She just seemed appropriate, as I am listening to the rather ethereally wonderful "Salka" by the incomparable Sigur Ros. Also, since Conrad is normally a flinty-hearted bugger unmoved by anything except a cheese sandwich or a good hearty scratch, this morning struck an unusually poetic chord.
Picture it - Conrad, all 6'1" of him, striding grimly towards work along Rochdale Road, pondering deeply on matter such as what dodo tasted like, and when that gigantic "Axfrance" poster that's been up since before Christmas will get changed.
Then, above the dull and mundane rumble of the traffic, just as he gets to the back of the Post Office, a songbird lets go with a series of trills, really putting an effort into it - successfully, not even the JPT buses can drown him out. Way to go, songbird!
It's just one of those little things that help to polish life's facets a tiny bit brighter.
 |
| This wad of tissue holds 7 fl. oz. of tears induced by Conrad's word-picture. Or they were chopping onion |
Oh! Yes. Sorry, let's stamp on the flowers of emotive expression with Size 11 hobnail boots. Business as usual, in other words.
The Quiet Ones (Not Sure Which Muse Applies To Bus Posters)
Ah yes, saw this one again. Nice bright primary colouring, yellow shading into orange, with a black print and a faded etching of a child off to one side. Entirely unterrifying. Only the fervent assertion on the poster that this is a horror film, really, it's so horrid in a very quiet way - nah, still not convinced.
Megabus
On the other hand, here is a poster - no, as a matter of fact it's the whole side of a coach - with a horrible, creepy pink-faced "man" (for want of a better word) that is several orders of magnitude more frightening than "The Quiet Ones". Procrustes* springs to mind. He had a bed, Megabusman has seats.
| Brr! I bet he has a dozen bodies in the cellar |
Eh? What? Where's my ear trumpet, nurse, they've changed my dosage again you know - say what hey what? I thought Toby Maguire was Spiderman, and Kirsten Dunst - hang on, there were 3 Spiderman films, how can they have gone backwards? Is that a bus poster not changed for a decade?
<Mister Hand explains about "rebooting">
That's cheating! If you don't like reality you don't go outside the space-time continuum** and start fiddling with basic parameters to get the here-and-now you want! I liked the Toby Maguire Spiderman, and besides, it had Bruce Campbell in a small role as the fight MC.
| Radioactive Spider Bites: more effective than any gym routine evah! |
The dad of Mark Everett, who is basically Eels. Hugh had an impact on physics that is still echoing today, see the "Many Worlds" concept of quantum physics. To put it simply, for every decision or choice that exists for anybody in the world today, an alternate reality exists for every decision not taken. Thus, in the reality that Conrad is going to be king of, THERE IS NO REBOOTING OF SPIDERMAN!
I dub this the Hugh Everett Effect. When wild coincidences come crowding in the wings, I usually appeal to Phillip K. Dick for advice***. From now on, if I don't like reality, I'm going to be appealing to Hugh.
 |
| In this alternate reality, CHEESE RULES THE WORLD. Especially Stilton. |
Say hello to TNT, readers. This - and a whole host of other names - refers to "TriNitroToluene".
In utter contrast to some of the other hellish compounds mentioned here on BOOJUM! (the crown prince of Hell of all these is surely Chlorine Triflouride but let us not be distracted), TNT is an amazingly inert and dull substance. So unexplosive is TNT that it was not regarded as an explosive here in 19th Century UK. You can hit TNT with a hammer and not be greeting the angels by the time the echoes fade. You can heat it until it melts, and the building will not be falling about your ears in many small pieces. It is waterproof, so it will not detonate when your fear-fuelled sweat drips upon it.
It is explosive, however. What it needs is a very severe shock from a detonator - that being a chemical compound disposed to go "Bang!" at the trembling of a feather. Once past that particular step up the energy ladder, TNT goes "Bang!" itself, very efficiently.
Ironically, exposure to TNT in the long term is thought to affect male fertility. One would point out that short-term exposure, usually involving lots of jagged metal zipping about at high speed, is also conducive to male fertility problems.
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| Ahhh!, said Conrad. You can't go wrong with a good big bang^. |
Let's Finish This -
With a more cheerful and upbeat item.
| Second later, he ate the photographer |
Addendum - An Apology
It was brought to Conrad's attention that yesterday he had posted insults about Justin Beiber, calling him a "mindless meatbag".
I would like to apologise, most sincerely, for this.
I did not intend any offence, since I did not realise that there is a "Meatbag Appreciation Society" based at Sepulveda Avenue, Pacific Heights, Los Angeles, and who were extremely cross that their cooking activities had been slandered. The meatbag, it seems, is similar to our "Scotch Egg" here in the UK, but is served hot with a tomato sauce.
| A Meatbag before cooking. Still cleverer than Justin Beiber. |
* Procrustes was an innkeeper. If guests were too short for his beds, he stretched them on a rack. If they were too long, he cut off the overhanging bits. One suspects his Michelin rating would barely get to one star
** Like "residuum", this is one of those rare words with a double "U".
*** How do we do it? There's a John Carpenter documentary that explains all ...
^ No sniggering at the back, there!
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