Blood And Water

Two Essential Liquids

They say that one can survive for a couple of weeks without food, but two days without water will see you gaily waltz off this mortal coil.  Nor will all the food and H₂O in the world do you any good if you don't have 8 pints of the red stuff flowing through your veins.  And arteries, mustn't be circulatorist.  Art!

     This, in case you were unaware, is how MacReady in "Who Goes There" discovers who were Things; by taking a blood sample in a test tube, and then poking it with a red-hot wire.  Thing-blood, being an entirely separate organism, will try to escape the wire.  The author, John Campbell, relates that, when disposed of in the camp furnace, the test tube of Thing-blood " - screamed tinnily"
     ANYWAY let's get back on track.  "Blood is thicker than water" is the saying I am laboriously working towards.  It appears in literature way back in the 12th century, and the implication is that the ties of family matter more than anything else.

     WRONGITYWRONGWRONGWRONG!

     First of all, what about ice?  It's a solid.  That makes it thicker than water from the outset.  I just thought, as a pedantic hair-splitter, I ought to get that in there.  Art!

Close enough

     I also have a case on Youtube bookmarked from ages ago which disproves the water > blood assertion.  How it proves!

     Okay, so Original Poster was a computer whiz, who was 'recruited' by his brother's financial advisory business, supposedly to establish the IT infrastructure for the company over the summer.  Art!

     This temporary job turned into a constellation of roles, including: system technician, accountant, receptionist, research assistant and secretary.  Oddly enough not chef.  Funny, that.

     OP was paid erratically and not at all.  His total remuneration for two years work was $8,000 so they didn't pay based on the roles he did.  What was that about blood and water?

     After 2 years OP got fed up and left to go gain further qualifications in computing.  Surprise!  Bottomhole brother and partners were livid that their cheap labour was leaving.  Art!

     They then, in an excess of pettiness, decided to traduce and slander OP when he applied for jobs, claiming that 1) He'd never worked for them; 2) He was trying to piggyback employment on his brother's name and 3)  He'd sexually harassed (non-existent) female employees.  Blood and water, anyone?

     That picture is because OP knew where the bodies were buried.

     You see, Bottomhole Brother and his equally bottomhole-resembling partners, had stolen client lists from their previous employers, in order to get a start in business.  They had OP encrypt the data and keep it on a laptop.  OP's laptop.  Which he kept.  Without deleting the data.

     You can probably guess where this is going.  Art!

     As well as defrauding OP, the trio of traitors had also been defrauding the IRS, whom are like a bulldog-on-steroids when it comes to taking legal action.  BB had also forged OP's signature on some documents, meaning he'd probably dodged not merely a bullet but a whole artillery salvo.

     Well, this whole blood-water rigidity co-efficient business plays both ways, because OP took formal legal action against BB for slander, whilst also turning over that laptop FULL OF ILLEGALLY STOLEN DATA to his attorney, who promptly turned it over to a government attorney.

If it was this dude, no wonder they were ruined

     Net result: BB and his partners were utterly ruined.  They were stripped of their licences to practice financial advice, their company went bust, they had to sell their houses to satisfy OP's slander judgement, and they may still possibly be prosecuted by other businesses for the stolen data.  No love lost there, then.  O and they had to write letters of apology to the businesses they'd lied to about OP's employment.  Water and blood, gentle reader?  Gee, ain't Hom. Sap. a wonderful species!
     Great.  Now I can remove that Bookmark.

Reasons To Be Fearful

Over the past few days we've been exploring the multiple reasons why Bunker Grandad might have had his puling minions broadcasting noises about a cease fire with Ukraine.  In short, because things are going very badly and are only going to get worse.  The Ruffian offensive towards Kharkhiv got less than 5 kilometres inside Ukraine before coming to a halt, bloodily.  You may recall that the first such invasion used things like tanks, infantry fighting vehicles and armoured personnel carriers.  Now the orcs attack with Chinese golf-carts and motorbikes.  As I only half-joked, by August they'll be using bicycles.

     Well, things did get worse.  Art!

     I wonder which puling minion will draw the short straw and get to tell Charlie Chipmunk Cheeks the bad news?

     O and just to egg the pudding, here's another vlog I shall be watching.  Art!

Prof Justin Bronk!

Fresh Footwear Finally Found

As you should surely know by now, Conrad is a reluctant purchaser of anything to do with clothing, because the line 'How many books could you buy with that?' is a constant refrain in my head.  This financial foot-dragging also extends to footwear.  My old slippers, a Christmas present, fell apart thanks to use, my Skechers are indeed very sketchy and I have resorted to my Grinch slippers.  Art!

     They are comfy, if a trifle snug, but not really dignified enough for an Apprentice World Dictator.  So, Conrad finally got his act together and - Art!

     By the time you read this, I may be wearing them.  Courtesy of Degsy and his Amazon profile.

"City In The Sky"

Here we have an insight of how Lithoi culture works.  They are so inherently unpleasant that one pines for the noble orc.

     They presented the evidence, recorded film of the single flying eye in action, flying along.  Along it flew, until it flew apart.  Not having seen the film, Orskan’s flinch when the eye exploded was genuine.  Thanks to the low angle of Ace’s missile launch and it’s low explosive yield, the Lithoi assumed sabotage or disaster, not armed interception.

     ‘As you see, your construction was faulty.  Not only is our only flying eye destroyed, but you have deliberately slowed construction of the other flying eyes.’

     ‘Only because we already had a working one,’ he sullenly informed them.  ‘I can’t pluck objects from thin air.  My minions need proper rest or their work suffers.’

     A low murmuring went back and forth between the different heads of department.

     ‘Ah, yes, “your” minions,’ said Arkan, silkily, in a manner that promised trouble.  ‘They do not belong to you, Orskan.  You are not of sufficiently high caste to own workers.  You merely supervise.’

     ‘What?’ gurgled Orskan, not sure where this new direction was leading.  He got the feeling that he was being set up to take any and all blame for the problems they’d suffered so far.

     Mirskan bared his fangs in disapproval.

     ‘Have you finished completing a new camouflage cover?  Created the missile system?  Built more flying eyes?  No?  Hardly a creditable performance, is it!’

     Poor old Orskan.  The perils of middle-management, hmmm?

Wow, Just Noticed This One

In case you have been living on the Moon or a submarine environment on the Mediterranean littoral, then you ought to be aware of music artists selling their back catalogue to make bank.  They typically rake in tens of millions as they simultaneously cash-in and sell out.  Art!

     With the exception of "Bohemian Rhapsody" Conrad is not a fan of Queen, but I do have a fair amount of respect for Brian May, their guitarist, as he's almost as clever as me, and qualified in Astrophysics to boot.

     ANYWAY describing this as a 'sell out' is a stretch, given the enormous amount of money involved.  Conrad wonders if the three surviving band members will net $333 million each, or will Phreddie the Prancing Popinjay's estate divide it into four portions of $250 million?

Just A Reminder

Conrad was reading a screeching polemic by some frothing swivel-eyed loonwaffle on Twitter, who was calling for the invasion of - amongst others - the UK.

     Hmmmmm.

     As I pointed out - 

     
     That is all.

Finally -

Actually, now that is all.

Jake's Broe-dcast

Ha!  Sometimes I Amuse Even Myself

This is my second post in two days dealing with Youtuber Jake Broe, whom is one of the essential vloggers when it comes to the Special Idiotic Operation.  He usually posts a vlog every couple of days, and thanks to his location - glamourous Las Vegas - his vlogs show up close to midnight here in This Sceptred Isle, which tempts Your Humble Scribe to view them because who needs sleep?  Art!

     Case in point.  I've not watched it yet, but will do so after the weekly shop.

     This Intro is going to be an unholy melange of Jake and another vlogger, Joe Blogs, who also tackled the reasons why Putler has been pushing the narrative about a cease-fire.  Art!

     Joe for reference.  Generally speaking, the cheerier he begins, the worse the news is.

     The Ruffians have tried ceasefires twice before.  Once in April 2022, when it had become clear that the SIO had gone very badly awry; the Ukrainians ditched the process because the Ruffians were considered utterly untrustworthy.  Good call.  The Ruffians tried again in 2023, wanting the South Canadians to ditch the Ukrainians, which they weren't willing to do.

     So why is Puffy-Phaced Petrol Pimp getting his minions to mention a cease-fire?  Both Jake and Joe pointed to the consequences of that $61 billion aid package for Ukraine being approved by Congress.  Art!

     These puppies have been sent to Ukraine by the hundred, and they are extending their reach to 300 kilometres.  The Ukes are going to get 'weapons free' status for their South Canadian munitions, which the Kremlin sees as a singular reason to negotiate.  Jake detailed that MANPADS, artillery shells, HIMARS GMLRS, and Bradley's have arrived.  That's one hundred Bradleys in total, completely replacing all the destroyed, damaged or abandoned ones.  The VDS has begun losing aircraft in the air again, thanks to the MANPADS deliveries, which costs about $30 million per.  Art!

     Joe pointed out that this aid package will underwrite the Ukrainian military for perhaps a year, possibly longer, which is again a depressing prospect for the Kremlin.  Nobody's sending them tons of equipment.  Art!

     Here's another reason for Putin to want jaw-jaw not war-war; Ukrainian drone strikes have cut Ruffian refineries' output by 15%, possibly more.  Not only is there no sign of this decreasing or becoming ineffective, Ukraine intends to deploy up to 3 million drones in 2024.  Their range is getting longer all the time, putting an enormous array of Ruffian infrastructure at risk.  Nor are the refinery workers happy about possibly being turned into rotisserie-fodder; they are leaving the business.  As Joe put it, this aspect of the war was utterly unanticipated by the Kremlin Gremlin, and he can't do anything about it.  Which must sting*.  Art!

     The Fun-Sized Foot Fiddler is also worried about the economy generally, as it has transformed from a capitalist economy to a war economy, with production emphasis shifting to military above all else.  The Ruffian state is supporting this, which is good in the short term but very detrimental in the long term, and Dimya may feel that the short term gains in this kind of self-funding model are going or gone.  Thus he needs peace before the Ruffian economy crashes, badly.

     Another fly - more like a swarm - in the ointment for Bunker Grandad is the next prospective mobilisation.  Art!

     The first call-up in 2023 resulted in 1.2 million Ruffians leaving the environs of Modern-Day Mordor, and they didn't come back.  This was bad, because they were the kind of skilled, trained, qualified, experienced people whose departure created economic, political and industrial chaos in their absence.  Try forcing people to stay there and get sent to the meat-grinder in Ukraine and see what their reaction is!  There's already been forced conscription of young men in Moscow, which is a measure of how catastrophic things are, since these are the last people in the whole nation Putin wants sent to war.  Yet another reason for crying about ceasing fire.

More Starship Shots

Props to the people behind these galleries, the "Interstellar Research Centre" and their dedication to portraying interstellar travel.  One could only wish it was faster or that Hom. Sap. lived a lot longer.  Art!

     This is a generic take on a concept decades-old, that of turning a minor asteroid into a spaceship in it's own right.  There are a few inherent problems, such as how you counter the inertia of an object weighing several million tons, and what about flaws, fissures, cracks and pockets in the body of the beast?  On the other hand, it would shrug off micrometeorite damage with impunity, and solid rock is great at screening out radiation.  

     You may have encountered this concept in that obscure Sixties cult classic "Starry Trex" (sp?) and the episode with the splendidly long and evocative title "For The World Is Hollow And I Have Touched The Sky", where an asteroid on a collision course - are there any other? - turns out to be a spaceship.  Art!

     It was quite had to track down this relevant image, because most of the irrelevant images were of a lady wearing Bacofoil as an art statement, and not a lot of it at that.  Art!

     Yes, well, time to move on.

     Hmmmmmm Conrad is pretty sure that pizza did not cook properly.  I need to give it a zap in the microwave.  First, I have to get past Entitled Edna, who is hanging around like the world's most Hopeful Hound.

Giant Bang-Stick Info

WASH OUT YOUR FILTHY MINDS! you disgusting perverts.  What Conrad refers to, O SO OBVIOUSLY, is the Boys Anti-Tank Rifle.  I did mention this briefly when passing comment on "Forgotten Weapons"and Ian's use of same.  Art!

     This is the British anti-tank rifle developed just prior to Second Unpleasantness, adopted into use and which was pretty effective up until early 1941, at least against the Teuton and Roman vehicles of that era.  The idea was that it fired a large-calibre bullet - 0.55 inches - at very high velocity, which would penetrate enemy armour and whang around the inside of any target vehicle, turning the occupants into dog food.  Art!

"BMG" = "Browning Machine Gun"

     This is a projectile that means serious harm to anyone it encounters.  By early 1941 the Axis tanks had been up-armoured and were quite resistant to Boys rounds, which meant it transitioned into an anti-material weapon.  It never went out of fashion in the Far East, as Japanese tanks were far weedier than their European compatriots.  Australian troops had a name for it that I cannot repeat here, which represented the respect soldiers had for it's effectiveness if not the concussive process of actually firing it.

"City In The Sky"

We now witness how the hatefully horrid Lithoi conduct affairs amongst themselves, which is to say, not very politely.

‘Move to the Briefing Chamber,’ ordered one of the guards.  When Orskan hesitated the guard’s weapons collar activated and directed a laser snout between his eyes; Orskan realised he was in bigger trouble than he could have imagined.  No congratulations, obviously.

     When he entered the room  a small panel of his fellow Lithoi were waiting: Arkan 22, with Miskan 54, Nilkam 34, Harkan 23 and Gelken 27.  All higher-caste: Leader, Anthropology, Biology, Physics and - Astronomy.  Odd.  What did the sky-watchers ever have to contribute?

     ‘What -’ he began, before realising his e-collar had died and no sounds were emerging beyond what he could make himself.  ‘Why am I here!’ he hissed at full volume.

     ‘This court sits in arraignment,’ intoned Arkan, pompously.  ‘Here before us is the plaintiff.  Orskan 94, you are accused of treason.  How do you plead?’

     Orskan felt his scales change colour, so great was his shame and anger.

     ‘What!’ he hissed, barely able to speak through his temper.

     ‘How do you plead!’ intoned Arkan, not bothering to look at his subordinate.

     ‘NOT GUILTY!’ shrieked Orskan, outraged.  How could this be happening to him!

      Yeah, this is what happens when you push people too far.  Revolution ahoy**!

Conrad Is Tempted!

Out of curiosity, I have looked at the "Turner Donovan" webpage that displays their catalogue as of March 2024.  Inevitably my attention was drawn to their "Official History 1914 - 1918" pages, where I espied the following.  Art!

     Note that the verrrrry reasonable price is because this is a 4th Edition, which you can gather from the publication date.  It looks in very good condition, too.

     Probably already sold <wallet squeaks in relief>.  I wonder .....

Finally -

Conrad is unsure how long their deliberations will take, but the jury in Donald Judas Trump's hush-money case are sitting in judgement on the Flabby Farting Fraudster*.  

     He was seen at a recent NASCAR rally saluting everything, including the 'sidewalk' (more correctly known as a 'Pavement'), aircraft and paint - he had been told to 'be more patriotic'.  Art!

     Ha!  Like I said, I even amuse myself sometimes.

     Laterz.

* Tee hee!

**  I have to say, the loathsome Lithoi seem like moral paragons compared to some people (Ruffia looking at you)

Broe-lling Thunder

This Isn't Actually About Any Kind Of Weather Phenomenon

Today's title, in fact, relies upon you being aware of 'Operation Rolling Thunder', which you DOG BUNS OUGHT TO BE! since it was featured in the blog only mere days ago.  Tread lightly, gentle reader, for the Remote Nuclear Detonator stands ready aye ready, lest you transgress.  Art!

     This is up here for a reason, which we'll get to shortly.  Yes, it's from "Full Metal Jacket", Stan The Man's Vietnam epic shot in the London Docklands.  Art!

     This Champ Of Scamp is Jake Broe, Youtube ace performer and ex-Missileer in the South Canadian Air Force, and English tutor in South Korea before that.

     So, Jake volunteered to 'give up' his 40th birthday this year, requesting that folks donate instead to a fund-raiser he was initiating in order to buy a couple of  pick-up trucks to be used as medical vehicles in Ukraine.  He aimed for about $40,000.

     BIG FAT HAIRY SURPRISE!  Art?

     

     No, that's not a typo.  There are going to be dozens of trucks going to Ukraine, and bear in mind that total of over a million was totalled in less than a week.  Compassion fatigue?  What's that?

     Joe did ask for suggestions about what to name the convoy of vehicles due to be heading to Ukraine, which OF COURSE - OBVIOUSLY! - Conrad had to accept as a challenge, which is where the 'Broe-lling Thunder" comes from.  I did also suggest "A-Broe-Cadabra" which nobody has gotten back to me about.  Strange, that.  Art!

     

John Cena's line in "Suicide Squad" comes to mind

     Jake was also analysing the recent flurry of 'ceasefire' activity generated by the Ruffians from the weekend onwards.  Conrad has seen fellow Tweeters on that channel bemoaning the fact that the Ruffian trolls, bots and fanbois are all echoing that Ukraine ought to negotiate a ceasefire.

     This is where our initial picture takes centre stage, because at that exact point the Marines were calling to each other "Cease Fire!  Cease Fire!" thanks to all the enemy being - there is no polite way to put it - extremely dead.  Don't waste your ammo on corpses is the bottom line, having ACQUIRED A POSITION OF SUPERIORITY.

     So, why is Bunker Grandad trying to push for a ceasefire?  O I thought you'd never ask!  Art!

     This photo encapsulates the relationship between The Populous Dictatorship  and Ruffia.  China is a lot bigger, and there is considerable distance between the two.  Xi has never forgiven Putinpot for trying to force China into supporting the Special Idiotic Operation, which egregious miscalculation has repercussions even today.  Dimya tried to float the idea of a gas pipeline from Siberia to China, so he can try and make some kopeks back on his now-redundant natural resources.  

     'Great!' said the Chinese.  'Build and pay for it yourselves!'

     They are not remotely interested in bankrolling a project that would cost tens of billions - it's a looooong way from the Siberian gas-fields to the Chinese border - take years to accomplish and would be horribly vulnerable to A Mysterious Un-Identified Drone flying into it.  Art!

 

     Let's retitle that: "Where the natural gas pipelines may have run between Russia and China"

     Ooops.  Likewise, China may be supplying Ruffia with golf buggies and motorbikes, but they absolutely will not supply unequivocal military hardware.  Ruffia is a minor trading partner of China and Xi isn't going to risk the other 90% of his economy thanks to secondary sanctions.  This is probably not what the Fun-Sized Foot Fiddler wanted or expected out of the meeting, so he's cast upon his own <thinks> peregrinations.  No Chinese support or money bar some Honda knock-offs.  Art!

Some people have a hard time grasping the concept of "STOP SHOOTING!"

     Wowsers, this is only about 20% of what I had to write about the Kremlin Gremlin's ceasefire proposals.  I think I'd better end this Intro here lest it become the whole of today's blog*.

     Laterz!

EGAD!  What?

Conrad was scrolling through various web pages, looking to see the inspirational flint that struck metaphorical sparks, when he spotted this.  I can't even begin to comment on it.  Art!

     I dunno.  Perhaps the article writer hails from sub-Saharan Africa, where drought is a perpetual foe.  Conrad is minded of that rhyme by James Thurber 

Early to rise, 

And early to bed.

Makes a man healthy, 

And wealthy,

And dead.

     I am looking out of the window in my Sekrit Layr and the skies are gunmetal grey, the rain is falling and all is wet.  None of it good.

Why One Ought To Never EVER Throw Books Away

I must have bored you already with details of how "The Cauldron" by Zeno was a novel I had once, many decades ago, and which is only purchasable nowadays by taking out a second mortgage.  The plot thickens.  Art!

     I'm afraid that I also had "Play Dirty", which is a novelisation - I think - of the film, which I've not seen for decades but which pretty thoroughly demolishes any idea you, the audience, might have about how warfare is noble or glorious**.  Art!

     

War veteran Michael in a war film

     Dog Buns, I'm now getting curious about the film.  Do I need to seek it out on DVD?  Well, no, 'need' is the wrong word here.  'Want', on the other hand, is a whole lot more applicable.

"City In The Sky"

We now take a narrative detour to discover how the alien Lithoi behave amongst themselves, and it isn't pretty.  Not at all.

Orskan 94 happily presumed he was being summoned to the higher levels for an official  congratulation on his section’s construction of a flying eye already, whilst still fabricating the giant camouflage sheet for the baseship.  His artificer minions were also building missiles, but at a lower priority, and he’d reduced the shifts working on the flying eyes now that one was actually operational.  His workers needed sufficient rest and recuperation or they’d begin to make stupid mistakes, despite what Arkan 22 might order.

     He took the lifting platform, musing on their Contract.  Personally he wouldn’t have ever dreamed of taking it on – with clients like this you could never be entirely sure they wouldn’t simply exterminate you once the terms were fulfilled.  Wriggling his limbs in the Lithoi equivalent of a sigh, he condemned their clients to the Outer Darkness.  Cyborgs!  Sufficiently organic to be susceptible to anger, insufficiently mechanical to be predictable.

     The giant lift came to a halt and he undulated out, only to be surprised by an escort of two armed and armoured guards from the little-used Internal Security detail.  One of them directed an electronic suppressor at him, and a worried Orskan felt all his hi-tec gadgets die.

     ‘What is the meaning of this!’ he blustered, drawing himself up to full height.

      Which is all of five feet, if you need to know.

History Repeating Itself Just With Different Uniforms

If you goldfish remember what I was blogging about earlier this year, you'll remember that it involved the British (and Commonwealth) campaign in Palestine, where it was verrrrry dodgy trying to supply the forces there by sea, along the Palestinian coastline.  'Campaign' during the First Unpleasantness, of 1914 - 1918 vintage, just to be clear.  Art!

     This is one of the reasons why there are no ports or harbours along the Gaza coastline; it's a hostile shore thanks to weather and geography and the British (and Commonwealth) of 1917 vintage had exactly the same problems.  Except at that time they had to also contend with Teuton bomber aircraft and Austro-Hungarian artillery.  The Germans and Austrians are staying out of this one.

     One has to admire the optimistic surfer chap in the above picture.  Hope springs eternal and all that.

Finally -

Your Humble Scribe now has the option of having bagels with cream cheese and salmon, having peregrinated <crosses fingers that this word means what he thinks it does> into Lesser Sodom earlier this evening.  Thank you, goodnight and Ambrose Bierce For Prez!

*  You must surely KNOW that we're coming back to this.

**  Stop press.  It's not.

What A Horrorshow!

This Word Might Be Familiar If You've Read "A Clockwork Orange"

Which I have, of course - obviously! - because it's part of the invented 'Nadsat' language that Anthony Burgess created, as a Romanised version of Cyrillic and Ruffian.  The original Ruffian is pronounced "Khorosho", which is close enough to 'Horrorshow' to not make much difference.  Art!

     Take it from me, the film is a whole lot more entertaining than the novel, because Stan The Man had a way with scripts and storyboarding.  I recall an anecdote related by the avuncular and jolly R. Lee Ermey, about a car journey he took with Stan.  Art!

Real life.  Not cinema.

     Stan was driving, and simultaneously discussing with Lee the landscape outside the car, and how he'd be shooting and lighting and editing it, at which point he drove the car into a ditch alongside the road.  Highway safety, children: keep your eyes on the road.  Shaken not stirred, both got out, which is when Stan continued about how he'd be shooting and lighting and editing.  The car crash mattered not one iota to him.

      ANYWAY what I wanted to do in this Intro is get back to the subject matter of "Chernobyl Diaries", because if I've had to endure it, then you can shoulder some of the pain, too.  Art!

     Please forgive the desaturated image, this is all filmed at night with very little contrast or relief.  Here you see the survivors getting hold of a map, which might then benefit themselves yet not us the audience.  There will be a lot of shots that follow which might as well be in a black and white film, because - well, it's a low budget horror film, what else can you expect?  Art!

     The group stumbles across Natalie, whom had been in the upturned van.  Do they bother to debrief her?  Ask questions?  Fill in the gaps?  Of course they don't, because they're all idiots.  Art!

     Apologies for the execrable quality here, this is the best I could do at short notice and with the lighting as low as it was.  Here you see Natalie, at starboard, and A Mysterious Intruder at port.  This goes past so quickly it was only on the third viewing that I noticed AMI.  Art!

     The Mysterious Intruder has apparently second-guessed where the survivors will travel to and when, and is lying in wait.  Telepathy and telekinesis are real!

     Okay, settle down now.  Art!

     Allow me to elucidate with a better picture.  Art!

     What is this apparition?  Who knows!  For by the time they hesitatingly approach it, Natalie has vanished, and so has the Small Infant Apparition.  Which has never appeared in the film so far, nor does it ever again.  One might almost say "It's In The Script" as an explanation.  What are the chances that A Mysterious Intruder might get up those stairs, SILENTLY abduct Natalie and get away without being seen or heard?  About 0.001%, hence this Small Infant Apparition.  Art!

     This is where Michael, the Australian who ended up with a gun, gets scragged.  The other trio are trying to close the door, so Mike, in true horror film fashion, doesn't get inside to pull the door closed.  No, he remains outside, pushing it, thus being at the mercy of the marauding hordes that have killed Uri and Chris and Natalie.  Ooops.  Art!

    Talking of Uri, I think this is supposed to be him, except it's upside down and in poor contrast, so who knows?  He also appears to be a whole lot more intact than we were led to believe, given the exceedingly long blood trails that led to his Geiger counter and gun.  Again, no explanation about how his body ends up here, bar that refrain I maintain - Telepathy and Telekinesis.  I'm pretty certain it wasn't Chris, or his brother would be having a significant emotional event.  Once again, do not expect logic or common sense in a horror film, because it would be over within ten minutes were it to reflect reality.  Art!

     

James Blish as Captain Blish.

     Conrad cannot find a quote but is certain that he knows Ol' Blishy stated that a horror film would be over inside ten minutes IF THE CHARACTERS BEHAVED NORMALLY.  Which sounds true, even if it isn't.

     

Garbledegook

Pronounced the same as the novel.  Conrad recently held forth about speaking nonsense, and as a consequence mentioned Sir Stanley Unwin.  Art!

     Sorry, 'Sir Stanley Unwin' brings up unrelated nonsense about a person who established a publishing house.

     So!  Stan The Man - er - that is, Stan The Garblededook* Man - had, as his schtick, the ability to pronounce what sounded like scientific jargon but which was actually utter nonsense.  Don't knock it, this is how people earned an honest crust in the days before teh Interwebz, and if you doubt it just look up 'ventril

      ANYWAY he managed to parlay this Scientimodovalk successfully into a Gerry Anderson show.  Art!

    Behold "The Secret Service", which had live action alongside puppetry, waaay before "UFO".  It detailed the exploits of Father Unwin, who worked for B.I.S.H.O.P. - "British Intelligence Services Headquarters Operation Priest" and whom could be relied upon to spout convincing gibberish on cue.  There were a couple of novels based on this series, and Conrad - as you may have guessed - had one of them.  

     Gibberish.  It has fans.

A Matter Of Money

I beg your pardon!  What I originally wanted to post about was how two film genres are reliably able to make a profit, which is to say 1)  Pornography and 2) Horror.  The first because there are almost no overheads, and the second because whilst there might be overheads, they don't amount to much.  Certainly not compared to the income.  Art!

     They have probably gimmicked the mask, which used to be one of William Shatner - see Item Two above lest ye doubt honest Conrad.  What was the outlay for "Halloween"?

     $325,000.

     What did it make back at the box office, globally?

     $70,000,000.

     This is why horror films continue to be made.  If you have a problem with that, go take it up with John Carpenter.  And Jamie L. Curtis**.

"City In The Sky"

The Doctor is getting to go a-endangering, without the support or otherwise of Ace.

     This story was repeated at the next township, Birmingham, and at the next, New Hampton.  Given that the number of refugees moving on had declined successively at each town, the Doctor knew he couldn’t be far from discovering Alex.

     Which they did in Lancashire Landing.     Rather, he discovered them:  they had landed in a quiet street composed of the usual glass-panelled houses, astride a beaten earth track.  A few casual travellers gawped at the strange appearance of a blue police box in their quiet coastal fishing village.  No sooner had both Terry and the Doctor departed and locked the timeship doors than a freckled youth with tousled red hair came racing down the road to meet them.

     ‘I heard you!’ he yelled, skidding to a stop seconds before slamming into them.

     ‘Very good,’ said the Doctor, drily amused.  ‘Listen, you two.  Arc One is coming to land, in the desert north of New Eucla.  Thre they’ll be pretty much stranded in the outback without transport.’

     Alex’s jaw hung open when he realised that the sphere was being de-orbited.

     ‘Coming in to land!  From orbit?’ he gasped.  Terry suddenly realised that this feat must be more difficult than the Doctor let on.  He’d implied that it would be successful, not that it was almost impossible.

   Pretty sure those littoral communities actually exist in the here and now.

Once Again If Only We Had A T.A.R.D.I.S.

Yes yes yes, we are best mates with the Doctor, it's just he's always absent when you need him the most.  Art!

     Ah, if only we had the ability to see two weeks into the future.

     Come back to BOOJUM! on 14th June.  Then you will be able to see Donald Judas Trump mimicking Stanley Unwin.

*  Pronounced as in the novel.

**  Whom is not as hot as in 1978, but still above room temperature