The Snowball Effect

No!  I Am Not Talking About The Drink

Although, having mentioned it, I am now curious as to what, exactly, a 'Snowball' is.  Art!

     I see.  Equal parts of advocaat and lemonade, possibly with a dash of lime juice added.  So, Conrad has consumed same in the past.     

     ANYWAY no more of what this Intro's not about.  Instead I refer you to the effect of a snowball accelerating downhill, accumulating more snow along the way, until it becomes a monster as big as a house and capable of destroying one. Art!

     I am talking, of course - obviously! - metaphorically, because here in the high hills we rarely get snow in decent amounts, and if we do then Tandle Hill Park is immediately mobbed with sledgers.  Today's Intro concerns a horror story from Youtube's Reddit sagas, which begins inauspiciously enough.

     Disbelieving Poster, hereafter DP, explained that she had lots of houseplants in her houseplant room, as she inherited her mother's love of same.  Over the course of six months about one-third of her plants had died, for no obvious reason.  She ruled out lack of light, erratic watering, lack of nutrients or an affliction called 'root rot', which I'd never heard of.  Art!

     This is a 'Monstera Albo', which her sister bought as a birthday present, and it's death really upset DP as they cost hundreds of pounds.  So, she unpotted it and was diligently inspecting the roots when SURPRISE! she noticed the smell of bleach.  Red Flag Number One.  Because the only person with access to the houseplants was her husband.  Ooopsie.

     When she confronted hubbo about this he initially denied it but 'caved' as she put it when she persisted, eventually admitting that he'd been putting bleach in the feed solution she used on the houseplants, without giving a reason or apologising.  Red Flag Number Two.

Life can be a bleach

     DP was, entirely unsurprisingly, unhappy at this behaviour and immediately lost all trust in Abusive Hubbo.  Here she got a lot of advice from readers on Reddit, bringing up the issue of who owns their house?  She and her sister, as an inheritance.  Plus, there is a small daughter involved.  Ooopsie again.

     During the daytime DP texted AH, because she stated he communicates better via text than face-to-face.  Red Flag Number Three.  When he responded, his reason for poisoning the plants was that, quote, " she needed to be taken down a peg or two".  Red Flag Number Four.  See what I meant by 'snowballing'?

     DP then left work early and got home well before AH, and she trespassed in His Room, which apparently was his Holiest Of Holies Never To Be Disturbed.  This was because many, many people on Reddit had warned her that AH's behaviour was only going to escalate, or already had.  SURPRISE!  DP found a drawer full of her four-year old daughter's dolls and toys.  AH would routinely shout at his tearful daughter for 'losing' toys, which he had in fact stolen himself.  Red Flag Number Five.  Art!

Discordant families

     DP then texted matey and told him not to come back home, like ever, and that he could pick up his essentials at the weekend, when her father and brother would be escorting him.

     Despite this, DP posted an update where AH screamed abuse at her, punched her and kicked her in the face.  I rather think we've gone past red flags at this point, don't you?  During the inevitable divorce proceedings he then decided to cut all contact with his daughter, and ghosted all his college friends.  This, it seems, is the real him coming out, rather than the mask he displayed for years.

     The final update DP posted was one where she felt so much better now that AH was out of her life, and daughter was also feeling much, much happier.

     One of the Comments came from a criminal psychologist, who said the plant poisoning was a dress rehearsal for far more sinister happenings.

     Snowball, anyone?

Conrad's Critical Calumny

As you should surely know by now, Your Humble Scribe is reading through all his back-issues of "Judge Dredd The Megazine", going from what you might call Volume One, which ran for 20 issues as a monthly publication, and I'm now on Volume Two, which made a big splash about going fortnightly.  Art!

     I never took the badge off the cover, honestly.  The thing is, this issue is over 30 years old and the adhesive on the sellotape had perished, so the badge, no longer constrained by a couple of kilos of back issues, has come astray.

     Now, those cover stories - Ol' Stonyface is as reliable as ever.  "The Bad Man" is far too close to a rip-off of "The Terminator" to be successful, and it seems like a prologue to a much longer story that never got told. "Devlin Waugh", on the other hand, is quite the revelation.  The narrative blurb about it invites you to imagine Noel Coward in the body of Arnold Schwarzenegger - as he was thirty years ago.  Waugh is also very camp and implicitly gay, which was pretty daring for a British comic in 1992.  Art!

"The War Illustrated Edition 194 November 1944"

One collection of comic art is enough for the blog, so nothing of Bernie Wrightson in this one.  You do get more pics from TWI, you lucky people.  Art!

     This construction concoction is the British 'Mulberry' harbour, a pre-fabricated port that was shipped or sailed across the Channel and set up on the Normandy coast.  The South Canadians had one, too, which was destroyed in the storms of late June, which might sound like a catastrophe and the Teutons might have been rubbing their hands with glee.  Ill-advisedly.  Through very heavy use of DUKWs, the South Canadians managed quite handily.  The British one was a temporary expedient until a major port such as Cherbourg could be captured and renovated, but it was critical for that temporary period.  Plus, once established it instantly rendered the Teuton fortifications elsewhere along their occupied coastline obsolete.

Ho Ho Ho!

I couldn't help but snigger in delight when reading this by-line on the BBC News website.  Art!

No, he's not having a fit, this is what passes as 'dancing' for Donold

     Donold Judas Trump used the music without permission of the songwriter Eddy Grant, which now makes him liable for damages AND Ed's legal fees.  Being the blustering oaf he is, he will either refuse to pay, hoping to drag things out further, or make an appeal, hoping to drag things out further.  At the end of the case, if he's still alive by then, he will, once again, refuse to pay his lawyers because they didn't win, and then they will sue him to get paid.  Which will serve them right for having him as a client.

     The item does get reality confused, rather, much as Donold himself does.

Mr Grant's battle with the former President began in August 2020, before his election to the White House, when the songwriter's counsel, Wallace E.J. Collins, issued a cease and desist letter to Donald Trump's campaign team.

     Only in Pumpkinhead's mind, dude, only in Pumpkinhead's mind.

Finally -

It's been raining steadily for the past five hours so I'm not strolling down to Lesser Sodom, especially since I got remaindered chicken drumsticks and beef meatballs yesteryon.  Edna, however - that word again! - is pining to get out and I could do with getting my step count up.  I never seem to towel her off properly afterwards, mind.