<div dir="ltr"><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">>The kids smarter than I used ammonia and iodine to make</font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif;font-size:large"><font size="2">> explosive "touch powder".<br></font><br></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">This formula (and components) were actually included in an early version of the AC Gilbert Chemistry Set, labeled as "a safe explosive". My brother and I had a chemistry set when I was nine and he was 15. We mostly made black powder from sulphur, charcoal and saltpeter and turned that into little bombs by stuffing little glass bottles that came with the set with the mixture, then putting fuses in the top.<br><br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">It was in my freshman year at Drexel that I went to a local chemical supply house, bought iodine crystals and liquid ammonia to make N3I (nitrogen triiodide) which is the scientific name for your "touch powder".<br><br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">II had made quite a small batch and was letting it dry in an ashtray in my room when I started to think about how powerful this might actually be. I decided to take it down the hall and flush it down the toilet. I picked up the ashtray when a tiny little crystal fell off onto the floor and went</font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="6">BOOM<br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">Really shocked, I started carefully carrying the ashtray down the hall to the communal bathroom, found an empty stall and dumped it safely down the toilet.<br><br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">Then, as I returned to my room, I heard other explosions.<br><br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="1">BOOM</font><font size="2">, BOOM, </font><font size="4">BOOM, </font><font size="6">BOOM</font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2"><br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">which were crystals that had fallen off wet, landed on the floor, dried..and were now being set off by the VIBRATIONS of me walking down the hallway. This was a tile floor on top of concrete...not easily susceptible to vibration.<br><br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">Fearing that the floor monitor would come by any second I got several of my friends to stomp up and down the floor (after explaining briefly what happened) to make as many of these microscopic grains of explosive go off as possible.<br><br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">Finally we seemed to have covered the hallway and my friends asked where else I the crystals had been. I explained that they had been in my room and the bathroom in a particular stall.<br><br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">We went to the bathroom and the stall was occupied by a terrified friend who kept hearing explosions going off any time he moved. Fortunately he was not barefoot at the time.</font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2"><br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">Later on that evening my roommate came back to the room and I explained what had happened, as our room was also part of a lingering fireworks display.<br><br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">It was a couple of months before the last of the crystals exploded....but by that time I had almost burned the room down making a hot air balloon, which is another story.<br><br></font></div><div class="gmail_default" style="font-family:times new roman,serif"><font size="2">md</font></div></div><br><div class="gmail_quote gmail_quote_container"><div dir="ltr" class="gmail_attr">On Sun, Jan 25, 2026 at 2:37 PM Steve Litt via Ale <<a href="mailto:ale@ale.org">ale@ale.org</a>> wrote:<br></div><blockquote class="gmail_quote" style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0.8ex;border-left:1px solid rgb(204,204,204);padding-left:1ex"><br>
On Tue, 20 Jan 2026 12:12:48 -0500 (EST)<br>
"jon.maddog.hall--- via Ale" <<a href="mailto:ale@ale.org" target="_blank">ale@ale.org</a>> wrote:<br>
<br>
> > I'm guessing the statue of limitations has been exceeded his<br>
> > crimes. <br>
> <br>
> <br>
> when I was in electronics class at Dulaney Senior High I built a<br>
> transmitter that jammed all the car radios for about 15 minutes in<br>
> Lutherville, Maryland in 1967.<br>
> <br>
> There! I got it off my chest!<br>
> <br>
> md<br>
<br>
Maddog, you're under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used<br>
against you in a court of law. You're entitled to an attorney. If you<br>
cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.<br>
<br>
Maybe I'll be your cellmate. At 17 I took my Ocean Hopper regenerative<br>
radio (you'll doubtlessly remember how tube regens of the era<br>
oscillated and therefore transmitted out the antenna), hooked a<br>
microphone to the output transformer which I'd converted to an<br>
input transformer, and transmitted my own radio show about 1/2<br>
block. The station was called "Bear Nine Radio" from Cincinnati Ohio,<br>
even though I was in a northern suburb of Chicago. Nobody sent me a QSL<br>
though.<br>
<br>
I was friends with the girl upstairs and also with her boyfriend, who<br>
was a Gymnastics teammate. She and I planned a prank. She tuned in my<br>
radio, on which I played all sorts of contemporary Top 40 from my reel<br>
to reel, gave them about 10 minutes to get busy, and then gave them a<br>
personal shoutout.<br>
<br>
Another prank. My family lived in a second story apartment. I stashed a<br>
portable radio on the sidewalk below, and every time a pedestrian<br>
walked by, I'd say hi to him or her. My friend and my dad were watching<br>
and laughing. Then an ancient, ancient man, must have been almost 70,<br>
walked by and my radio said hi to him. He clutched his chest, looked<br>
like he was about to drop dead, and then staggered away. My dad told me<br>
not to do that anymore. <br>
<br>
I kind of miss the days when any teenager could buy lye, aluminum foil<br>
and calcium chloride to make hydrogen balloons, could buy metallic<br>
magnesium ribbons and sulfur to burn. The kids smarter than I used<br>
ammonia and iodine to make explosive "touch powder". Every male<br>
child had a huge blob of mercury to play with, garnered from many<br>
thermometers. We endlessly rolled it around, and used it to turn copper<br>
pennies silver. when our moms said mercury was dangerous poison, we all<br>
said the same thing: "Mom, I'm not going to eat it!"<br>
<br>
SteveT<br>
<br>
Steve Litt <br>
Featured book: Troubleshooting Techniques of the Successful<br>
Technologist <a href="http://www.troubleshooters.com/techniques" rel="noreferrer" target="_blank">http://www.troubleshooters.com/techniques</a><br>
<br>
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</blockquote></div>