The Curse Of Charllie Chan

I Mentioned This Briefly Yesterday
 - and didn't explain it, which is a bit naughty of me.  I believe I've gone over the concept in past blogs, although so long ago that I doubt any of you young - or old - whippersnappers are aware of the explanation.
     It came up because the Robinsons, of Netflix's "Lost in Space", are Disaster Magnets of the worst kind.  My recommendation, if you see them coming over the hill towards you, is - run!

The "Jupiter 2"
("Jupiter 13" would have been more apt)

     So it is with Charlie Chan, he of the old Thirties film serials.  I remember watching a season of these a looooong time ago on television, and the plots all had a central theme:  Charlie showed up at a different geographical location at the beginning of the film, to meet an old friend; the old friend is immediately murdered; Charlie investigates. Art?

Men With Hats

     The only other person in fiction who carries a curse like this that I know of is Jessica Fletcher, she of "Murder She Wrote".  Again, if Jessica comes visiting, then your hours are numbered.  Lock the door, turn off the lights, pretend you're not in.  Yes, it's antisocial - but you will live longer.
     Now, time to make the motley drink a pint of hot Marmite!*

I See You Baby, Shaking That (Levee En M)asse
Ha!  Do you see what - O you do.  Don't worry, this is nothing about cars, nor Groove Armada.
     Here an aside.  Do they ever regret allowing Marks & Spencer to use it for an advertising campaign, back in the day?  This is how it will be remembered by posterity, as background music to close-up shots of M&S produce.**
     Anyway, from smoked salmon and boiled baby new potatoes, let us trip lightly across the Channel to the land of the M8s (France, if we're being formal).  Yesterday was Bastille Day, practically the shot heard around the world of the French Revolution.  Art?

President Macron

     I believe the standing orders for Presidential bodyguards are that "The President is not to be awoken at night, unless nuclear war has broken out."
     That was just to set the scene.  It appears that President Macron has decided to bring back conscription to France, which is interesting, since they invented it in the first place.  We are talking 1793, in the aftermath of the Revolution, when Louis XVI had been executed by guillotine.  This had rather stirred up the other crowned heads of Europe, who wanted those same heads to remain attached at the neck, and France had been invaded.
     Quelle horreur! as Eddy Izzard would say at this point.

"The wine barrels are in that direction, men!"

     In a state of panic, the Revolutionary government drew up an edict to forcibly conscript all adult males between 18 and 25 into the army, arguing that because they were now citizens of the Republic and had privileges, they also had duties.  This went down in rather mixed measure across the nation, with a lot of desertions.  Despite that, it allowed the state to create an enormous army almost overnight, easily 450,000 men, outnumbering the invading Prussians and Austrians by five to one.
     The Revolution was saved, hurrah!  Well, hurrah for some.
     There's more to this, which I will save for later.  Next!

A Comparison Of Contrasts
If you live within the bounds of the Allotment of Eden/Perfidious Albion/the U.K. then you are aware that we are living through one of the best summers in living memory.  Normally a UK summer is a week of sun in May, then a few odd days scattered in July and August, and then autumn arrives.
     Thus the denizens of this sceptred isle are having to learn how to deal with SUNSHINE and HEAT and general HOTNESS.
     Some are doing better than others.  Art?

Jenny: happy in her box basket whatever.

     By contrast, let us see how Edna is coping.  Art?

Edna: the definition of a despondent dog

     I can imagine the conversation going on between these two when the humans aren't around.

JENNY:  Mmmm, it's so lovely and warm.  I might go outside in a minute or two and lie in the shade.
EDNA:  O Lord Aloft the heat!  The unbearable heat!  I shall just lie here panting madly, and hope a human with a raw chicken leg passes by and takes pity upon me.
JENNY: It is exceedingly pleasant out here, with a breeze wafting all sorts of interesting barbecue smells past me.
EDNA:  How can it have gotten hotter?  How!  My God, the sun is getting closer to the Earth, just like that film "The Day The Earth Caught Fire".  We're all going to melt!
JENNY:  Oh, don't be such a wuss.  Go drink some water, you drama queen.
EDNA:  Also, no raw chicken legs.

     Hmmm.  Edna seems to be suspiciously well-versed in apocalyptic science-fiction films.  Clearly she's been paying attention when we've been watching them.

It doesn't actually catch fire.

     Time to post this and get some of that food stuff.  Those sausages aren't going to grill themselves!


*  Motley's hate Marmite.
**  "Food porn" - I just made that up.  Aren't I clever!