Don't Fret So -
We're not picking on the political party, because that would invoke Politics, which we abhor and avoid (unless there's more traffic in it), and while we're about it, Conrad maliciously wonders how those Just Stop Oil characters get to where they want to inconvenience people; surely they don't own The Evil Car, do they? And - how much of their apparel is made out of plastics derived from oil? I confidently expect them to give the Puffy Petroleum Pimp a medal for cutting his country's oil production significantly, si
ANYWAY that's not what this blog is about, nor is it about Stephen King's character in "Creepshow"*, mention of which means we can spirit up a picture if Art will cease chewing on carbonaceous fuel.
I hope you're chugging a herbicide, Stevo, not Miracl-Gro
No, what I wanted to hold forth on is "The Wizard Of Oz", which I've still never seen in it's entirety, nor do I intend to, because, don't forget, CONRAD HATES ALL MUSICALS. Towards the end of the film our quintet of heroes and heroine (and Toto) return to the Emerald Palace, which looks cool but which must also suffer severe problems with theft. Art!
You cannot deny it's pretty verdant
- where they come face-to-face with the terrifying Wizard. Art!
Admit it, he wouldn't look out of place on "Star Trek". There is plenty of flame and fury whilst the Wizard intones his instructions to our gallant group, which amounts to a Quest; bring back the Wicked Witch Of The West's broomstick. Art!
<facepalm>
When they return from their quest with the BROOMSTICK, Art, they are once again confronted with the frightening visage of the Mighty Oz. Except Toto, the mischievous little scruff, goes off and finds a loose curtain, which he tugs away at in the spirit of all dogs everywhere who love to indulge in tug-of-war games with watered silk curtains, Dior handbags and cuts of Kobe beef. Art!
Ooops. Art!
Busted.
Of course - obviously! - this is only very vaguely connected with what I wanted to witter on about in the Intro. Which is 'Kudzu', a creeping vine long associated with the South Canadian South, which I think I first encountered in the film 'Black Rainbow'. It has an interesting history, being imported to South Canada as a decorative houseplant in the Eighteen-Seventies, and sitting quietly and politely on people's dining table or window-sill for sixty years.
Then come the Thirties and the Dustbowl. The federal authorities proposed to use kudzu as a tool for preventing soil erosion, since it spreads very quickly; up to a foot a day at the peak of growing season. A million acres were cultivated; until the feds stopped paying for it to be planted, at which point it instantly fell out of favour and was supplanted by better crops. Art!
From the Sixties onwards it acquired mythical status as 'The plant that ate the South', with scaremongers alleging it grew at a rate of 150,000 acres per year, that it killed forests and covered seven million acres of land. Hom. Sap. versus kudzu, and Hom. Sap. was losing. LOSING BIG TIME! Even though the Southrons delighted in adopting it as a badge of their geography. Kudzu, as mighty as Oz.
Except not. When sober scientists did the number crunching, they found that it covered 225,000 acres or 0.1% of the Southron forests, so hardly the burgeoning near-Triffid menace long bethought. It spread at a humble rate of 2,500 acres per year, principally along ground that couldn't be grazed by cattle or livestock - or, in other words, the roadsides people passed by gazing in awe at it. Art!
Toto!
This unlovely little piker is a Kudzu bug, which thrives by sucking the juices out of kudzu vines, thus killing them. The thing about an invasive plant species, you see, is that they have no natural predators, which is why they proliferate wildly and uncontrollably. The Kudzu bug was accidentally introduced from Asia to South Canada and is now reducing the vine's acreage appreciably. Kudzu konked, you might even say. Or even Kudzugwanged**.
The Carrier Beef
Yes, I've no doubt some of you were ticked off when I put up a picture of a gigantic toy aircraft carrier with NO ATTRIBUTION. My only excuse is that I was whizzing along in creating content during a 15 minute break and didn't have the opportunity to add any extra information.
Rejoice! For I have found the source of the image. Let's have the original. Art!
It was the '99' or '66' that gave it away, because when I Googled for 'Giant Aircraft Carrier Toy' I found the following. Art!
Obviously not very seaworthy, so you can't put it in the paddling pool. It is, as you can tell from the first image, freakin' enormous. 7' 6" long and 3' wide, so Mom is going to be glaring at Dad come Christmas morning when Junior unwraps this monster, as it takes up the whole room.
"City In The Sky"
Ace, with a teenager's inherent distrust of authority, and especially uniformed authority masquerading as a police force (of sorts), is getting a tour of the Arcology One space station.
Nat looked at her with wonder.
‘You really aren’t from here and now, are you! Ace, there are illiterate peasants in the
Mekong Delta who know all about M3!’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not one of them,’ grumbled the young woman.
M3 happened to be shorthand for NASA’s Manned Mars Mission, twenty astronauts currently
sitting on the Red Planet, exploring.
They had supplies to last a year there, and because of the distance and
isolation they were capable of returning home without any Earth-based
assistance.
‘Enough of the misery!’ announced Nat.
‘Come on, I’ll take you to the common room and introduce you.’
Not overly fond of authority, Ace felt a touch of foreboding about
meeting a clutch of officious semi-police on their home turf. The common room occupied the central
quadrangle of Tadcaster, a single building noticeably larger than the
surrounding domestic apartments. Once
again the entrance consisted of a doorway – double-sized – covered by a swatch
of white-and-green fabric. Once inside,
a raucous chorus of whoops and catcalls came from the slightly dimmer interior.
The noise came from a crowd of men and women wearing leotards or the
silver-ringed coverall, who were
fringing a set of circular mats, where two other women, both sweating
furiously, were busy throwing each other around with moderated violence. Another third person danced around and
watched them closely, darting in to slap one of the contestants – entirely at
random, from what Ace could see.
Ah, female wrestling WASH OUT YOUR FILTHY MINDS! Mens sana rea, mens sana corpore, as the Romans said.
Corks! Said The Sorks
Of late, the news has been featuring an event I didn't realise still existed: a Scout Jamboree. For your information, this is a grand meeting of Scout associations from across the globe, which usually has a goodly proportion of British Scouts, which is fair enough because we invented them. Art!
This year the event was held in South Korea, hence the 'Sorks' comment. It was quite poorly organised, which is surprising; the Sorks are usually hoohoodilly-hot at getting things done properly.
However, they couldn't control the weather; a heatwave struck the camp, forcing many attendants into hotel accommodation.
Now they're being threatened with a typhoon. It never rains but it downpours torrentially, hmmm?
Hmmmmm
Late breaking news. Jack 'Sunny Smile' Smith acquired a search warrant for Citizen Trump's Twitter account, which Twitter dragged their feet about and thus experienced a $350,000 fine for not expediting the warrant. Twitter were forbidden to tell DJ Tango about the warrant. Conrad wonders what they are looking for, if anything. I suspect Donald will not be sleeping very well this week, wondering what he left on his account that's actionable. Tee hee!
"Donald's Tommy Cooper impersonation needed working on."
Finally -
I was considering doing 'A Little Musical Critique' of 'Hips Don't Lie', but the Dog Buns thing is over 600 words long! It would need to be serialised and I don't know if you or I have the patience to do so.
We shall see.
* Do you see what I did the - O you do.
** Chess term. Look it up.
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