Ned's Atomic Dustbin!

I Am Going To Have To Explain This

Aren't I?  Firstly, I can't guarantee a fitting or accurate photo, because there were some chumps daft enough to name their band after this title.  Art!

     Today's title comes from an episode of "The Goon Show", a slice of radio madness that began in the late Fifties and which was familiar to the child Conrad as "The Telegoons", which was a children's program.  I was fortunate enough to to see the televised broadcast of the last Goon Show, in 1972.  Art!

     That's Spike Milligan, Peter Sellers (yes, THAT Peter Sellers) and Harry Secombe.  Sorry, no idea about the leeks.  NAD was created in 1959, whilst nuclear weapons and energy still had a novelty value about them, and young Neddy Seagoon has secretly designed an anti-atomic dustbin - that's what it says on the script page, honest, I've not been at the cooking sherry.  Number 10 is moderately interested in this incredible invention (the advantage of radio is that the listener's imagination fills in the technical details) but <cue sinister oboe music>, so is the Kremlin.

     It's just a title that's been buzzing around my cranium today for no explicable reason.  I've not been listening to music and don't have any NAD records.

     ANYWAY now that I've got that annoying mental burp out of the way, let me cut to what I really wanted to talk about today, which is a mystery moment worth waiting for.  Art!

     This is typically the scene witnessed in South Canadian offices when an employee is fired.  FIRED!  None of that namby-pamby milquetoast 'Let go' for either Conrad or BOOJUM! we tell it like it is! No ho

     ANYWAY the fired employee typically packs all their personal effects into a cardboard box, hands back office keys, laptop, phone and any other company property.  What I couldn't find was an - hang on here we are.  Art!

     In larger firms, a security guard frequently escorts the ex-colleague out, just to ensure they do actually leave, don't steal anything or damage company property - a wise precaution as they're not probably feeling very loyal by this point.

     In this tale the security guard relayed the story that he'd been asked to a particular office, along with his partner.  They arrived and the soon-to-be-ex informed them that he wasn't going to make a fuss.  Not with them, anyway.  Hay Pesto! the manager and the HR lady arrived and informed him that he was being dismissed.  HOORAY NO NAMBY-PAMBINESS! <ahem>.  Ex them informs them that he wants compensation.  HR lady scoffs at him and informs him not a nitrocellulose dog's chance in Hell as he'd both violated company policy and broken the law.  Art!

     At no point was what he'd actually done mentioned, which is a bit of a bummer, as it must have been juicy for such a summary dismissal.  Rather than looking crushed, Matey hauls out a file folder and a memory stick.  He tells them to take both back to their office, check the files and see what's on the stick, and he has copies of both held safely elsewhere, before they think of destroying the evidence.  Both the manager's and HR lady's faces go white; they must have realised he had a lot of heavy-duty dirt on either them, the company or both.  

     "I want one year's compensation and a proper layoff," Matey informed them.  "Plus I'm keeping my company phone because my son likes it."

     They paid up.

     Annoyingly, the security guard narrating this never found out either the crime or the folder contents.  Can't have everything.  It would have been nice to tie up the loose ends.

And Now For More On Icelandic Food

Wonder Wifey brought back a jar of Unidentifiable Stuff, which is definitely not aimed at tourists since the labelling and ingredients were all in Icelandic, a Nordic tongue not readily understood by English-speakers.  Art!

Ambiguous white things

     Surprise!  This turned out to be diced herrings pickled in sweet vinegar, with dill and peppercorns.  Rather like rollmops, in fact, which Your Humble Scribe also enjoys.

     Dog Buns.  That's making me hungry now.

Another South Canadian Strange Place

No!  Nothing to do with Hawkins Indiana.  No, this time Kyle selected the very odd community of Bombay Beach, in California.  The thing is, it's miles inland and nowhere near the Pacific.  What it is near is the Salton Sea, a body of water created by a broken irrigation system that took two years to repair.  Art!

Treacherously picturesque

     In the Fifties and Sixties it was an actual resort location, which is where the carcass of Bombay Beach comes in.  Scientists warned that the Sea would shrink over time, which it did, and thanks to farming effluents it became increasingly polluted.  The tourism trade died off in the Seventies and many people moved out.  Art!

     What's left now is a kind of poverty-stricken beatnik community, who seem to revel in the strangeness of their gutted town.  Also, the Sea has become so polluted that all the fish died, leaving beaches covered with rotting carcasses, and I leave the smell to your imagination.  Kyle's dog loved it when they visited.

"The Sea Of Sand"

Things are hotting up.  Sinister black tank-like vehicles are approaching the Italian garrison at Mersa Martuba.

Dominione chewed anxiously at a fingernail, wishing that they had brought along heavier weapons that the Breda cannon.  Those black tank-like vehicles might be armoured.  

     "Keep moving," muttered the officer, knowing that his men's survival lay in remaining mobile and presenting difficult-to-hit targets.  "Keep moving, keep moving."

Section One collectively stopped moving, one car driving around in a circle and hitting a boulder that stopped it, the other two slowing down and halting.  A soldier fell out of one car.

     The laggardly fourth vehicle stopped, too, except that in it's case caution dictated the halt.  Dominione could see the flash of it's twin machine guns firing, and the streaks of tracers zipping towards one of the approaching tanks.  Several rounds hit, until the rounds suddenly went up vertically and stopped, and the gunner fell backwards into his seat.

     Dominione looked back at the slowly-advancing tanks, realising that the turrets did indeed mount a short-barrelled weapon, which were now pointed at Section One.  Not a sound of firing, yet his men were - dead?  Unconscious?

     Section Two made a flank attack, which managed to immobilise one black tank when when twenty-millimetre rounds hit the tracks, shattering one of them apart.  Once again the silent weaponry of the black tanks turned against the Camionista, and Section Two fell senseless in their cars.

     Hmmmm what do you think of Sarah's warning now, matey?

Doctor S Sifts Ships

You remember?  Mike Siegel, the astrophysicist, who was reviewing spaceships as recommended from his Twitter audience.  His next target/subject was the Death Star from "Star Wars", which he considered plausible at least, bar the anti-gravity and unlikely superweapon.  The spherical design maximises the volume-to-surface ratio BUT he's not keen on the use of resources to build such an enormous and solo weapon.  Art!

No, that's not a moon

     Classed as Fails At Max Q for being such a resource-hog.  Not even being iconic and looking cool could save it.  

Finally -

Been reviewing my job notes from back when I applied for HR Ops this time last year.  Gosh, didn't I do a lot.  Well yes.  No false modesty here.