But there must have been something important on television - only 3 visitors yesterday. I fear I need to beard the dragon in it's lair and go shout about on Twitter. Then you'll be sorry!
But no tailbacks en route to work today. Wednesday - massive queues everywhere. Today - hardly anything. Insulting Hermes* seems a rather hit-and-miss process. Maybe he's got to go congeal traffic on the M25 and forgot about Conrad.
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| Angry Conrad - venting his spleen!** |
That's the Turkish name. You might know this better as "Gallipolli", a stalemated battle on the peninsula of that name in Turkey. I am currently reading the snappily-titled "History of the 29th Division", a British army unit of the First World War that saw it's baptism of fire on the beaches at Gallipoli. I began reading "The Crying Of Lot 49" by Thomas Pynchon this lunchtime, in which - yes, you guessed it, the British at Gallipolli are mentioned in detail, including the River Clyde, one of the landing ships.
Pynchon knows what he's writing about - a literary equivalent of the late Stanley Kubrik - but how coincidental is this?
Philip K. Dick would have had an explanation ...
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| "Aliens are subverting your reality, Conrad. It's the only reason that makes sense." |
And indeed to all terrestrial life forms. Last week Conrad bought a remaindered pizza -
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| Burn this image into your brain, dear reader! |
We managed some of it - I scoffed about half - but even that was a travail and a torment, since the topping consisted of radioactive lava dissolved in capsaicin. I can take a pretty hot chilli but found myself guzzling a whole tub of youghurt to try and fight off the numbness in my tongue.
I have a theory about the three-chilli rating (seen after the "Stonebaked Pizza") - three chillies my hairy white behind! They are orders of magnitude. The second chilli multiplies the first to the tenth power, the third multiplies the second to the tenth power. So it's actually a one-hundred chilli pizza.
| Asda's "Piri Piri Chicken Pizza" production line |
I have known that Alison, a fellow-worker at my Still Annoyingly Anonymous Employer, was in a band. Fearing that they might be a fearful modern-day equivalent of Peter, Paul and Mary, or - even worse - Mary, Mungo and Midge, I did not enquire further. Or not until Alison sent me a Youtube link of them playing live.
I am impressed! I like a lot! And I asked Alison to get me a CD of their songs. Here a link to the song "Diamones". And if you don't like it - we are no longer friends.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISM659UZjVQ
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| A balloon. Close enough. |
Again, BOOJUM! ventures forth into hitherto unexplained words in English. This word, patently, means to hold forth at length in forensic oratory, that most difficult of all formal spoken tropes, doubtless practiced by <thinks hard> Cicero, or Julius Caesar. Maybe Juvenal, at a pinch, although he was more the written word-wielder.
What's that?
It's not?
It merely means "to make better"? Bah! <snaps fingers at reality>
| Okay, reality - try ameliorating this lot! |
Here's two kinds of cuddly animal - the first a drawing I commissioned from Darling Daughter to put on my locker at work -
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| Pugnacious! |
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| Edna (the dog, that is) |
Edna, a Border Retriever. Don't let those puppy features fool you, she's still a species of domesticated wolf who may grow to over 100 kilos and eat small children.
* Greek god of travel. From last week? Do keep up!
** So much so he forgot his disguise. Sloppy work, Conrad.
*** It's what the robot in "Lost In Space" used to crow every episode.
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