Any regular reader will know that BOOJUM! skates as lightly as aerogel o'er things like current affairs, politics or the state of the world, and looking at Auntie Beeb, Conrad is more convinced than ever that non sequiteurs, inane nonsense, idiosyncratic reviews of book, film and CD is the way to go. Today's news would make a Friday feel like a Monday. This policy will only run until my starship invasion fleet arrives, whereupon the ISP files will be ransacked to see who read BOOJUM!, and they will get their own personal island paradise in the Pacific. The rest of you ...
Real life intrudes hatefully, dear audience. I now have to go wash dishes, as I rashly promised, and perhaps chase down a morsel of stale bread and mouldy cheese*, whilst nailing together a bandwich for tomorrow's lunch.
Lemon And Poppyseed Cake
I decided to bake this as there are lemons to use up, and a ton of poppyseeds, too, and I substituted a bit of sour cream for the cream cheese. Things might have been a bit fraught later on had Conrad - toiling over a septic sink - not noticed that the oven had been turned off. Horrors! Well, the flame is back on and I may post a photo of the cake if it turns out successfully. Literally "turns out", it's being baked in a Bundt pan, which makes taking the cake out very awkward indeed. Still, we shall see.
You What? Elephant Football? Elephant BACK MASSAGE?
Anna, who is still not getting a co-producer credit for the blog, is twenty-nine**, and Conrad, after hearing today's tale, wondered how she ever reached that total, dark horse that she is.*** She posted on Facebook about how she likes tigers, and panthers, and elephants - all the large dangerous animals - and had played football with one.
Obviously this would be the elephant, as the big cats notoriously cheat at football.
The pachyderm was playing goalkeeper, and Anna, normally a centre-forward, managed to put the ball in the back of the onion-bag twice. Her prize? An elephant back-massage.
Yes you read that correctly. Lucky for her that she won - if she'd lost then the elephant would probably have done doughnuts on her head.
| Go on - how competent do you think he is at delicate muscle-manipulation? |
As you surely know by now, all you have to do is nudge Conrad and he will babble on endlessly about this 50's sci-fi classic.
Today, one of those orphan thoughts that zip around the cosmos until they impact somebody's head, hit Conrad.
"Those blasters that the crewmen tote - handguns and rifles and great big quad-barrelled guns - they operate by atomic fission, as Captain Adams remarks."
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| Bad Crewman! Naughty Creman! You left the safety-catch off! |
Or, even more alarmingly, do they disintegrate their target itself, in a burst of fission?
This would be very, very alarming, for example converting a tiger into a radioactive cloud of death at a couple of yards distance - you can see Conrad's point. Yet Captain Adams, who did the deed***, doesn't even bother to cover his mouth.
Perhaps United Planets crewmen are made of sterner stuff than mere mortal men, or perhaps they all expire at age twenty-four, and get buried in lead caskets.
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| Captain Adams, who won't be getting a Christmas card from Anna anytime soon. |
Apologies for not zooming-in on the following photo, but Conrad was in the canteen and hungry, which made for a lack of patience.
As you can see, more of the white steel architecture has been lifted into place, all whilst Conrad was elsewhere, although not much of the blue fuzzy stuff is in place yet.
The National And Their Lyrics
The last track on their first album is the very catchy and tuneful "Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks".
Now, it is not always profitable to interpret or analyse the lyrics to some songs - Chemical Brothers I'm looking at you - but Conrad did wonder about this one.
"Vanderlyle crybaby cry"
What or who or where is "Vanderlyle"?
Apparently it's completely made-up.
I did not see that one coming.
| Van Der Valk. Close enough. |
Nor This One Either
There is a track on The Mars Volta's album "Deloused in the Comatorium" called "Drunkship of Lanterns". Conrad has just this day been reading Cordwainer Smith's short sci-fi story "Drunkboat", where one character goes babbling on about "lanterns".
It could just be a coincidence -
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| No, I don't know what it is, either |
* Mister Hand points out this is pretty close to Conrad's normal diet ...
** Conrad errs on the side of flattery and caution simultaneously
*** Don't worry it was all special effects!
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