By Way Of A Confession
This whole Intro was sparked by a sidebar item on the BBC's News webpage, which rather caught my attention, as it might have yours.
Before we investigate, a slight diversion. For who-knows-what reason, a line popped into my head recently, from futurologist Gerry Anderson's "Thunderbirds", about a fighter aircraft (the AL4) that could travel " - at the speed of accelerated light" which is quite a striking concept encapsulated in a brief quote on a children's program. Art!
No, this is not the AL4, it's the RTL2, which is a big bird in it's own right if you compare it to those civilian vehicles in the background. Note how the taxiway looks worn and used, that's production design taking pains there. Art!
The AL4, you see, only ever existed as blueprints, though we are told that the cost of the project had gotten to $25,000,000,000, which is an awful lot of 1965 dollars. Art!
To say that these incredibly expensive plans were - ah - less than secure would be to quibble a bit. Moreover, in the 21st century (taken as 2165) they'd all be digital and stored in the cloud, goes the criticism.
How much of an adventure would that generate? I ask you.
Right! Back to malbed, which is bedlam backwards, because that's how we roll. Art!
This, as you might expect, got Your Morbid Raconteur pondering about being buried alive, which might yet have happened if the funeral home people weren't on the ball.
Like many other horror or macabre themes, this one was first explored by the South Canadian man of letters Edgar Allan Poe. He was well aware that there was a fear abroad in Western society at that time of being buried alive, possibly because medical science had come across concepts like coma and catalepsy, bodily states which were not easy to discern from actual death, especially for non-medical people. Art!
A very much alive Eddie
He exploited this weltanschaung with his tale "The Premature Burial", told from a first person narrative view, where the narrator was prone to catalepsy. He had a mortal fear of being pronounced dead in this condition, then being buried alive.
There is a slight plot hole here, as there's a good chance an undertaker would drain the blood out of the 'corpse' and replace it with embalming fluid.
How much of an adventure would that generate? I ask you.
ANYWAY the Narrator gets the fright of his life when he awakens, in the dark, in a confined space, and thinks dark thoughts -
Until it's all explained away as being a cramped berth on a boat at night. That's alright then. Art!
A Roger Corman opus
The film depicts several methods whereby Ray's character may escape from his pine box - No! not the wrong one yet - if he is mistaken for having jitterbugged off this mortal coil. Art!
Just in case
He demonstrates another method of summoning help; a bell above ground connected via cable to the coffin's interior, which could be rung when his state of near-death receded and he awoke from the slumbers of <insert summat Greek and mythological here>. Art!
Once again there's a couple of plot holes here. First of all, cemeteries are not heavily frequented by the living, and even if a passing mourner happened to hear a sinister bell pealing as the shades of night descended, would they reallllly go and investigate?
My second point is that matey has been interred in a coffin, with half a ton of soil cast upon the lid. He'd asphyxiate, possibly within minutes.
My third point is that, if he breached the coffin with those tools, inrushing earth would crush and smother him. Art!
Having a window upon the face of the deceased is a nifty idea, except it would only be effective if the coffin was left on display for several days, since it would be that long before anyone noticed that Ol' Ray's character seems to be remarkably well-preserved (we will assume there was no jiggery-pokery with embalming fluid). I think the plot has people being in an indecent haste to get rid of him and his wooden one-man room. Art!
Blimey, I'd better wrap up, this went on far longer than I expected. As you can see, this film is "The Wrong Box". I had mistakenly recalled that it featured people being buried alive. In fact it's about a 'Tontine' which is another music from a different kitchen.
More Modern-Day Mordor Money Malfeasance
I have unilaterally decided to add "Modern-Day" when talking about Ruffia because mention of the works of Ol' Tolky here is not uncommon, and we don't want to confuse the readers.
First of all, acknowledgement is due to "Prune60" on Twitter, whom claims to be a lady electrical and power engineer. Her analytical and problem-solving approach to matters, not to mention the detail involved in her Tweets, bears out that she's not fibbing. Art!
That's her profile pic.
Enough wibble! Prune posted an analysis from RIA Novosti (Ruffian media organisation) about exports to Ruffia from the West. Art!
Wow, sounds impressive, nicht wahr?
That's what it's supposed to do. Fun fact: the total for Maltese exports was €3,800, so Your Huble Scribe wonders what on earth they exported - a cow?
ANYWAY Prune, mighty Prune, did more digging and calculated that the combined total of the Irish, Cypriot and Portuguese export increase was <drum roll trumpet blare> -
€10,000,000.
Doesn't seem so impressive now, does it?
Far more consequential was a detail they tacked on at the end of the article. Art!
So, between those four countries, that's a net loss of imports to Ruffia of €878,000,000. In just their first quarter.
Conrad notes that their 'official' rate of inflation has gone up to 8.17%, which means the 'unofficial' rate, which we call 'reality' is at least 18.17%.
Enough Wibble! More Pictures!
More interstellar spacecraft courtesy "Interstellar Research Centre". Art!
Possibly one of the most famous and iconic spacecraft in cinema: the 'Discovery' from "2001: A Space Odyssey". Well, it turns out there was an earlier design, one I've not encountered before. Art!
Actually this looks to be a design from 2002 by one 'George Dyson'. It's the 'Pusher-plate' concept, whereby the detonation of a 15 kiloton nuclear warhead behind the ship propels it forward, and the stats mention an acceleration of up to 4G, which is pretty healthy. Art!
And in the spirit of spaceships and sci-fi .....
"City In The Sky"
The Doctor is now sneaking about the innards of the Lithoi baseship. The author coyly (and wisely) doesn't seem to have explained how, exactly, it drilled itself into the Nullarbor Plain.
‘I am the
Doctor,’ he intoned, taking thirty seconds to drone out his introduction. Despite this, he realised his speech was near
the limit of intelligibility for the aliens thanks to his inherent speed. What vital information they had to impart
would take hours, days even, to extract at this rate.
Holding up
a hand to prevent another incredibly protracted question, he rooted around in
his pockets for any easily-assimilable metabolic boosters. Nothing along the lines of the applique
patches that Captain Kirwin boasted.
‘Oho. Let’s see what a sugar rush does to you, eh?’
he mused to himself, picking up an emergency reserve bag of jelly babies from
one of his innumerable pockets. He took
one of the sweets and bit into it before offering the remnant to the middle
Lithoi, who seemed to be the leader of the three.
Orskan had
been simmering in a conciliatory bog of self-pity alongside two of his more
loyal, if foolish, minions. They had
protested the demotion of their nominal superior and were to be made hideous
examples of, to better motivate the slaving masses down in the workshops.
Endless
boring hours had drifted by in the cramped prison quarters. An enamelled cell no bigger than a large
wardrobe, with a single low-power light, and restraints that kept prisoners
uncomfortably upright, Orskan had exhausted it’s delights in the space of five
seconds.
Then the
door lock had violently blown apart, throwing sparks everywhere, before the
door was slowly pushed open and –
Jelly-babies. Every Time Lord should carry them.
More Mysterious MacGuffinery
We need to finish off with more pictures, instead of a wall of text, so allow me to portray the tat being flogged on "The Daily Beast"'s webpage advert bar. Art!
There's nothing to give a sense of scale, is there? It could be half an inch high or three feet across*. The chrome finish implies either a car part or a cooking utensil. Let us cheat and peek beyond the veil. Art!
Useless tat, as already mentioned. YOU DO NOT NEED TO FILTER YOUR SHOWER WATER! and certainly not for £32.95 a go.
Finally -
Working on auto-pilot, I logged on to start work at 09:00 and, only after looking at the daily schedule I work from on a notepad, did I realise that today's start is at 10:00, thanks to a 9-hour day Monday.
The plus is that I've had enough time to finish Friday's blog already. Go me!
* None of that metric nonsense here.
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