No, No, The Bit About Today's War Comes At The End
Dimya is, frankly, not a happy bunny. He is probably the only Ruffian barring the FSB who can get access to outside television channels (I know the FSB claim "It's for research, honestly" and then proceed to watch 'Squid Game' and 'Baywatch') and what does he see everywhere and all the time on the tube? Harvey. Art!
Also, lots of blue and yellow Ukrainian flags. Blue and yellow flags in even more places than Harvey. Blue and yellow even turning up as ballfoot game kit. Art!No wonder he's perpetually cross
Slava Everton!
As he resorts to chewing the carpet in his rage (a common resort for dictators), Conrad would like to explain exactly why a blue and yellow flag for the Ukes.
Firstly, you must understand that The Ukraine, and then Ukraine, has long been a breadbasket, first for Ruffia and then the Sinister Union and then in it's own right. It has possession of some of the most fecund agricultural land in the world, what's known as 'Chernozem' or 'Black earth". Ukrainian wheatfields, accordingly, are gigantic affairs going from horizon to horizon. Art!
That explains the bottom yellow band. And the blue? That represents the sky, and a sky untrammelled by cities or mountains or valleys, because once again Ukraine is a whacking big country that's mostly flat, so you get unsullied views of the heavens. Art!
So there you have a partial explanation. Your Humble Scribe was going to lead with "Quiet Flows The Don", a four-volume set of novels by Mikhail Sholokhov, about the Don Cossacks in the years leading up to the First World Special Military Operation, then the Bolshevik Revolution and then the Ruffian Civil Special Military Operation. I do remember reading the first volume and being very impressed with how Ol' Mil described the Don landscape and once I've trudged my way through more of the Book Mountain, I may acquire these again <wallet squeaks in anguish>. Art!
However, the Don flows outside the boundaries of Ukraine, and the Donbas (in the Don's catchment area) and current Cossacks are most definitely on the Ruffian side, which kind of scotched my plans. Curse you, Donbas Pocket Dictatorship!
Another thing about Ukraine that Conrad is having to re-learn are all the Ukrainian-pronounced names for towns and cities, which differ in a subtle manner from the Ruffian ones that have been around in military histories of the Eastern Front for decades. For example, 'Chernihiv' used to be known as 'Chernigov' back in Sinister days, and of course 'Kyiv' had to go by the moniker of 'Kiev', which is also a fact that makes Dimya crunch coal, let alone gnaw carpet. Art!
Okay, time to call a halt to this Intro and go sample a slice or two of that meatloaf I made this afternoon. Later, pilgrims!
<later>
Talking About Squeaking Wallets
Conrad found the latest Naval & Military catalogue in the paper bin when I went out there to ditch cardboard. Isn't that strange? How on earth could it have gotten there! Yes, Edna, you may well look guilty.
ANYWAY - you know, this meatloaf's not bad, the jalapenos and Devil's Hot Sauce give it a touch of piquancy - I had a quick flick through and O Dearie Me, on the very first page - let Art explicate it.
Those five volumes come to about £32, instead of £150. They are, however you look at it, still five volumes, and if this is the result of looking at one page, how much for the whole catalogue, because we've only begun at "A" in their alphabetical listing order?
Fortunately the rest proved considerably less interesting. No more scribbled highlighter. Don't inform either squeaking wallet or Wonder Wifey, though.
The Heifer On A Zephyr
You know Conrad, ever one to split hairs into an infinite number of fractions in order to reach a conclusion to a question that nobody asked. In this case, what it would take for a cow to 'jump' over the Moon*.
First of all, a lifting body such as Ariane. Secondly, a propulsion system attached to the cow, though since it's only traversing cis-lunar space, it doesn't need to be large. Art!
Thirdly, a remote-control that can activate the propulsion system. Even were the cow alive, you couldn't expect it to operate complex controls with it's tongue. So far the mission cost is about £15,000,000. You would launch the Ariane via French Guyana, then once in orbit separate the heifer payload, and whiz it off on a lunar insertion trajectory. Once it successfully negotiates The Dark Side Of The Moon you bring it out of lunar orbit and point it back at Earth, and the hard bit is done. It's 'jumped' over the Moon and you've got the result you wanted, and who cares if it's carcass burns up on re-entry? because - roast beef steaks!
Of course, I could be over-thinking this ...Close enough
Shall We? Yes Let's!
Here's mud in your eye and silt in your kilt. For Lo! We are back with another extract from "Tormentor", where Luma was baiting his starchy Swiss mentoring spirit, for no other reason than he could.
He
finally said a goodbye to the Professor, who looked over his glasses in
disapproval at the lecturer.
‘It’s how I deal with this
ability, Prof. I didn’t ask for it,
don’t particularly want it and won’t miss it if it goes. Either I let my hair down or go completely
raving mad.’
With a sniff, the Professor vanished.
Why can’t he just give me a book?
wondered Louis. It would be so much
simpler and straightforward, instead of having to put up with his pseud
lecturing.
Saturday brought a postcard from
the jewellers.
“Your order ready for collection”
By the time Louis got the bus to
the jewellers it was nearly noon (he got up late on a Saturday). The ebullient Mister Goldfeld came out to
meet him with an impressive white suede box that opened to reveal a net bag of
gold string containing – small fanfare – the ten silver balls.
‘Our smith took this as a bit of
a challenge, Mister McMahon, so he did them straight away. Being a chap of subtlety, he impacted the
hallmark on the base slightly so they won’t roll on a flat surface.’
For all his cynicism, Louis felt
impressed at the heavy, glittering baubles.
At three hundred and fifty pounds, they deserved his awe. This might have been tempered by the
knowledge that Mister Goldfeld rang a very specific number once his customer
left, asking to speak to Detective Sergeant Oswald about the Special Customer
they had already discussed.
Louis did his supermarket
shopping as usual, with the addition of a visit to the store’s bookshelves,
where he got exactly what he wanted, and seven copies of it.
Hmmmmm no idea what the book is, nor why Luma would want seven copies of it. Doubtless we shall find out.
Finally -
We mocked Tsar Poutine at the top of this page, so it seems fitting to mock him at the bottom, too. He appears to be suffering from what Conrad calls "Dictatoritis", a malady common to dictators and which is brought on by excessive carpet-chewing reliance on a clique of obsequious courtiers. These people are spineless bootlickers who tell Mister Dictator what they think he wants to hear, instead of the truth. In the days of That Little Sod With The Moustache (Stalin if we're being formal) they did this out of fear of being executed within thirty seconds of saying 'No'. Today Dimya will only probably sentence you to twenty-five years in prison, alongside your family. Thus he was told the Ukrainian army would roll over, the resident population would fawn at his soldier's feet and the rest of the world would collectively shrug and he would be renowned in the annals of history as Dimya, Tsar Of All The Russias <delete where wrong>. He has seemingly had eight generals arrested as well as the head of the FSB and his deputy, which is preparing the ground for pointing and saying "It was all their fault! It was all their fault!". The politics of a primary school playground. Art!
And?
* We're talking about a dead cow here, as they are so much easier to handle than live ones.
No comments:
Post a Comment