The World' Biggest Erections

Yes, I Thought That Would Get Your Dirty Minds Interested
NO SNIGGERING AT THE BACK!  Conrad is unsure quite how he found it, but I came across an interesting and analytical Youtube channel last night called "Answers With Joe", fronted by one Joe Scott.  His title was simple: "How tall can we build?"
     A straightforward question that has a surprisingly long answer.  For several thousand years the tallest man-made structure was the Great Pyramid, which was only surpassed in 1311 by Lincoln Cathedral.  Art?

Everyone's seen the Pyramids; here's Lincoln Cathedral when it had a spire.

     Contemporaneously, and when saying 'building' meaning one that has people living in it, the tallest building put up is the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, which is 907 yards high,*or about half a mile.  Art?

Paging Mister Freud ...

     Before that, for a long while it was the Empire State Building, which is rather an odd name when you stop to think about it, given that the South Canadians are supposed to be all for individual nation-states and in opposition to imperial values.**  

ESB

     Conrad has been to the observation deck on the ESB and you get a terrific view of New York and surrounding rivers, though thanks to cloud the middle distance was obscured.
     Anyway, back to the Burj Khalifa.  With a structure that high, there were issues with wind oscillation, which had to be factored into the structural design: if you think this is a silly minor worry, Google "Galloping Gertie" or "Tacoma Narrows Bridge".  Nor was that all - thanks to the extremely hot climate, any concrete being poured had to be made with ice and pumped at night, when it was cooler.

Gertie, when she galloped

     Joe ended up with a monster building concept dubbed the "Ultima Tower", which, if Art will stop scoffing coal for a moment -

A whopper!

     This building is intended to house up to a million people and poses considerable design issues thanks to it's sheer size; you can't accuse the architect of thinking small or subtle or nuanced, can you?.  One can see a name on the side, and then it would fit right into the world of "Judge Dredd" and the Mega-Cities.  All we'd need is a small nuclear war for background and - Hay Pesto!
     Okay, motley, time to run the gauntlet of dark throwers in your hazmat suit!  Oh - that smell?  Just a little poison gas.  Hardly enough to affect anyone.***

Bitten By The Coincidence Hydra - AGAIN
Your Humble Scribe was sitting in the comfy chair in The Mansion's front room, idly completing his Codeword and equally idly looking at the television schedules to see if there were any Middle-Aged Man's Murder Mysteries to be seen - preferably an Hercule Poirot one that I could work out before everyone is assembled in the country mansion's dining room.
     Alas, no.  The information for a "Columbo" did appear at Channel 39 (CBS Justice, I think).  The featured actors were Peter Falk (of course) and -

Hopefully without Mockney accent

      -  Dick Van Dyke, the rambunctious tyke.  I suspect (do you see wh - O you do) that he was looking to stretch his acting chops a bit and not be typecast as the thoroughly decent family man.
     I continued to scroll down the schedule and Surprise!  What is this but "Diagnosis Murder" and who's the central actor but -

Matey, again

     I believe the central premise here is that Doctor Dick NO SNIGGERING AT THE BACK THERE! is an amateur sleuth who solves crimes.  Waaaay better than committing them, since the series ran for 8 seasons.  Clearly there is a lesson there.

Conrad Goes Potty
I know a title like that is going to lead to some smartbottom mentioning a visit to the bathroom and toilet-training.  Or, alluding to Your Humble Scribe's mental state, commenting "How do we tell the difference?"
     Pshaw!  A plague on both your houses, and your garden sheds, too.  Not the garages, for I am merciful.
     Let an illustration explicate somewhat.  Art?

Tah-dah!

     Now, you might dismiss this as being equally insignificant as my no longer having a row of pens stuck down the neck of my t-shirt, kind of "Minor Earth Tremor That Doesn't Even Qualify As An Earthquake In Chile" news.  Not to me, given the volume of tea that I drink of a weekend.  Wonder Wifey found it in her weekly trawl of the charity shops and bought it for me.  A completely unused "Brown Betty" that holds over a litre two pints of tea, and which has been broken-in this Sunday morning.
     Your Humble Scribe is happy, and also penless.

Conrad, looking about as happy as he gets.

     Pen-free for 4 days now.

DANGER WILL ROBINSON! POLITICS!!
I can only apologise for daring to use three exclamation marks in a single title, which is indeed bordering on screaming hysterical emotion.  Oh, and about the politics bit, since we usually avoid it like poison, along with Current Affairs and Religion.
     Well, it's my blog and I make the rules, and break them if I feel like it, and I feel like it.
     The subject matter I refer to is nothing to do with the stultifying Brexit, but about the largest election in history, namely that taking place in India.  Art?

The sub-continent

     The reason I mention this is because of the size of the Indian electorate - 900 million people, or about 14 times the entire population of the Allotment of Eden.  Or, if you like, almost 11% of the world's entire population are voting (this probably makes the dictators in the People's Populous Dictatorship uneasy).  The election is spread over 6 weeks, in seven stages, as you can imagine the logistics of managing it are formidable.  Although voting ends today, the count won't be finished until the 23rd of May, and because India is a democracy (Imperial legacy don't you know) I bet they can't speculate on anything until the polls close.
     There you go - you now know something I bet you didn't know five minutes ago.

This is biting political satire, honest.

*  None of that metric nonsense here.
**  Plus there was that Revolutionary War thing that we won't go into.
***  Much.