Elena
👤 SpeakerAppearances Over Time
Podcast Appearances
Because molasses is also a thick, viscous liquid. Yeah. If it's exploding, it's taken out everything. Yeah. Thick. It's got some mass behind it. It's not like this is just something with nothing behind it. It's not like a water tank. Yeah. And even that would cause damage. And you look at how thick molasses is in comparison to water. Yeah. Of course. And heavy. Exactly.
Because molasses is also a thick, viscous liquid. Yeah. If it's exploding, it's taken out everything. Yeah. Thick. It's got some mass behind it. It's not like this is just something with nothing behind it. It's not like a water tank. Yeah. And even that would cause damage. And you look at how thick molasses is in comparison to water. Yeah. Of course. And heavy. Exactly.
And just think of a pressure cooker.
And just think of a pressure cooker.
How much damage those can do. That's the best way to think of it. That's essentially what it was. It was a pressure cooker. I was just going to say. Now, when considering the entire scenario, author Stephen Paleo wrote his good name. His good name. Author Stephen with his good name. I don't want to mess up his good name. No.
How much damage those can do. That's the best way to think of it. That's essentially what it was. It was a pressure cooker. I was just going to say. Now, when considering the entire scenario, author Stephen Paleo wrote his good name. His good name. Author Stephen with his good name. I don't want to mess up his good name. No.
He wrote, the substance itself gives the entire event an unusual whimsical quality. Yes. Allowing for it to easily fall into the category of folklore that's, you know, like told half seriously year to year. Yeah. In fact, one of the more lighthearted facts of the story is that for decades after the flood, the North End still smelled of molasses on warm days.
He wrote, the substance itself gives the entire event an unusual whimsical quality. Yes. Allowing for it to easily fall into the category of folklore that's, you know, like told half seriously year to year. Yeah. In fact, one of the more lighthearted facts of the story is that for decades after the flood, the North End still smelled of molasses on warm days.
And people will say even now, they'll be like, oh, even now on warm days, you can just smell molasses. And it's like, uh-huh. Also, you can't. But imagine how triggering that was for people who had lost a loved one or themselves been injured. Yeah. Yeah. And that's the thing. And it's like, so that was always like the thing. That was like a funny thing.
And people will say even now, they'll be like, oh, even now on warm days, you can just smell molasses. And it's like, uh-huh. Also, you can't. But imagine how triggering that was for people who had lost a loved one or themselves been injured. Yeah. Yeah. And that's the thing. And it's like, so that was always like the thing. That was like a funny thing.
Like, oh, on warm days, you can still smell the molasses so much it leaked into the landscape. But like the reality of the flood was anything but humorous or whimsical. It just wasn't. Because of its chemical makeup, molasses, like we said, is real thick, real goopy. And given the right amount of stress and pressure, it can pick up momentum very quickly and move at insane speeds. Mm-hmm.
Like, oh, on warm days, you can still smell the molasses so much it leaked into the landscape. But like the reality of the flood was anything but humorous or whimsical. It just wasn't. Because of its chemical makeup, molasses, like we said, is real thick, real goopy. And given the right amount of stress and pressure, it can pick up momentum very quickly and move at insane speeds. Mm-hmm.
35 miles an hour? Like you drive in your car at that fucking speed. Ferris Jaber wrote in Scientific American, because of this physical property, a wave of molasses is even more devastating than a typical tsunami. Wow. Yeah.
35 miles an hour? Like you drive in your car at that fucking speed. Ferris Jaber wrote in Scientific American, because of this physical property, a wave of molasses is even more devastating than a typical tsunami. Wow. Yeah.
Yep. Like we said, moving at speeds 35, like nearly 35 miles per hour, the flood grabbed everything in its path because it was also sticky. It could grab onto things. And it would toss it into the air or crush it under the immense weight of the liquid itself.
Yep. Like we said, moving at speeds 35, like nearly 35 miles per hour, the flood grabbed everything in its path because it was also sticky. It could grab onto things. And it would toss it into the air or crush it under the immense weight of the liquid itself.
And once it settled, the liquid returned to a more gelatinous state, which would trap people, animals, and property in like an iron vice grip. Even more terrifying is the fact that because of its viscosity, it's almost impossible to move, much less swim in molasses. So if you found yourself dragged under the wave, you would have died a terrible death because you couldn't move. Exactly.
And once it settled, the liquid returned to a more gelatinous state, which would trap people, animals, and property in like an iron vice grip. Even more terrifying is the fact that because of its viscosity, it's almost impossible to move, much less swim in molasses. So if you found yourself dragged under the wave, you would have died a terrible death because you couldn't move. Exactly.
You were just being eaten by it, essentially. It is only due to the incline of Copse Hill that the flood slowed down at all. Like, thank goodness there was an incline. Yeah. Because if the landscape had been a downhill slope, the death toll would have been considerably higher. It would have taken out hundreds of people. Oh.
You were just being eaten by it, essentially. It is only due to the incline of Copse Hill that the flood slowed down at all. Like, thank goodness there was an incline. Yeah. Because if the landscape had been a downhill slope, the death toll would have been considerably higher. It would have taken out hundreds of people. Oh.