Wade retweeted
In-N-Out makes its own hamburger patties, in its own plants. The company buys whole chucks, takes the bones out, grinds the meat and forms the patties there. Then they're delivered to the restaurants on In-N-Out's own trucks. It opened its first patty plant in 1963 and now has plants in California, Texas and Colorado.
In-N-Out says its restaurants get fresh, never-frozen ingredients delivered throughout the week. The company has said for years that it won't open a store farther than it can truck fresh patties from its own plants. When it announced Tennessee in 2023, Lynsi Snyder said its meat plant in Lancaster, Texas, would supply patties to the Tennessee stores.
The fries are cut from whole potatoes in each restaurant. The menu board has 3 burgers, fries, shakes and drinks.
Wade retweeted
I want to weigh in on the recent cash of the lear jet in Florida. As someone who started flying at 15, had an aerobatic coach by 20, and has flown everything from seaplanes to stunt planes my entire life, I know exactly how unforgiving aviation can be. As many of you know, I even survived a major amphibious aircraft crash myself, flipping upside down underwater in the Allegheny River flying with my dad.
First, let's put the age and experience argument to bed. When a tragedy like this happens, people are quick to fixate on a 20-year-old in the cockpit. Forget the noise about her age. Some of the greatest pilots in the United States—the ones flying our most advanced military aircraft—are in their late teens and early twenties. If someone that young can handle an F-35 Lightning II in a dogfight, they are absolutely capable of flying a Learjet.
Now, just looking at the cold facts of this specific crash, FAA regulations (AIM 7-1-27) are crystal clear: pilots must avoid thunderstorms by a minimum of 20 miles. Ultimately and tragically, this boils down to a fatal pilot error. They never should have flown directly into a severe storm cell.
In the cockpit, final responsibility always rests with the Pilot in Command (PIC). The captain was highly experienced, and at the end of the day, he owns that bad decision. Could the young co-pilot have pushed back? Yes. She had every right to question the call and insist they do a 180 to find a safer route. But the ultimate burden of the failure belongs to the PIC.
Listening to the ATC audio is absolutely heartbreaking, but you have to give that young co-pilot immense credit. You can literally hear her fight off the initial terror, force herself to stay cool, and continuously brief Air Traffic Control right up to the end. She was doing her job even when she had to have known they had no hope left.
Very few people will ever be in a position of knowing with 100% certainty that they are going to die, yet still forcing themselves to execute a job for the final two minutes of their life. Godspeed to the passengers and crew.
Wade retweeted
Zoomed in where some of the highest rain totals were the past couple days. 28+ inches officially showing around the Palm Bay area! spaghettimodels.com – at Estero, FL
Wade retweeted
Reminder that flying in a chartered jet is 9x more deadly than flying in a commercial aircraft and flying in a privately owned jet can be as 50x more deadly than a commercial aircraft.
General aviation pistons (ie Cessna) are 200x more deadly that commercial aircraft and are as risky as motorcycles.
There are 2-3 fatal accidents involving an airplane every single week.
I’m a pilot and know that I am taking a substantial risk every time I go up. Almost every pilot I know with more than a few hundred hours has a story of a close call that almost ended it all. It’s a risk we all are aware of and accept.
The most common cause for fatal accidents involves weather.
Unfortunately, there is nothing unusual about the accident.
It involved icing + thunderstorms, a deadly combo.
Wade retweeted
Mercy!!
KMLB - Super-Res Reflectivity 1 1:57 PM Digital Storm Total Accum. 1:50 PM #flwx
Wade retweeted
This is remarkable. Parts of Florida’s Space Coast have received up to *half a year’s worth of rain* in the last day and a half — as much as 27 inches in 36 hours, about 50% of an average year’s rainfall (radar estimate through 5 p.m. ET Monday).
The most extreme totals occurred in the stretch from Palm Bay to Valkaria.
What contributed to this:
• A deep flow of moisture from record-warm waters in the southwestern Atlantic
• Weak winds through the middle atmosphere, which kept storms slow-moving
• Background moisture levels boosted by a record El Niño, riding the tailwind of a warming climate
❤️🩹🇺🇸
Investors seem irritated with the mine-to-magnet companies’ stock prices, which reflect that they still can’t produce at scale. Nobody who has ever made a magnet is surprised by that.
January 1, 2027 is when DFARS stops taking excuses. The physics doesn’t care about deadlines or share prices. Making a sintered Nd-Fe-B magnet from separated metals takes roughly a dozen tightly controlled steps. A defect early in the process can limit everything that follows.
Some highlights:
• Melting and strip casting. The metals are melted under vacuum and rapidly solidified on a spinning water-cooled copper wheel into thin flakes. The quench has to be fast enough to avoid leaving free iron, or the material won’t powder or align properly in later steps.
• Hydrogen decrepitation. The flakes are exposed to warm, pressurized hydrogen. A rare earth-rich phase absorbs the gas, swells, and cracks the flakes into a coarse powder. The hydrogen is then baked out under vacuum. Leaving it in hurts coercivity, the resistance to demagnetization.
• Jet milling. The powder is reduced to particles a few microns across, ideally single crystals. From here on it stays under inert gas, because fine Nd-Fe-B burns in air (it was always a good day in my lab when dirty tools caught fire upon leaving the glovebox). Particle size largely determines grain size after sintering, which strongly influences coercivity.
• Alignment and pressing. The powder is blended with a lubricant, poured into a die, aligned in a magnetic field, and compacted. Alignment drives remanence, a measure of how strong the magnet is, and the pressing method alone can move it by 5–8%.
• Vacuum sintering. Above 1000°C the compact densifies as particles bond and grains grow. Excessive temperature or time lets a few grains grow enormous, creating weak spots where demagnetization can begin.
• Annealing. Lower-temperature heat treatments modify the chemistry and distribution of the thin rare earth-rich phase at the grain boundaries. One study reported a 37% gain in coercivity from annealing alone.
• Machining, coating, magnetizing. Sintered blocks are hard and brittle; shaping them takes specialized tooling and is the biggest material loss in the chain (roughly 10–40%). Parts are coated because corrosion attacks along the grain boundaries the anneal just built, then magnetized with pulse fields more than twice the magnet’s coercivity.
These steps require tight control, and they can introduce impurities. Oxygen from milling, carbon from the pressing lubricant, and nitrogen from the mill gas all consume the small excess of Nd that forms the grain boundary phase, resulting in crappy coercivity. Upstream processing defects cannot be fixed downstream. Their cumulative effects ultimately show up when the finished magnet is tested. Magnet grades are specified by the performance, not the process to get there, and each plant has to tune its own recipe.
I’m only describing one stage. Mining, separation, metallization, alloying, and magnet making are each their own discipline, with their own steps and their own learning curve. Process knowledge is built by running real material through real equipment. This knowledge cannot be found in a book. A company promising the whole chain has signed up to climb every one of those learning curves at once, on one schedule and one balance sheet. A slip at any stage propagates through everything downstream of it. When the national rebuild rides on one or two of these companies, their slips become America’s slips.
The DFARS deadline is really counting qualification. One magnet that meets spec proves nothing. The customer starts qualifying when the supplier can reproduce the performance batch after batch.
The integrated bets aren’t necessarily a mistake, just a more complex route. Some of these bets will pay off, and US supply chains will be stronger when they do. But they are not where speed comes from, and the stock prices are reflecting that. Speed comes from companies mastering one link, with one learning curve to climb and one balance sheet to climb it with.
Wade retweeted
Writing this in my personal capacity, but I have been flying these types of aircraft for more than 20 years, with over 8,000 hours, and have reasonable familiarity with how the charter world operates. I feel compelled to post after seeing commentary about the Lear 60 crash, from missile strikes to DEI to critiquing this poor woman’s final radio calls.
That last part is what I find most troubling. She was the second-in-command (SIC), and while she was empowered to point out mistakes as part of good crew resource management, she was doing her job, communicating with ATC right to the end in a terrifying situation. She likely knew before many of those calls that she was going to die. I have heard final calls from friends, from military pilots with thousands of hours in fighter aircraft, and they are just as heartbreaking because they know the end is approaching.
I understand the public interest given the footage and audio. But you do not know the aircraft’s maintenance history, whether there was a structural failure, if any failure was induced by turbulence, overspeed, or overcontrol, or everything happening in that cockpit. I am sure weather will be part of the investigation, but beyond that, it is speculation. The charter industry routinely hires commercial pilots very early in their careers to gain experience alongside an ATP-qualified captain before they move up to the airlines. She would still have the appropriate training, qualifications, and checkouts by an FAA examiner or designee.
Let people investigate, learn, and share the facts. Be respectful to those who perished and the families who carry their memories. God bless them and their loved ones.
Wade retweeted
My thoughts on the Lear 60 crash here in Palm Beach country.
God bless the crew and passengers.
Wade retweeted
Here’s a story for you. We started filming without owning the title and had to do alternates.
Taft Broadcasting owned the title Ghostbusters as part of their half-hour sitcom starring Larry Storch and Forrest Tucker (F-Troop) and a gorilla chasing ghosts. I had never heard of it. They didn’t have proton packs or Bill Murray. Columbia paid $500,000 to buy the name, but they really should have paid Dean Martin, from whom I first heard the term.
In the film Scared Stiff (1953), he and Jerry Lewis (check out his acrobatic stair descent) are in an old haunted castle, and Lizabeth Scott asks Dean: “Who are you guys?” And Dean answers: “You’ve heard of Trustbusters and Gangbusters, we’re Ghostbusters!”
For my research writing the first movie, I watched every single ‘ghost’ comedy ever made. Bowery Boys, Hope and Crosby, Abbot and Costello, Martin and Lewis all did such films.
Happy Halloween 2026.
Wade retweeted
Before Hollywood, I was living in a van in Hawaii and waiting tables at Bubba Gump Shrimp Company. One day, the incredible Rae Dawn Chong walked into the restaurant, and naturally, I went up to her table and said, “Hey, you’re a movie star! What are you doing here?”
She asked if I could act, and I said, “Fuck yeah, put me in your movie!”
She asked for my phone number. The only problem was I didn’t have one. So I gave her my buddy Mike’s number instead. A couple days later, Mike casually mentions, “Oh, by the way, someone called you.” ARE YOU KIDDING ME, MIKE?!
I called her back, and sure enough, she was serious. I drove over to pick up the script, went back to Mike’s house, and read all 120 pages three times in a row. First script I’d ever read. My character's name was Devon, and I remember thinking, “Sweet! I could totally play a Devon!”
I showed up to the audition with every line and inflection mapped out in pencil. Rae told me I could act and offered me the part. I asked if we were shooting in Hawaii. Nope. Los Angeles.
I had about $60 to my name, a bag of clothes, and some rollerblades.
Then Rae told me they'd fly me out. And I remember thinking right then and there, my life just changed forever. I'm going to be an actor.
That little movie was Cursed Part 3, a low-budget horror comedy that opened the door to Hollywood for me.
I'll forever be grateful to Rae for taking a chance on a kid working at a shrimp restaurant. Everybody starts somewhere, and this is where it all began for me.


























