Something's Gone Horribly Right

 Egad, The Blog Is Popular Today!

As ever, this concerns Your Humble Scribe, because it means lawyers for First Bus are that much likelier to find out how they are scorned and scathed in these pages.  I haven't slagged off The Metro very much as I've hardly read a copy since mid-March, when working from home began (I get a copy on the bus).

     Benson, Arizona.  Art?

Like it says on the tin

     You may not know this, but documentary film-maker John Carpenter started off making an out-and-out science fiction film, "Dark Star", as his final student project.  With a beefed-up budget, it got a theatrical release.  One of the promotional taglines was "Bombed-out in space with a spaced-out bomb" - anyway, the signature theme song was "Benson, Arizona".  Which is all about an astronaut travelling about the galaxy, being affected by the relatavistic speeds he travels at, his sweetheart back home hitting old age whilst he remains young; and all done in a homely country-and-western style, which is rather incongruous.  Art?

O yeah, he did the music, too.  It was cheaper that way.

This is all a long pre-amble to Conrad's suddenly deciding yesteryon that he wanted to hear the song again, so once again Spotify to the rescue.  In fact, let's have the lyrics, too <heh heh one way to pad the word count>.

A million suns shine down

But I see only one

When I think I'm over you

I find I've just begun

The years move faster than the days

There's no warmth in the light

How I miss those desert skies

Your cool touch in the night

CHORUS:

Benson, Arizona, blew warm wind through your hair

My body flies the galaxy, my heart longs to be there

Benson, Arizona, the same stars in the sky

But they seemed so much kinder when we watched them, you and I

Now the years pull us apart

I'm young and now you're old

But you're still in my heart

And the memory won't grow cold

I dream of times and spaces

I left far behind

Where we spent our last few days

Benson's on my mind

      The idea of it being done C&W style was in keeping with Space Truckin' round the stars (to borrow a Deep Purple title).

Another Benson.  Possibly also from Arizona.

     

Conrad Is Amused!

As you know, Your Humble Scribe has a horrible sense of humour.  I remember once remarking to Bruce, long ago, that I was worried about having developed a horrible sense of humour.  "O no," replied Bruce.  "You've always been like that."

     Indeed!  So, when I saw that there was a Have Your Say comments section on the BBC's website, about someone called "Messy" leaving Barcker (spelling? I only glanced at it), my innate curiosity compelled a look.  

"It's MESSI, Conrad.  Messi.  Try and get it right."

     O  My.

     There were two kinds of comments: One; frothing hatred of the article, the journalist who wrote it and the BBC.  I only read ten pages in, so undoubtedly someone responded in ALL CAPS.  These people crop up whenever there's a HYS and seem to be living in denial, because they HATE HATE HATE the BBC (with it's 'woke leftie agenda') and yet cannot stop reading it's articles.

Looking a bit peeved there, mate.

     Two: those who pooh-pooh the article about him wanting to move, saying it's merely a power play, though they leave unsaid whom the player is.  Art?

     In case you can't read the small print here, let me explain that Barka want a transfer fee of £624 million for matey, and matey himself has a £480,000 wage weekly.  Weekly.  That's £25 million per year.  Eye-watering stuff!  Whoever thought kicking a pig's bladder around would generate such silly sums.

Eight On A Plate

Conrad apologises once again for that internet staple What I Ate And Why It's Fascinating.  Bear with me, for this is what I intend to eat.  Art?

Yesssssss!

     Marmite-flavoured peanut butter.  This lot only cost £6 when they normally retail for £20, because their Best By Date expired in July.  However, you should know by now that Conrad regards all such food safety conventions as a challenge, not a warning.  Besides, it's peanut butter.  It will keep until doomsday.

"The Star Fox" By Poul Anderson

Conrad has made an effort and gone back to this work, and is now almost 75% through it.  It concerns the efforts of an engineering enterpreneur to carry out piracy against aliens that Earth won't face up to.  The first third, which I remembered nothing of, is all about the political background and set up; the second section is set on the planet Struan (intentional anagram of "Saturn"?) and had the only bit I remembered.  Our protagonists are making a forced march across an old battlefield, abandoned for centuries, when some of the hardware comes back to life ...

A bit off-theme

     It does not end well for the character above.  Only the last third of the novel is actually about the privateer Star Fox waging a single-handed war against the Alerions.  Nor do I remember anything about this last part.  In my defence, it is a good forty years since last perused, and I find the political machinations just as interesting as atomic space combat.  That's middle-age for you.

This Will Make Sense On Facebook, Honest

"Ailerons".  Which comes from the French for "Little wing", making a refreshing change from Latin or Greek <hack spit>.  Art?

We explain a plane

     As you already recognised, ailerons control an aircraft's roll.  They operate in opposition; as the port aileron is raised, so the starboard one is lowered, causing the aircraft to roll.

Finally - 

I've used this one before, though it was ages ago and I very much doubt anyone who read this scrivel four years ago remembers it.  Art?

An Aeolian Harp

     This nifty little instrument is played by the wind and is named after the Greek god of wind, Aeolus (who has been busy in This Sceptred Isle of late).  Great for the musician who's too busy playing his theremin to be able to harp as well.  Or whatever the verb for harping is.

HAARP.  Close enough.

     And with that, we are done!

"Repeat Please"

I Refer, Of Course - Obviously! - To "The Battle Of Britain"

And those aerial scamps the Poles of 303 Squadron, who are seen to conveniently forget how to speak English when they spot some Nemetsie.  Fiction, based on a real incident when a Polish pilot, up on a training flight with a British officer, spotted some Nemetsie attacking a British plane.  He immediately dived in and shot one of the Huns down, strictly against orders.  When he landed he got an official and severe telling-off, followed by an unofficial "Thank you and well done".

     That's a rather long-winded way of saying hello to our new tradition of using Sunday's second post as a repeat posting of BOOJUM!s long gone.  Take it away Kosciuszko Squadron!

2019:

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2019/08/a-night-on-inutiles.html

2018:

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2018/08/i-mutter-of-butter.html

2017:

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-green-tea-mile.html

2016:

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2016/08/the-onus-of-bonus.html

2015:

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2015/08/doctor-mccoy-with-medical-toy.html

2014:

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2014/08/hamanuptra-baby-hamanuptra.html

2013:

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2013/08/boojum-bounces-back.html

A Concrete Caisson Is Not A Fruit

You Cannot Eat It, Nor Put It In A Suit

It is, in all, a great unwieldy brute.

And is industrial-looking, not cute.

     This, of course - obviously! - has nothing to do with my jigsaw, which has marched on by leaps and bounds and I'll put up a photo shortly.

     Conrad's curiosity was piqued by a news item on the BBC's website, about a group of four children who were caught by the rising tide off Southend.  They were spotted and rescued by an RNLI hovercraft, and besides being chilled to the bone were unharmed.

     Why were they out on the sands?  They had decided to walk out to what the Beeb dubbed "Mulberry Harbour", which is accessible at low tide.  Art?

At low tide

     This is indeed a part of "Mulberry", the concrete caissons that created the artificial harbour "Port Winston" on the Normandy coast.  That above sprang a leak whilst being towed, so it was ditched off Southend, and it's remains are visible about a mile offshore.  Art?

The worst possible distance to be ...

     It is possible to reach the caisson when the tide is out, IF you know what you're doing.  Knowing when the tide has gone out and when it returns is critical, as is knowing there are channels between the wreck and shore that fill up and cut the unwary off.  If you get trapped on the Mulberry itself, then you've got a twelve-hour wait until the tide goes out again.

     Conrad realises this sage advice is probably wasted on 99.999% of our readership, yet you never know.  

Emphatically NOT a good idea.

That Reminds Me ...

 - Of Fritz Leiber's sci-fi classic "The Wanderer", wherein the titular planet suddenly appears in close proximity to Earth, triggering all sorts of natural disasters - earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions.  One character, after an evening session in a pub, decides to walk home to Wales from Somerset.  Art?  Map!

To explain -

     I know, I know, it's a long way round on foot.  Our friend plans to take a shortcut, as the waters of the Bay have all receded, so he can cross the sands.  I think you can see where this is heading ...  Problem the First: those waters are going to come back, and this event takes place at night, so he'll get no warning.  Problem the Second: he gets half-way across and finds that the River Severn is still running, in spate, even, and he'll drown if he tries to cross the raging torrent.

     It does not end well for him (Spoiler below)*.

The copy I had

     Generally speaking, mucking about in deep water is a very bad idea unless you happen to be in a boat, with a proper crew.

     I shall now stop being your Dad.

The Jigsaw: State Of Play

I can feel your urgent anticipation from here.  Yes, really.  Okay, Art?

Ta-dah!

I reckon there's about 200 pieces on the board there, meaning I only have to poke through 800 in search of more matching ones.  Of course, the problem is that I have no self-restraint and have to force myself not to "try one more little bit" which ends up lasting for three hours.

Conrad Is ANGRY!

Yes yes yes, angry is pretty much my default state.  I mean I am angrier than normal.

     "What has provoked an outpouring of your Frothing Nitric Ire, old chap?" I hear you say.  O I thought you'd never as!  The MEN and their Codeword, predictably.  Art!

You see?  You see what the chiselling bumbletucks are trying?  Actually that's a bad photo as it's nearly impossible to see the bit where they charge you a pound for their "random extra letter clues".  I bet they give you Z, B, J and X, too, the snivelling bafoons.  What next, MEN?  Giving only one letter as a clue?  That letter being either Z, B, J or X, I bet.

     Bah!

Hogg-Tied

Because a chap named Hogg invented the horn antennae, for use in radio astronomy and satellite communications.  Earlier this week we looked at the immense "Big Ear" telescope, and now we're going to look at the Holmdel Horn Antenna.  Art?

Behold!

     It does kind of look like Heath Robinson invented the world's largest ear trumpt - which is not a bad analogy.  This thing is gimballed to rotate axially and is on a movable base, so it can be aimed at any part of the sky.  The advantage of being such an odd shape is that very little extraneous input is acquired; you get what you aim at and nothing else.

     Eccentric-looking it may be; ground-breaking also.  Using the Holmdel Horn, the background radiation that pervades the universe was discovered in 1965.  This immediately confirmed the "Big Bang" hypothesis and put the "Steady State" one in the rubbish bin, incidentally earning the discoverers a Nobel Prize (messers Penzias and Wilson).  Art!

The boogie-woogie bugle boffins

     Excuse me, I need to go turn the oven on.  Those chicken drumsticks won't cook themselves!

     <Blimey, 35 minutes to cook?  I'd have put it on earlier if I'd known>

Finally -

Nearly at the Compositional Ton.  What shall we finish with?  Aha -

     O Marketa!  What unusual Czech words do you have for us today?

"Zamraceno": cloudy weather or a person who is not smiling.

     How very apt!  For the sun has gone in - I think my commenting on it being present at all didn't go down very well.  And you know Conrad - born with a scowl on his face: a face not made for smiling, as I like to admit (and scary when it does).

The proof

And with that we are done, done, done!

*  He drowns