Damn You, Flop House, Damn You!

Perhaps A Little Background?
You may already know this, in which case I apologise (only a little, however), or it may be novel to you, in which case you're welcome.
     "The Flop House" is an hilarious podcast by three South Canadians, namely: Elliot, Dan and Stuart.  Elliot does stuff like write for television comedies, Dan does stand-up and Stuart is known simply for being incredibly handsome.  Art?

Dan, Stu, El

     Their podcast concentrates on collectively skewering bad films, which might end up being classed as Bad-Bad (translation: utterly unwatchable dross), Good-Bad (translation: it's still bad but enjoyably bad and yes, you are guilty for watching it) or Good (translation: I don't need to parse that one for you, do I?).
     Anyway, they have a Facebook page that's worth joining, as it throws up all kinds of speculative comments about pretty much everything under the sun ( - is in this tune).*

The FB title photo

     Now, I know what you're thinking.  "If you hold them in such high esteem, Conrad, then why are you lambasting them so?"
     Because over on FB, someone posted a query about any science-fiction that had the kind of epic scope of "Game of Thrones" but with rather less sexual violence, and Your Humble Scribe - obviously! - had no choice but to look through the list and che- 
     Oh!  I say!  A couple of comic-book recommendations.  "Saga" by Vaughan and Staples, and "Lazarus" by Rucka and Lark.  Art?

                                Saga                                                                             Lazarus
     Inevitably I went and looked them both up on teh interwebz.  Damn.  Not only did the Floppers rate them highly, so do the critics, and the artwork is excellent.
     The thing is, both of them are verrrrry long running.  At 108 issues, Saga is only up to Issue 54, which is 9 trade-paperbacks (that is, every six single issues are collected as a TPB).  Conrad estimates that each TPB will cost £15, and that's £135 - for only half the story.  Lazarus was once posited to run 150 issues but is now down to a more reasonable 75, and there are only 6 TPBs out as of now.  Another £90.
     Now do you see?  Do you?  Of course I could turn aside and never buy a copy.**

I say, she looks a bit cross!

     Time to set the sled running, motley. Don't whine so, the rockets only hit 20G acceleration briefly.

Red Star Trek
Tee Hee!  That'll annoy some fanatics who revere said television series. Stick with me, this is quite the tale.
     Okay, so on Monday I detoured from my bus stop aim after work, and dived into Waterstones, where they retail books; it's on the way and I sometimes stop in there if not in too much of a hurry.  I knew what I wanted: anything by the Strugatsky Brothers, to wit:

     They both have an interesting afterword from Boris, and the by-now long irrelevant Introduction by Theodore Sturgeon has been replaced by more contemporary ones.
     The only bit of HTBAG that I recognised was the opening chapter, so I may have gotten it out from the library and not gone far with it.
     Anyway, HTBAG came out in 1964 - remember that.  In the novel, Anton is pretending to be Don Rumata, a rich nobleman, living in the kingdom of Arkanar on a distant alien planet.  In reality he is one of 250 Observers from Earth, living in disguise on the alien planet to monitor it's civilisation.  They are STRICTLY FORBIDDEN from physically interfering with the culture; Anton recalls three disastrous breaches of this code by fellow Observers, proving the rationale of this policy.

Sounds familiar, right?

     That's right, ST's "Prime Directive" echoes the Strugatskys.  ST didn't come out until 1966.  What an interesting coincidence!
     Now, back to HTBAG.  Anton has a forest hideaway, a squalid little wooden shack in a very dubious part of the Hiccup Forest.  Here he hides potential victims of the purges taking place in Arkanar, before he helps them escape abroad to less dangerous kingdoms; which is probably getting close to breaching the NO MESSING ABOUT rule.  Since his fellow, not to mention more senior, Observers know what he does, he probably has their implicit approval.
     Anyway, that's not what I wanted to focus on.  You see, in a back room under a pile of rubbish, Anton has hidden what the BS dubbed "Midas"; a matter-converter that he feeds sawdust and which spits out gold coins.  This is the source of his wealth in Arkanar.

Yeah, whatever

     The Noon culture that Anton comes from doesn't need money any longer.  Surprise surprise, where do we meet that concept again?

You guessed correctly.

     I dimly recall Ol' Jean giving a speech about how in his culture people didn't need to strive for physical things any more, nor did they have need of money.  Well of course they don't!  All you have to do is order your 'Replicator' to replicate anything and there you are.  Instant gratification.
     Hmmm.  I think there's more to be said on this subject; we will wait until tomorrow, however, in the interests of allowing your mind to realise that a pair of Russians practically invented Star Trek.***

In Black and White 

     Wow, two very long articles.  Rather heavy duty, too.  Let's have some trivial nonsense for now -

It's Been My Day Off
For I am working this Saturday, so you're only getting one new post then, and this single new post today.
     This (17:45) is about the time I've been getting home after finishing in the office at 16:00, because of Dog Buns! traffic.  Art?

On this article

     On the way into work, with a lot less congestion, it takes about 45 minutes; on the way home up to 90 minutes.  You see?  You see why I take in two books, and the MEN and tackle the Cryptic Crossword and the Codeword?
     Oh, and the bus into work can well cope with being a single-decker, because there's not that many passengers at 06:15 in the morning, understandably.  The return from Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell?  With a seething mob waiting to board?  What kind of idiot sends a single-decker then, eh?

"The First Bus spokesdemon refused to comment."

*  Little Pink Floyd reference for you there.
**  About as likely as sugar spontaneously transforming into salt <the honest truth courtesy Mister Hand>
***  This is going to get me into so much trouble ...