The Surprising Origin Of The T-Shirt Cannon

But that would only travel so far. (Put another way, it didn't really fly.) According to Mental Floss, Derk and other mascots tried propelling items with giant rubber bands, with mixed results. And then, as any Bill Nye fan knows, science ruled. Applying the basic principles of pneumatics, Derk and colleagues used a 90-pound, cast-iron

But that would only travel so far. (Put another way, it didn't really fly.) According to Mental Floss, Derk and other mascots tried propelling items with giant rubber bands, with mixed results. And then, as any Bill Nye fan knows, science ruled. Applying the basic principles of pneumatics, Derk and colleagues used a 90-pound, cast-iron barrel, combined with compressed air, to shoot for the stars — or at least the nosebleed seats. Calling himself "Rambote" — we're guessing it rhymed with "coyote," rather than, say, "zygote," but we're willing to stand corrected — it was a hit.

The principle went back to World War II, when unarmed merchant vessels found a way to use steam from their boilers to launch projectiles like grenades at potential threats. That morphed into the spud cannon, says Get Pocket, and of course the paintball gun.

Other mascots took a great idea and ran with it. Before long there was a semi-automatic t-shirt cannon that could fire as many as 16 rounds — er, shirts — before reloading. Design improvements led to versions that weigh as little as two pounds. They also got bigger, of course — the 600-pound Big Bella had a rate of fire estimated at 100 shirts per minute. And as The New York Times reports, items besides t-shirts became ammunition: popcorn, confetti, even hot dogs. But the question remains: Did they come with condiments?

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