I Say Data, You Look Like A Waiter!

Well He Does!
Not that I mean to belittle our friends in the catering service industry, it's just that an android with superhuman intellect, speed and strength could surely land a better gig than serving mashed potato and grits*?

I'll have a fillet Mignon, please

     I have to be careful and not insult "Star Trek: The Next Generation" too much or too intensely, as Mike and Greg - duty Missile Combat Crew at Pine Forks, Utah - have their fingers on some little red buttons**and if they feel that their iconic show is being traduced by an unappreciative Anglo critic -

What Did I Say About Health And Safety?
Yesterday I was mocking the 1931 "Frankenstein" for it's cavalier attitude to having masses of furiously sparking electrical equipment in close proximity to the cast.
     How little I knew!  At the climax of the film, hordes of villagers, all carrying fiery torches, flock to the windmill that the Monster is hiding in, then set it ablaze -

A roaring inferno.  Lots of fiery torches.  What could possibly go wrong!

     It might be trick photography but that howling mob are standing very close to the burning mill.
     Nor is that all.  When Henry is fighting the Monster in his guardtower, he drops his flaming torch and, whilst being knocked about, actually scuttles over it. Briefly, yes, but for long enough to notice it.  Like a trooper he stayed in character.
     Nor is that all.  Fritz, the mad scientist's wicked assistant, likes to bait and torment the Monster, by waving a fiery torch in it's face - literally in it's face.  I hope Karloff's makeup was fireproof ...

A little harmless fun between friends!

     Lastly, proof that the Germans do, indeed, have a sense of humour -

The Bavarian Slap Dance

     I know what you're going to say - "It's a film made in America, Conrad.  Ha!  Caught you out! Ow!***"
     Those dancers were superb.  They knew that dance intimately.  Therefore they were German extras, who had emigrated to America.
     I win.

Today's Creepy Coincidence Hits Home!
It's Thomas Dog Buns! Pynchon, I swear, reading him causes something to go awry with the universe, causality, the space-time continuum and where the odd socks go to die.
     On page 16 of "Vineland", which I have only read once before and now see as a possible ancestor of "Inherent Vice", there it is, a reference to "Frankenstein".
     I need expert advice here.  Phil?  Phil!

"It's the aliens, Conrad, warping reality around you."

     No, Phil, no - I'm an alien!  Me!

"Who said you were the only one?  Hmmm?"

I Have No Idea
I took this screenshot last night, obviously struck by a really terrific pun - 

Such fertile material

     - come this evening, I've got no idea whatsoever about the pun.

IMAGINE GENUINELY HILARIOUS SPORTING JOKE HERE ABOUT - ER - EXCESS X'S

"The Australian Victories In France"
There, there, don't cry, it's not like I didn't warn you about coming back to this work.
     We start with Intelligence work.  The Aussie intelligence officers didn't have to depend on getting information out of prisoners, as they instead went for their captured postcards instead.  Monash asserts that the average German soldier was an inveterate sender and receiver of picture postcards, which could reveal a surprising amount of information to the seasoned eye.
     Monash also describes the Aussie use of "pigeons".  These were Australian soldiers fluent in German, who dressed in tatty German uniforms, forewent shaving for several days and were then introduced into a body of German prisoners, to eavesdrop.  Upon giving a secret signal they would be released, to tell all.
     This is probably illegal under the rules of war, but one cannot help feeling admiration for such brazen Oz cheek!
     Monash also depicts the ending of "chateau generalship" as it affected him.  Initially in July he and his Corps staff worked in a chateau.  As the Australian Corps advanced, the Corps staff moved to village houses.  Then they resorted to another chateau, a derelict ruin stripped bare.  From there they proceeded to a collection of wooden shacks in the middle of a morass of mud.

What's In A Name?
As you surely know by now, Conrad is one of those people who WILL read the list of ingredients on the back of the tin, or, in this case, the bottle.

The smiling, deceptive front

     And what do we have on the back?

This!  This is what we have!

     Suddenly it's now a "ginger flavour" drink, which somehow didn't get mentioned on the front, did it?  Check that list out - NO GINGER!  In fact it has the hideously-named "glycerol esters of wood rosins" which sounds like the kind of herbicide you'd use to keep aphids off your prize blooms^.

Herbie-cide.  Close enough

* I'm not actually sure what "grits" are but they sound properly American so I thought - what the heck.
** Actually keys, and they're not red
*** That was me, poking you in the eye
^ Actually it's used to keep liquids in an emulsion state.