By The Pricking Of My Thumbs -

" - Something Wicked This Way Comes"
Oh, wait a minute, that would be me. 
     Once again, I do apologise for more mental flotsam suddenly appearing in the forefront of that enormous rubbish-filled skip I call (loosely) "my mind".  I don't know why this line from "Macbeth" happened to get centre front and all the attention, just that it did.

No oil paintings they

     It's a line spoken by one of the witches, shortly before Ol' Mac shows up.  Conrad, relentlessly logical and analytical as always, finds it a rather strange saying: supposedly a pricking sensation in ones thumbs was associated, by the superstitious, with evil company about to arrive.  It can't be true or my thumbs would be in a state of constant torment.
     Anyway, what happens if you fall asleep in an odd position, or sit on your hands, and then get pins and needles?  What happens if you're a bad seamstress and constantly stick needles into your digits?  What about nursess or paramedics who stick sharp pointy things into you in order to get a blood drop for sampling?

The doctor will see you now, ladies

     What if you're a signals operator on a busy railway line, which will regularly see tens of thousands of people pass daily, some of whom are bound to be wicked?  What if you work as a prison warden?  Or, if you were a judge, would your thumbs decide the defendant's fate?

In this case, a truly frightening thought

     There you go, food for thought.  Obviously Ol' Bill The Bard hadn't thought seriously about the in-depth ramifications of that line, had he?  Just one more reason to hate hate hate him.
     Now, motley, we're going to see if you can move faster than this steam hammer can.

Probably not ...

Back In Time -
With Your Humble Scribe's relentless analysis of "The Incredibles" timeline, which we're nowhere near finishing <sniggers>.
     Okay, at about the 1:12:00 mark we see Elasti - sorry, Helen Parr - at the controls of an executive jet, of a fairly generic type.  Art?

     This looks suspiciously similar to the Learjet 23, the first executive airplane that was powered by jets, and which was made from 1963 to 1966.  That doesn't really narrow the time window down very much, as these things would have gone on to serve easily into the Seventies.  Next!

Helen and her honking headphones

     These cans are large, with those great big protective earmuffs.  Again, this does not denote any particular aviation era, since pilot's headphones right now still have those great big protective earmuffs.  Conrad guesses the cockpit can be a noisy place at times.  Next!

Goons grasping guns

     Conrad is guessing that these are sub-machine guns, judging by the length of the magazines, which means they have an accurate range of about 50 yards.  Quite why you'd want to put a telescopic sight on them is a moot point, but we will dismiss that under the Mad Scientist Technology waiver.  Still, their weapons handling is sloppy; that guy on the right is liable to end up getting vertically ventilated by very violent vrojectiles bullets if his mate trips or falls or has a muscle spasm.  Next!

Ignore the lycra-clad pertness to left - look at the rocket!

     It is rather difficult to get a full-length shot of Syndrome's rocket -
     Here an aside.  Remember Mirage, Syndrome's senior female minion?  Perhaps his only female minion.  What's her superpower?  Being thin?  And what about what South Canadians coyly call "Restrooms" - are there female ones dotted all over the volcano base?  Inquiring minds want to know!
      - ah yes, the rocket.  My notes show that it kind of resembles Werner Von Braun's "Ferry Rocket" design.

But perhaps less 'wing-y'

     This 5,000 ton behemoth was of definite Fifties origins, so one wonders why a Mad Scientist like Syndrome, with all his advanced technology decades beyond the wider world, goes for such a retro design.
     I apologise for the somewhat inconclusive nature of this item, since we still haven't nailed down any definite dates yet.  In time, pupchen, in time.

Actually -
I recall a line of Syndrome's which goes something like " - and when everybody's super - nobody will be super!" which seems a bit dim, coming from someone supposedly so clever (though not clever enough to avoid wearing a cape).
     In fact, Alan Moore wrote a comic book series based on just that very idea: a reality where everyone - yes, everyone - is superpowered, called "Top 10".  Art?

It's pretty good

     It followed the activities of the police in Precinct 10 as they dealt with the crimes that result from - once again - everyone having superpowers, which are not your usual boring normal ones.  I got it from the library and now that I recall it, it's about time I bought it myself.  I'm back at work tomorrow so a side trip to "Travelling Man" may be called for.
     I think we'll revisit this subject about everyone having superpowers again, as it's an interesting thought experiment, and - did I mention how much I hate Shakespeare?

"Lay on, MacDuff!
And damned be he who first cries, 'Enough!' "
     You see?  You see!  Dinned into me as an "O" level back in 1977 and I cannot escape it!

Plum duff.  Close enough.

Finally -
My, my, the levels to which you us humans can sink to!
     I refer, of course, to the BBC's Comments section on Manchester In The City's win of three things - I forget what they are.  A cup, a badge and a cuddly toy?  The number of Comments rapidly climbed to well over a thousand, and My!  I would say two-thirds were very, very uncomplimentary.  If "Schadenfreude" is the malicious enjoyment of other people's misfortune, I wonder what the malicious dislike of other people's good fortune is called?  

The City of Manchester.  Big and wet.

     "Eifersuchtighintern-bundel" would be the closest, I guess, if a little clumsy in pronunciation.  It means "Jealous butt-wad" in English.