I.D.D.

Conrad Could Tell Things Were Afoot

Mostly because he has two of them, one on the end of each leg.  ha!  Do you se O you do.

     No, there was a difference about Youtube today, which we can illustrate if Art will put down his bowl of coal -

     What is this furry beast? I wondered, because that above is hugely magnified and my eyes are not what they used to be.  That is, they are still eyes not kidneys or plastic grommets, just less acute than back in the day.

     Clicking into Youtube resolved the issue, because today is <drum roll>

INTERNATIONAL DOG DAY!

     Conrad unsure who, exactly, decides what day it is.  Is there an International Cat Day?  International Shark Day?  International Snark Day? - okay, that's getting silly.  The Mansion has it's own dog, Edna the Wunderhund, our four-footed alarm system, who has decided that the best chair is where I'm not sitting at the moment.  Art!

In her rightful place

     She's welcome to that one for the time being, Conrad isn't using it since he's not working from home any longer, in fact not working at all at present.  My anecdote about her today is that I was in the kitchen downstairs, getting my teapot ready and gathering accoutrements for her morning walk, yet with no Edna present.  Hearing a drumming from upstairs I realised she was scratching herself on the hallway floor, so I opened her treats jar.  A small sound yet one she knows well, for her paws could be heard pounding down the stairs and she came into the kitchen at speed.

     And there we have today's Intro.  You see?  I can do succinct.  Motley, break out the cavalry sabres and let's practice.

At Last The Story Can Be Told

They've made my final payment, "They" being my ex-employer, whom if you've been keeping up, made all us HR people redundant by shifting our work to Mumbai.  This detail is important for what follows, which is a bit of doggerel I composed for the last day.

SIXTY ONE AND DONE

I am a very troubadour at Taleo,

A most discerning perceptive fellow.

Taleo? Remember? The database doomed to die.

Well it didn't die so much as zombify.

Instead we got the replacement Oh Are See

The database of the century!

So we were told. Except - not quite.

I think they bought it out of spite.

It runs like a narcoleptic sloth,

It's users fume and often froth.

You're not allowed to call it "Orc"

Can't have that kind of truthful talk,

Besides, Mordor would sue for slander

And getting upon Sauron's dander.

Moving onto our workhorse, My HR

- It's not mind, indeed not by far.

This woeful, slowful piece of kit

Has decrepit hamsters powering it.

Decrepit, ancient and also arthritic,

Perhaps rabid, definitely pathetic.

I wish Mumbai the inexpressible joy

Of working with this bad, bad boy.

Then we come - of course! - to Stores

Stores. The word alone gives one pause.

Stores. Whom cannot understand "No"

Or sometimes "Yes" and to whom a Forma, Pro

Is the equivalent, it seems, of Kryptonite

Since they can't complete them for

How many times have you had to say

"Please choose an effective SUNDAY"

Only to hear "O will Tuesday do?"

It's enough to make an orc of you.

How about "On Saturday I rang and rang"

I'll bet you did you sad meringue.

And please don't ring at five to six

With a complex Global Transfer fix.

It's not clear Indian time difference

Will dull or blunt store persistence.

Because, after we have flown the coop,

It's Mumbai who will be in the soup.

Talking of soup, that's what you've all been -

- Er and now I shall leave the scene.

Conrad must somehow get to find out how well - or ill - the transfer is going. Even if you can't make heads or tails of the above, at least it upped my wordcount.

Farewell, Dark Tower!

A Complete Change Of Direction

For Lo! we are once again revisiting the Libyan desert of early 1941, where The Doctor has come to the aid of a brace of archaeologists, making a few very unsettling assertions.

"Must be a while since there's been that many people round here," joked Albert.  "Not much in the way of tourist attractions."

     "Exactly!  My point precisely - a population density of such magnitude that it caused the machines to detect it and move to intercept it."

     "Let's get out of this fug," grumbled Templeman.  "I'm nearly choking here."

     Cautiously and slowly, they raised the canvas cover and peered from beneath it.  No signs of killer machinery greeted their eyes.

     "Ah, fresh air!" said Albert, revelling in the dry heat.

     "Be careful," warned The Doctor.  "I believe those killer machines were transmitting energy back here, purpose unknown."

     He quickly sketched in his theory about The Dais being a trans-mat platform, to the incredulity of both audience members.

     " 'Geo-thermal power'?" queried Templeman.  "Preposterous! No such thing exists!"

     "Not in your technology," replied The Doctor, drily.  "In fact the leap between current energy-production and geo-thermal utilities is about the same as between windmills and hydro-electric power."

     Templeman and Albert exchanged glances, not quite sure if Doctor Smith was making fun of them or being truthful.

     Taking the role of leader by unspoken agreement, The Doctor led them up the wooden steps to The Temple's interior, slightly cooler in the shade than the baking sand basin.  They slunk between pillars, casting watchful eyes over the rest of the site.

     Okay, that explains why neither of the two survivors were hunted down by the Black Glass Tanks.

The Further Woes Of Donald J. Trump

Poor Don.  Before August 9th all he had to contend with were the January 6th Committee, the Georgia Grand Jury, the New York attorney-general's civil suit against his organisation and - I think - 33 other civil suits.  Now he is adrift in an ocean of excrement with no paddle and no canoe.  Art - stay away from that one.  Because of that FBI search of Mar-A-Lago-To-Jail, which took place over 2 weeks ago, he may be facing extremely serious charges.  Art!

CAUTION! Not a secure location

     One thing Ol' Donnie wants to know is who on his staff at MAL grassed him up, because he now has to look over his shoulder at every step, which makes walking forward problematic.  SO - on social media he has been braying about how he wants to see the affidavit that preceded the search, because if so allowed this would be bound to state who the insider was.  His legal team were also parrotting this on social media.  Art!

George Conway, attorney and WaPo correspondent

     That's George, a pretty smart cookie, who observed that whilst Ol' Don and his legal team have been making lots of noise on social media about releasing this affidavit - estimated as being  from 50 to 100 pages long by Eli Honig, another legal sharp guy - they did NOT include this in their appallingly badly-written application to a judge to halt a review of the seized documents.  Because they don't really want it released, it would make Ol' Don look like a right crook; they just have to make it sound like they want it released.  Art!

Eli

     Eli said their application was so bad it made his teeth hurt.  It has, in fact, been returned by the judge with instructions to do it properly by noon today.

     AND that affidavit is going to be released today, except redacted.

     Bring on the popcorn!

Finally -

Conrad is getting dangerously low on supplies of loose-leaf Darjeeling so a visit to Sainsbo's is on the cards for tomorrow.  No more discount card though <sad face>.  Whilst there I may get a crate or two of gin.  O - and see if their Marmite-flavoured peanut butter is on special offer.