DO NOT SPEAK TO ME!

At Least For A Few Minutes -
 - for it will take that long for the red mist to dissipate, and for people to be safe  around me whilst there are sharp objects to hand.
     For Yes!  Your Humble Scribe has, once again, had a loooooong journey into work.  And <gasp!> for once, First Bus are not to blame.  No, the dirty curs are those who are responsible for coning-off a whole lane of Oldham Road and thus causing a mile-long tailback.  Art?
     


     The horror.  Thus a journey that ought to take Lo! 36 minutes has taken an hour, and I therefore had only 5 minutes to attack the blog.  Admittedly I did also fall asleep again for half an hour after the alarm went off, which didn't help.
     DAMN YOU ROADWORKS!
     Thankfully the Cryptic Crossword in The Metro was pretty challenging, so that helped to pass the time.
     Right, motley, I have here a stout cudgel, which I am going to beat you with until my arm gets tired, and you're not taking that traffic-cone fancy dress off.

The "After" shot.

Bitten By The Coincidence Hydra - AGAIN

What is it about my tender posterior that positively invites that wretched creature to sink it's fangs into my repeatedly?  I have an evidentiary photograph that will have to wait until I get home to load (cannot do so at work, where I am typing this).
     Okay, if you remember yesterday, which you ought to even if you're a goldfish, then you will remember Your Humble Scribe going on about "The Flying Missile", and how Glen Ford's character had the bright idea of guiding his submarine's Loon missile onto a target invisible to him, but entirely visible to a couple of chase submarines closer to target.  Art?

CAUTION!  Danger zone to rear

     Well, allow me to point out that TFM is from 1950.  Got that? 
     Let us now jump forward to 1955, and the introduction of the Regulus missile.  Art?

CAUTION!  Danger zone 1 mile on all sides

     The Regulus was nuclear-tipped, carrying either a fission warhead that had a variable yield from 6 kilotons, or a fusion warhead delivering 2 megatons.  It was carried upon and launched from submarines such as the above, which might be one of the Barbero, Tunny, Grayback or Growler.  Definitely not the SS Halibut, and don't laugh at the name, it was nuclear-powered as well as nuclear-armed.
     "How was it guided to target?!" I hear you quibble.  "Tell us, Conrad, for we are eager to know!"
     Life imitating art: Regulus used two submarines that guided it to target by radio signal. 

Glen Ford: NUCLEAR WARRIOR!

    
That Evidentiary Photograph
What I intended to mention was the inter-service rivalry about the development of nuclear missiles in South Canada, where the US Navy took on it's most dangerous opponent - the US Air Force.  Both of these organisations hated and detested each other and were always involved in bureaucratic in-fighting and back-stabbing and manoeuvring to get a bigger slice of the defence budget.  This is true of all armed forces everywhere since the dawn of armed forces.

     Anyway, above we had the USN's nuclear cruise missile, the Regulus.  This was in direct competition with the USAF's Matador missile, and anyone who suggested they both co-operate would have been laughed out of the room.  Then shot.  Art?



                      Matador                                                              Regulus
     Here's where it begins to get a little weird.  You will recall that peculiar thought experiment that results in "Roko's Basilisk"?  This is the Super Artificial Intelligence that, rather pettily, will torture everyone who didn't help design or build it.  So all humanity before 1936?  Even Glen Ford?
     Bear that in mind.  Then, where does the name "Regulus" come from?  Latin, of course.  LATIN THE ZOMBIE LANGUAGE DEAD BUT IT WON'T LIE DOWN!
     And what does it mean?  Oh, I thought you'd never ask.
     "Basilisk".  Which I only discovered this morning -

     DON'T SNEAK UP ON ME LIKE THAT WHILST I'M BUSY BEING PARANOID!

They sang it; I'm living it.

     I'm not going to be able to complete the ton at work today, unless I use my Comfort Break time to type instead of paying a bathroom visit, which, given that my bus ride home takes an hour, is - well, I don't need to draw you a picture, do I?

Number One: avoid thinking about bathroom visits