It's Greek And Do Squeak

Which Is Offending The Materialistic-


Okay, I'll come clean and admit that I've no idea what was going to follow on from that, since I wrote it last thing last night, and the Conrad of last night is another country.  Meaning you cannot go back, and whilst your return to foreverland is perhaps merely questionable, mine is certainly far beyond the pale.  I salute you, Conrad of last night and your implied reference to the Greek language and what we inherit from it.
     Now, about atomic bombs -


     Well, that has to be the briefest Intro in many a month.*
         
                                                             Fat Men



You Still Couldn't Make It Up
Unless you were operating under the direct orders of Tsar Putin, for Lo!  We are back to that ludicrous nonsense of Ruffian television creating their own version of "Chernobyl", wherein the whole thing is the fault of the CIA, who are ably assisted in their sabotage by MI6, and while we're about it, why not throw in the Salvation Army, too?  And the Muppets; nothing says "Foreign Sabotage" more than Kermit the Frog, and you can't trust the little stinker because he's green, after all.

Dimya, stop sniggering and clutching yourself

     Anyway, that's not quite what I wanted to discuss this morning.  No, I was minded of an ancient Comic Strip production about the miner's strike, which dared to call itself "The Strike", and which spoofed Hollywood's inability to grasp real life, and general vapidity about any issue more complicated that How Do I Spread The Jam On My Toast?  Art?

"Al Pacino" addresses the House of Commons.

     The whole thing spirals into utter insanity, wherein Robbie Coltrane as the Evil Striking Miner Leader is threatening to blow up a nuclear power station unless valiant Al can stop the madness by making an impassioned speech to the House of Commons -
     I think.  It's been a while.  Anyway, "The Strike" has about as much basis in reality as does Tsar Putin's <ahem> unique take on Chernobyl.  Can't see it getting off the ground myself, since he's only given it a budget of £250,000, when it needs ten times that to even begin to compete.  I can see it in the schedules now, alongside the shock revelation documentary "Prague 1968", where it is revealed that Czechoslovakia was poised to attack and invade the Soviet Union with nerve gas, atom bombs and cyborg zombies ...

This makes it clear

     Of course, I could be overthinking this -

A Melange Of Minor Misanthropy
Ah, good old First Bus, always there when you need to generate a bit of content.  Reliably unreliable, in a word.  All I ask is that their buses turn up on time, are double-deckers and have a copy of The Metro knocking around so I can satisfy my craving for a Cryptic Crossword.  I suppose I shouldn't cavil too much at their only managing to tick two of the boxes this morning, and should instead be pathetically grateful that they bothered to turn up at all.

Shhh!  Be vewy quiet!  I'm hunting wabbits!"**

     We shall see if they can rise to the occasion tonight when Your Humble Scribe wishes to return to The Mansion.  After Friday's debacle my hopes are not high.
     I hope those gannets appreciate that Orange and Almond cake.  It's a bit of a faff to create, you know.  First you take an orange - Art?

A Orange

     - then you gently stab it several score times, then you put it in a pan of boiling water and simmer it for at least an hour, then you cut it open and get rid of the seeds, then you puree the whole thing in a blender.  I shall have to take the taste on trust - diabetes and all that.


"Gracie" By Ben Folds
I've been playing both his CDs on the bus of a morning, and in the office first thing as well, since only thus can I drown out the hideous electronic warbling of the IT Room's alarm.
     Anyway, it struck me that the track above, from the "Songs For Silverman" opus, is certainly reminiscent of Eels, circa "Daisies of the Galaxy", maybe "Flyswatter".


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7dcOK7G1o5o


     That's the link to a Youtube clip of said track, so you can judge for yourself.  Am I not generous?***

CAUTION! Rude words and bleak worldview included

     Somewhat to my muted horror, this record is nearly 20 years old.  I don't recall if you recall, but it was held up on release by various conservative fuddy-duddies as a wicked example of rock 'n' roll attempting to pervert the youth, by having a child-friendly cover.  Conrad loves to retort to criticisms like this by wheeling out a quote about jazz, from the Thirties, namely that Eels are purveying a CANNIBALISTIC RHYTHM ORGY LEADING OUR YOUTH DOWN THE PRIMROSE PATH TO HELL!! or perhaps not.

The Battle Of The Build Up
In Normandy post-D-Day, that is.  Yesterday we covered the ability of Allied airpower to utterly scrag anything that dared to move in daylight.  Today we have another reason why the Teutons lost the race to build up their forces opposing the Allied bridgehead: lying.
     This is something that Perfidious Albion is peculiarly good at.  They had various channels of deceit that they played like a piano virtuoso.  Firstly, all the Teuton agents in the UK had been immediately seized upon arrival and offered the choice of staying loyal to Nazi Germany, in which case they would shortly encounter a long drop with a bit of rope around their neck, or sending back a delicate embroidery of lies. 

The abode of those who refused the offer.  Temporary abode.

     Unsurprisingly, most took the offer, and thus fed back subtly skewed situation reports to their masters.
     Next were the fake tanks and landing craft and trucks, which tended to be either inflatable rubber replicas, or cardboard cutouts.

Incredibly convincing when photographed from 3,000 feet up

     There were fake radio stations broadcasting coded and clear instructions to fake military units, all of which was intended to be intercepted by the Teutons, and it was.  Then there were the double agents, who provided more lies, and perhaps the biggest influencer in wool-pulling were the Teutons themselves:  their analysis reckoned that the only place the Allies would or could land was in the Pad De Calais area, a belief that Perfidious Albion fostered assiduously.  Really, if you sit down with these people, check your pockets when you get back up again.  Utterly treacherous and untrustworthy <sniggers knowingly>.


     And there we shall leave it for today. 
     I wonder what on earth that title was going to be about?
*  Hooray! say the forces of brevity and sanity
**  You what? exclaimed the forces of sanity and brevity.
***  Rhetorical question DO NOT ANSWER.