Do You Think I Got Enough "M"s There?
Before you ask, "Muselid" is the taxonomic classification for a family of carnivorous mammals, amongst whom is the Weasel. Conrad ought to know, he was raised by weasels. Rabid ones at that.
Mum!
Caring and loving but a bit bitey. Anyway, this Intro is informed by a blog title from the past that I came across whilst compiling yesteryon's second post, the one with lots of links to past editions of BOOJUM! namely "Atomic Death Weasels!". I resisted the urge to go see what it was about, since we're on a schedule here and I need to keep up.
Not so now. Let Conrad find out if he can bring it up in a separate browser window.
Wow. Just wow. Conrad is surprised to see what he posted in 2016, because it is, frankly, bonkers. Let me copy and paste -
Which Brings Us To -
My cyborg fission-powered hit-squad made up of - weasels!
Well, a man can dream, can't he?
When the 24-hour party in my head subsides briefly, I occasionally ponder about forming just such a divine instrument of retribution. Imagine it - someone, somewhere has offended Conrad in some vague and poorly-defined way, and when they answer that knock at the door, it's to an assassination team of Atomic Death Weasels!
Were this ever to become a thing, I can assure you that the 'Guilty Pleasures' page in The Metro would be reduced to a single paragraph as multitudes of vapid, single-name celebritutes were mysteriously lasered to death.
Er - apparently "Atomic Death Weasel" is a real thing if you Google. |
If, in the near future you offend the rules of grammar and/or spelling, and there are headlines about carbonised corpses being found, over-run by tiny paw-prints, be very careful about answering the door!
I presume someone built that ghastly apparition. Clearly, some people have entirely too much time on their hands*. And of course my word count has been boosted nicely**.
Motley! We need to lay out the neural network for the muselids in order to be able to work out where we can attach the lasers.
Conrad Rubs Hands With Glee
A sure sign that misfortune has befallen an unfortunate individual or entity. In this case it's an entity rather than a person, and it concerns the ballfoot game. As you should surely know by now Conrad has NIL INTEREST in it, but the poisonous ranting diatribes that go up on the BBC's website are hilarious to read.
The cause of my merriment? See below:
Here we see an example of the peculiar nomenclature (not a word you expected to hear today) that ballfoot clubs use. In this case "Man Utd" is shorthand for "The Manchester United" and "Liverpool" is shorthand for "Bin-dipping Scousers" as I have seen them described. How can you like a city named after a pile of offal?
A pool of liver
ANYWAY my strident hope is that the BBC will open up a Comments page on the results of this 'game' (stop me if I get too technical), so I can sit down with a beer and a bucket of popcorn***.
Oooh, The Previously-Scary Coincidence Hydra Needs New Dentures
It's me armoured underwear, matron. You recall that Conrad was positively cackling with delight yesteryon about including every word in his Codeword in the blog? It was a definite stretch to get "PYRRHIC" in there but Your Talented Wordsmith managed it.
Fast forward to five minutes ago, where Conrad is reading an article about The Populous Dictatorship and British America, where TPD decides to take hostages because nobody likes them. Art!
TPD had better understand that EVERYBODY likes the British Americans. Mis-treating them is the sign of a - well, of a populous dictatorship. It's like being cruel to a Labrador dog and makes you look really bad.
Bullying has consequences.
Did I Mention FREE Already?
Conrad recently churned out an article that dealt with terrestrial energy companies constantly looking to exploit sources of FREE energy, solar energy being the item of interest in that article. What other source of FREE energy is there? Yes yes yes, wave motion, which does have promise for the future and which we've covered here, however I was thinking along the lines of wind power. Art!
Lytham's windmill
As is obvious, they've been exploiting the FREE power of the wind for centuries, with the mill owners probably clutching themselves with glee at not having to pay anyone for motive power.
This being the twenty-first century, these things are used to generate power, and if Art can put down his bowl of coal -
On A Clear Day You Can See Rochdale |
Those little white sticks are the pylons for wind turbines, apologies if they're not that clear - this is still with a 3x magnification. What you might call 'Wind Hills', if you like. Conrad considers them to be quite elegant and if they mean not burning fossil fuels, or building nuclear fusion reactor power stations, what's not to like? I should add that you are looking at Scout Moor, and the hills beyond Rochdale. I know we have an insulting nickname for Rochdale - Ur On The Roch?
(and no, Donald, they don't kill lots of birds)
A No-Fly Zone
I am NOT referring to those ultra-violet bug-zappers you find in kitchens. No, for we are back on the subject of "Derelict" as espoused by the BBC and which theme was taken up by a global audience, whose results we see here. Art! ART! (that air-raid siren was a bit loud) -
Courtesy Chris Fawcett
This, according to Chris, is the graveyard of Albania's Sinister-era air force, all Migs and Yaks, which have been put out to pasture at Kucova Airfield. As well they might, because the design dates from the Fifties and they are as outclassed in the air as they would outclass a hot-air balloon. O by the way, "Mig" = "Mikoyan-Guryevitch" and "Yak" = "Yakovlev", the two Sinister design bureaus that designed these aircraft.
Finally -
Only a week until Halloween, after which the supply of pumpkins in The Allotment Of Eden will vanish until the end of September 2022. You can use butternut squash as an effective substitute (an idea from Wonder Wifey) but sometimes you need the real thing. Better buy one next week as there's a Halloween cake recipe I recall that people seem to like.
Pump Kin
And with that ghastly pun, Vulnavia, I think we are done.
* The irony of this statement is not lost on me.
** This is entirely coincidental and not to be wondered at.
*** I'm a terrible person. But we knew that already.
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