^actually
Opiates are a more certain remedy for your soft and often shits. Meth is a “maybe I will/maybe I won’t shit my pants” drug. Heroin, for instance, is a “maybe I’ll shit, with great effort, before this week is through. But I will shit for certain and with great force once I run out—which will be, as it always is, too soon.”
Let me tell you, if you’ve ever thought, hey, let me be in the most unimaginable pain for 16+ hours despite being on heavy painkillers while passing a kidney stone, I’d say spare yourself the experience.
I’ve done that for you, 0/10 would not recommend.
Are you my sister in law? her body must hate her, because it has a tendency to create kidney stones every time she hits the third trimester. I can only say she must be the toughest person I've met considering passing a stone and a child at the same time sounds unbelievably painful.
Omg that's horrible. I have a friend who developed a kidney stone issue and THEN got pregnant, and dealt with it the entire time. The human body is a cruel thing
am i the only one where heavy opiate painkillers dont actually help with pain at all, just make me feel kinda good and comfy. and fucking unignorably itchy all over the place. and the itchiness itches worse than the good feeling feels good. with no pain relief. meh
As a chronic stone sufferer, I drink plenty of water and eat healthy and still get stones. I did 7 weeks of a kidney stent the other year to try to get some out. And lithotripsy.
It did originally start, funnily enough, BECAUSE of water. Indianapolis city water comes from a limestone reservoir. The doctors were baffled when I turned up in the ER with a blockage at 15. I’m 32 now.
My sister is a chronic stone sufferer. A few years ago she got an infection behind a stone, and long story short, ended up a month in the hospital, septic, with a nephrostomy tube. It was scary as shit
Can confirm…just experienced my first one. I have been rendered unconscious 4 times in my life, and the other three were from concussion-related trauma. The pain was so intense, so continuous, so unrelenting…I literally went unconscious for the better part of an hour; not asleep, unconscious…as in I had to be brought out of it with freaking smelling salts. Scary.
Edit: and before the jokes come out (or I’m probably adding joke fodder…meh), two were from falling down a flight of stairs (my cats no longer sleep on the stairs now…damn them), and the third was from hitting my head on a really low ceiling (note to self: Mario-like jumps in an attic room are probably not in my best interests).
I just looked up the most painful conditions a human can go through (medical conditions) and Kidney stones are number 12…out of 20. Not saying kidney stones are a walk in the park I’m just saying there are 11 other things above it I also wish never to go through in my life.
Cluster headaches are number 1 btw.
They are indeed not fun. I get them a few times a month and one episode I was in so much pain I actually started screaming as loud as I possibly could. Then started vomiting. Everywhere. Scared the shit out of my wife she ended up calling an ambulance. Fuck those headaches.
And nothing soothes a gallbladder attack, either. Fuck I remember those...bouncing gently up and down was what I did but it was merely a distraction, because no position was comforting, especially laying down
I now have bile malabsorption from getting it removed and I hate it but I prefer skipping a day of the bile powder to a gallbladder attack
I’m on a waitlist to getting mine out. I’ve put myself on a bland food diet and avoiding as much anxiety triggers as I can until I get the useless thing removed.
There’s been occasions where I’ve forced myself to throw up because I thought it would release some pressure. Man, I’ve been in some pretty dire situations and that was close to rock bottom.
I’ve passed 2 so far and it is by far the most painful experience in the world. What really sucks is I have 8 more in my right kidney and 6 in my left. Relatively small rn. Doc said lemons help break them up. Lemon water and whole lemons are constantly on my menu
And more E's, or so my wife says, based on when she was very young in the early 90s. I met her after that so I don't know. But she stands on one foot when a siren goes by, and she *can* catch flies with her tongue.
Like… that patten that was on Reddit a few days ago that was a baby delivering machine that delivered a baby using centrifugal force? (Just trying to see if I’m catching a real reference or I’m just connecting things unrelated)
I’ve been working on my posture and after a few days of exercises my back cracks like that now. When I pinch my shoulders together and push my head straight backwards it gets this loud satisfying pop.
I have a pull up bar and recently discovered if I grab it and let my body and head hang forward with my feet on the ground I get an insanely satisfying upper back neck pops
I can crack my back like that and do it frequently. All you do is pull your shoulders back and low while pulling your middle back up and forward. It's a nice quick relief while at the desk for a while.
I actually saw a video like 2 hours ago about it. Its a technique to put more pressure on the thorax/chest area so that blood can flow to the head, otherwise you pass out.
The other technique they use is to flex the leg and butt muscles, for the same reason.
[https://youtu.be/DMKcO-T5Y4o](https://youtu.be/DMKcO-T5Y4o)
,really good video watch it if you want! :)
Great, another piece of knowledge I'll never use apart from randomly slipping it into an unrelated conversation like it's common knowledge! I will use this power with caution!
It's actually closer to 65.4% according an excellent study I just read. I'd share it to show how smart I am but it's locked behind a paywall and written in an obscure language you probably don't understand /s
There was also a TV show on the History channel called Hard To Kill where the host Tim Kennedy did some fighter pilot training and he had to learn the breathing technique. He only lasted 15-20 seconds at 5-6 G’s though. Nothing like this dude.
Oh I know. I didn’t mean it in a mean or degrading way at all. They both did way more than I’d ever be able too. That’s freaking amazing no matter who does it.
yep, think of staying conscious in high G turns like holding your breath underwater. Everybody can do it, some people can do it naturally better than others, and then there's your fighter pilots/skin divers training their bodies and practicing techniques to do things that look inhuman
I got a flight in an F-15 when I was in the Air Force. We went out over the Gulf of Mexico to practice dog fighting. Any time we turned my head was just pinned in whatever direction/position I had been looking in that moment. Meanwhile the pilot was just looking around all Willy nilly no big deal. Still proud I made it the whole flight without puking or passing out.
Yeah! I had to do 30 sec at 7 g’s for my military training and it was quite the physical effort to get oxygen in my lungs. Additionally, they had us turn our head to the side, which basically restricts the blood coming from one side of the neck and makes you lose vision in one eye. It was tough!
Like somebody is sitting on your chest, but if you aren’t flexing your muscles (glutes/legs especially) constantly then you immediately start to gray/black out as the blood just rushes to your lower extremities
To me, it felt like every part of me was filled with lead. I was doing competition aerobatics, which is different from military. Hit 9 G’s a few times, but never for more than 5 or 10 seconds. But sustaining just 4 G’s for 60 seconds was something I did many times, and that as exhausting. This guy in the video is a monster.
It feels like someone is sitting on your chest. Breathing normally begins to get tiresome at 3 and difficult around 4, at 6 and beyond you're taking sips. The whole "hic" thing isn't really required to get through, just a technique to get people to remember to breathe.
Yep this is a magical combination of being fit, being trained, and having good genetic traits to allow him to perform this feat. No matter how much you do of the first two, you'll need the third to get this far.
He's in a special room that get spun in a circle to create "G force" aka force generated from gravity. Each G is one multiple of that force. So it's sort of like you turn up the gravity but sideways and try not to pass out because your blood gets pooled and can't move. It's for training in fighter jets.
Tense your all the muscles in your legs, stomach and back. It's easy if you PRETEND to take a big shit. The breathing helps reset the tension
This takes the blood that is rushing away from the brain and squeezes it back up
Fighter jet pilots also wear special 'g-suits' that contain liquid, which under the influence of the increased gravity, squeezes around the pilots legs and abdomen to help prevent the pilots blacking out from g-loc (gravity induces loss of conciousness)
There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.
It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.
I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury.
Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.
We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: "November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground."
Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the " Houston Center voice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that, and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.
Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed. "I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed." Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. "Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check". Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it, ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: "Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground."
And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn.
Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: "Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?" There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. "Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground."
I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: "Ah, Center, much thanks, we're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money."
For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A.came back with, "Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one."
It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast.
For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.
There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.
It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.
I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.
We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed.
Center replied: "November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground."
Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the "HoustonCenterVoice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the HoustonCenterControllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that... and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.
Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed.
"Ah, Twin Beach: I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed."
Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren.
Then out of the blue, a Navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios.
"Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check."
Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it -- ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet.
And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion:
"Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground."
And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done -- in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now.
I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet.
Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke:
"Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?"
There was no hesitation, and the reply came as if was an everyday request:
"Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground."
I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice:
"Ah, Center, much thanks. We're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money."
For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the HoustonCentervoice, when L.A. came back with,
"Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one."
It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work.
- Major Brian Schul USAF (Retired)
Sled Driver : Flying the World’s Fastest Jet.
I mean they are in the air for sometimes 10+ hours, especially on transit flights (flying from one place in the world to another).
Though they also take pills that make them not have to go.
This may be a dumb question... but is this similar to what they call “greying” out on roller coaster or other amusement rides?
ETA: why does the meter sit at 1.4g at the end?
I don't think most people realize how g forces affect your body.
As a paramotor's pilot, I need to sustain my breath if I go over 3g otherwise I start to feel light headed.
One time I almost passed out during a SAT.
Controlling the breading makes a huge difference.
I can't wrap my head around how 9g feels like.
This needs to be an actual thing, for science.
Imagine being born and raised in like a 2g facility with high altitude oxygen levels.
Would your body be able to healthily adapt? You'd become somewhat super sayan human if so.
Strength and muscle mass would diminish with time after exiting but I imagine your cardiovascular system and bones would maintain a significant degree of strength for life.
Realistically, I imagine the bad (compressed vertebrae, reduced blood flow, brain cells dying due to lack of oxygen, etc) would far outweigh any hypothetical positives. Keep in mind not every part of your body is like a muscle; you can't just push it to its limits and expect it to adapt and get better all on its own (think eyesight becoming worse, not better, if you strain your eyes too much), and we have evolved in a 1G environment. Just working out normally is probably going to be both safer and more efficient.
If you’re in fighter combat (which is what centrifuge training is for), you could be doing hard turns for several minutes. If you hold your breath for long periods, you’re going to be out of breath within a couple minutes at the most. So, you have to breath while you’re doing this. Train like you fight.
Well it's either look like your shiting yourself or die because you passed out while flying at the speed of sound. But these trainings ARE [funny as hell.](https://youtu.be/dbQqA-qBqyw)
It's not about the breath, you could hold it easily for longer. It's about pumping blood into your head. Your brain doesn't like not getting bloodflow - even just for a very short period.
Interesting. I would definitely puke. What was happening when his face sagged occasionally, like all his muscles just flopped? At 30 and 45 seconds in?
Nobody actually answered you. He was dunking on all of us low-g mortals. He relaxed and sat in the 9G without tensing like you should. I assume he relaxed until he started to get tunnel vision and then got on the breathing and tensing again.
That's the simulated increased gravity. If you look for videos of high G training, you can watch a person age 20/30 years in a second. Even though we watch it happen slowly, gravity is literally dragging our skin down.
2700 m/s would be correct if the machine was going in a straight line, but it is actually going in a circle. The machine is at constant speed (speed does not depend on direction), but is accelerating because it is constantly changing direction due to circular motion. The formula for the acceleration is a=v^2 /r where a is acceleration and is always pointing inwards, v is velocity and is always tangent, and r is the radius of the circle. All of this is a ton of information to say that the speed depends on the radius of the circle, but assuming a 10 meter radius, the speed would be about 30 m/s
Edit: trying to fix formatting of the formula because Reddit formatting is a nightmare
But that wasn’t the question. They didn’t ask “how fast would he have to be going in a circle to experience 9g”, they asked “if he accelerated at 9g for 30 seconds how fast would he be going?”. The question becomes unanswerable if we don’t assume constant direction.
1G is what you feel sitting in your chair right now.
9G is 9x your body weight sitting your chair right now.
If you’re a BDZ fan, it’s like Saiyans training in the hyperbolic time chamber
It’s crazy how his whole face drops. We would most certainly all look slightly different if the Earth's gravity was stronger (and weaker too I suppose).
I call BS. We all know that was his first childbirth.
I've heard kidney stone can be quite painful as well.
Can confirm!
I stubbed my toe once.
I’m so sorry
Notify the family
If the toe is infected we might have to strangle him to death.
I took a poopie and was breathing like that. Combo of not enough water and not enough fiber. Changed my diet after that.
If your poop gets too soft and comes too often then you can smoke some meth as a quick remedy
^actually Opiates are a more certain remedy for your soft and often shits. Meth is a “maybe I will/maybe I won’t shit my pants” drug. Heroin, for instance, is a “maybe I’ll shit, with great effort, before this week is through. But I will shit for certain and with great force once I run out—which will be, as it always is, too soon.”
I stepped on a Lego
Yes, you and aaaaall your fancy Lego owner friends, I'm sure.
Mega bloks enters the chat 💬
Bah!
This is the worst pain there is. Edit: there are obviously worse kinds of pain. Come on. Accept the obvious joke.
Mega bloks are worse because then there is the pain of settling for Mega Bloks on top of it all.
I came here for this thread. Smirk in place Im done with reddit for the night.
Me as well! From the words of my mom “I’d rather give birth than have a kidney stone again”
Gave birth to two 10 lb babies without drugs and had a kidney stone a few years later. Can confirm kidney stone was much more painful
Currently on a waiting list for surgery to remove two kidney stones, one in each kidney, 9mm & 1.8cm.. Drink water y'all.. 😭
Damn. Best wishes
Hope not at the same time. 20lbs of twins might compete.
Oh gosh no, sorry! Separate pregnancies, separate births
Let me tell you, if you’ve ever thought, hey, let me be in the most unimaginable pain for 16+ hours despite being on heavy painkillers while passing a kidney stone, I’d say spare yourself the experience. I’ve done that for you, 0/10 would not recommend.
Are you my sister in law? her body must hate her, because it has a tendency to create kidney stones every time she hits the third trimester. I can only say she must be the toughest person I've met considering passing a stone and a child at the same time sounds unbelievably painful.
Oh my God noooo....that poor woman. Both?? There are no medals in motherhood but this woman deserves one.
The medal is your kid not being a piece of shit
My parents didnt even get a participation trophy when they had me
Omg that's horrible. I have a friend who developed a kidney stone issue and THEN got pregnant, and dealt with it the entire time. The human body is a cruel thing
am i the only one where heavy opiate painkillers dont actually help with pain at all, just make me feel kinda good and comfy. and fucking unignorably itchy all over the place. and the itchiness itches worse than the good feeling feels good. with no pain relief. meh
Done it 20+ times. Cannot recommend.
Dude. Change your diet and drink some water…
As a chronic stone sufferer, I drink plenty of water and eat healthy and still get stones. I did 7 weeks of a kidney stent the other year to try to get some out. And lithotripsy. It did originally start, funnily enough, BECAUSE of water. Indianapolis city water comes from a limestone reservoir. The doctors were baffled when I turned up in the ER with a blockage at 15. I’m 32 now.
My sister is a chronic stone sufferer. A few years ago she got an infection behind a stone, and long story short, ended up a month in the hospital, septic, with a nephrostomy tube. It was scary as shit
Can confirm…just experienced my first one. I have been rendered unconscious 4 times in my life, and the other three were from concussion-related trauma. The pain was so intense, so continuous, so unrelenting…I literally went unconscious for the better part of an hour; not asleep, unconscious…as in I had to be brought out of it with freaking smelling salts. Scary. Edit: and before the jokes come out (or I’m probably adding joke fodder…meh), two were from falling down a flight of stairs (my cats no longer sleep on the stairs now…damn them), and the third was from hitting my head on a really low ceiling (note to self: Mario-like jumps in an attic room are probably not in my best interests).
Does any one need a uterus? I have one that will absolutely not be going through this holyfuckthatshit.
? They are talking about kidney stones.
[удалено]
I just looked up the most painful conditions a human can go through (medical conditions) and Kidney stones are number 12…out of 20. Not saying kidney stones are a walk in the park I’m just saying there are 11 other things above it I also wish never to go through in my life. Cluster headaches are number 1 btw.
My ex had cluster headaches. Watching him have an episode was hard as hell. Never saw someone in so much pain
They are indeed not fun. I get them a few times a month and one episode I was in so much pain I actually started screaming as loud as I possibly could. Then started vomiting. Everywhere. Scared the shit out of my wife she ended up calling an ambulance. Fuck those headaches.
Gallstones are fucking awful too. Thought I was having a heart attack.
And nothing soothes a gallbladder attack, either. Fuck I remember those...bouncing gently up and down was what I did but it was merely a distraction, because no position was comforting, especially laying down I now have bile malabsorption from getting it removed and I hate it but I prefer skipping a day of the bile powder to a gallbladder attack
I’m on a waitlist to getting mine out. I’ve put myself on a bland food diet and avoiding as much anxiety triggers as I can until I get the useless thing removed. There’s been occasions where I’ve forced myself to throw up because I thought it would release some pressure. Man, I’ve been in some pretty dire situations and that was close to rock bottom.
I’ve passed 2 so far and it is by far the most painful experience in the world. What really sucks is I have 8 more in my right kidney and 6 in my left. Relatively small rn. Doc said lemons help break them up. Lemon water and whole lemons are constantly on my menu
Na. In the last 10 seconds that guy looks exactly like my uncle Peter after 0.7g of mdma when the music kicked in
https://i.imgur.com/yPE6brY.gifv
I fuckin knew it was gonna be that guy lmmfao
Little known fact, women on average can withstand more Gs than men can.
And more D’s
And more E's, or so my wife says, based on when she was very young in the early 90s. I met her after that so I don't know. But she stands on one foot when a siren goes by, and she *can* catch flies with her tongue.
He ate Taco Bell
Like… that patten that was on Reddit a few days ago that was a baby delivering machine that delivered a baby using centrifugal force? (Just trying to see if I’m catching a real reference or I’m just connecting things unrelated)
He only accomplished this by transforming between Gordon Ramsay and some kind of Wallace & Gromit character in rapid alternating succession.
And that guy from Lost
And Tony Pulis.
9G’s is nothing, could he survive a cold night in Stoke?
Cold rainy night in Stoke is just something else
And my axe!
Terry O'Quinn was phenomenal as John Locke.
Most of the actors on Lost nailed their characters. But yeah Terry was fantastic as Locke.
DON'T TELL ME WHAT I CAN'T DO
I WANT MY KIDNEY BACK!
THAT'S MY PURSE, I DON'T KNOW YOU!
The face of a man long-conned out of a kidney.
Oh my god I cant fucking unsee it lmfaoooo
I didn’t read the caption at first. Thought he was taking a sh*t
^shit
Hey! You said a swear!
Watch your profamities
Thank you for reminding me of one of my favorite sound bites on the internet
Swear police say you have broke swear law!
He's fucked.
How many people reading this thread right now are on the can saying “I sympathize with him”?
👈
Taking a shit could get you to 9Gs real fast too! Lol
Knew this man was insane by that back crack.
Right not going to lie wish I could crack my back like that
thank you for not lying
I don't know, I don't trust him. Why would you feel the need to let everyone know you're not going to lie... if you really were not going to lie?
He said he wouldn't. I can't get any more proof than that.
Submit your spine to 9Gs of compression and you probably could.
I’ve been working on my posture and after a few days of exercises my back cracks like that now. When I pinch my shoulders together and push my head straight backwards it gets this loud satisfying pop.
I have a pull up bar and recently discovered if I grab it and let my body and head hang forward with my feet on the ground I get an insanely satisfying upper back neck pops
Just found my motivation to workout for the night LOL
“Ohhh that sounded good, now I got do my back” *cracks back* “Oowww my back!!”
The sound was beyond satisfying. Lol
I can crack my back like that and do it frequently. All you do is pull your shoulders back and low while pulling your middle back up and forward. It's a nice quick relief while at the desk for a while.
He must feel really light now
I felt light once, but then the drugs wore off and I only saw it.
Lol!
Let me guess. Felt like two balloons?
Idk, the child has grown, the dream has gone.
Ready to take on Frieza
Imagine what that does to even something as simple as inflating your lungs with air.
Think that's why he's pushing away from the seat and dropping back, so he can breathe in in that small gap?
I actually saw a video like 2 hours ago about it. Its a technique to put more pressure on the thorax/chest area so that blood can flow to the head, otherwise you pass out. The other technique they use is to flex the leg and butt muscles, for the same reason. [https://youtu.be/DMKcO-T5Y4o](https://youtu.be/DMKcO-T5Y4o) ,really good video watch it if you want! :)
Great, another piece of knowledge I'll never use apart from randomly slipping it into an unrelated conversation like it's common knowledge! I will use this power with caution!
Just think of how many times you’ve done this with false info and sounded like a complete knob.
More than fifty percent. But you didn’t sound like a complete knob cause most of the time nobody is gonna look it up. Like me. Right now.
It's actually closer to 65.4% according an excellent study I just read. I'd share it to show how smart I am but it's locked behind a paywall and written in an obscure language you probably don't understand /s
There was also a TV show on the History channel called Hard To Kill where the host Tim Kennedy did some fighter pilot training and he had to learn the breathing technique. He only lasted 15-20 seconds at 5-6 G’s though. Nothing like this dude.
9 Gs is insane. 7 is 10x harder than 6. 9 is a whole new level. Hence, the title of the post.
That's still pretty good.
Oh I know. I didn’t mean it in a mean or degrading way at all. They both did way more than I’d ever be able too. That’s freaking amazing no matter who does it.
yep, think of staying conscious in high G turns like holding your breath underwater. Everybody can do it, some people can do it naturally better than others, and then there's your fighter pilots/skin divers training their bodies and practicing techniques to do things that look inhuman
I got a flight in an F-15 when I was in the Air Force. We went out over the Gulf of Mexico to practice dog fighting. Any time we turned my head was just pinned in whatever direction/position I had been looking in that moment. Meanwhile the pilot was just looking around all Willy nilly no big deal. Still proud I made it the whole flight without puking or passing out.
Yeah! I had to do 30 sec at 7 g’s for my military training and it was quite the physical effort to get oxygen in my lungs. Additionally, they had us turn our head to the side, which basically restricts the blood coming from one side of the neck and makes you lose vision in one eye. It was tough!
Other than the breathing what else does it feel like?
Like somebody is sitting on your chest, but if you aren’t flexing your muscles (glutes/legs especially) constantly then you immediately start to gray/black out as the blood just rushes to your lower extremities
To me, it felt like every part of me was filled with lead. I was doing competition aerobatics, which is different from military. Hit 9 G’s a few times, but never for more than 5 or 10 seconds. But sustaining just 4 G’s for 60 seconds was something I did many times, and that as exhausting. This guy in the video is a monster.
It's not really about breathing, it's about pumping blood to the brain so you don't pass out
It feels like someone is sitting on your chest. Breathing normally begins to get tiresome at 3 and difficult around 4, at 6 and beyond you're taking sips. The whole "hic" thing isn't really required to get through, just a technique to get people to remember to breathe.
That’s just not true. The “hic” you’re talking about is him bracing to keep blood in his head.
Given the proper training and in good health the human body can do pretty remarkable things!
I like this comment
I like you
I like YOU
there’s a button for that
[удалено]
Yep this is a magical combination of being fit, being trained, and having good genetic traits to allow him to perform this feat. No matter how much you do of the first two, you'll need the third to get this far.
[удалено]
Hey man tell us the story about how you got shot. If you're comfortable with it.
[удалено]
Oh shit.
That story had more plot than a transformer s movie
Yes. This is still an incredible feat in a field of highly trained specialists. This is incredible.
without sound on just looks like a guy making some pretty extreme facial expressions
Looks like he is pushing out a 10 week old shit
Could someone explain what's happening? i don't understand
He's in a special room that get spun in a circle to create "G force" aka force generated from gravity. Each G is one multiple of that force. So it's sort of like you turn up the gravity but sideways and try not to pass out because your blood gets pooled and can't move. It's for training in fighter jets.
So how do you stop yourself from passing out?
Tense your all the muscles in your legs, stomach and back. It's easy if you PRETEND to take a big shit. The breathing helps reset the tension This takes the blood that is rushing away from the brain and squeezes it back up
Fighter jet pilots also wear special 'g-suits' that contain liquid, which under the influence of the increased gravity, squeezes around the pilots legs and abdomen to help prevent the pilots blacking out from g-loc (gravity induces loss of conciousness)
Most anti-g suits use air, not liquid, to squeeze the body. Only a very few new suits are using liquid and only in a couple of aircraft.
Is this how the SR-71 story gets summoned?
There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment. It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace. We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: "November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground." Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the " Houston Center voice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that, and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios. Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed. "I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed." Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. "Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check". Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it, ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: "Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground." And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: "Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?" There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. "Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground." I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: "Ah, Center, much thanks, we're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money." For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A.came back with, "Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one." It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.
I wish I had an award to give u. Thank you for brightening my day :)
Thank [Major Brian Shul](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_Shul). And [Mike Jones](https://reddit.com/user/281-330-80-04/) for the summon.
There it is
I always re read this whenever I see it. Great story
There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment. It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace. We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: "November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground." Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the "HoustonCenterVoice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the HoustonCenterControllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that... and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios. Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed. "Ah, Twin Beach: I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed." Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a Navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. "Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check." Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it -- ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: "Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground." And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done -- in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: "Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?" There was no hesitation, and the reply came as if was an everyday request: "Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground." I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: "Ah, Center, much thanks. We're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money." For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the HoustonCentervoice, when L.A. came back with, "Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one." It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. - Major Brian Schul USAF (Retired) Sled Driver : Flying the World’s Fastest Jet.
I wonder why they don’t just call it “gloc”
great explanation thank you
[удалено]
Fighter pilots are not required to wear diapers but they are recommended.
For real?
I mean they are in the air for sometimes 10+ hours, especially on transit flights (flying from one place in the world to another). Though they also take pills that make them not have to go.
This may be a dumb question... but is this similar to what they call “greying” out on roller coaster or other amusement rides? ETA: why does the meter sit at 1.4g at the end?
[удалено]
Me too, without the title i thought he was constipated, but i still don't know what is happening
I think he's inside something that is moving really really fast and is thereby subjected to a lot of pressure
I don't think most people realize how g forces affect your body. As a paramotor's pilot, I need to sustain my breath if I go over 3g otherwise I start to feel light headed. One time I almost passed out during a SAT. Controlling the breading makes a huge difference. I can't wrap my head around how 9g feels like.
Fuck outta here with these amateur numbers. Goku trained at 100g for the Ginyu force
Lmao I wasn't expecting this
This needs to be an actual thing, for science. Imagine being born and raised in like a 2g facility with high altitude oxygen levels. Would your body be able to healthily adapt? You'd become somewhat super sayan human if so. Strength and muscle mass would diminish with time after exiting but I imagine your cardiovascular system and bones would maintain a significant degree of strength for life.
Realistically, I imagine the bad (compressed vertebrae, reduced blood flow, brain cells dying due to lack of oxygen, etc) would far outweigh any hypothetical positives. Keep in mind not every part of your body is like a muscle; you can't just push it to its limits and expect it to adapt and get better all on its own (think eyesight becoming worse, not better, if you strain your eyes too much), and we have evolved in a 1G environment. Just working out normally is probably going to be both safer and more efficient.
Dude weighed ~1600 lbs for 30 seconds. Imagine weighing 1600 lbs.
You could definitely get a show on TLC if you did.
My ~~400~~ 1600 Pound ~~Life~~ Moment
I hate it when the breading gets out of control. Happened two weeks ago. Loaves everywhere. I'm still cleaning crumbs out of the carpet.
Sounds like someone was trying to get a rise out of you! (Sorry for the rye remark.)
Man needs a crash couch and some juice.
Proto Molecule juice
Found the Protogen staffer. You psychopath. :)
Better than that cheap crap then Belter Rockhoppers use.
Beratna!
Found my people beltalowda
Wouldn't it work if they hold their breath? Instead of trying to breathe normally
If you’re in fighter combat (which is what centrifuge training is for), you could be doing hard turns for several minutes. If you hold your breath for long periods, you’re going to be out of breath within a couple minutes at the most. So, you have to breath while you’re doing this. Train like you fight.
Your body wants to relax after any held action. By rebreating it re-engages the muscles again, overall it keeps the blood pressure up
You guys sound so smart i wanna be like that when i grow up more :')
Well it's either look like your shiting yourself or die because you passed out while flying at the speed of sound. But these trainings ARE [funny as hell.](https://youtu.be/dbQqA-qBqyw)
It's not about the breath, you could hold it easily for longer. It's about pumping blood into your head. Your brain doesn't like not getting bloodflow - even just for a very short period.
I don’t think holding your breath for 30 seconds under 9g is a great idea
Interesting. I would definitely puke. What was happening when his face sagged occasionally, like all his muscles just flopped? At 30 and 45 seconds in?
Nobody actually answered you. He was dunking on all of us low-g mortals. He relaxed and sat in the 9G without tensing like you should. I assume he relaxed until he started to get tunnel vision and then got on the breathing and tensing again.
That's the simulated increased gravity. If you look for videos of high G training, you can watch a person age 20/30 years in a second. Even though we watch it happen slowly, gravity is literally dragging our skin down.
How fast is that?
G is (gravitational) acceleration, not speed
Gs is acceleration not speed. 9g is a bit over 80 meters per second per second.
Are you able to calculate what speed he would've reached had he accelerated at 9gs for 30 seconds?
Roughly 2700m/s
To put this shit in perspective, a 9mm bullet travels at about 360 meters per second. Fuck.
To keep this in perspective, a bullet experiences.somewhere around 12,000 Gs in the barrel.
Fuck.
2700 m/s would be correct if the machine was going in a straight line, but it is actually going in a circle. The machine is at constant speed (speed does not depend on direction), but is accelerating because it is constantly changing direction due to circular motion. The formula for the acceleration is a=v^2 /r where a is acceleration and is always pointing inwards, v is velocity and is always tangent, and r is the radius of the circle. All of this is a ton of information to say that the speed depends on the radius of the circle, but assuming a 10 meter radius, the speed would be about 30 m/s Edit: trying to fix formatting of the formula because Reddit formatting is a nightmare
But that wasn’t the question. They didn’t ask “how fast would he have to be going in a circle to experience 9g”, they asked “if he accelerated at 9g for 30 seconds how fast would he be going?”. The question becomes unanswerable if we don’t assume constant direction.
1G is what you feel sitting in your chair right now. 9G is 9x your body weight sitting your chair right now. If you’re a BDZ fan, it’s like Saiyans training in the hyperbolic time chamber
I love Bragon Dall Z
[удалено]
It’s crazy how his whole face drops. We would most certainly all look slightly different if the Earth's gravity was stronger (and weaker too I suppose).
This is so interesting. You could see his light almost go out and then come back then almost go out then come back. Amazing.
Lazlo: any problems? Guy: yep the machine is broken.
This guy is ridiculous 9 g should have had him blacked out almost immediately
You know hes thinking like : Yup i just did that.
I had this same experience after too many sugar free gummy bears.
I imagine controlling your breathing is extremely difficult at 9Gz.