The Definition of a Kelvin-Helmholtz Cloud

Look up on a windy day and you might see a Kelvin-Helmholtz cloud. Also known as a billow cloud, a Kelvin-Helmholtz cloud looks like rolling ocean waves in the sky. They are formed when two air currents of varying speeds meet in the atmosphere and they make a stunning sight. What Are Kelvin-Helmholtz Clouds? Kelvin-Helmholtz is the scientific name for this impressive cloud formation. They are also known as billow clouds, shear-gravity clouds, KHI clouds, or Kelvin-Helmholtz billows. Fluctus is the Latin word for billow or wave and this may also be used to describe the cloud formation, though that most often occurs in scientific journals. The clouds are named for Lord Kelvin and Hermann von Helmholtz. The two physicists studied the disturbance caused by the velocity of two fluids. The resulting instability causes the breaking wave formation, both in the ocean and the air. This became known as Kelvin-Helmholtz Instability (KHI). Kelvin-Helmholtz instability is  not found on Earth alone. Scientists have observed formations on Jupiter as well as Saturn and in the suns corona.   Observing and Effects of Billow Clouds Kelvin-Helmholtz clouds are easily identifiable though they are short-lived. When they do occur, people on the ground take notice. The base of the cloud structure will be a straight, horizontal line while billows of waves appear along the top. These rolling eddies on the top of the clouds are usually evenly spaced. Quite often, these clouds will form with cirrus, altocumulus, stratocumulus, and stratus clouds. On rare occasions, they may also occur with cumulus clouds.   As with many distinct cloud formations, billow clouds can tell us something about atmospheric conditions. It indicates instability in air currents, which may not affect us on the ground. It is, however, a concern for aircraft pilots as it forecasts an area of turbulence. You may recognize this cloud structure from Van Goghs famous painting, The Starry Night. Some people believe that the painter was inspired by billow clouds to create distinct waves in his night sky. The Formation of Kelvin-Helmholtz Clouds Your best chance for observing billow clouds is on a windy day because they form where two horizontal winds meet. This is also when temperature inversions -- warmer air on top of cooler air -- occur because the two layers have different densities. The upper layers of air move at very high speeds while the lower layers are rather slow. The faster air picks up the top layer of the cloud its passing through and forms these wave-like rolls. The upper layer is typically drier because of its velocity and warmth, which causes evaporation and explains why the clouds disappear so quickly. As you can see in this Kelvin-Helmholtz  instability animation, the waves form at equal intervals, which explains the uniformity in the clouds as well.

America s Influence On Television - 1583 Words

During the 1920s, movies grew in popularity in the United States due to their affordability and availability. This led to a general curiosity about the actors’ lives themselves and gave Hollywood a harsh reputation due to all of the scandals that occurred. In the 1950s, movies declined in their popularity and the American public turned their attention toward television. As a result, television became an American staple and TV shows were more convenient than movies, seeing as they could be watched without leaving the house. Now Americans can watch both movies and TV shows at home via DVDs, and are still interested in the personal affairs of the actors and actresses involved. In general, Americans lead and have led themselves into thinking they have a personal bond with the actors due to the fact that they see them on screen so often. This attitude is why many Americans are interested in the personal lives of actors and actresses and invade their privacy so often. Some may argue that this is a problem; Americans have had the ability to neglect both personal and political problems as well as disrupt actors’ lives, but others think that these worries are needless and entertainment is a necessity and learning about the lives of actors is harmless fun. The influence of TV shows and movies on American culture from the 1920s to 1990s was mainly negative as it had average citizens caring about trivial issues in the actors’ lives or in the shows and movies themselves. Americans beganShow MoreRelated Television and Its Imapact on Society Essay1442 Words   |  6 PagesTelevision and Its Imapact on Society Introduction Vladimir Kosma Zworykin created a rudimentary versionof the television in 1924; however, the first realistically working television was made possible by Philo Taylor Farnsworth in the 1940s. These televisions were exceptionally expensive, consequently only the affluent members of society had access to them. 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A Dirty Job Chapter 7 Free Essays

string(91) " at the green thing, which tasted like a melon but looked more like a squash, with spikes\." 7 THANATOAST While Charlie’s Beta Male imagination may have often turned him toward timidity and even paranoia, when it came to accepting the unacceptable it served him like Kevlar toilet paper – bulletproof, if a tad disagreeable in application. The inability to believe the unbelievable would not be his downfall. Charlie Asher would never be a bug splattered on the smoky windscreen of dull imagination. We will write a custom essay sample on A Dirty Job Chapter 7 or any similar topic only for you Order Now He knew that all the things that had happened to him in the last day were outside of the limits of possibility for most people, and since his only corroborating witness was a man who believed himself to be the Emperor of San Francisco, Charlie knew he would never be able to convince anyone that he had been pursued and attacked by giant foulmouthed ravens and then declared the tour guide to the undiscovered country by a sultry oracle in fuck-me pumps. Not even Jane would give him that kind of quarter. Only one person would have, could have, and for the ten-thousandth time he felt Rachel’s absence collapsing in his chest like a miniature black hole. Thus, Sophie became his co-conspirator. The tiny kid, dressed in Elmo overalls and baby Doc Martens (courtesy of Aunt Jane), was propped up in her car seat on the breakfast bar next to the goldfish bowl. (Charlie had bought her six big goldfish about the time she’d started to notice moving objects. A girl needs pets. He’d named them after TV lawyers. Currently Matlock was tracking Perry Mason, trying to eat a long strand of fish doo that was trailing out of Perry’s poop chute.) Sophie was starting to show some of her mother’s dark hair, and if Charlie saw it right, the same expression of bemused affection toward him (plus a drool slick). â€Å"So I am Death,† Charlie said as he tried to construct a tuna-fish sandwich. â€Å"Daddy is Death, sweetie.† He checked the toast, not trusting the pop-up mechanism because the toaster people sometimes just liked to fuck with you. â€Å"Death,† Charlie said as the can opener slipped and he barked his bandaged hand on the counter. â€Å"Dammit!† Sophie gurgled and let loose a happy baby burble, which Charlie took to mean Do tell, Daddy? Please go on, pray tell. â€Å"I can’t even leave the house for fear of someone dropping dead at my feet. I’m Death, honey. Sure, you laugh now, but you’ll never get into a good preschool with a father who puts people down for their dirt nap.† Sophie blew a spit bubble of sympathy. Charlie popped the toast up manually. It was a little rare, but if he pushed it down again it would burn, unless he watched it every second and popped it up manually again. So now he’d probably be infected with some rare and debilitating undercooked toast pathogen. Mad toast disease! Fucking toaster people. â€Å"This is the toast of Death, young lady.† He showed her the toast. â€Å"Death’s toast.† He put the toast on the counter and went back to attacking the tuna can. â€Å"Maybe she was speaking figuratively? I mean, maybe the redhead just meant that I was, you know, deadly boring.† Of course that didn’t really explain all the other weird stuff that had been happening. â€Å"You think?† he asked Sophie. He looked for an answer and the kid was wearing that Rachelesque smart-ass grin (minus teeth). She was enjoying his torment, and strangely enough, he felt better knowing that. The can opener slipped again, spurting tuna juice on his shirt and sending his toast scooting to the floor, and now there was fuzz on it. Fuzz on his toast! Fuzz on the toast of Death. What the hell good was it to be the Lord of the Underworld if there was fuzz on your underdone toast. â€Å"Fuck!† He snatched the toast from the floor and sent it sailing by Sophie into the living room. The baby followed it with her eyes, then looked back at her father with a delighted squeal, as if saying, Do it again, Daddy. Do it again! Charlie picked her up out of the car seat and held her tight, smelling her sour-sweet baby smell, his tears squeezing out onto her overalls. He could do this if Rachel was here, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, without her. He just wouldn’t go out. That was the solution. The only way to keep the people of San Francisco safe was to stay in his apartment. So for the next four days he stayed in the apartment with Sophie, sending Mrs. Ling from upstairs out for groceries. (And he was accumulating a fairly large collection of vegetables for which he had no name nor any idea of how to prepare, as Mrs. Ling, regardless of what he put on the list, always did her shopping in the markets of Chinatown.) And after two days, when a new name appeared on the message pad next to his bed, Charlie responded by hiding the message pad under the phone book in a kitchen drawer. It was on day five that he saw the shadow of a raven against the roof entrance of the building across the street. At first he wasn’t sure whether it was a giant raven, or just a normal-sized raven projecting a shadow, but when he realized that it was noon and any normal shadow would be cast straight down, the tiny raven of denial vanished in a wisp. He pulled the blinds on that side of the apartment and sat in the locked bedroom with Sophie, a box of Pampers, a basket of produce, a six-pack each of baby formula and orange soda, and hid out until the phone rang. â€Å"What do you think you’re doing?† said a very deep man’s voice on the other end of the line. â€Å"Are you insane?† Charlie was taken aback; from the caller ID, he’d expected a wrong number. â€Å"I’m eating this thing I think is either a melon or a squash.† He looked at the green thing, which tasted like a melon but looked more like a squash, with spikes. You read "A Dirty Job Chapter 7" in category "Essay examples" (Mrs. Ling had called it â€Å"shut-up-and-eat-it-good-for-you.†) The man said, â€Å"You’re screwing up. You have a job to do. Do what the book says or everything that means anything to you will be taken away. I mean it.† â€Å"What book? Who is this?† Charlie asked. He thought the voice sounded familiar, and it immediately sent him into alarm mode for some reason. â€Å"I can’t tell you that, I’m sorry,† said the man. â€Å"I really am.† â€Å"I’ve got caller ID, you nit. I know where you’re calling from.† â€Å"Oops,† said the man. â€Å"You should have thought of that. What kind of ominous power of darkness do you think you are if you don’t even block caller ID?† The little readout on the phone said Fresh Music and a number. Charlie called the number back but no one answered. He ran to the kitchen, dug the phone book out of the drawer, and looked up Fresh Music. It was a record store off upper Market in the Castro district. The phone rang again and he grabbed the handset off the counter so violently he nearly chipped a tooth in answering. â€Å"You merciless bastard!† Charlie screamed into the phone. â€Å"Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through, you heartless monster!† â€Å"Well, fuck you, Asher!† Lily said. â€Å"Just because I’m a kid doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.† And she hung up. Charlie called back. â€Å"Asher’s Secondhand,† Lily answered, â€Å"family-owned by bourgeoisie douche waffles for over thirty years.† â€Å"Lily, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else. What did you call about?† â€Å"Moi?† Lily said. â€Å"Je me fous de ta gueule, espce de gaufre de douche.† â€Å"Lily, stop speaking French. I said I was sorry.† â€Å"There’s a cop down here to see you,† she said. Charlie had Sophie strapped to his chest like a terrorist baby bomb when he came down the back steps. She had just gotten to the point where she could hold up her head, so he had strapped her in face-out so she could look around. The way her arms and legs waved around as Charlie walked, she looked as if she was skydiving and using a skinny nerd as a parachute. The cop stood at the counter opposite Lily, looking like a cognac ad in an Italian-cut double-breasted suit in indigo raw silk with a buff linen shirt and yellow tie. He was about fifty, Hispanic, lean, with sharp facial features and the aspect of a predatory bird. His hair was combed straight back and the gray streaks at the temples made it appear that he was moving toward you even when he stood still. â€Å"Inspector Alphonse Rivera,† the cop said, extending his hand. â€Å"Thanks for coming down. The young lady said you were working last Monday night.† Monday. The day he’d battled the ravens back in the alley, the day the pale redhead had come into the store. â€Å"You don’t have to tell him anything, Asher,† Lily said, obviously renewing her loyalty in spite of his douche wafflosity. â€Å"Thanks, Lily, why don’t you take a break and go see how things are going in the abyss.† She grumbled, then got something out of the drawer under the register, presumably her cigarettes, and retreated out the back door. â€Å"Why isn’t that kid in school?† Rivera asked. â€Å"She’s special,† Charlie said. â€Å"You know, homeschooled.† â€Å"That what makes her so cheerful?† â€Å"She’s studying the Existentialists this month. Asked for a study day last week to kill an Arab on the beach.† Rivera smiled and Charlie relaxed a little. He produced a photograph from his breast pocket and held it out to Charlie. Sophie made as if to grab it. The photograph was of an older gentleman in his Sunday best standing on the steps of a church. Charlie recognized the Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul, which was just a few blocks away on Washington Square. â€Å"Did you see this man Monday night? He was wearing a charcoal overcoat and a hat that night.† â€Å"No, I’m sorry. I didn’t,† Charlie said. And he hadn’t. â€Å"I was here in the store until about ten. We had a few customers, but not this fellow.† â€Å"Are you sure? His name is James O’Malley. He isn’t well. Cancer. His wife said he went out for a walk about dusk Monday night and he never came back.† â€Å"No, I’m sorry,† Charlie said. â€Å"Did you ask the cable-car operator?† â€Å"Already talked to the guys working this line that night. We think he may have collapsed somewhere and we haven’t found him. It doesn’t look good after this long.† Charlie nodded, trying to look thoughtful. He was so relieved that the cop wasn’t here about anything connected with him that he was almost giddy. â€Å"Maybe you should ask the Emperor – you know him, right? He sees more of the nooks and crannies of the city than most of us.† Rivera cringed at the mention of the Emperor, but then relaxed into another smile. â€Å"That’s a good idea, Mr. Asher. I’ll see if I can track him down.† He handed Charlie a card. â€Å"If you remember anything, give me a call, would you?† â€Å"I will. Uh, Inspector,† Charlie said, and Rivera paused a few steps from the counter, â€Å"isn’t this sort of a routine case for an inspector to be investigating?† â€Å"Yes, normally uniform personnel would handle something like this, but it may relate to something else I’m working on, so you get me instead.† â€Å"Oh, okay,† Charlie said. â€Å"Beautiful suit, by the way. Couldn’t help noticing. It’s my business.† â€Å"Thanks,† Rivera said, looking at his sleeves, a little wistful. â€Å"I had a short run of good fortune a while back.† â€Å"Good for you,† Charlie said. â€Å"It passed,† Rivera said. â€Å"Cute baby. You two take care, huh?† And he was out the door. Charlie turned to go back upstairs and nearly ran into Lily. She had her arms crossed under the â€Å"Hell Is Other People† logo on her T-shirt and was looking even more judgmental than usual. â€Å"So, Asher, you have something you want to tell me?† â€Å"Lily, I don’t have time for – â€Å" She held out the silver cigarette case that the redhead had given him. It was still glowing red. Sophie was reaching for it. â€Å"What?† Charlie said. Could Lily see it? Was she picking up on the weird glow? Lily opened the case and pushed it into Charlie’s face. â€Å"Read the engraving.† James O’Malley, read the ornate script. Charlie took a step back. â€Å"Lily, I can’t – I don’t know anything about that old man. Look, I have to get Mrs. Ling to watch Sophie and get over to the Castro. I’ll explain later, okay? I promise.† She thought about it for a second, staring at him accusingly, like she’d caught him feeding Froot Loops to her bte noire, and then relented. â€Å"Go,† she said. 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