Score Fifty Brownie Points If You Recognise That Quote
It's from "The Thing", John Carpenter's acclaimed classic, and occurs when the copy of Norris is being toasted by McReady with his trusty flamethrower. The Norris-thing's 'head' detaches wilfully from the body, then lassooes itself across the floor with a yard-long tongue. Then it sprouts legs and eyestalks and begins to scuttle off like an hideous cross between a spider and a crab. Art!
I don't care about being spoilery because you should have seen this film ten times over already.
What does an incredulous Palmer say when he witnesses the scene above? Why, none other than "Oh you've got to be ******* kidding!"
Conrad felt the same way only a few minutes ago, perusing a feed on Quora, which has become my Social Media Of Guilty Pleasure. I've closed the feed and cannot find the original question, but allow me to elucidate below.
"Who would win in a wrestling match between Abraham Lincoln and Joe Biden?"
This takes levels of bat-guano insanity to new heights. Or perhaps depths. I laughed out loud at this question. Yet cannot avoid answering it. Art!
Sleepy Joe and Honest Abe
Ol' Abe was 6' 4" and came in at 185 pounds; Jumping Joe is 178 pounds and 6', so Abe has a technical advantage in what you might call 'throw weight' when it comes to wrestling. However, there is also the disadvantage that Ol' Abe is very very Ol' indeed, having pegged it waaaaay back in 1865, being helped along by a bullet. You don't get many sprightly 157 year olds, especially not when they have a fatal gunshot wound to the head. So we would have to resuscitate Abe on 13th April 1865, when he was in much better condition. Art!
Joe in pugilistic mood
On the other hand, Joe is a citizen of the contemporary world, and he is bound to have seen at least a few frames of WWF or Ultimate Fighting Champion, which might give him secret moves to bust a cap in Abe's bottom.
Then there's the possibility that it might go to a points decision. We'd need a panel of neutral judges, drawn from a country like Sweden for lack of political bias. Is wrestling a thing in Scandinavia? They would need to be an odd number so you couldn't have a hung panel. They'd need to be sequestered in hotel rooms with no internet to avoid any media or broadcast influence, and guarded to make sure none of them get nobbled.
Blimey, this is turning into a bit of an exercise, isn't it? I think that the long and short of it is that the herring is a mystery.
Them Books Again
Yes, I am being deliberately un-grammatical, Vulnavia, just to annoy people and purists who might be reading this. Again, we visit another decade of Queenie's reign and ten more Commonwealth authors, whom Your Humble Scribe may know nothing about.
1972-1981
The Nowhere Man - Kamala Markandaya (1972, India)
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - John Le Carré (1974, England)
The Thorn Birds - Colleen McCullough (1977, Australia)
The Crow Eaters - Bapsi Sidhwa (1978, Pakistan)
The Sea, The Sea - Iris Murdoch (1978, England)
Who Do You think You Are? - Alice Munro (1978, Canada)
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams (1979, England)
Tsotsi - Athol Fugard (1980, South Africa)
Clear Light of Day - Anita Desai (1980, India)
Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie (1981, England/India)
Now we're getting somewhere! I've read three of these and I bet you know which ones already - "Tinker Tailor", "THGTTG" and "Midnight's Children". I don't remember much about the last, except I think it starts with a German and there are two characters called Hairoil and Eyeslice.
"The Crow Eaters" doesn't really catch my fancy, even if you claim that it tastes like chicken. And the others sound terribly worthy and endlessly dull. No danger of waltzing off to Abebooks for them.
Bring On The Wartime Publication
Yes, time for more "The War Illustrated". Art!
This bit of gloasting is the British sub-editor having a go at Il Duce and his 'island fortress' of Pantalleria, which was a fortress without a roof. You can see the Allied air forces giving it what for. It sat between Tunisia and Sicily, and the Allies wanted it, since it would give them airfields 50 miles nearer Sicily when they invaded. Art!
It was treated to a constant diet of bombs and shells for days on end, and promptly surrendered when landing craft approached.
Conrad Is ANGRY!
O so angry! About what, exactly? Musicals, that's what, the modern plague. It seems that the charlatans whom create musical films have discovered another niche, turning normal films into vile theatrical musicals that elevate my blood pressure in alarming fashion. Art!
If it wasn't enough to have the film, where Julia Roberts 'acts' by throwing her hair about and apparently risking her head falling apart when she grins, so huge is her cavernous maw. No, how we have to endure THIS. "Time Out" calls it 'aggressively stupid' and it may well be; I shall have to take this on trust because, trust me, I ain't going to see it.
Bah!
More Of "The Sea Of Sand"
Yes, we're still ensconced in Roger's rather smelly tent, drinking British army tea, which is made with enough condensed milk and sugar to enable a spoon to stand upright in it.
Casting his
eyes about the stifling tent interior, the Doctor noticed a newspaper, it’s
pulp yellowed by sunshine. He pounced on
it avidly, reading the date aloud.
“March the
First, nineteen forty one.’ The main
cover photograph showed acres of bombed-out houses, with a caption about “Nazi
bombers strike Portsmouth; heavy casualties feared”. ‘British Expeditionary Force arrives in
Greece,’ he read again. ‘Italians
retreating in Eritrea.’ That explained
why poor old K9 had been immobilised in the TARDIS – you couldn’t have an
advanced artefact like him wandering about in the 1940’s.
Once again,
nothing in the headlines or bylines hinting at why they had been diverted. Gradually the Doctor became aware of
Llewellyn chatting to Sarah.
‘ – yes, I
travelled into Libya with Bagnold once, down to the sand sea. Most of my time was with the Professor in
Egypt, but I was actually out here in Libya before the war broke out. Before Italy declared war, I should say.’
‘Italian-occupied
Libya?’ asked the Doctor, suddenly interested.
‘How did you manage that?’
‘Oh, it’s a
long story,’ said Roger dismissively.
‘In fact the dig we were at isn’t far from here. Makan Al-Jinni.’
I'm not telegraphing too much when I say that those last three words help The Doctor realise what they're there for.
Finally -
Just so you know, Conrad is off this Thursday because he's working Saturday. I know, I know, that's one thing I won't miss when I'm redundant. At least there's no phone work, though that doesn't stop some stores from trying it on and ringing; one wonders how long they persist before giving up? So - Conrad can play his rock music whilst hammering the keyboard. And there may only be one post. It depends how motivated I get and how much gin I down.
Chin Chin!
* Another "The Thing" quote for you there.
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