If This Was A Film Script -

You'd Dismiss It As Implausible

Well, I had sat down with my notebook, all ready to create more words of wit, wisdom and wonder - the blog, do keep up! - and then the parcel we were expecting arrived, Edna providing valuable warning by barking her little head off.  There ought to be two insulated beakers in said parcel, which revelation will have to wait until later, as I am now going to make a flask of coffee, leave it to steep and take Edna for a trot whilst the monsoon holds off for an hour or so.  Art!

     Okay, this is from the film "The Package", although what I'm looking for might be from another film, but that above will serve for the moment.  There is a moment when Hackman's character, involved in a plot to rescue his kidnapped wife, pleads with one of the presumed kidnappers: "Family is sacred!"

     Meaning that, no matter what the agents on either side might do, they absolutely DO NOT target other family members.

     Aha!  Got it - "Target".  Art!

     Let us abruptly switch tracks and focus on Illia Kyva.  Art!

"Can't catch me, nyah-nyah nyah-nyah"

     This unlikeable bottmhole was a Ukrainian politician, who disappeared to Spain in January 2022, and then re-appeared in Ruffia, bloviating that the invasion was the best thing to ever happen to Ukraine, crush the lesser races, unlimited rice pudding, etcetera -

     Unsurprisingly, the Ukrainians took a very dim view of his behaviour and sentenced him to death in absentia for treason.  Ol' Illy didn't think much of this as he was living in a secured neighbourhood in Moscow, with armed security guards on watch.  Safe as houses, right?

You might want to rethink that metaphor

     Well, how can I put this - no.  Not safe at all.  The Ukrainian Military Intelligence  Service, the SBU, tracked him down and shot him dead in December of last year.  The killer was never even identified, let alone caught.

     Now, remember that quote of Gene Hackman's, because it's relevant here.  Art!

Don't slobber, Art, it's unseemly.

     This sultry vixen is Marianna Budanova, whose surname might sound familiar.  If it does, it's because she was poisoned (unsuccessfully) in November last year.

     O and she's the wife of this surly beggar.  Art!

Kyrylo in a happy mood

     Yes, this is General Kyrylo Budanov, head of the - O! what's this?  

     Head of the SBU.

     Of all the people to seriously p*** off in the whole of Ukraine, this chap is at the top of the Very Bad Idea List.  What's more, he recently told a group of French journalists that he knows who is responsible, and that "Retaliatory actions on Russian territory" will take place.

     As per Ol' Illy, there is no doubt that the SBU has the reach and ability to pick off selected Ruffians inside Ruffia.  Witness that Tu-94 bomber pilot shot dead a little while ago.  The FSB officers responsible for poisoning Marianna are now going to be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives - however long or short that may be - as well as needing a change of underwear every time a car backfires or a door slams nearby.  Art!

                                            Yes FSB minion, you are a -

The Wizard Lizard Gizzards In A Blizzard

Thank you to Farron Cousins for a financial breakdown of this party's financial breakdown, leading up to which we of course - obviously! - have to mention the money miseries of Pumpkinhead.  Nope, we won't be covering his fraud trial fines here, that delicious slice of schadenfreude needs it's very own Intro.  Art!

     For those of us unfamiliar with the peculiar currency of South Canada, this is 73¢.  Why is this significant?  Because that amount from every $1 (which is 100¢) is going from Donald Buck's donations and straight into paying his legal fees.

     Which are enormous.

     Farron explained that Trump had a total of $100 million in his political campaign funds this time last year.

     Today?  $27 million.

     Not only that, if his legal expenses continue to run at the same rate, then he will have gone through another $26 million by July.

     Oooops!  Art?

     

     This is his daughter-in-law, whom he wants to head the Republican National Caucus, so he can siphon their money off into paying his legal bills so he doesn't have to.  Trouble is, they only have $8 million in their accounts.  Hey!  You know who's a demon at raising money?  Kevin McCarthy!  Except he's resigning from Congress thanks to Matt Gaetz having got him kicked out of the Speaker position.

     Ooops!

Conrad Is Tempted

<wallet squeaks in anguish> Quite by chance I noticed an advert from Naval & Military Press in my e-mails, and by gosh here's a subject everyone interested in military history would be well advised to study.  Art!

     This second volume cannot possibly be any duller than "Transportation On The Western Front" which Conrad has suffered through from cover to cover.  It's mostly about railway logistics.  No mention of motor vehicles or horse transport that I remember, and definitely no mention of telepherage systems.  Although Your Humble Scribe admits that is a rather niche area.  Were there canals?  Logistics using canals was very much a thing.  I don't really feel like ploughing through Hennicker again to find out.  Maybe Janet can enlighten?

     Well, that's it done.  £16 total including postage and packing, which saves almost £40, so it's actually a bargain in the long run.

"City In The Sky"

Barclay is going to get a grandstand view of the Trojan asteroid hitting the sea off the Australian coastline, since he's riding it down to impact.

     Below him, the Pacific hove into view off the west coast of South America.  The rock – he ought to name it, really, if it was going to be his funeral pyre and entry to Valhalla combined – “Barclay’s Bomb” had a ring to it – yes, the Bomb would need to complete another orbit before it got low enough into the atmosphere for him to alter the trajectory.

     By the time he bypassed the day-night demarcator the Bomb had begun to skip into the upper atmosphere and create a visible bow-wave of violently dancing ionised gasses.  Switching position to the crater’s opposite side, he drilled another socket and emplaced the last booster, pointing along the axis of forward motion as best he could.  Movement had begun to be impeded by the atmosphere, thin as it was, and when he fired up the booster the Bomb began to alter trajectory slowly yet perceptibly.  Winds began to tug at him with invisible fingers.  Soon, he knew, the ionisation would roast and smash him apart.

     Not before hearing his Tab’s bleeping confirm they were on course for an impact in the Gulf Of Carpentaria.  His vision had gone, a victim of vicinity to the unforgiving boosters.

     I did it! he exulted.  Redeemed.  I only wish I could have seen more of Earth –

     A sudden and vicious hammerblow lifted him off the shaking rock, there was a brief and searing torment of heat as his suit failed –

     Almost to impact.

Upping The Metaphorical Word Count

There is that old saw, 'A picture paints a thousand words', and Conrad would like to add a couple of photos here, with merely a few dozen actual words to accompany them.  Art!

     This is one of the Ruffian storage sites for mothballed 2S-19 self-propelled guns, where you can see 102 of them as of April 2022.  Typically they are just left out in the open with 'Fingers-crossed' the method of upkeep.  Art!

     Same site a year later, April 2023.  There are 36 units remaining, possibly because they are fit only to be used as scrap metal (see maintenance process above).  This is how the Ruffian army is able to keep fielding SPGs in Ukraine.  They will run out at this rate well before year end, which is why Peskov and Lavrov and Bunker Grandad are all making lots of noise about 'Peace'.

Finally -

Glad we went walkies earlier, the heavens have opened in the past hour and the Atlantic is paying a visit.