Dogs And Grogs And Blogs

But First - A Blast From My Own Bugle
Yesterday Facebook threw up an old post, linking to BOOJUM! that came from 5 years ago, which made me rather gawp in surprise that I've been churning this scrivel out for nearly 6 years now.
     My retrospective basked in the glory of having 4,000 people view the blog, which had as many as 300 posts!  Art?

The stats themselves

     Okay, that's more visitors in one month than in the first 10 month's of BOOJUM!'s existence, and getting on for 200,000 hits.  It has been a long, slow process of gradually acquiring an audience, and then keeping them, which is the hard bit.  Obviously there is a market out there for a bizarre world-view interspersed with non sequiteurs and gross slanders, with some obscure English words thrown in for good measure.
     Speaking of the Mother Of Languages, if you recall yesterday I was castigating Blogger's spellchecker, which seems to be of a distinctly South Canadian bent and which STILL does not recognise this blog's name as valid.*  
     This caused me to wonder why the South Canadians have chosen to spell certain words incorrectly, such as "labor, "harbor", "center" or "odor".

"Pearl Harbor" should clearly be spelled "Giant Turkey"

     The root cause is apparently Mr. Webster's Dictionary of 1823, published in South Canada and in which he selected various INCORRECT spellings as above.  He didn't create these, they were already in use, it's just that his selection immediately made them legitimate.** They have been promulgated ever since.
     Whereas the rest of Ye Worlde knows that the only correct First dictionary was that compiled by Doctor Samuel Johnson, hailing from the Allotment of Eden, as of 1755.  Art?

The lexicograph in question

     This publication firmly cemented the proper and accepted spelling for words in English, which up to that point could vary quite dramatically, and if you don't believe me go read the Collected Works Of Shakespeare, then get back to us.
     Well, there we go, typical BOOJUM! fashion, all over the place, which is valuable mental training for you indolent lot out there.
     Motley, take hold of this wire, won't you?  Ta - yes, it will tingle a bit, that's the bare end of a cable plugged into the local transformer station -

Motleys are flammable - who knew!

     I didn't intend to write a single word of the above when I turned on my laptop, it all flowed freely, which is how I can manage 2,574 posts in this blog's lifetime.  Whether this is a good thing or bad is, once again, a matter of perspective.

Grogs
I confess to stretching definitions here, but only a little.  This will also take a bit of explaining.  Okay, "Grog" used to refer to a drink popular in the Royal Navy, a type of watered down rum, rum being the spirit of choice in the Caribbean, where that particular bit of the Royal Navy lived, rum being made from sugar cane, which again grew in the Caribbean.

Grog - a drink for proper MEN!

     Thus, by extension, "Grogs" are alcoholic drinks.  Got that?
     Now, once again in typical BOOJUM! style, let us flit to the word "Fiasco", which Conrad was pondering upon, as he is wont to do about words that strike his fancy.  It means "to undergo a complete failure, usually to a humiliating degree", and as you can guess from the spelling, derives from the Italian.  Which translates as "Bottle".  Notably a bottle enclosed in a basket made of fibre, thus - 

     Now, this particular fiasco of Chianti was the one I used to cook the Ragout on Sunday, which is once again proof of the Coincidence Hydra SINKING IT'S TEETH INTO MY NETHERS!!***

Ooops.  The motley's mortal remains

Game Of Thrones
Don't worry, we shan't have any spoilers here - OR WILL WE!
     No, seriously, we shan't, as I think the Facebook Space Opera guidelines are good enough to follow here: for a film, no spoilers for two weeks after opening; for a television show, no spoilers for a week after broadcast.  If you recall, I was generous enough to post Spoiler warnings about "Nicholas Nickleby", which has been out for 180 years.
     Anyway, I can tell you that I've not won the sweepstake at work on who gets to sit on the Iron Throne.  Read into that what you will.

I don't think this is spoiling anything -

     - they did take all of last episode setting up this one, after all - I dubbed it "People Talking In The Dark" since that's what it amounted to.
     Conrad would have added a whole lot of obsidian-tipped caltrops as a protective minefield in front of Winterfell, too.  Art?

Caltrops

     No matter which way they fall, there is always one spike pointed upwards.  Therefore, if those spikes are made of obsidian, any wight that treads on it, dies. Given the way that wights simply rush forward en masse, it's highly likely that said caltrop will get trampled on again as the original crushed revenant is stomped underfoot by following wights. 
     You see?  No spoilers, simply more excellent suggestions as to how the good guys can win.  Any vacancies going for a handy Hand?

Going To The Dogs
Obligatory shaggy dog story of the day, for the benefit of those overseas.  It turns out the quick trip to the shops to get a newspaper isn't that quick, and is almost as long as the turn down Tandle Hill Road.  Healthy exercise for the both of us!

The Tandle Hill turn

     After which Edna has recourse to her Human-Shaped Cushion, in all her weariness.  Art?

     I tricked her on this one, calling her name when she was dozing quietly, and she wasn't chuffed about being woken up for nothing.



     I shall have to take five - Edna is whimpering in that "O!  The Wicked Neglectful Humans are deliberately starving me!" way- 


*  I'm sure you feel my pain.
**  Hack!  Spit!
***  Sorry about the double exclamation mark.  I was nettled.