Yes, We Are Back With Frank Tinsley
That - ah - visionary of the future, shall we say, although quite what future is another question altogether. Frank's artwork, you see, was never one to acknowledge the constricting strait-jacket of boring things like reality and normality. O no! Frank's art encapsulated the approach of modern physics: if it's not forbidden then it's possible. Let us now prod Art into consciousness with a red-hot pitchfork -
They're pretty adept at cranking out the purple prose, hmmm? Let me answer that question bottom-backwards: Is this our newest secret weapon?
That would be a loud and resounding NO. I can say this with confidence because the South Canadians never flew an aircraft like this. It seems to be a variety of biplane, powered by two propeller engines - if you look closely you can see the whirling of the blades - and with a bit of rocket-assist under the rear fuselage. The nose seems to positively bristle with guns, so much so that one would expect the craft to stall when they all fired at once. Art!
The less garish inner version, where it seems to be firing rockets, too
The term used is 'Sky sniper' which Conrad, of course - obviously! - jibs at, because a sniper does their dirty work surreptitiously at a distance, whereas Frank's flying mallet has all the subtlety and distance of a punch in the face. Note that if you are close enough to engage the opposition with machine-guns, then they can reciprocate the favour. And you have nothing to hide behind. Art!
The P38 Lightning, a possible inspiration?
One advantage of having your nosecone stuffed with infernal engines is that there is no need to work out deflection angles at distances, and the concentrated opprobrium of said firepower often convinces the opponent to cower in safety.
Before you chastise Conrad for being churlish, don't forget that Frank made a decent living providing his artwork, and we shall see how he possibly influenced one or two other folks of some import.
Motley, these batteries are dead. Go out into the storm with this cable, will you, and hold that twenty-foot steel rod up high until you get approached by a streak of
BOOJUM! Reviews Things!
As you should surely know by now, Your Humble Scribe likes to have nothing fewer than three films or television programs to impugn review, and was racking his brains for a third item, when he realised, with a jolt of delighted malice surprise, that he had a third victim prospect to analyse. Without further ado -
"My Little Pony": Egad! The tagline blathers about a new film for a new generation - excuse ME but I don't believe I've ever heard the pre-pubescent female youth of today bleating piteously about a lack of MLP in their lives. What, are sales of merchandise down? Conrad cannot watch so much as a trailer for this hideous farrago because the sugar content would bring on a diabetic coma. Art!
So wrong in so many ways
"No Time To Die": Very possibly the last James Bond film to be made, as there are all sorts of rumours floating around that Ol' Jim is to be put out to grass and his place be taken by a strapping young black woman, and we shall then have the adventures of Jane Bond. We shall see, one supposes. Or, perhaps the title refers to Ol' Jim becoming a zombie as they aren't really dead, are they? Then again, perhaps he becomes a punchy-fisty time-traveller with absolutely no scruples about killing people. Or - why not combine the two? And have him travel in a red telephone box, because that's ever so British, whilst drinking tea strengthened with a little malt whisky, for the export market. Art!
And the telephone box can morph into a Challenger tank!
"Bedknobs And Broomsticks": NO! Not the beloved old Disney film from 1971 that Conrad saw as a youngster, before he developed an unbridled loathing of all musicals. You know, the one with that animated football match that mixed the human cast in with cartoon characters, and the Teuton's invading party get sent to the devil by suits of armour come alive -
Sorry, typical BOOJUM!, going on about what we're not going on about.
No, it seems that some repellent oik has turned the film into a MUSICAL that is touring This Sceptred Isle even as I type. Conrad noticed an advert for it on one of the electronic billboards in The Dark Tower this morning; fortunately another one came on before I was compelled to destroy it.
Conrad: still hates all musicals!
We Haven't Forgotten You, Brian
Eno, that is. Look, don't blame me if this Little Musical Critique of "King's Lead Hat" is taking forever, blame Bri for writing loads of lyrics. Lyrics which make little sense. How little sense? O I thought you'd never ask!
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| Also makes a handy club in a pinch |
He gives orders (finger pie) which no one hears
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| Unless - is it a fish finger pie? |
Although blithely swanning about wearing a hat made out of toxic heavy metal is not going to be good for you, either.
Aaaaaaaaaand we're still nowhere near the end. Box of tissues for Bri!
I know what you're thinking. "My how mellow has Conrad been, no invective ladled upon Codewords today!"
Er yes, because I've not done one for a while and need to work up the whole Righteous Indignation Tending To Rancorous Anger; it doesn't come naturally, you know.
Finally -
O what a miserable morning today's was. I swear I saw a fish or two fall from the skies, since the Atlantic had come to visit us. Your Humble Scribe got indoors cold and wet, before settling down to breakfast, and I tell you, that bowl of porridge has never tasted better! I would call it ambrosia if I didn't think you'd confuse it with rice pudding.
And with that we are ever so done.
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