The Music Of The Spheres

NO!  We Are Not Talking About The Coldplay Album

Principally because I didn't realise it existed until five minutes ago, and also because I worry that Anthony Moran will come round and punch me in the face for even implying that I was going to play it, because he considers Coldplay as generic music for elevators in corporate headquarters of soul-less multi-nationals.  Nevertheless Conrad will cheerfully co-opt their cover, in order to fool people into visiting BOOJUM! because we are unencumbered by morals or scruples.  Art!

     No, what I want to introduce here is a philosophical concept about the orbits of the planets, as evinced by pioneering astronomer Johannes Kepler, which he dubbed "The music of the spheres", because back in the day planets were all seen as spherical instead of oblate spheroids (thanks to rotational artefacts).  Their orbits were all seen as spherical, too, when today we know this is not necessarily true.

      ANYWAY Ol' Jo put it about in a modern way that the orbits of the Sun and other observed planets generated music.  This was an update of Pythagoras and his school of thought a couple of thousand years previously.  Art!

Kepler's Nova

     That's Kepler's Nova, and getting a stellar object named after yourself is a sure sign you've arrived on the astronomical scene.  He can't appreciate it, he's been dust and vapour for a good few centuries.

     The thing about Ol' Jo's MOTS is that it wasn't audible, which ought to be wildly apparent when you stop to think about it; you don't get a burst of wild chords when the sun rises, do you? nor when the Moon appears over the horizon.  No, it was - er - 'heard' by the soul.  Yes.

     ANYWAY of course - obviously! - none of that MOTS guff has anything to do with what I wanted to go on about in this Intro, which was inspired by a headline on the BBC News webpage.  Art!

     FIVE THOUSAND!  Just imagine, before 1992 we'd no idea if there were any beyond the Solar System.  Now we know the heavens are hotching with the Dog Buns things, and indeed they seem to be the rule rather than the exception.  At first we could only detect planets the size of Jupiter, then as methodology and technology developed - James Webb Space Telescope I'm looking at you - we are getting to resolving small rocky worlds the size of Earth.  Art!

     That there is Kepler (yes that man again!) 452b, a small rocky world 1,600 light years away and, in the scheme of exoplanets, that is remarkably like Earth, which orbits in the 'Goldilocks' zone where liquid water will be present, if there is water present, and not molten iron or petrol.*  Possibly one of the denizens there is poring over data, having realised that Glypticritzwangbob 938574Z is a mirror image of their own world only 1,600 light years away.

     OKAY!  As mentioned prior, thank heavens that The Music Of The Spheres cannot be heard, because Earth would be bombarded with perpetual noise all day long, all year round, for century upon century.  Rather like - Art!

    - sticking your head in the bass bins at a Motorhead concert ALL DAY LONG.  As for being heard by the soul <insert Motown joke here>.  

Referencing "The War Illustrated" Again

Gotta get this in here, we're posting photographs from the March 19th edition all of a week and a half ago, meaning we're falling behind schedule.  Bring it on Art!

Conrad apologises for his shaky hands

     Hmmm can't read that description myself.  I think it alludes to modern warfare catching up to places of great antiquity in Tunisia.  Let me check the original.  So, these are 1)  street scenes in Sfax, 2) a Byzantine Basilica at Ain El Tebessa and 3) Roman tombs at Sbeitla.

     This montage shows British formations from 1st Army operating in Tunisia.  This force was advancing on Tunis from the West as the 8th Army advanced from the East.  You can see from these pictures that Tunisia differs considerably from the desert - lots of hills, mountains, trees and mud - and required different tactics to deal with the Axis; no haring off round an open southern flank.

March Going Out Like A Polar Bear

Conrad can scarcely believe that he took Edna walkies last Saturday in a tee-shirt and without any socks - as well as the usual other clothing, I hasten to add - whilst had I attempted this today I'd have frostbite.  Let me produce the evidence.  Art!

     The temperature might have been above zero, however the wind-chill took it well below, making me glad to be clad in scarf and fingerless gloves.  As well as the usual other clothing, I hasten to add.  So much for the lamb, hmmm**?

     Meanwhile, back in Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell - Art!

     Not a flake to be seen.  This is the view from Burgerking as Your Humble Scribe fortified himself with breakfast in a bun.  View it and weep Ruffians!

Bring On The Torment!

You should recall that Luma was being quizzed by a spirit that appeared to be that of his starchy Swiss spirit mentor, The Prof, yet - something wasn't right.

‘Ah! Damn you and your prattle!’grated a voice unlike the Professors, issuing at first from the Professor’s face and then from a face that twisted and lengthened, gaining a slack jaw with great jagged teeth, a hole where a nose ought to have been, and tiny, baleful red eyes.  The Professor’s clothes vanished into smoke that vanished itself.  What remained looked like a parody of a person, naked, bone-white, with huge hands at the end of arms so long they nearly reached the floor, and huge claws on the ends of those immense hands.  Shocks of white hair clumped all over the liver-spotted torso, and between the toes of the creature’s absurdly small feet.  A sudden chill fell upon the room.

               ‘And what do they call you?’ asked Louis, his breath fogging before him.  The creature didn’t answer, it sprang at him instead, slashing out with those great long arms as he twisted away.  A set of claws raked down his left arm from shoulder to elbow, slitting the fabric of his shirt and drawing blood.  His aim thrown off, the silver ball intended for the imposter’s head only travelled through it’s middle as it turned to attack again.  The projectile trailed a length of vapour and the hole left in the spirit rapidly grew larger, eating away at the crumbling edges of the wound.

               ‘Shit!  That ******* hurts!’it shrieked, clawing at the fist-sized hole in what would be the rib-cage on a human being.  Louis flicked another silver ball at the creature, hitting it squarely in the head.  The shriek that went up this time hurt his ears, it was so intense.

               Then, the creature vanished.  A chorus of barking dogs and wailing cats accompanied the departure.

     Blimey!  That's Luma playing it a bit close.

Finally -

Conrad comments critically on The Conflict, and if you ask "Which one?" I will flick a silver ball through the centre of your forehead, and see how you like it.

     Tsar Poutine is now retreating from Kiev and Cherniv, don't be fooled by all the Ruffian blather about 'It's all going perfectly to plan'.  The plan is now to move forces north across the border into Belarus and Ruffia, railroad them east and show how inept they can be in the Donbass.  The thing is, a retreat like this can easily turn into a rout with demotivated bungling conscripts being led by incompetent generals.  They will also have to leave behind anything that's either broken down or run out of fuel, on top of what's already been gifted to the Ukes.  Who will then probably send them all east to the Donbass.  Or, and this must worry Tsar Poutine, attack the flank of the forces that have moved out from Crimea.  Once again salute the mighty genius of Jonesy for dreaming this Plan B up, with his special military advisers - Art!

Jonesy modelling 2023's new Ruffian infantry kit

Martial geniuses every one

     Now, having made Dimya weep into his kasha, let us move on as we are well and truly done done done.

*  Honest, true, I swear on this stack of 'The Expanse' novels.

**  Aptly enough "The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway" has just been playing