Deep Brew Sea

Don't Whinge So!
It could have been worse - it could have been "Deep Brew Tea", which would have made you sit up and pay attention.  Or fall asleep.  One of the two.  This is the film that has intelligent sharks preying on people by plan - are there no films where vegetarian sharks become our friends and seek to save humanity?*

One reason they hate us <sigh>

     None of which has to do with - Autumn. 
     Here an aside.  Yesterday I was fulminating, operating on full Frothing Nitric Ire mode, about how that hideous South Canadianism "Fall" had appeared on a hoarding in the Arndale Centre.  Oh boy, did I lay into them!  

Cause of the emotion commotion

Then I checked to see where this term "Fall" comes from, and was slightly embarrassed to discover that it's <ahem> English, and derives from "Fall of the Leaves"**.  Even more embarrassment ensued when it transpires that "Autumn" is actually a French import of 18th century provenance.  What an outcome for a blog that prides itself as being as British as a brolly-bearing badger in a bath-chair,  boldly biting on a brown-sauce butty.

Okay, it's not a badger.  But pretty darn close!

     Ah, what the heck.  This does allow me to lead into a little seasonal analysis, taking a line from that piker Keats.  You know, the poet***.  He wrote about autumn thus:

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness"

     - which has poisoned the minds of every person outside the Allotment since the 18th Century.  You want mists?  I'll give you mists!  Art?

     And don't go on at me about "mellow fruitfulness" because all the supermarkets are stocking 8 oz punnets of strawberries, when a couple of weeks ago they were 12 oz, but have they reduced the price?  No they have not! (typed in Frothing Nitric Ire mode).
     Well, looking out from the 18th Floor of the Dark Tower, I can't tell if that's mist or rain.  Whichever, once again your humble scribe feels as if he's sitting at the bottom of a lake.


"The Crazies" 2017 Iteration
I finished watching this remake and have a couple of bones to pick with the director.  Now, there are SPOILERS ahead, so beware, Vulnavia, beware!
     Okay, everybody bar David and Judy gets killed.  Yes, even Russ (a far better name that the "Clank" of the original), who is surprisingly played by Joe Armstrong, an English actor.  Joe has a weaselly presence, which in anyone else's view would be an insult but here at BOOJUM! high praise indeed.
     At film's end, David and Judy are escaping in the dead of night from what's left of Ogden Marsh in a tractor unit from an articulated lorry, and having acquired a military radio are now listening to a countdown.  Shortly after this reaches zero a nuclear detonation takes place, obliterating Ogden Marsh with what appears to be a multi-megaton city-buster warhead.

"Oops, my bad," said NORAD

     Two points arise here.  First, if anyone was trying to keep this covert and covered up and secret and sneaky, a gigantic flaming fireball that rises a mile into the atmosphere WILL GIVE IT ALL AWAY.  A thermobaric weapon using explosive slurry would do the job just as well, blast and overpressure being what they are.
     Secondly, the  blast at night-time would have instantly blinded Judy, and at that range would have ignited the cab's paintwork, if not the fuel and lubricants, too.  David, looking in the other direction, would probably only be temporarily blinded.  Either way, they're in serious trouble.

These chaps might have something to say about it, too

Oh Irony
Not only do I have the Coincidence Hydra regularly taking a bite at my buttocks, the Irony Osprey has taken to pecking my melon.  Yesterday's blog went by the hilarious title of "The Halls of Monteazuma", referring to the film starring Richard Widmark.
      "I've not watched that for, lo, these many years," said your humble scribe to himself - it's okay, I was alone in the room at the time - "Perhaps I ought to dig it out and re-watch, just to better acquaint myself."

Of course, I know where everything is.  Exactly.

     I looked here, under there, in that, under this, and pretty much everywhere in between and COULD NOT FIND IT!
     Which means I now have a desperate pash for it and cannot rest until it has been either recovered or re-purchased.
     Thank you, Irony Osprey.
    
Oh wow!  Nearly at count, and I've been hammering away on today's blog at work, during my lunchtime, with minimal notes to work from.  So that's 750 words in 45 minutes, or 16 words a minute.  A triumph of creativity/an over-welling of offal (delete where applicable) for a Saturday afternoon so damp and dismal it's like living in a used carwash sponge.

Hello, friend!

*  No.  Sorry but there it is.
**  Unusually for BOOJUM! nothing to do with tea in this instance.
***  Hack spit!