Hydrogen is the lightest of all the gases lighter even than helium and much cheaper, which accounts for its ill-advised use in early airships such as the Hindenburg. You may have heard how well that went, though in fairness the people died because they fell, not because they were burned by the hydrogen, which in some ways is less dangerous to have in a vehicle than, say, gasoline.
Sayfa 15
Her çiçeğin bir mevsimi, her kitabın bir zamanı vardır. Haziranın tadını yeni hikâyelerle çıkarın.
Yet after the 1973 war the Arab appeared everywhere as something more menacing. Cartoons depicting an Arab sheik standing behind a gasoline pump turned up consistently. These Arabs, however, were clearly “Semitic”: their sharply hooked noses, the evil mustachioed leer on their faces, were obvious reminders (to a largely non-Semitic population) that “Semites” were at the bottom of all “our” troubles, which in this case was principally a gasoline shortage. The transference of a popular anti-Semitic animus from a Jewish to an Arab target was made smoothly, since the figure was essentially the same.
Kanalları karıştırdı David Bowie'nin Putting Out Fire With Gasoline şarkısını çalan bir kanalda durdu. Şarkı kimindi, kim söylüyor bilmiyordu, ama sözleri ona kehanetmiş gibi geldi.
Every fireman, sooner or later, hits this. They only need understanding, to know how the wheels run. Need to know the history of our profession. They don’t feed it to rookies like they used to. Damn shame. (...) Only fire chiefs remember it now. (...) I'll let you in on it. (...)
When did it all start, you ask, this job of ours, how did it come about, where, when? Well, I'd say it really got started around about a thing called the Civil War. The fact is we didn’t get along well until photography came into its own. Then — motion pictures in the early Twentieth Century. Radio. Television. Things began to have mass. (...) And because they had mass, they became simpler. (...) Once, books appealed to a few people, here, there, everywhere. They could afford to be different. The world was roomy. But then the world got full of eyes and elbows and mouths. Double, triple, quadruple population. Films and radios, magazines, books leveled down to a sort of paste pudding norm, do you follow me? (...)
Books cut shorter. Condensations. Digests. Tabloids. Everything boils down to the gag, the snap ending. (...) Classics cut to fit fifteen-minute radio shows, then cut again to fill a two-minute book column, winding up at last as a ten or twelve-line dictionary resume. I exaggerate, of course. The dictionaries were for reference. But many were those whose sole knowledge of Hamlet (...) was a one-page digest in a book that claimed: now at last you can read all the classics; keep up with your neighbors. Do you see? Out of the nursery into the college and back to the nursery; there’s your intellectual pattern for the past five centuries or more. (...)
Speed up the film, Montag, quick. Click, Pic, Look, Eye, Now, Flick, Here, There, Swift, Pace, Up, Down, In, Out, Why, How, Who, What,
“I walked from the wreck till the yards became years, the dirt road a city, until my face became this face & the rain washed the gasoline clean from my fingers. I found a payphone in the heart of the poem & called you collect to say all this knowing it won’t make a difference, only
more. So hello, hi, the blood inside my hands, is now inside the world. Words, the prophets tell us, destroy nothing they can’t rebuild. I did it to hold my father, to free my dog. It’s an old story, Ma, anyone can tell it.”
