Hideaki Akaiwa was at work on March 11th when the earthquake and then the tsunami hit his hometown, Ishinomaki in Japan's Miyagi Prefecture. The city was covered with water ten feet deep -for days. Hideaki's wife was missing somewhere in the flooded area. Rescue workers told Hideaki that all they could do was wait for the military to come help. But the 43-year-old man did not want to sit idly by while his wife was missing, so he put on some SCUBA gear.
Hideaki wasn't finished, though. His mother was still missing. Read the rest of the story at Badass of the Week. Warning: lots of strong language. Link -via reddit
Regardless of how he came across this equipment (borrowing, stealing, buying, beating up a Yakuza SCUBA diving demolitions expert, etc.) Hideaki threw on his underwater survival gear, rushed into the goddamned tsunami, and dove beneath the rushing waves, determined to rescue his wife or die trying. I'm not exactly sure whether or not the dude even knew how to operate SCUBA equipment, but according to one version of his story he met his wife while he was surfing (which is awesome, by the way), so it doesn't seem like that much of a stretch to say that he already had a little experience SCUBA diving under a more controlled situation. Of course, even if this dude didn't know how to work the gear I'm certain that wouldn't have stopped him either – Hideaki wasn't going to let a pair of soul-crushing natural disasters deter him from doing awesome shit and saving his family. He dove down into the water, completely submerged in the freezing cold, pitch black rushing current on all sides, and started swimming through the underwater ruins of his former hometown.
Surrounded by incredible hazards on all sides, ranging from obscene currents capable of dislodging houses from their moorings, sharp twisted metal that could easily have punctured his oxygen line (at best) or impaled him (at worst), and with giant f***ing cars careening through the water like toys, he pressed on. Past broken glass, past destroyed houses, past downed power lines arcing with electrical current, through undertow that could have dragged him out to sea never to be heard from again, he searched.
Hideaki maintained his composure and navigated his way through the submerged city, finally tracking down his old house. He quickly swam through to find his totally-freaked-out wife, alone and stranded on the upper level of their house, barely keeping her head above water. He grabbed her tight, and presumably sharing his rebreather with her, dragged her out of the wreckage to safety. She survived.
Hideaki wasn't finished, though. His mother was still missing. Read the rest of the story at Badass of the Week. Warning: lots of strong language. Link -via reddit
Comments (6)
http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/world/la-fg-japan-quake-scuba-20110317,0,7192950.story
Think about the looseness of words like "sandwich" and "planet". These are words we use everyday, and think we know what they mean, but then an event like this forces us to observe the looseness of words.
Now, think about words like "God" and "Nature", how well defined are they? Do you normally talk as if you know what these things are?
So does it have to be 2 of the same thing? How about a triple-decked sandwich?
Do you then classify a quesadilla as a sandwich?
"The world is not dialectical -- it is sworn to extremes, not to equilibrium, sworn to radical antagonism, not to reconciliation or synthesis. This is also the principle of evil." - Jean Baudrillard
It takes a lot of courage to take the unconscious seriously and to tackle the problems it raises. Most people are too indolent to think deeply about even those moral aspects of which they are conscious; they are certainly too lazy to consider how the unconscious affects them. - M. - L. von Franz, Man And His Symbols (Carl Jung), P. 176
To further muddy the waters, perhaps a sandwich is 'something edible but potentially messy, encased in something edible but not so messy in order that the messy substance can be more easily carried and eaten, with at least one long edge revealed the substance inside to facilitate identification of the contents'.
Or not :)
We all know the standard of "sandwich" even though we can't put it into words.
Cake is not bread (though that distinction can be fuzzy, ie banana bread), so that would rule out pop-tarts and ice cream "sandwiches".
My intuition leans towards Adriennes "sandwiching" requirement, which could include wraps because of a "sandwiching" action. Hard tacos may be excluded because of lack of "bread" and the "sandwiching" is usually unsatisfactory. Soft tacos may still be ok. If you don't like hot dogs being referred to "sandwiches" don't "sandwich" them. Corn dogs would not be "sandwiches" for example. Half "sandwiches" are fine as long as there is "sandwiching" applied.
Open faced "sandwiches" are like one hand clapping.
-"BB"-
Stacking: Generally, sandwiches have a clearly identifiable top and bottom made of similar material and contain an item (or multiple items) that are different - this is a key differentiation between a "sandwich" and a "wrap". Whereas a "wrap" or "burrito" will contain one or more items with a carbohydrate-based layer, a sandwich relies on the flat spread and vertical distribution of its ingredients.
Open Display of Contents: Along with the "stackability" argument, burritos and other similar items will fail this test since they use their wrapping to obfuscate their contents. While some people enjoy surprises, a sandwich is just not the proper place for secrecy. Quesadillas, for the most part, fail this test, since the tortilla is routinely folded over and the cheese will obscure any additional ingredients (steak, chicken, peppers, etc.). A pita, on the other hand, passes this test, since the contents (while obscured on all but one side) are still viewable and auditable.
Utensil-free Edibility: The traditional sandwich is an item that can be eaten with one's hands. Lasagna and several other baked goods fail this test because they are difficult to consume without utensils.
Note: open-faced sandwiches are dead to me.
This interpretation leaves open the possibility of breadless sandwiches (and leaves out the concept of open-faced sandwiches, which are dead to me), but this is to be expected. Traditional sandwiches include bread (or a similar carbohydrate), and that is the generally accepted definition. For non-traditional sandwiches, the nature of their novelty is routinely included in the name of that item, giving credence to the notion that they are not "traditional" sandwiches and reinforcing the generally accepted definition.
The open interpretation of the word "sandwich" can be fuzzy (as this article illustrates), but it is nowhere near as confusing as the ever-evasive "salad", which is near-impossible to define. After attempts to do so in the past, several of my friends have resolved themselves to failure and begun to refer to hamburgers as "meat-and-bread salads".