The Return Of The Hair-Splitting Pedant

Whom You All Know And Love

Me! in case you were in any doubt.  Or, perhaps, "Don't hate quite as much as you hate unshelled pistachios", which break your fingernails when you try to prise them open.  The little swine.

     You see, as happens on many other days, an idea popped into Conrad's fervid and fervent mind, about that little-known cult series "Star Trek" and one of the earlier episodes, one of my favourites that you may never have heard of: "What Are Little Girls Made Of?". This episode concerns a bonkers scientist with plans to take over the galaxy - you can never accuse ST of being predictable or conventional - by creating a race of androids.  Art!

That's an android, you disgusting perverts.  Go take a cold shower.  

     That above is Andrea - nope, nothing conventional about that name - and her <ahem> uniform made out of gaffer tape, and Ruk.  They are about to enact Phase One of the evil mad scientist's plan, which is where ladies across the world had their heartbeats speed up.  Art?

     Here we see Captain Kirk, and his android double BUT WHICH IS WHICH O MY LORD THE CONFUSION! and so on.  

     Yes.  Well.  Conrad likes to crunch numbers on occasion (everyone needs a hobby) and his take on this transformation scene is that it takes about 30 seconds.  You and I will have to take that on trust, Conrad ain't gonna go off, buy a DVD and replay it just to check.  30 seconds.  This doesn't count the time it takes to load up an android 'blank' on the conversion table, because they're quite soggy and floppy and awkward to handle.  We are never privy to exactly how Captain Kirk loses his clothes -* <ahem>Art!

   For the whole process, I think we can assign the value of one minute to it, as a decent approximation.  Therefore, to take over merely the Enterprise with it's 430 person - sorry, forgot the redshirts Ruk disposed of - 428 person crew would take over seven hours.  And that presumes that they're all quietly queued up in a long, pacific chain merely waiting to be converted.  In reality** they'd need to be beamed down in batches to be processed, because we never see Doctor Corby (the mad scientist in question this week) use more than a single conversion table.  Then they need to be beamed back up in batches.  The whole process would take at least a whole day, IF the whole Enterprise crew co-operates in a slavish and obedient way totally at odds with human nature, their ethos and training, and if you've got them that mindlessly enthralled, why bother turning them into androids?

What are little girls made of?  Raw cabbage, apparently.

     The whole process is so clunky, time-consuming and pre-industrial that Conrad doubts Doctor Corby has actually sat down to do a proper time-and-motion study about his plans for Galactic Dominance, which is one of the first things an apprentice Dictator has to do.  Why, if we assume he managed to export his Sekrit Layr to another more populous planet, one that we may assume has the same population as contemporary South Canada, then it would merely take him 627 years to convert the population into androids.  By which time the secret might well be out.

     Of course, I may be overthinking this a little ...

Still With Space Opera

Conrad knocks about on the Space Opera Facebook group because it's an interesting place to read about - er - Space Opera.  Not only that, they ferociously administer the "NO real world politics" rule, as well as the "NO self promotion except on the second Monday".  He was delighted to see that a member had spent their lockdown time fruitfully.  Art!

     All bespoke work, this is inspired by Chris Foss (yes that Chris Foss) and Peter Elson (who?).  The creation of one James Brindley, Jim is new enough and naive enough not to boast about how many bricks it has, nor how long it took to build.  "Lots and lots" we imagine.  Well done James***!

Greedy For 3D

If you have been keeping up with BOOJUM! then you ought to realise that 3D-printed tanks are a thing.  If you have not been keeping up with BOOJUM! then your great-great grandchildren are going straight to the uranium mines. 

     I mean, of course - obviously! - Historical Miniature Replicas, not the full-size real thing, although <ponders in a musing way> because over on yet another Facebook group that Conrad is a member of, they have a positive outpouring of 3D printed tanks, if you join their Kickstarter.  Art!

     This, since you won't have the slightest idea, is a South Canadian M551 Sheridan tank in a large scale.  Yes, the earth in Vietnam really was that red; yes, the Sheridan did have all the paraphernalia of a gypsy caravan attached to it.  They often had 'personalised' crew decorations added, which not infrequently referenced bad wicked naughty things like sex or drugs.  Bad crews!  Naughty crews!  No biscuit for you!  Because it's a large-scale model, you can barely tell that it's a 3D printer version; the clue is in the graduated 'steps' on the front glacis, where you can see how the layers were deposited.  But, one has to say, a very fine 3D model.

Brazil, Meet India

Conrad is minded of a song that exists, "They Grow An Awful Lot Of Coffee In Brazil".  I am sure they do.  They also grow an enormous amount of tea in India, which is a lot more important to the British, despite that loathsome South Canadian import "Startrekbucks" or somesuch.  Art!

    Here we see Indian cricket fans during the current <insert technical cricket-y term for ongoing matches> against England and one has to salute that fan in the body paint, because he's not plumping for one side or another, simply giving both of them equal <snickers> coverage.  One feels that Indians take cricket very, very seriously.  Fair enough.  As long as they don't beat us at it - Conrad finds it hard to take that we the Bri - excuse me - We The British - introduce all these games to the colonies, and they proceed to get better at them and beat us.

Finally -

I am on the early shift next week, hurrah!  And still working from home, which means I can delay getting out of bed until 07:00, have a shower, get breakfast, re-pimp the blog, catch the news headlines and still be at work for 08:00.

Chin chin!

*  "Captain, Andrea would like to hot tub with you" is a possibility.

**  Sorry for using this word and concept

***  We realise there are no puny humans for scale.  Use your imagination.

Back To Reviewing Where Conrad's Head Was Years Ago

Whaddaya think of Yanone Kaffesatz?  Seems a bit small after Verdana.  And my eyes are bad enough already.  There.  Rather more legible.  Okay, once again Conrad short-cuts the continuum on a four or five parsec level, and brings up a load of hilarious (hopefully) guff (unarguably) that he threw together ages ago. O and we need a clickbaity picture to entice the unwary.  Art!  

NO idea what this is, but it's by Chris Foss, so it'll do

     Let us now praise famous men roll back the years:

2020

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2020/02/piping-hot-is-what-its-not.html

2019

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2019/02/herman-kahn-is-not-amused.html

2018

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2018/02/atomic-weasel.html

2017

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2017/02/the-catcher-in-wry.html

2016

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2016/02/flog-golf.html

2015

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-el-dogger-of-this-blogger.html

2014

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2014/02/what-would-brain-do.html

Ripped Raw From The Headlines!

Perhaps

This blog, incidentally, is coming to you unusually late on a Sunday because Your Humble Scribe did overtime until 14:00, which is when I'm normally well into creating another masterpiece of wit, wisdom and whimsy.  BOOJUM! in case that wasn't clear enough.  Do keep up!

     I took a few photographs last night, from the BBC website, which is why you get today's over-the-top description.  Let's get going with a bang.  Art!

German tourists leave souvenir behind

     I realise there's nothing to give scale here, so let me inform you that this rusty beast was nicknamed a "Herman", after the corpulent head of the Luftwaffe, and comes in at a ton of HE.  It was most certainly not inert, because the Loggies who boxed it in filmed the moment of detonation: 

     The buildings here give a sense of scale.  That's a big bang. Despite all the precautions taken, it still damaged windows and brickwork, because high explosive does that kind of thing when you set off large amounts of it.  Now, this particular bit of ordnance was only 80 years old, so consider what the unexploded shells lying underground in France and Flanders are going to be like after 108 years at a minimum.  Art!

     I am minded of the commentary by N & M Press on the above, where you can see French peasants selling unexploded shells dug up on their farms, to itinerant tourists with more money that self-preservation skills.  Old ordnance that might be dug up, and not be in a good mood about it, when ploughing by tractor meant French and Belgian farmers had a large slab of armour plate behind their seat - "just in case".

     There we go, enough creative juice squeezed from the tissues of that headline.  Motley, that tea was poisoned.  The antidote is in the fridge.  However, you now have to get from your sunlounger to the kitchen door, and there are mines under some flags.  Go!

The Eagle Has Landed And The Sweater Has Arrived

Your Humble Scribe does mention that it feels as if we are living in a science-fiction film at times, because streaming television and camera drones, not to mention Hermes.  NO, not the Greek god of transportation, whom often tussled with Conrad when I was travelling into Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell by bus.  This Hermes provides a collection and courier service; you register at their website, fill in details of what you're sending, print off a label they send you and drop it off at a nominated shop.  Art!

     Darling Daughter has just confirmed she got the above, which was laughingly described as 'far too small' for Conrad's modest frame.  It's exceedingly warm, so completely useless at present in our unseasonal heatwave.  Just wait.

     I realise this isn't big news to many of you out there, but this almost-pensioner feels a sense of proud and heady achievement.

You Can't Scale Flames

A truism in the old film business, where you used real effects because CGI didn't exist.  You can't scale flames or water, they obey their own physical rules.  Let us once more beat "Dalek's Invasion Of Earth 2150" with a big stick and see what falls out of it.  Art!

     The motorised-dustbin's spaceship, which is a pretty cool model, made sinister by the sound effects they play when it's in flight.  Nothing about it obviously says "Dalek", although it's patently not human in design, either.  Next!

     No, the extras are not bolting to get at the catering truck first.  These are the slave workers and Robomen - who are apparently now given free will by deus ex machina, it seems - running to get out of the mines they have been digging.  Conrad is pretty sure everything above the trees is a matte.  Note the Dalek building at upper starboard.

     Well now, it is consequences time.  The surviving Daleks seek to flee in their spaceship, which is seen here succumbing to the <insert nonsensical mumbo-jumbo about magnetism here>.  Oh, and remember what I said about scaling flame?  Hmmmm check out the frankly unconvincing fires where that building once stood.   Check out, also, the model which now occupies the foreground.

     That is the remains of the Dalek spaceship, because it was made out of super explodey material which ignites and self-destructs whenever the script calls for it.  Don't get me wrong, I love this film, yet it has flaws.

And claws

Conrad Is Puzzled

Which means he probably disapproves of a thing and cannot understand it's popularity - like Alan Carr or Strictly Come Dancing, both of which are going to be nuked into a glowing vapour when I take over.  I think Carr will be first, because doing-in Strictly might warn him.

     ANYWAY I was mystified by a photograph on the BBC website (thanks for today's inspiration, Auntie) which seemed to show a golden egg.  Art?

     Reading the blurb proved that it was, very much indeed, a golden egg.  A publicity gimmick by Cadburys, it was created to be hidden and encourage people to go out and hunt dragons seek treasure (sorry, easily confused).  Whoever was selling it made out well, someone with more money than cold, hard dragon-hunting skills sense ponied up £31,000 for it.  Well done, you now have an egg-shaped lump of gold.  Conrad's immediate question "Can you eat it?" being answered with a resounding "No", all interest is lost.

Only costs 25p and is miles better for you

Finally -

Conrad would like to further put your mind at ease about Planet Earth being vulnerable to asteroid or comet impact.  Yes, these happened all the time during human pre-history; we now have the technology to predict impactors and take measures to divert them.  I glossed over a few methods yesteryon, forgetting that there is also the possibility of using a high-powered orbital laser to blast an incoming Near Earth Object.  Not in the cinematic sense of literally blowing the NEO to pieces <glazes over imaginging this in real life>, rather in consistently and persistently heating one spot to cause outgassing, which would divert it.  Art!

Probably not quite as dramatic as this

     And with that, we are done!

More Of India

Because Why Not?

The British loved having India as part of their empire because 1) It was sunny and hot, 2) Their food is remarkable, 3) They volunteered to serve in the Army and fought like tigers and 4) All the other strategic shizzle that goes along with Great Power politics.  But especially Number 1).

Not given away in cereal boxes

     The British Army in India was a frequent destination for officers who didn't have any kind of private income, as the cost of living out there was considerably cheaper than back in the UK, plus you had hot sunny weather and Indian food.  British troops out there picked up all kinds of Indian words and adopted them, such as "Bundook" which they took to mean "gun", or, in Hindi - बंदूक.

     Of course there was "Char" for tea, which has carried over into everyday English and many industrial locations here in the UK were graced with a "charlady" whose job it was to trundle round a trolley and an industrial-sized teapot.  

Conrad's Darjeeling is prepped

    During the Second Unpleasantness, the British government bought up the entire Indian tea crop, because we'd have lost otherwise.

     ANYWAY there was also the word "Jaldi", usually barked at lower ranks not performing hard enough as in " "JALDI JALDI!" yelled the Sergeant-Major".  Not forgetting the famous "Khaki" as in the uniform colour, coming from "Soil-coloured", which was the intention as it meant being able to blend in with the background.  Art!

Hmmmm.  Perhaps not in an urban environment, chaps?

    Motley!  Time for a gentle and tasty vindaloo.  I'll let you go first.

The Haul

Your Humble Scribe had quite forgotten that he'd ordered another book, which arrived on Friday, because I'd already got the one about British pillboxes on the Western Front during the First Unpleasantness.  This one is by the same author, and covers all three of the major combatants - O go on, we'll count Belgium in - all four of the major combatants.  The Yanks arrived too late to indulge in much pillbox construction, and the Italians, Russians and Portuguese weren't present in sufficient numbers to count*.  Art!

     Oops.  Sorry that one's gone sideways.  Art!

   There you go.  This is the Fort Loncin, destroyed when the Teutons brought up their monstrous 42 cm <hack spit> siege howitzers and commenced shelling these Belgian fortifications.  Loncin was destroyed and the entire garrison killed when a shell penetrated the ferro-concrete and blew up the magazine.  Mister Oldham explains that these forts were constructed rather shoddily with low-performance concrete that was simply not up to the job; only 560 pounds of cement per cubic yard "suitable for modern-day light foundations".  The French forts at Verdun, by contrast, used better designs and had a lot more cement present - 900 pounds per cubic yard, which meant they withstood the bombardments they suffered.

  That's the French Fort Vaux, bloodied, battered but unbroken**.  So concrete comes in different varieties - who knew!  You will doubtless be getting various updates as Your Humble Scribe trawls valiantly through this work.

Be A Ware

I just wanted to add a little explanation to my earlier comments about Jonathan Ware, military historian.  He takes a story that I have seen in at least two different places, supposedly reported in exactly the same way by two different tank units (one Canuckistanian, if memory serves).  The story goes something like this:  

A Panther

Commenter:  So, how do you knock out a Panther tank?

Tank Commander: There's only one way.  You sneak up to within ten yards, hit the mantlet on the front of the turret, and the anti-tank round will deflect downwards into the thinly-armoured decking, penetrating the tank and knocking it out.

Commenter:  O I see.  That sounds tricky.  Has anyone ever done it?

Tank Commander: Yes, Gunner Haskins managed it last week.

Commenter: I see!  Where is he?

Tank Commander: Ten miles back in the rear, recovering.  His nerves are shot.

     This has no doubt been uncritically repeated across websites and books (DOUBTLESS it's in Max Hasting's stuff).  However, as Jonathan explained, it was actually a joke (yes, your average British soldier had a ghoulish sense of humour), which had been circulating around British Churchill units in Normandy, and since he is big on Churchills in Normandy, he discovered this.  

     <sighs deeply> Conrad gets the feeling that he might have to put Jon's stuff on his List Of Things To Buy <wallet squeaks in panic>.

Conrad: Officially A Very Sad Man

Yes, but we knew that already.  As ever, Your Humble Scribe went on the weekly shop on Wednesday and, as ever, went looking at the aisles of bottled beer with a keen eye.  Not for want of beer, rather to see what their labels say or present.  To see if they can be used on BOOJUM!  Art?

     But not apparently light of hand.  So, I have the bottle and a picture - which will have to be re-shot as a shuddery shaky shot is - yes, well, not very good.  What can I come up with as a pun?  That's the question.  I can think of a couple of possibilities: "Operation Lightfoot", part of the battle of El Alamein, or perhaps  "Thunderbolt And Lightfoot", that film with Jeff Bridges and Clint Eastwood.  Or a man whose superpower is glowing leg-ends?

Finally -

I wanted to post a little more detail on The Impending Asteroid Apocalypse, because some of you will be worried about it after I yarked on about Apophis, and how it's massively unlikely to come anywhere near Earth.  Doubtless there are swivel-eyed loonwaffles banging on even now about how Apophis is going to impact in three days time and we're all doomed doomed doomed.

Yes, Private Frazer; but only eventually.

     The thing is: time.  If we can identify that a Near Earth Object is going to become a Near Earth Impactor before the event, we can take precautions.  Given an impact site, it can be evacuated, if there's insufficient time left for an interception.  If the lead time is years, then we can mount an interception mission to muck about with the NEO.  Drag it off course even slightly by using the mass of the intercepting probe to act as an attractor.  Paint it, because that will cause a differential in absorbed sunlight and affect trajectory.  Hook a solar sail to it, and have it gradually be dragged off the impact orbit.  Or, the one I like the most, land a probe designed around a gigaton-yield thermonuclear warhead, and set it off.  Then repeat a couple of times.

     OF course, the critical bit here is having enough of a warning. So -

*  Because I say so is why.

**  Please read about before making any "Cheese-eating surrender monkey" comments.

A Touch Of Indian

Nothing Planned

It's just how things have panned out.  Firstly, there's Venkat Kapoor, whom is a fictional character from "The Martian", which I hope you recollect me going on about re-reading.  He's the Director of Mars Operations at N.A.S.A. so he carries quite a lot of clout.  He was played by that splendid character actor Chewitel Ejiofor (British, of course) in the film, and they Anglicised his first name.  Art!

     There's a great quote when NASA are planning a desperate, last-ditch attempt to send supplies to Mark Watney (the "The Martian" of the title) on Mars.

     "Do you believe in God, Venkat?" Mitch asked.

     "Sure, lots of 'em," Venkat said.  "I'm Hindu."

     Hindus have a whole pantheon of gods, for the uninformed.  Which is dancing close to the edge of Religion, from which we will carefully dance away again.

     

Mark Watney: King Of Mars!

   Here an aside.  TM is all about clever people, and very clever people, working hard together to manage the near-impossible, and nailing it.  It's nice to see intellect rather than brute force prevail.

     

     ANYWAY I left one of my earlier blogs leaving all of us - me and all three readers out there - somewhat puzzled by the description of Major Neil Fraser-Tytler when he left his artillery battery at the front lines to go teach at an artillery school: "Hun Shikar".

     I should have realised both the literal and metaphorical sense of what he wrote, because NFT always described the opposition as the "Hun", and pre-war had been a keen hunting, shooting and fishing chap.   Plus an Old Etonian, which isn't really relevant here, I just wanted to give you a tad more background.

     "Shikar", you see, is an Indian word meaning "to hunt for sport", as in those chaps who would ride on the back of an elephant in a howdah, bristling with guns, blazing away at the wildlife, in order to have a trophy that they could mount on the wall.

Badly-behaved British bang-bangers

     Emphatically not hunters who go out to slay some meaty beast in order to have something for the pot.

     So - NFT was referring, in his effortlessly bad-taste way, to hunting the Hun in order to slay them with artillery.  His prowess and skills in hunting and stalking and spotting actually served him well in the front lines, so a touch of actuality about his metaphor.

     Incidentally, there is also an Indian film called "Shikar", which I've never seen and know nothing about - hang on -

That man is wearing lipstick!
(Shockingly not done in 1968)

 

     One quick Google later, followed by a walk for Edna whilst the sun remains shining, and brewing another pot of tea, and forty minutes have passed - O the film?  A murder-mystery.  With songs.  Art!

Of course with songs

    One of the stars has the somewhat unlikely name "Johnny Walker".  A tale for another time ...

    Then there is Enter Shikari, the British band.  Art!

Including the title?

     
    Your Humble Scribe probably has one of their albums knocking about somewhere.  Their name comes from a boat that was owned by one of the band's relatives, named "Shikari", which we all know means "Hunter" in Hindu.
    Then there are "Johdpurs".  You'll know what I mean if Art gets off his waffle-patterned posterior -

As worn by Erich Von Stroheim

     My Collins Concise defines these as riding legwear, loose around the thighs whilst being tight against the leg from the knee downwards; presumably because one's thighs flex and move whilst riding a horse, and thus need room to move?  There must be a compelling reason why you'd wear an item of clothing that renders one liable to mockery.

     Well, this week I found out that the name comes from the Indian city of Jodhpur, which I never knew existed <hangs head in shame>, so in penitent mood, allow me to present the city - Art!

     That's not a filter effect, the buildings really are blue. The locals like the colour so much they painted most of their houses blue, which kinda makes it stand out.

Erich Von S.

     Okay, motley, let's have a go at jousting on horseback, except horses are hard to get hold of so we'll use motorbikes instead.  Jodhpurs on!

"We Have Ways ..."

Indeed they do, and frequently winning ones, too.  I am,of course - obviously! - talking about the podcast "We Have Ways Of Making You Talk" featuring comic Al Murray and historian James Holland.  On Thursday they had a guest speaker, author Jonathan Ware.  Art!

Wallet squeaks in anguish ...

     I'm pretty sure this was mentioned in Professor John Buckley's "Monty's Men" because you remember a title that contains the strange word "Sospan".  I wonder what it means?  ANYWAY Jonathan really, really knows his stuff about Normandy and the campaign there, because he went to the bother of going back to actual real archival records and returns and reports made at the time, rather than regurgitating urban legends as if they were facts.  He wasn't shy of criticising the guilty parties, especially Max Hastings, and in fact had given a copy of the latter's "Overlord" to his friends and asked them to read it - and then explain how the British won.  They couldn't.  Jonathan could, and did so on WHW, but he does swear a few times, so - beware parents.  Art!

JW

Ah, I See!

You ought to know Conrad by now, never one to avoid a bit of digging in the interests of defining a word or phrase.  "Sospan" is an alternate way of spelling "Sosban", which comes from a Welsh song "Sosban fach", which is Welsh for "Little Saucepan".  Art!

Finally -

Blimey, it's nearly three in the afternoon and I'm eating jam from a tin with a spoon I've not had my lunch yet.  The grim grey clouds had also come rolling in, making me glad we had walkies earlier, though blue sky is making a comeback as I type.  I need to get up to the Compositional Ton so I can get a ham sandwich (Wonder Wifey cooked an enormous gammon joint overnight on Thursday so our meals feature a lot of ham).

     And thus we are done!

What's In A Word

 I Can Hear Your Hilarious Response

"Five letters!" before you even quote it, so don't bother.  Seriously.  If you do, then my Remote Nuclear Detonator button will be getting a workout.

     Okay, consider laser, scuba, moping and moped.  No, nothing to do with crosswords or codewords - although I do have six copies of the M.E.N. that have yet to be tackled O what a chore - these are a few of the words (hence today's title) that cropped up in my mind.  Art!

     It occurred to me, you see, that "laser" is now a word in it's own right, when back in the Sixties you would see it written as L.A.S.E.R. because this is the acronym for "Light Amplification by the Stimulated Emission of Radiation". Which is rather a mouthful, not lending itself very well to our noble starship captain's stirring words "Fire all Light Amplification by the Stimulated Emission of Radiations!" "Too late, sir the battle's over" .

"Dog Buns! I never get to say that line!"

     Yes I know they're phasers.  Don't quibble*.

     Then we come to "Scuba", which, again, back around last mid-century, would have been "Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus" which once more did not sit well when pronounced.  You can picture the scene at the beach: 

Phil: Hi Bill, what are you up to with all that elaborate swimming gear?  

Bill: I'm going to go diving in my new Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus.

Phil: Ah - no, you're not.  

Bill:?  

Phil: The tide's gone out.

" - something beginning with "S""

     Then we come onto "Moped", the article of transport, which my Collins Concise defines as a small two-wheeled vehicle of less than 50 cc engine size (is that good?  Bad?  Indifferent?) that has pedals; the name is a portmanteau version of "Motor" and "Pedal".  Art!

Moped mayhem!

     So now you know.  And let us not forget someone mooching around with a long face, which we would call 'moping' or 'moped' in the past tense.  Where does it come from?  Ah, well, once again my Collins Concise to the rescue: from the seventeenth century word "Mop", meaning "Fool".  No mention in my Brewers - ANYWAY it would be legitimate to write "He moped on a moped" and have people puzzle out what you meant.

     There you go, now we all know more than we did five minutes ago.

      Motley, bring me my pipe and slippers, for I feel the urge to Crossword coming on!

Meanwhile, Back In 2003

The Mars Volta released their debut album, "Deloused In The Comatorium", which is a strange title, I admit.  Given that the lyrics to all the songs sound as if they were composed by a man in the grip of a fever, whilst also chugging absinthe and quaffing hallucinogenic drugs, a strange title is perfectly appropriate.  Take this couplet from "Roulette Dares (The Haunt Of)":

Exoskeletal junction at the railroad delayed
Exoskeletal junction at the railroad delayed

     Say what?  "Exoskeleton" is a real thing, you'll have seen them in action in "Aliens" and that one with Mark Damon, you know, where he gets it bolted onto him (without anaethetics, I fear).  Art!

     That's the one.  There you go, an exoskeletal equipment, which has lots of junctions.  Quite where trains and branch lines come in I don't know, perhaps he turned over two pages at once? though if we're talking British railways then delays are all part of your travelling experience.  Art!

"The train not arriving at Platform Three ..."

    A challenging band for A Little Musical Critique, one feels.

Schadenfreude: Delicious Yet Calorie-Free

If you are amused and entertained by the spectacle of other people's misfortune, then welcome!  Sit right down and have some Angostura, for we revisit that epic disaster "Batwoman" - no, it's not about a disaster, it is a disaster.  Conrad needs to find a better metaphor than "Combination dumpster-fire and trainwreck" to describe it, but that can serve for the meantime.  Art!

Buttwoman

     Earlier this week I posted how it had continued to lose viewers, dropping from 509,000 to 507,000, with the proviso that these are interim numbers that are revised later in the week.  So the CW channel that makes this stuff might have been popping champagne corks as figures finally bottom out, hooray, only two thousand viewers lost, that's very nearly almost as good as gai -

     Oops.

Borrowed from "TV series finale.com"

   Adjusted, they actually lost 16,000 viewers; and this is a show being broadcast for free on three different channels in South Canada.  During a pandemic.  When people have little else to do but watch television.  Once again, Conrad is positive this whole series is a tax-dodge.  It was renewed for a third season and one has to ask - who will be watching it**? <enjoys his popcorn>

THE APOCALYPSE IS COMING! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!  RUN!  HIDE!  (Drink Tea)

That last is Your Humble Scribe, of course.  I have been reading about the Near Earth Object 'Apophis' recently, because of some reason I cannot now remember, possibly connected with that television program "You, Me And The Apocalypse" or possibly not.  For those of you whom have never heard of it, Apophis is an asteroid that worried the yellow press a few years back, when they ran around shrieking this item's title.  Art!

     Apophis weighs in at about 60 million tons, and would do in any continent it hit, so people might have been worried about the risk of an impact in 2029 or 2036 or 2068.  Unless they were astronomers, because this sort of worry goes on all the time.  What happens is that a brief observation is made of an NEO, which indicates a probability that it might hit Earth at some point in the future, where trajectories intersect terminally  (hey! that sounds like a Mars Volta lyric!).

     

Calling Doctor Freud ...

     

     Typically what happens next is that lots of astronomers look for the errant heavenly missile, find it, track it, record lots of data and refine the orbit repeatedly, where we find it misses Planet Earth by 150 million miles <pauses to delicately sip his Darjeeling> and all the fuss and bother was completely futile.  Well, except that it sold papers.  We may come back to this topic, for it has legs.

Finally -

Just in case anyone out there is bothered, or interested, and even if they're not, Conrad is typing this up well before his bedtime for to be published on Friday.  Hence there may be a little confusion about dates and days and tenses.  I have also taken to posting it up on Facebook and Twitter at lunchtime, purely on a whim.  We'll see if this affects traffic in a positive or negative manner and judge accordingly.

Not that kind - O never mind.

*  Or Tribble.  Remember - Remote Nuclear Detonator.

** Not I.  There are brave reviewers out there who watch it so I don't have to.