Answers To Unasked Questions

No I Don't Mean Trite Rubbish Like "Why Is The Sky Brown?"

It's brown because you woke up on Mars, you goof.  That'll teach you to teleport in your sleep.

     No, I mean questions like "How would go you about atom-bombing the Moon?" or - one that's constantly on my mind - "How much custard powder is needed to turn the world's oceans into custard?".  Actually Conrad is unsure whether salt water can be used in custard; one for you the reader to test.  Atom-bombing the Moon is a lot easier.  It's a large target in a consistent and predictable orbit, without any defences.  Art!

Best cover illustration ever

     Ol' Baz has this as a central plot theme in the novel above.  If you hold literally to the 'atom-bombing' tenet then you'll need a spacecraft to get into orbit around our nearest astronomical neighbour, from which you can drop your PGM ("Punching Gruddam Moon") on it, to a loud whoop and holler.  Best be over the horizon when it detonates, mind, because without any atmosphere to slow down debris there will be tons of sharp shrapnel shooting skywards.

     On the other hand, you could re-target an ICBM ("I Can Blast Moon) and hit the Moon, which seems rather unsporting to Conrad.  Art!

Ha!  Take that, Moon!

     ANYWAY none of this preamble, of course - obviously! - has anything to do with what I really wanted to talk about, which is a Youtube channel devoted to the works of Tolkein.  JRR Tolkein, in case you were wondering.  It's not a common name but we don't want any confusion, do we?  Art!

     This channel goes into Lord Of The Rings in quite incredible detail.  One of their titles is "How Did The Dwarf Economy Work?" which is probably the poster child for today's title - not a question Your Humble Scribe has ever asked himself and am pretty sure this goes for the rest of you out there.  What I watched in it's entirety was "Ten Characters Who Aren't In The Movies", beginning with Fredegar Bolger, better known as 'Fatty', because now we know who ate all the pies.  Fatty, AS YOU SHOULD SURELY KNOW, assumes the place of Frodo in Buckland, wearing Frodo's old clothes in an attempt to persuade any over-inquisitive intruders wearing all-over black that Frodo's still at home.  Art!

Fatty doing what he does best

     That's all you see of him in the film.  In the novel he ends up leading resistance to 'Sharkey' and is imprisoned for it.

     Annnnnnnnnd that's enough of that for today's Intro.

"Reclaiming History" By Vincent Bugliosi

I know, I know, I keep going on about this work.  That's because it's over 1,500 pages long and I am at Page 846, so over half-way!

     The author, Ol' Vinnie, has taken a few pot-shots <hmmm could have phrased that better> at the conspiranoid loonwaffles so far, but is reserving the real criticism in the second part of the book.  Still, he - hang on - Art!

A weighty tome

     He takes time to lambast a so-called photography expert, one Robert Groden, who had a cottage-industry writing conspiracy guff about JFK, and who insisted that a photograph of Lee H. Oswald toting a rifle, pistol and Fair Play For Cuba leaflets was a fake.  Do we have the photo to hand, Art?

     Groden popped up at the trial of O. J. Simpson as a 'photography expert', where the prosecution did a bit of digging about him, and do you know what?  He was a complete fraud.  He hadn't taken or taught courses or even written about the field of 'Questioned photographs'.  He had no professional qualifications in the field, wasn't a member of any QP body, and hadn't done any training in photography forensics.  Still, he had once been paid to vouch for the authenticity of a ghost in a photograph, which must count for something.  No?  It doesn't?  O well.  Demolition complete.

No Blue For You

Soz.  We've used up all the BBC exhibition photographs.  Doubtless there'll be another one, so until then have a look at this -

     Don't ask me because I've no idea either.  From 'Irish Farm Services' so possibly to do with harvesting peat?   Another task I'm happy to let you research.  Now, on with this puppy and very small horse show.

More Of "Tormentor"

As you recall, a panicked Dave Hargreaves had called Luma to his sister's house, saying that she'd been abducted.  Poor Dave.  He's about to get in deeper than he could have begun to realise.

‘They rang you?’ asked Louis.  Dave nodded.

               ‘Okay, either possession or heavily-brainbashed mortals,’ analysed Yvonne, entering the room.  ‘Spirits can’t use phones and that front door was kicked in.  You can see the imprint of the sole on the wooden panelling.’

               Dave bit his bottom lip and reached into his jeans at the back, jerking and tugging until he whipped round with a sawn-off double barrelled shotgun.

               ‘Don’t try anything like running.  I can’t see any way round this unless we call the feds, or we take you down and swap you.’

               Louis looked at his acquaintance with a touch of wry amusement.

               ‘Dave, we really cannot call the feds.  No way.  I’m pretty sure we’re under observation.   Yvonne?’

               The spirit hunted round the room, her heels rapping sharply on the wooden floor.

               ‘Definitely a presence.  It’s not nearby.  Still, near enough to spot us.’

               ‘Who the **** is Yvonne?’ asked Dave, looking more sweatily unwell than before, if possible.

               ‘You might call her my guardian angel.’

               ‘Louis! Not that!’exclaimed Yvonne.

               ‘Whoops!  Beg pardon!’ he apologised.  ‘Overseeing spirit.’  Pointing at the shotgun he flicked his finger.  ‘Would you mind doing the business?’

               Dave felt the weapon snatched from his grasp.  It danced around in mid-air, turning to point at him whilst he goggled unbelievingly at it.

               ‘Yvonne, please don’t shoot him.  We need all the friends we can get.’

               If disbelief can descend beyond incredulity and into the depths of impossibility, Dave’s disbelief increased so,  whilst  he saw the shotgun break, the cartridges extract and the weapon lock shut again.

               ‘Now,’ continued Louis.  ‘Dave, give me your hand.’

               Dumbly, Dave shook Louis’s hand, while Yvonne stood behind Louis and held him around the waist.

               ‘AAAHH!”shrieked Dave, looking at Yvonne and seeing her. ‘Whothe****issheandwheredidshecomefrom!’

     Told you so.

Finally -

Dimya shared a televised conference with his bezzie mate Shoigu, which (perhaps!) puts to be those rumours about Shoggy being hospitalised with an assassination-induced heart-attack.  Or perhaps it's a robot?  Probably not; if it were a Ruffian robot it's head would fall off and flames would erupt from it's input socket WASH OUT YOUR FILTHY MINDS!  ANYWAY - Art!

     Not going to put up a video of this, just trust my analysis.  For the whole of this interview Dimya grips that table as if it's about to take off and fly, to prevent the hand tremors from showing, and he cannot stop tapping his foot.  As others have said, his head looks fat and swollen (there's a joke in there if you care to dig for it).  One wag had it that his hand is on the button that will drop Shoggy into the tank full of hungry sharks beneath him.  There is a consensus that he's very ill indeed, just not what it is that's gouging him (fingers crossed it's slow and painful!), Parkinson's has been suggested as well as thyroid cancer, also possible alcohol addiction.  Gee, these past 57 days and the stress associated with his 'Special' Military Operation can't be helping, can it?