For Lo!
We are well beyond the fictional exploits of Mark Watney as described in "The Martian" and are back on Mars, following the Perseverance rover, which is real life for those of you who have only just joined us. Once again, for those who think the rover appeared over the Jerzero Crater because Harry Potter, getting it there took a complicated assemblage of separate components. Art!
ART!
I'll come back to him later <plugs in dinosaur-rated Tazer>. AS I WAS SAYING
This is the best example I can find that shows how the rover fits inside a pair of shells. The bottom one is the heat shield, intended to protect everything above it from being roasted, casseroled and baked into charcoal during the desperately hot descent, despite Mars' atmosphere being about 1% of Earth's. The upper section is the back shell, to which the parachutes are attached, allowing it to slow the descent from Ridiculously Fast to merely Very Fast. Once this is discarded, at a very low level, the descent lander takes over, using it's braking rockets to retard the speed to metres per second, and lowering Perseverance. Once the rover touches down, the descent stage jets off into the distance. Art - redeem yourself!
"Okay," I can hear your mutter mutinously. "So what?"
Have you been following my words? Or - don't tell me, that "Dragging Race" program is on again*, and your attention is diverted. Because of the following, gentle reader. Art - partially-redeemed Art!
One would exclaim "What on Earth?" except we have to adapt it to <winces in apology> "What on Mars?".
LITTER! RUBBISH! POLLUTION!
Look at it, muck and filth everywhere Mister Warwick** across the pristine Martian landscape, thanks to careless tourists from Earth. Who, I ask you, is going to clean up all that detritus? Don't blame me if there are microbial colonies on that abandoned equipment that evolve over time into hideous mutant monsters who decide to take a belated revenge on the blue planet.
Motley! We need to provide a bulleted article, about that film where a scientist gets his head and arm replaced by those of a bluebottle, and we'll call it <thinks> "Fly-Tipping".
Revenge of the Martian bin-men?
O Irony, Thy Teeth Are Sharp
Possibly as sharp as those of the Coincidence Hydra, for if you have made it this far, then you have most certainly read today's Intro above. Rubbish and littering the general theme, and that Picture Of Pollution is from the BBC's website, that fount of all that's fit to print. Art!
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If you cannot read the tagline, present on the BBC's news website once again, it states "The LitterCam that's watching you" and of course the ironic juxtaposition (a word we like a lot here at BOOJUM!) does have a certain piquancy.
FOOLISH HUMANS!
The article mentions that the CCTV cameras will track littering, obtain the licence-plate of the guilty vehicle and automatically issue a £90 fine.
THIS IS HOW YOU GET SKYNET!
Literally the thin end of the wedge. You have been warned.
<gleeful machine noises>
On a completely separate note, Your Humble Scribe is listening to "Nocturniquet" by The Mars Volta, which he's not played for ages, and is once again impressed by the Bonkers Latino Mathcore Prog-Metal stylings of this band, who might yet reform***. But, probably not whilst we're all looking at them, because they're shy, so - everyone look away now!
Conrad Is A Terrible Person: Part One
We have, of late, been following the ratings of The CW's "Batwoman" series, because schadenfreude. From what Your Humble Scribe has seen by way of reviews, it is Beyond Terrible. The writers - well, back in the day one doubts they would have been able to tell one end of a fountain-pen from the other - are one of the problems. Another is the sheer shoddiness of any CW production, since cheap-assness is an important part of their business strategy. Yet a third is the Twitter community, which shouts loudly in support of the show and which doesn't bother to actually watch it. How do we know this, Vulnavia? I'm so glad you asked!
Viewing Figures, Adjusted, is how. The show goes out in South Canada on a Sunday - on three channels for free - and has a set of what we might call 'raw data' released shortly afterwards. This is superceded later in the week by adjusted, more accurate figures. Which, for Episode Six, are down to 456,000, meaning another 40,000 viewers baled on the show. There are still 7 episodes to go, so Conrad's guesstimate of it falling to 250,000 by that time might actually hold true. Since the South Canadian's favourite pastime is making money, and this show is patently not doing so, one wonders what is really going on behind the scenes.
Coughcoughtaxsamcoughcough
Conrad Is A Terrible Person: Part 2
ANNA DO NOT READ THIS! Okay, covered myself there.
Conrad has been reading about the 'Proximity Fuse' only this afternoon, because it came out of a mention in "Field Of Fire", the diary memoir by Jack Swaab. He had been sent on a lecture in late 1944 to be educated about the "VT" fuse, which stands for "Variable Timing". Art!
These puppies put artillery fire into the science-fiction future of 1970 from the dour present of 1940. The idea was that they broadcast a radio signal, and when they neared a target, that signal's reflection got stronger, which triggered the fuse. The shell it was attached to then went BANG and all sorts of unpleasant things happened.
The thing is, the British Anti-Aircraft Command of late Second Unpleasantness deployed acres of guns along the south coast of This Sceptred Isle, in order to shoot down those pesky Teuton 'robot bombs' the V1. Art?
V1. Bomb. Metal and plastic.
The idea was that VT fuses would enormously increase the efficiency of anti-aircraft guns when dealing with the V1, and they were correct. Using a VT fuse meant a fivefold increase in effectiveness.
But ... they were using these weapons and ammunition on This Sceptred Isle's south coast. "Coast". Where there are seagulls. Lots of seagulls. At times, a flock of seagulls. And an artillery shell with a HYPERSENSITIVE FUSE. You can probably draw a picture, there were seagull casualties of the counter-V1 aerial barrage.
Seagull. Bird. Blood and feathers.
And with that, Young Vulnavia, we - O, sorry, and your mother, who is up from Hampton Parva visiting for the weekend? - we are done.
* How can tractors be so fascinating?
** Sorry. "The Battle Of Britain" kind of interfered.
*** All hideous appendages crossed.
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