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Please begin with an informative title:

Please move to the current BP disaster ROV, number 150, here.

Please DO NOT Rec this diary, rather REC THE MOTHERSHIP instead. She needs your love to stay afloat.

Please be kind to kossacks with bandwidth issues. Please do not post images or videos. Again, many thanks for this.

PLEASE visit Crashing Vor and Pam LaPier's diaries to find out how you can help the Gulf now and in the future. We don't have to be idle! And thanks to Crashing Vor and Pam LaPier for working on this!
For a description of the mothership/ROV liveblogging process, check out this thread.

You must enter an Intro for your Diary Entry between 300 and 1150 characters long (that's approximately 50-175 words without any html or formatting markup).

Must read: Lax Oversight Seen in Failure of Oil Rig's Last Line of Defense.  Watch video and interactive graphic page, too.   Best overview of how the BOP works, and doesn't work, and the management interference that caused the accident.

Deepwater Horizon BP Oil Spill Reference Material
 - from Whitis is the best source for everything.. The quantitative data diary has also been moved there.
Please DO NOT Rec this diary, Rec the Mothership here.

BP put up a video explaining the LMRP procedure and the future plans.

Go to the Deepwater Horizon Data Summary for a wealth of actual data from the Department of Energy.

The BOP and pressure drawings are viewable here.  The CAD drawings come highly recommended by the techies among us.  h/t Claudius Bombarnac.

Breaking News and new links:
This is what BP DOES NOT WANT YOU TO SEE.  The following images are guaranteed to make you SICK AT HEART.
These images are not for the faint of heart - DO NOT VIEW THEM LIGHTLY.
Really, I mean it. Hold somebody's hand. Grab a tissue.
A brief reference guide to nicknames you may see in the ROV diaries:
  • Gertrude, aka Gerty:  the oil volcano
  • Lizzy:  the diamond saw cutter
  • Clampy:  the cute ROV
  • Crunchy:  30 ft shear. bit the pipe, now a movie star
  • Wanda: the dispersant sprayer
  • laundry basket:  yellow thing that brings things up and down
  • Thingy: those things, you know, those things
  • Shiny Thing: those really neat things
  • Ms. Blanche Flo, aka Blanche, aka Flo: the manifold thingy
cosmic debris put together a comprehensive list of links on oil health and safety info:
Thanks to dov12348 for publishing a diary on Oil Terminology.
Here is a tutorial on the sources of pressure on the well
H/t to Pluto for finding this:
The official casing configuration under the wellhead.
Images giving a rough idea of what's in place now and status of the kill wells

The video feeds we are watching:
== ROV Feeds ===
44287/44668 - OceanInterventionROV1
44838/45135 - OceanInterventionROV2
46566/54013 - Viking_Poseidon_ROV1
55030/56646 - Viking_Poseidon_ROV2
31499/31500 - Boa_Deep_C_ROV_1
22458/23729 - Boa_Deep_C_ROV_2
45685/49182 - Skandi_ROV1
45683/45684 - Skandi_ROV2
47175/21144 - Enterprise_ROV_1
21145/21327 - Enterprise_ROV_2
37235/37270 - Q4000_ROV1
35523/35624 - Q4000_ROV2

Possibly outdated or redundant links (from The Oil Drum):
46245 - BP "Official" #1 (primary)
46260 - BP "Official" #2 (secondary)
46661 - BP mystery feed #1
46663 - BP mystery feed #2

Restricted to web browser based viewing:
CNN Video Streams Note: multi-view is sometimes unavailable.
PBS (fewer security issues than some others)
BP videos Links to all available live feeds from BP.
WKRG - Mobile/Pensacola (Contains link for an iPhone app at the bottom.)
ABC 7 Chicago Live Video Multiple ROV Camera Views (h/t to temptxan for the great find).

Multiple stream feeds (hard on browser/bandwidth):
The best multi-view feed Be patient as load time may take a bit.
Markey's multi-view page
Lusty's multi-feed page (originally created by papicek, but a huge improvement made by Lusty, who also kindly hosts it :^)
Vote For America's awesome clickable multi-view Courtesy of one of our very own Kossacks.
A multi-view Contains feeds from BP, C-SPAN-2, WKRG, and PBS
High-def video feeds
See this thread for more info on using video feeds and on linking to video feeds.

Kossak Dangangry let us know how to do something kind for our heroes of the deep - the ROV pilots.
Oceaneering address:
5004 Railroad Avenue
Morgan City, LA. 70380
Attn: Darryl Rundquist Senior Operations Manager ROV

They don't need much as they rotate out every three weeks, but kudos would be greatly appreciated!!!!!

Again, to keep bandwidth down please do not post images or videos.

Links, courtesy of several Kossacks


I have been struck time and again how profoundly our literature, music, and visual arts grow directly out of land and the sense of place - the mark of the land, sometimes not so much the land as subject matter but the way it is chosen to be presented in all its directness, the love of narrative, the memory of people and places and terrains of the heart. One sees this at some times directly and at other times through a vivid concreteness and emphasis on detail, as in the stories we love to tell.

We are talkers. We talk about ourselves, each other, our ancestors, events, the funny and quirky and bizarre things people do - true stories, more or less, and the richer and more plentiful the detail, the better. Small wonder then that Mississippi artists find ways to tell their stories in writing, in music, on canvas, and on the stage. Like storytelling, art of whatever form plays a communal role: it draws people together, helps them understand themselves and their common humanity. In the creativity of Mississippians, everything that is Mississippi unfolds and is there for all to see.  Willie Morris and David Rae Morris, "My Mississippi".

The Morris' book is lovely.  It's beautifully written and photographed; an unashamed love letter, colorful cultural history, and simply-stated self-help book for the state, all wrapped in one.  I bought a copy not long after it was published, using my student ID at the Southern Miss bookstore.  I remember getting a call from my Dad when he got the bill, wanting to make sure that I'd at least read the damned thing.

I had.

I read it almost immediately after the purchase, and frequently re-read it even a decade later.  In truth, it has little to do with this diary, but all this talk of Alex has reminded me of preparing for another storm.  I remember picking Morris' book up in September of 2000, when I took my most precious books to my Mom's and put them in a waterproof container for safe keeping, just in case one of our gargantuan pines fell on the house.  

Georges was coming.  

I'd been out of the house since July of that year, between the extra-long band camp for percussionists and student work and then school.  I'd just started dating a trumpet player in the band - a section leader and Phantom Regiment alumnus (BFD) - and we went to the coast to watch them move the huge barges that quite literally float Mississippi's gaming industry.  We parked by the Palace and walked down what used to be the Ocean Springs bridge.  It was "cut" when they put in a deeper channel to Back Bay Biloxi, and open to pedestrian traffic. You could always find old guys and young kids tying chicken thighs in crab pots or baiting hooks.

We sat crosslegged on the bridge, drinking Abita Amber we'd filched from Greg's garage.  It was the usual sticky-hot of pre-hurricane buggy humidity.  The rain-scented breeze blew away most of the evil gnats and extra-large mosquitoes, and we sat for hours, watching the tugs pushing the Grand, the Isle, the Treasure Bay, and the President.  We walked across the Palace Casino's parking lot to Mable Avenue and got fresh french fries and fried crab claws from the Schooner.  We drove along Highway 90, toying with the idea of going all the way to Picayune for a king cake.  We finally stopped at a grocery store and got some extra water and ultra-pasteurized milk.  We planned out our menu for the night: I'd made cornbread and potato salad, Momma had barbecued chicken, Greg's Momma sent some Waldorf salad, and we had everything we needed to make Rice Crispy Treats.

We got everything fixed, eaten, and cleaned up before we lost power, and sat in the living room, enjoying our last bit of air conditioning and eating the things that would go bad in the heat.  After they ate, Greg helped dad cover the piano in a waterproof, padded tarp, just in case.  After they were finished, Dad played while I helped my Mom clean  up and Greg made the rice krispy treats with my sister and her friend.  Finally, we lost power as the wind kicked up outside.  The storm moved in, and there was mostly Chopin and Brahms, but some Gottschalk (he'd finally worked up "The Banjo") and Joplin, too.  And he threw in things we could sing along with.  I still can't hear "Tennessee Waltz" without feeling icky, sticky hot and smelling burning candles.  There were hymns and tunes from Gershwin, Porter, and Arlen, then another Chopin nocturne and some Bach.  We'd been up boarding windows and tying things down since dawn and were all sore and tired, though we'd showered long before.  Being on a well in the sticks meant we lost our water with power.

The storm wailed.  The front windows rattled with wind and rain and wind and then some more rain.  The cats ran and hid under the beds, and we made pallets on the floor for me and Greg and my sister and her best friend.  We talked late into the night, and as the storm stalled and kept dumping rain, we dozed.  Mom and Dad woke us when they went outside during the eye, then we went back in for the rest of the wind and torrential rains.  The wind switched directions and wailed some more, and bits of trees sailed through the air.  

First light showed us topped pines, green pine cones, and a mess of blueberry leaves and squished overripe blueberries blown all over like sticky purple and green confetti.  We cooked eggs and sausage in a cast-iron skillet on the grill and swatted away mosquitoes so large you could feel them land with a thud on forearm and calf.  After breakfast, we put on heavy gloves to drag branches without tearing our hands and picked up green pinecones like golf balls with spikes and started the summer's new burn pile back behind the house.  We waded through much of the yard - a testament to the incredible amount of rain Georges dropped on south Mississippi.  The evaporation and heat quickly combined to wring every last bit of strength from our bodies, and since we still had no power or water, we decided to pack a bag and find some relief.

We all piled in my Mom's big Chevy 20 and drove to Hattiesburg, a post-storm ritual for as long as I could remember.  We stopped at my Aunt's house near Kamper Park and showered in the poolhouse, went to a movie at Turtle Creek Mall, and had dinner at the food court, lingering over badly-made Chinese food and dreading the  moment we had to go home to no AC.  We milled around the food court, read books in the recliner store, and browsed endlessly; like the children from "The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler," we very nearly lived in the mall that day.  Throughout, we continually called the houses (mine and Greg's) to see if the answering machines would pick up.  Finally, when the mall closed, and we walked to the van hand-in-hand across steamy pavement, I flipped out my Motorola brick phone and called one last time.  My Dad's voice answered on the fifth ring: "Hello.  You've reached 601.###.####.  We're unable to answer the phone.  Please leave your name, number, and a brief message, and we'll return your call as soon as possible."  

I can close my eyes and hear Dad's voice on the line; I can smell wet pavement and broken pine trees, and recall the joy I felt at being able to go back home after a long day spent away.  We were lucky in Georges, but we didn't know it.  Though we'd lost enough trees to be frustrated, Katrina taught us a different lesson entirely.  All but one of the storms of my youth were spent in this fashion, and my experience isn't all that different from my friends - with the possible exception that not all of my friends had a Steinway 5'6" grand in their living room.


Previous liveblog ROV diaries:
Gulf Watchers ROV # 148 - BP's GoM Catastrophe Launch - peraspera
Gulf Watchers Liveblog - ROV #147 - Garrett
Gulf Watchers ROV # 146 - BP's GoM Catastrophe - gchaucer2
BP Oilpocalypse Liveblog ROV 145 - politik
BP Oilpocalypse Liveblog - ROV #143 - Hands Across the Sand Edition - CindyMax
BP Oilpocalypse Liveblog - ROV #142 - David PA
BP Oilpocalypse Liveblog ROV 141 - peraspera
BP Oilpocalypse Liveblog ROV 140 - Garrett
BP Oilpocalypse Liveblog ROV 139 - zaka1
BP Oilpocalypse Liveblog ROV 138 - Yasuragi
BP Oilpocalypse Liveblog ROV 137 - David PA


This is where you want to be for discussion, worrying, tearing up, and caring for each other.  It's also where you're welcome to be angry and scream and curse and cry and rant at the criminal negligence and greed that have brought us all together.  Most importantly, though, it's where we can learn from those kossaks among us (I'll not name names for abject fear of leaving one of you out, but you know who you are.) who bring the light of knowledge - sometimes with heat, sometimes without it - and teach us about what's happening beneath our Gulf of Mexico.  On a personal note, I'll ask you to please be kind to each other in our little boats.  There's enough hurt going on outside without bringing it here.
Previous motherships and ROV's from this extensive live blog effort may be found here.

Bandwidth Warning: NO IMAGES and NO VIDEOS. Readers who are on DIALUP will thank you!

Extended (Optional)

Originally posted to khowell on Mon Jun 28, 2010 at 09:57 AM PDT.

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