining rhino, Najin, Fatu, and Sudan, are living under 24-hour guard at Ol Pejeta Conservancy in Kenya, and are effectively “walking dead”.

The only possible (and highly optimistic) route to non-extinction is for frozen eggs and sperm from these last rhino to be combined with DNA from the last few to die, and the resulting embryos implanted into surrogate mothers for gestation. These surrogates would be southern white rhinos (Ceratotherium simum simum), a closely-related and much more populous subspecies.

The northern white rhino’s precipitous decline is due to poaching. It was last sighted in the wild back in 2006 and drastic action, when it was taken, was too little, too late. In 2009, four of the dwindling captive population were moved to Kenya to encourage breeding. But the animals were too old, and all attempts at reproduction, including controversial inter-breeding with southern relatives, failed.

Science-fiction to science-fact

Can we bring an (effectively) dead species back to life? Enter the Jurassic Park scenario. For those unfamiliar with the story, scientists facilitate the rebirth of extinct dinosaurs using DNA from long-dead animals in a process known as de-extinction.

We know that it is possible: back in 1996 Dolly the sheep was produced using similar technology (gene insertion into an egg, and development in a surrogate mother). And, whenever a well-preserved woolly mammoth is found frozen in ice, we hear whispers of the potential to produce a living mammoth using its DNA. The technique works in cattle, sheep, and mice. However, we have not yet brought an extinct species back to life or even saved a nearly extinct species using such technology.

How to make a rhino

Fortunately, San Diego Zoo had the foresight to collect samples in recent years via skin biopsy and post-mortem from 13 individual northern white rhino. In theory, their stem cells could be inserted into eggs and sperm from the remaining northern whites to maximise the genetic diversity of the “re-born” population.

Frozen sperm from recently deceased male Angalifu is in storage at San Diego’s Frozen Zoo, but sadly the project remains egg-less as Nola’s eggs, harvested immediately upon her death, proved infertile. The situation is desperate as all three remaining northern white rhino have reproductive concerns.

We’re entering uncharted territory here. It may be possible to proceed with stem cell development via in-vitro fertilisation (IVF) and the implantation of eggs (embryo transfer) to surrogate southern white rhino, but it’s never been done before and there’s lots we still don’t know about rhino reproduction. The uterus is deep within the body, for instance, and the zoo will need to develop special instruments to reach it.

Researchers are currently looking to raise £500,000 ($1 million) via GoFundMe campaign Make a Rhino, Save a Species, and scientists and conservationists associated with the project estimate that they may produce a calf in eight years time. By that time, the remaining three northern white rhino will likely be dead, and the subspecies formally extinct.

Does it matter?

But a question remains. Even if it is possible to bring back the northern white rhino, from a founder population of 13 or so individuals, will the resurrected population be genetically viable? And how will we save them post-resurrection when we failed with our best chance pre-extinction?

Some would argue that, as a subspecies, the northern white rhino is of limited importance. After all, the southern whites are still going, with fears over their long-term future countered by hope in more likely technology, and they could be moved northwards to fill the same ecological role. However, any adaptive (genetic) differences unique to the northern white rhino are currently lost to the species as a whole.

If we accept that conservation resources are limited, should we not be prioritising species that we are more likely to save, such as Africa’s remaining southern white and black rhino, or the various endangered Asian species, rather than trying to resurrect a subspecies that is already functionally extinct?

[MIKA27]

‘Secret Archive’ Alleges Freemasons Helped Fix Britiain’s Titanic Inquiry

During the early morning hours of 1912, the North Atlantic Sea became home to one of the greatest among modern maritime disasters, with the sinking of the RMS Titanic. In the wake of the tragedy, more than half of the passengers on board were lost, totaling more than 1500 dead, ranking it among the most deadly modern commercial disasters ever to have occurred.

The circumstances involving the ship’s untimely sinking were both tragic, and perhaps ironic in equal measure; having been touted as “unsinkable,” the vessel went down on her maiden voyage, and rather remarkably, in a manner which many had already warned might happen. Notable among such warnings had been British journalist William T. Stead, a passenger on that fateful evening, who had written of strangely similar circumstances beforehand. Stead had even predicted that he himself would likely die “either by hanging, or drowning,” and was last seen alive aiding women and children, as they boarded the few life boats the Titanic did possess.

The circumstances surrounding the ship’s sinking have been met with skepticism at times, and a range of theories exist today which involve what conditions may have actually led to the disaster. Among the more fringe ideas, author Robin Gardiner’s book Titanic: The Ship That Never Sank went so far as to allege that the Titanic had never sank at all, but instead had been replaced with its sister ship, the Olympic, as part of an elaborate plot to collect insurance from the ship’s loss. Less cringe-worthy ideas have proposed that pack ice may have contributed to the ship’s sinking, as well as a small coal fire onboard that may have led to unsafe speeds as the ship careened along in the North Atlantic waters.

However, the latest “new evidence” suggesting alternative views about the Titanic affair bring into question an all new element, though with an old favorite among conspiratorial scapegoats: the Freemasons.

The Telegraph reported recently on a new “secret archive” which has appeared online courtesy of the genealogy site Ancestry.com, revealing what some call “extensive involvement” of Freemasons in the British investigation of the Titanic’s sinking. According to the Telegraph report, the series of once-secret files pertains to “the names of two million Freemasons has been made public for the first time on the genealogy site Ancestry which reveals extensive Masonic involvement in the controversial British investigation into the catastrophe.”

In addition to the revelations pertaining to the British investigation of theTitanic sinking, the newly released secret archive appears to offer insight into a number of similar sordid affairs, ranging from the extensive involvement of Freemasons in British government and UK politics in general, to possible concealment of the identity of the infamous serial murderer Jack the Ripper.

Worth noting, of course, is the following excerpt from the Telegraph article:

“The United Grand Lodge of England (UGLE) has around 250,000 members and The Grand Lodges of Scotland and Ireland administer some 150,000 members. There may be as many as six million globally – two million in the United States.”

That’s an awful lot of Freemasons, and as a result, in likelihood it stands to reason that there would have been a number of them involved in the inquiry into the Titanic disaster, as well as other affairs involving controversy in Britain and elsewhere abroad. So does the release of the archive really show the extent to which Freemasonry may have had involvement in such controversies over the years, or does it merely show that when controversy does happen, Masonic involvement is almost certainly unavoidable?

Perhaps the real primary concern here is whether any members of the secretive organization were indeed able to escape censure on account of their affiliations, in which obvious concerns over favoritism come into play. Still, little can be done to amend such problems now, with more than a century between us and the time that the Titanic went down. As Chris Mullen wrote in his OpEd on the affair for the Guardian, “although masons are still influential in some professions… membership is far less fashionable than it used to be. Much unjustified paranoia surrounds freemasons, but their obsessive secrecy and the oaths they swear inevitably means that they have only themselves to blame.”

If anything, what this really may provide is a degree of historical perspective on such matters, and on the notion of favoritism in government among such fraternal organizations; however far removed we may now be, realistically, from their peak periods of influence.

[MIKA27]

ZAROOQ SAND RACER

Built by the United Arab Emirates-based team at Zarooq Motors, the Sand Racer is a fully capable, street legal off-road machine.

Under the hood is a Nissan 3.5-liter V6 engine that pumps out 309 horsepower and 274 lb-ft of torque, but there will also be both 400 and 500 horsepower options available as well. Power is transferred to the rear wheels through a 6-speed automatic transmission with paddle shifters, while off-road wheels, tires, heavy-duty suspension and performance brakes ensure you can tackle the dunes with ease. On the inside there’s an infotainment system, comfortable seats that are designed for daily driving, and even cup holders for keeping your drink close by. The vehicle will be unveiled to potential customers in January, and will offer up a ton of bespoke options with a $100,000 price tag. [Purchase]

[MIKA27]

RAW STUDIO CHESS SET

London-based designer Nick Rawcliffe has a knack for reimagining some of our favorite products, using innovative materials and build processes. Through his Raw Studio, he’s dropped yet another gem in this portable chess set.

The set includes thirty two ring-shaped pieces made from heat treated, oxidized and hand-polished stainless steel, designed to easily stack together like a cylindrical puzzle. The board itself is crafted from hand cut and sewn leather that creates a precise geometric pattern, representing black and white squares through the tactile contrast of the suede and skin side of the Italian leather hide. When you’re all done playing, simply roll the board up, and stack the rings to keep things secure. The board measures in at 16″x16″ when laid flat, and 24x6x10cm when packed away, and is made in England. [Purchase]

[MIKA27]

GEST

Remember Tom Cruise´s Minority Report? The software system he had where he only used his hands to manage computer´s info?

Well it´s available as of now with Gest. Gest is a real innovative peripheral that lets you control the items on your screen in a real intuitive way with just the movement of your hands. Grab, twitch or point and get the handle on the icon of your choice for multiple apps and softwares. Sci-fi tech available today, put your keyboard and mouse in the attic, no more need for these pre-historic items. With 15 built-in sensors you can customize the use you want for each one of them, so each Gest can fit your specific needs. We´re pretty sure it´ll shake up the peripherals market. With a precision level that´s really on the high side it´ll surely be the thing to get if you´re a hands-on person.

[MIKA27]

SOUND OF POWER BUST SPEAKERS

Created by Petro Wodkins and crafted from a sturdy, marble-like composite, Sound of Power Bust Speakers bring the visages of two of the world's most controversial figures — Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong-Un — into your home for the sake of sonic reproduction. Limited to just 100 examples of each, they feature 4-inch full-range drivers mounted at an angle in a cutout of the man's head, built-in bass reflex ports, and wooden stands that double as 20W, Bluetooth-capable amplifiers. Available separately, the speakers are angled in different directions in each bust, making it possible to pair them together in a stereo setup.

[MIKA27]

SAMUEL ADAMS UTOPIAS

On special occasions, Samuel Adams releases Utopias, a unique concoction that pushes the limits of what you think of as beer. It's brewed in pretty traditional ways, using two-row Caramel and Munich malts and Noble hops. Then things get crazy, as the fresh beer is blended with a variety of barrel-aged beers — including old stock from every previous Utopias release — before some maple syrup is added, and then the whole blended batch is finished in a variety of barrels. Included are barrels that once held cognac, Armagnac, ruby port, sweet Madeira, White Carcavelos wine, and Buffalo Trace Bourbon. It's uncarbonated and meant to be savored like a fine cognac or whiskey, and tips the scales at 28% ABV. Easily the most complex beer you'll ever get your hands on.

[MIKA27]

In the New Batman v. Superman Sneak Peek, Batman Has Superman Just Where He Wants Him

After all, Batman is never more dangerous than when he’s being underestimated. Spoilers ahead...

I’m willing to bet that the scenario in this new clip from Batman v Superman—with the bondage, the unmasking, the bunker, and all of it, is some kind of cunning Bat-trap. Right? I guess we’ll find out in a couple days. This clip just aired as part of Gotham, but we’ll get a whole new trailer on Wednesday evening.

[MIKA27]

Terrifying Clowns Are Menacing A Wisconsin Town And People Are Freaking Out

Clowns are inherently terrifying to many people simply because they exist. Yet when a clown lurks menacingly (and silently) on a street corner, the horror quotient exponentially ups itself. The finer details of this tale remain unclear, but whatever is going down has shaken up a community and a college campus. The Milwaukee suburb of Waukesha, Wisconsin, has seen quite a few reported sightings of a clown, who usually dresses in an orange jumpsuit. The clown stands on street corners and in front of dilapidated structures. In Satan’s the clown’s wake, the community has come unglued.

Reporter Nick Bohr of WISN 12 ABC in Milwaukee has been on the case since weird stuff hit the news last week.

In short order, Bohr announced that the case was solved. The clown in the orange jumpsuit was a local teenager who is “developmentally delayed” and looking to freak people out. According to Waukesha Police Sgt. Jerry Habanek, the teenager “likes to watch the reactions people have when he’s dressed as a clown.” Case solved? Not quite. This story is not as simple as it seems…

People continued to freak out about these clowns all weekend long, and they’re still obsessed.

[MIKA27]

King Tut's tomb: Researchers now 90% sure it contains hidden chambers

The linen-wrapped mummy of King Tutankhamun is seen in the Valley of the Kings in Luxor, Egypt.

Egypt on Saturday said there is a 90 per cent chance that hidden chambers will be found within King Tutankhamun's tomb, based on the preliminary results of a new exploration of the 3,300-year-old mausoleum.

Researchers say the discovery of a new chamber could shine new light on one of ancient Egypt's most turbulent times, and one prominent researcher has theorized that the remains of Queen Nefertiti might be inside.

Egypt began the search for the hidden chamber last week. Announcing the results of three days of testing in the southern city of Luxor, Antiquities Minister Mamdouh el-Damaty said the findings will be sent to Japan for a month-long analysis before the search is resumed.

Luxor, in southern Egypt, served as the pharaonic capital in ancient times, and is home to sprawling temples and several ancient tombs.

The golden sarcophagus of Ancient Egypt's boy-king is seen in his burial chamber in the Valley of the Kings.

British Egyptologist Nicholas Reeves theorizes that Tutankhamun, better known as King Tut, who died at the age of 19, may have been rushed into an outer chamber of what was originally Nefertiti's tomb. Famed for her beauty, Nefertiti was the subject of a famous 3,300-year-old bust.

Reeves reached his theory after high-resolution images discovered what he said were straight lines in King Tut's tomb. These lines, previously hidden by color and the stones' texture, indicate the presence of a sealed chamber, he said. The images were later broadcast live on national television last September.

Nefertiti was the primary wife of the Pharaoh Akhenaten, who unsuccessfully attempted to switch Egypt to an early form of monotheism. Akhenaten was succeeded by a pharaoh referred to as Smenkhare and then Tut, who is widely believed to have been Akhenaten's son.

Tut, Nefertiti, and Akhenaten's family ruled Egypt during one of its most turbulent times, which ended with a military takeover by Egypt's top general at the time, Horemheb. The whole family's names were wiped out from official records later on.

Reeves believes that Smenkhare is actually Nefertiti.

This is the second find to be announced this week. On Tuesday, el-Damaty said the Austrian Archaeological Institute discovered a "giant fence" dating back over 3,500 years at the site of another ancient capital city, Avaris. The sandstone fence is least 500 meters (yards) long and 7 meters (yards) thick, antiquities official Mahmoud Afifi said.

[MIKA27]

In Pictures: China Is Enveloped In Thick And Dangerous Smog

Beijing is currently choking on a thick smog, with air pollution in the city over 20 times the safe levels defined by the World Health Organisation. This is what it looks like.

As the world’s governments gather in Paris to decide the future of our planet, there’s an all too obvious reminder of pollution hanging above Beijing. The thick brown-yellow smog doesn’t just look horrible, either: the air quality index was measured by the US Embassy in Beijing on Monday to be 611 for what’s referred to as small particulate matter.

For some context, in the US, levels above 100 are considered unhealthy; at levels above 200 the entire population is at risk from suffering health effects; and above 300 the entire population is at risk of ‘serious’ health effects. The US scale tops out at 500.

Authorities in China have blamed unusual weather for the smog, which is at least partly true. Temperatures are currently much lower than usual for the time of year in northern China, which has seen the poor light coal fires and the more wealthy switch on central heating powered by electricity from coal-fuelled power stations. Those emissions, combined with stagnant air pressure, have led to the smog you see in these images.

Those same authorities issued an orange air quality alert on Sunday, which has seen factories shut down production in an attempt to reduce emissions. It’s hoped winds will pass across northern China in the next few days and help clear the smog.

Earlier this year, it came to light that China has been burning up to 17 per cent more coal than its Government has previously claimed — pumping up to 1 billion more tons of carbon than expected into the atmosphere every year. Its officials have, however, admitted that the country has a “duty to humanity” to clean itself up.

[MIKA27]

The Graceful Moment When A Commando Boat Goes Airborne

Airdrop operations never cease to amaze me. This photo shows a special training moment frozen in time: a commando boat slipping out of a Lockheed MC-130J transport aircraft.

From the Defence Video and Imagery Distribution System website:

An MC-130J Commando II from the 9th Special Operations Squadron airdrops a Maritime Craft Aerial Delivery System over the Gulf of Mexico during a training exercise, Nov. 12, 2015. This was the first time aircrews from the 9th SOS successfully completed an MCADS airdrop.

[MIKA27]

HUDSON WOODS

Located about 100 miles north of New York City, the Hudson Woods development offers city dwellers the chance to own a weekend home or end-of-the-world hideout within a short drive from their jobs and expensive apartments. This 130-acre site will eventually be home to 26 glass-and-timber, cabin-like dwellings. Designed by an architect and meticulously put together, you won't have to think about anything besides your tile choice and roof colors, if you don't want to. Even the furniture has been chosen for you from local makers. Lot choices go up to 12 acres in size, and a slew of upgrades are available — everything from a blackened steel-and-walnut kitchen island to a fruit tree grove. There's even a well-designed, $40,000 treehouse option for the kids.

[MIKA27]

DEUS EX MACHINA 1966 PLYMOUTH BARRACUDA

They're best known for their custom motorcycles, but as this Deus Ex Machina 1966 Plymouth Barracuda, they're equally adept at modding four-wheeled vehicles. Built and owned by Matt Hart, this Italian series one is powered by a 480hp 273 engine mated to a four-speed manual gearbox, and is outfitted with semi slick tires to make it road-friendly. This being a Deus build, the exterior is just as polished as the specs, with a gold paint job complimented by a green central stripe and white circles for racing numbers, and finished with details like blacked out rims and leather hood straps.

[MIKA27]

Bloodiest Christmas Massacres #1: The Lawson Family Slaughter

This time of year, nothing goes better with too much eggnog than grim tales of murder. (That’s how we roll at True Crime, anyway.) The first in our series takes place in 1929, on a farm outside Germanton, North Carolina—where on Christmas Day, Charlie Lawson murdered his family before taking his own life.

It was a crime as methodical as it was horrifying—and baffling, too.

The victims included six of Charlie Lawson’s seven children and his wife of nearly 20 years, Fanny. The youngest, Mary Lou (seen in Fanny’s arms in the portrait above, which was famously taken shortly before the massacre), was just four months old. Oldest son James Arthur, who was 16, survived only because he’d been sent on an errand that fateful afternoon.

The errand was an eerie one: Arthur (nicknamed “Buck”) and his cousin trudged through the snow into Germanton to buy more shotgun shells. When Buck returned, he was greeted with the bloody horror of his mother, sisters Marie (17), Carrie (12), Maybell (7) and baby Mary Lou and brothers James (4) and Raymond (2), all slaughtered by the family patriarch. They’d been picked off one by one, and Charlie had apparently chased down Carrie and Maybell as they ran away in terror.

Some had been killed by gunshot, others by bludgeoning, and others by a combination of the two. All of their bodies were either in the family’s small house, or in the adjacent tobacco barn. Some accounts reported that Charlie had placed stones over their eyes.

The only Lawson family member missing from the scene was the culprit, Charlie, who’d gone into the woods to shoot himself after he’d completed his terrible deed. The shot was said to be overheard by law enforcement who were investigating the crime scene. Local legend has it that there were pace marks in the grass near where his body fell, indicating he’d nervously walked in circles before finally pulling the trigger.

“CRAZY FARMER KILLS WIFE, 6 CHILDREN,” announced no less an authority than the New York Times the next day. Rural Stokes County, North Carolina had made the big time, for all the wrong reasons. After the initial shock of what had happened, there was one question: Why? At first, there was no apparent motive. The Lawsons weren’t rich, but they weren’t having any particular financial struggles, and Charlie Lawson wasn’t known to have extreme religious beliefs or exhibit odd behavior. In fact, he was well-respected in the community.

Two theories eventually emerged. The first was that Charlie had a medical condition that affected his actions and made him snap that day. Perhaps he’d knocked a screw loose after suffering a head injury while digging a ditch on the farm. Or, as some reported, he had some kind of “painful growth” on his chest that had him in constant agony, and he’d decided to end it all and take his family with him.

The second theory was far more salacious; there were rumors that Charlie had impregnated his teenage daughter, Marie, and had killed his family to prevent the incestuous scandal from being known.

But the truth, which Charlie took to his grave, will never be known.

The killing attracted so much attention that an estimated 5,000 curiousity-seekers attended the Lawson family funeral. They were all buried in a single large plot in the private Browder Family Cemetery just outside of Germanton.

In the aftermath of the murders, the Lawson farm became a tourist destination. Extended family members who lived in the area started charging admission for tours of the property. Though the home was later demolished, the area still has enough spooky history to have inspired ghost sightings of the doomed Lawson children, and of murderous Charlie Lawson.

Unbelievably, the tragedy of the Lawson family didn’t end in 1929. In 1945, James Arthur Lawson, the only child to survive the Christmas Day bloodshed, died at the age of 31 in a truck accident in Walnut Cove, NC—quite near Germanton. He was buried in the same cemetery as the rest of his family, leaving behind four children of his own.

If this chilling holiday story sounds custom-made for a murder ballad—well, several artists over the years have drawn inspiration from it. Documentary A Christmas Family Tragedy was released in 2006, but probably the best-known homage came from famed bluegrass duo the Stanley Brothers, who penned a suitably morbid tune recounting the Lawson family’s fate.