Best-By Dates: A Challenge Not A Warning!

CAUTION!  Do Not Try This At Home!
As being hospitalised or dead can seriously impact your future career prospects and ability to pay taxes (this latter not really all that bad a thing, but terminal expiration is a bit far to go for it).

(Plus, this above will not always deter the taxman)

     Part of the reason for your humble scribe's ability to ingest food that borders on diseased fungal-ridden offal rejects, is that he has an induction furnace coated in iridium* where you Hom. Sap. have a stomach.

Yum yum delishum!

     Work suffering from a post-Christmas lapse in traffic, Conrad was forced to go through his pedestal drawers last week, whereupon he discovered that some dirty cur had used the drawer space to dump rubbish therein.  I mean, why on earth would you keep the directories for our old database that was switched off 16 months ago and which will never ever EVER be brought back?
     And - what's this?  Art?

Oho!

      Hmmm!  As stated in today's title, Conrad views best-by dates as a bit of a dare, and will probably have a determined gnaw on this tomorrow.  I mean, it's in a wrapper and there's probably loads of fruit sugars in it, which means it's possibly fine, right?

     Well, if I don't post on Wednesday, you'll know why.
     Hello, motley, time to eat your breakfast of live mealworms!

Breakfast of champions.  And idiots.

I Beg Your Pardon -
I never said you could case-harden.**  Hmmm.  You know, I think you could make a song lyric out of that.
     Which has a tangential relevance to our subject in this post: Very Loud Noises.
     There I was, cruising Youtube for clips of veeblefetzer repairmen, when I came across a presentation by The Armchair Historian: "Why Was The American Civil War So Deadly?"
     Pausing only to mock your comment "Because there were lots of people trying to kill each other" I shall explicate.  Art?

The thing about civil wars are that they are not, remotely, civil.

     Well now!  As with best-by dates, I do like a challenge.  Okay, bear in mind that the test High Explosive shot in the Manhattan Project only came to 10 tons of HE, and that the Hiroshima detonation was 17,000 tons HE equivalent.
     Enter Port Halifax, Halifax, British America, 1917.  Here a French freighter carrying 12,500 tons of HE exploded after an accidental collision, and believe me, it was larger in volume and devastation than the cannon barrages of Gettysburg.
     There you go, an anorak attack.

Port Halifax: the aftermath

     You may not be familiar with this ghastly event, yet for many decades afterward it was used as the base quanta by which mighty explosions were measured.
     Gettysburg indeed!

Further Proof Part One
 - that Conrad is a terrible person (as if it were needed).
     There I was, idly looking at "Film Shootouts" on Youtube, when I came across a clip someone had added on, per a shootout from that Tarantino Western "Django", about a time-travelling guitarist gunfighter (I think?).  Art!

Hmmm.

     Conrad is no pathologist, yet I cannot help feeling that the human body is not a mere bag of blood, that EXPLODES in showers of gore when hit by small pieces of metal travelling at high speed.  In this clip they're almost painting the ceiling scarlet.

    There you go, I'm glad I got that out in the open.  I feel so relieved, and doubtless you feel happy for me.

Further Proof Part Two
I did come up with a horrid re-interpretation of a nursery rhyme yesterday, except old absent minded me forgot to make note of it.  Doubtless it will bob up from the fetid depths of my mind at some point.
     So!  I simply had to come up with an alternative today, and here it is -

Mary had a little lamb, it's fleece was white as snow.

And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go.

It followed her into the butcher's one day, and it did not come out.

Because the wicked butcher had killed and gutted it like a trout.

     Tee hee!***

A silver lining in every cloud.

The Orwell Effect
If you recall or have a long memory, then you know Conrad's never-ending battle with First Group, which - well, if they were even half-way to competent, I'd have a lot less material for BOOJUM! wouldn't I? - another case of a cloud having a lining made of precious heavy metals.

Thus

     Anyway, last night - you'd better sit down with a cup of tea and a biscuit - I walked home from Royton, because it is unwise to rely on the 409 bus turning up on time.  En route I checked timetables on bus shelters, to see what time the morning 409 would run, and both confirmed I needed to be at my stop by about 8:50.

The mythical beast itself!

     So imagine my Frothing Nitric Ire when, shutting the gate behind me at 8:45, I saw the 409 go swanning past.

GAHHHHHHHHHHH!



     O Boy.  When I take over - as is inevitable and only right - you can guess which group of adult delinquents are going straight to the uranium mines, can't you?^

Okay, an update - I consumed that snack bar earlier, and even took a photo , which I can't upload because this is being typed at work, and the base stations here don't recognise my phone, because of hamster incompatability, or something.

WORK HARDER YOU SWINES!^^

Oh, A BRITISH Scientist, I Do Apologise
Conrad was scrutineering a page which displayed various scientific figures of the Modern Era, and Dog Buns!  Why isn't there a picture of Richard Feynman on there?  I am cross!  I am VERY cross!  Very cross indeed!  Art!

This one's a bit grumpy, isn't he?

     These paragons of the scientific establishment are to be gracing the new £50 to be circulated amongst the citizens of this fair isle - which is why they're all British and as Ol' Rich was from South Canada - okay, I'll let you off.





*  And powered by a radioisotope thermoelectric generator.
**  As in case-hardened steel, which they used in tanks.
***  Well, it made me laugh.
^  Alongside Russell Brand and Ian Carr.
^^  Yes, I have mixed metaphors.  So sue me.