Itβs hard to believe anyone survived this, let alone everyone.
A Delta Connection jet lost its right wing, caught fire and flipped upside down while landing at Toronto Pearson on February 17, 2025.
All 80 people aboard survived. Twenty-one were injured, including two seriously.
Watch it again knowing nobody died.
Parable of the Mexican Fisherman:
An American banker explains to a Mexican fisherman how to spend the next 20 years building a better life.
The fisherman asks a simple question that makes the whole plan sound ridiculous.
Worth remembering the next time you catch yourself putting off living until you've "made it."
Parable of the Mexican Fisherman:
An American banker explains to a Mexican fisherman how to spend the next 20 years building a better life.
The fisherman asks a simple question that makes the whole plan sound ridiculous.
Worth remembering the next time you catch yourself putting off living until you've "made it."
Not AI slop.
Real video from @no_trail_back (18.1K followers Tik Tok). You can see him on his other videos.
Devils Hole in Nevada is a real place: rare pupfish, 1965 diving deaths, seismic waves from distant quakes. Standard storytelling voiceover over footage.
https://t.co/SUjOQOsGSE
There's a pool in the Nevada desert where two young divers disappeared in 1965, and an earthquake more than 1,500 miles away can send its water sloshing into four-foot waves.
It's called Devils Hole. From behind the fence it looks like a slot of blue water barely bigger than a backyard pool, but underneath it drops more than 500 feet into a cavern nobody has ever found the bottom of.
Up near the sunlight, the last wild population of one of the rarest fish on Earth depends on a single shallow rock shelf to feed and spawn.
Most of us will never stand at that fence, and that's the point. Some places are worth knowing about even when the best thing we can do for them is leave them alone.
There's a pool in the Nevada desert where two young divers disappeared in 1965, and an earthquake more than 1,500 miles away can send its water sloshing into four-foot waves.
It's called Devils Hole. From behind the fence it looks like a slot of blue water barely bigger than a backyard pool, but underneath it drops more than 500 feet into a cavern nobody has ever found the bottom of.
Up near the sunlight, the last wild population of one of the rarest fish on Earth depends on a single shallow rock shelf to feed and spawn.
Most of us will never stand at that fence, and that's the point. Some places are worth knowing about even when the best thing we can do for them is leave them alone.
The people of northern Laos have an old explanation for these stone jars. A king named Khun Jeuam defeated a tyrant on this plateau and ordered them carved so his army could brew rice wine for the victory celebration. The archaeologists who came later found something a lot less festive.
Finding out who carved them means working around what a much newer war left behind. American bombing in the 1960s and 70s left craters among the jars and unexploded weapons in the ground around them. In 2021, researchers reported that fewer than one in ten known jar sites had been cleared.
Scientists tested the soil beneath the jars to see when those grains last saw sunlight, and the results suggested some jars were set in place sometime between 1240 and 660 BC.
We can measure how long the ground beneath these jars has been dark. We still don't know what the people who carved them called themselves.
Hundreds of people packed the square in Hull today to welcome home Karl Bushby, who left at 29 and swore he wouldn't come back until he'd walked the whole way from the southern tip of Chile. He's 57 now.
It took 28 years and 31,000 miles, and not once did a plane, boat or car carry him forward. He crossed the Bering Strait on shifting ice and swam both the Caspian Sea and the English Channel rather than break that rule.
Even after the crowd and the speeches, the walk wasn't finished until he reached his mother's gate across town. When he got there, she asked him where he'd been.
Most of us talk about the big thing we'll do someday. He walked out the door and spent half his life doing his.
The people of northern Laos have an old explanation for these stone jars. A king named Khun Jeuam defeated a tyrant on this plateau and ordered them carved so his army could brew rice wine for the victory celebration. The archaeologists who came later found something a lot less festive.
Finding out who carved them means working around what a much newer war left behind. American bombing in the 1960s and 70s left craters among the jars and unexploded weapons in the ground around them. In 2021, researchers reported that fewer than one in ten known jar sites had been cleared.
Scientists tested the soil beneath the jars to see when those grains last saw sunlight, and the results suggested some jars were set in place sometime between 1240 and 660 BC.
We can measure how long the ground beneath these jars has been dark. We still don't know what the people who carved them called themselves.
Hundreds of people packed the square in Hull today to welcome home Karl Bushby, who left at 29 and swore he wouldn't come back until he'd walked the whole way from the southern tip of Chile. He's 57 now.
It took 28 years and 31,000 miles, and not once did a plane, boat or car carry him forward. He crossed the Bering Strait on shifting ice and swam both the Caspian Sea and the English Channel rather than break that rule.
Even after the crowd and the speeches, the walk wasn't finished until he reached his mother's gate across town. When he got there, she asked him where he'd been.
Most of us talk about the big thing we'll do someday. He walked out the door and spent half his life doing his.
Guinness refused to put this man in the record book, and not because he fell short. They said riding a 35-foot unicycle with no harness and no safety belt was too dangerous to recognize.
In 1981 Denis Frisoli was 21, from Edison, New Jersey, and he told the cameras he wanted to do something no one else in the world was doing. His brothers worried about him and helped him do it anyway. On national TV he threaded orange cones from three stories up on the Tower of Death.
In June 1982, during a New York Cosmos game, he fell onto the AstroTurf at Giants Stadium and suffered a compound fracture of his right arm. Reports at the time said he was more worried about whether the unicycle survived.
For the crowd it was a halftime act, but for his brothers it was someone they loved risking his life in a stunt they had helped make possible.
222 people live on Tristan da Cunha. No airport, a supply ship every three months, and a 15-day boat ride just to get there. You'd think that much isolation would make people hard.
Then you hear a man in his shed describe what happens when one of his neighbors has work to do, and you realize the most remote town on Earth held onto something a lot of crowded places lost.
π₯ @RuhiCenet
2/2
On a night in 1961, the ground split open on Tristan da Cunha, the most remote inhabited island on Earth. Lava ran toward the only village and stopped just short of the houses. The people who lived there climbed into fishing boats in the dark with nowhere to go but an empty island across the water. They waited there until a passing ship answered their call, and it would be almost two years before they saw home again.
The lava field looks like it cooled yesterday, black rock running almost to where the village begins. An 81-year-old man still works his potato rows with his own hands, no machine in sight. In a church with no Catholic priest, neighbors step to the front and lead the service themselves.
Walk past the playground and it's quiet. The island is mostly older folks now, and only eight babies have been born there in the last five years.
Fire couldn't keep these people off their island. What threatens them now makes no noise at all, just a classroom where two grades share one room because there aren't enough kids to fill two. Their faith, their fields, and the way they look after their own need another generation to carry them forward.
π₯ @RuhiCenet
222 people live on Tristan da Cunha. No airport, a supply ship every three months, and a 15-day boat ride just to get there. You'd think that much isolation would make people hard.
Then you hear a man in his shed describe what happens when one of his neighbors has work to do, and you realize the most remote town on Earth held onto something a lot of crowded places lost.
π₯ @RuhiCenet
Every kid who watched Bruce Lee wanted a pair of nunchucks, right up until the first time one cracked them across the knuckles. Marc Chaland picked his up at 12 in France and never put them down.
He joined an international nunchaku federation at 20 and won his first world title in 2003. In 2006 he opened his own nunchaku club near Lyon and turned a childhood obsession into a living. More than thirty years after he started, he's still practicing.
Watch his hands and think about how many repetitions it took before those movements looked that easy. We get to see the impressive part, but he spent three decades putting in the work behind it.
What's one thing you wish you'd kept practicing?
Guinness refused to put this man in the record book, and not because he fell short. They said riding a 35-foot unicycle with no harness and no safety belt was too dangerous to recognize.
In 1981 Denis Frisoli was 21, from Edison, New Jersey, and he told the cameras he wanted to do something no one else in the world was doing. His brothers worried about him and helped him do it anyway. On national TV he threaded orange cones from three stories up on the Tower of Death.
In June 1982, during a New York Cosmos game, he fell onto the AstroTurf at Giants Stadium and suffered a compound fracture of his right arm. Reports at the time said he was more worried about whether the unicycle survived.
For the crowd it was a halftime act, but for his brothers it was someone they loved risking his life in a stunt they had helped make possible.