Johnny Seven

I Know What You're Thinking

No, we're not talking about "Short Circuit" here, even if it is a highly entertaining film, and the opening scenes cleverly obfuscate - not a word you ever expected to hear today - exactly what is lasering battlefield targets into ash.  Until we find out it's - Art!

One of these

     This, gentle reader, is Johnny Five NOT JOHNNY SEVEN and no we're not talking about a sequel to a sequel.
     In fact we are talking about a toy that was brought up by Devin Stone in his vlog about "Toys Of Terror", which didn't actually cause death and destruction in the real world, unlike things like the Sky Dancers, although it kind of did in a metaphorical way.  Art!

     BEHOLD THE WONDER THAT IS 'JOHNNY SEVEN: THE ONE MAN ARMY'!!

     <slobbers silently in awed wonder>.

     When Conrad was much smaller, he got one of these as a present, because his grandma lived and worked in South Canada and thus had access to this piece of wonder.  You could not get these in the UK.  Hah!

     Let me walk you through the various bits of hardware of this weapon.  Art!

     Here you see the bipod folded up underneath the barrel, and the stock removed, for use in sustained indirect fire - er - I suppose, which is possibly a bit beyond the conceptual grasp of seven year-olds.

     There are various projectiles you can plug in and fire.  Art!

     The one attached to the front is the anti-personnel missile, IIRC.  Snug and secure in the side-attachment is the anti-tank projectile.  And that thing sitting on the raised ramp is a grenade.  A note to those with a bit of tactical nous: if you fired the grenade with the ramp lowered, it would fly backwards over your head, enabling you to ambush sneaky-petes trying to ambush you.  Art!

     That's the bullet-well, which stored twelve hard plastic rounds that you could fire hard enough to hurt your sister and make her cry to have a significant impact, and which unsuspecting parents might well tread upon in their bare feet.  Not as bad as Lego, because they had round surfaces rather than straight lines and pointed corners, but enough to make you spill your tea.  Art!

     This is the bit my parents detested above all else.  If you dragged that handle backwards and then pressed the small metal stud to port, it would make an horrendous metallic screeching noise supposed to resemble a machine gun being fired.  "But Dad, it's an authentic representation of a minigun firing a sustained burst!" did not cut much ice at the time.

     Don't go away!  For we are not done yet.  Art!

     Yes, that rear handle was actually the visible part of a completely detachable pistol that could fire caps.  Good practice would have been to hand it to the Number Two of your fire-support team <Mister Hand redacts a whole lot of silliness here> to get more ammo.

     I think Devin's point here was that, although this bit of kit is incredibly fit, it's not illegal, as a whole lot of ear-bashed, foot-bruised parents with smaller siblings rendered legitimate targets, would have hoped.

     Also, for those children who never grew up - Conrad definitely in there when it comes to Things Exploding - there is a note of caution about acquiring one of these via E-bay or other online venues, because they now retail for about £450.  So - pay the monthly gas bill or acquire a Johnny Seven?

"Right, Doris, there's a reason we're wearing five sweaters each at the moment ..."

Conrad Nods Cynically

I do this at a lot of things, so you might be wondering which in particular it was.  Well, button your lips and fasten your zips, it's about the Amber Heard and Johnny Sev Depp defamation trial, which has not cast either in a particularly good light.  AH lost her case in South Canada, which had all the JD fans whooping enthusiastically.  Taking a page from the Citizen Trump playbook, AH promptly appealed.  Art!

     A couple of days ago she ditched the appeal, posting on social media that "this was not a concession."

     Except it most certainly is.  Rather than go through the courts again, she has capitulated, because prating on social media renders one unliable to legal consequence.  Citizen Trump does this too - rants and tants on Tooth Social, but dares not to take legal redress, because he would get his bottom fried in lard at 200OC.

     One can paint oneself as a martyr all one likes on social media.  Trying to do so in a court of law has rather severe consequences.  THIS - going off at a tangent as we are wont to do - is why Rudy Giuliani and Sydney Powell avoided all mention of electoral fraud once they got into a court-room 60 times out of 60.  Art!

Tasteful, that's us.

     Let's have an item a little less gruesome and tacky.

On The Theme Of 'Bright Lights'
Yes, this is a BBC photographic theme, and Conrad can't help thinking about one of Sir John Peel's favouritest tracks, "I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight" by Richard and Linda Thompson. Art!

     Seriously, if you've never heard this one before, make an appointment with Youtube.

     ANYWAY that BBC themed competition.  Art!

     Courtesy Simon Torr.  Very clever - a Cornish mine engine behind the galaxy of the Milky Way.  One wonders how long he had to expose that to get all the stars in, because light pollution in situations like this is a problem.

"The Sea Of Sand"

From a sea of stars to a sea of silicon dioxide (with trace minerals).  The Doctor and Sarah are both bound for a mutual confrontation.

It was tricky, trying to keep the car between himself and the guardians of the depot, and rendered trickier by the bulky ammunition box.  Their attention may have been on the truck slowly chugging at them instead of the still-stationary Saharianas, or the sound of gunfire that came crackling over the depot.

          The interior of the armed Italian car showed a collection of well-stowed tools, weapons, ammunition, canteens and tins marked “AM”.  Once again, showing a worrying familiarity with illegal methods of vehicle ignition, the Doctor began to turn the engine over and drove off, keeping one eye on his rear view mirror. 

          I need to find Sarah! he worried.  I hope that gunfire was nothing to do with her.  How I hope!

 

Sarah felt a little of the burden the Doctor regularly carried, finding it difficult to reconcile the British and Italians together.  A bit of wit, a bit of humour and some old-fashioned female last-resort flirting helped to keep tempers calm.  The amused disgust of the British soldiers towards their new allies was muted when they recognised the machine-gun mounted on the Sahariana.

          ‘Hey, Tam, that’s a Bren gun!’ pointed Davey.  ‘One of our British guns, Miss,’ he explained to Sarah.  She translated this, and the Italian gunner nodded with a rueful grin.  He gave a long speech in Italian, which Sarah translated for the British audience sitting in the back of the Chevrolet.

          ‘He says – Torrevechio, the machine-gunner – says that they are glad to get their hands on British machine guns like the Bren because their own are always jamming.  Italian grenades are useless, their rifles are feeble and only a madman with a death-wish would operate one of their light tanks.’

     Ah yes, the grass is always greener, hmmm?

Finally -

It was a Dog Buns! endurance test in the office today, because Your Humble Scribe forgot his earphones and had to listen to the <hacks> music chosen by the Bright Young Things in the office.  Nary a bagpipe nor a hammer dulcimer to be heard, forsooth!