Blazing Paddles

No, This Is Not A Comic Intro At All

It is, actually, rather grim.  However  - O my favourite word! - because we have spoofed the spoof, it allows us to put up a photograph of same.  It's in the Terms and Conditions in case you were wondering.  Art!

Breaking the fourth, fifth and sixth walls

     Where were we?  O yes, about to start this tale in the year 1891, which is quite close to when 'Blazing Saddles' is set, if you need a tenuous connection between the two.  1891, you see, is the year that the paddle-steamer 'General Slocum' was laid down, later going into service as a passenger ship in New York.  She - the gender convention for ships to those confused - was constructed of white oak and yellow pine, as was the trend in those days.  Art!

     She was a side-paddle steamer, with two wheels of 26 paddles each side, capable of carrying up to 2,500 passengers, owned and run by the Knickerbocker Steamboat Company, an unlikely name yet true, honest.  What stored trouble for the ship was her Lamp Room, which, if we can prod Art awake with this unsheathed kukri -

The location, courtesy "Fascinating Horror"

     This room was where the ship's lamps were re-filled with oil, which substance had to be flammable to be able to burn and give off illumination.  The OHSA being a distant dream in 1904, the Lamp Room had suffered 13 years of spills and leaks, thus becoming a luminous liability, especially since crew members habitually smoked there.

     On the 15th of June 1904 the ship was carrying 32 crew and 1,328 passengers, the majority of whom were women and children, all going to attend a church picnic at a location further north-east along the East River shoreline.  At 10:00 a.m. the first signs of smoke were witnessed -

     Captain Van Schaick made a woefully bad decision upon seeing the fire now raging on the lower decks; instead of docking or beaching the ship anywhere close at hand, he steered her all the way upriver to North Brother Island.  Art!

     Sailing into the wind meant it fanned the flames down the whole length of the Slocum, and by the time she beached the whole vessel was well ablaze.  Up to 500 people had already died when part of the upper hull collapsed into the river and anyone who jumped from the starboard side into deep water when the ship beached also drowned.  Some observers put the blame on women's clothing of the day, being made of heavy wool that, once saturated, increased in weight so much it dragged people under.  Conrad rather suspects that the currents in the East River - an estuarine reach NOT a river - which are fierce and strong are just as much to blame.

     The eventual death toll came to 1,021 people, either burned or drowned, with many of the survivors owing their lives to the tugs and fireboats that came to help, and to the medical staff based at the quarantine hospital on North Brother.  Art!

     You can see how thoroughly the superstructure has been destroyed by fire, which is a risk that comes with a wooden ship.  

     This was one of the worst disasters ever to befall New York and was only overtaken on 9/11 with the collapse of the Twin Towers.  The catastrophically bad thing about the General Slocum burning up is that it was far worse than it ought to have been.  The life-jackets had been hanging out in the open for 13 years, causing their cork interiors to perish, and many had been brought up to the legal weight by adding iron bars, which are not known for an innate tendency to float.  The company that provided them got off scot-free, obviously, as did the city inspectors bribed to report that the lifebelts were sound.  Art!

Not an Iron Man, he hopes

     Van Schaick's dubious reasons for not beaching or docking sooner were insufficient to have him prosecuted for manslaughter, but he caught it in the neck for the life-jackets, and the rotten linen hosepipes that burst when used, not to mention the lifeboats that were wired down with the wires painted over.  He served 3.5 years of a ten-year sentence, whilst his employers, five of whom were indicted, got off scot-free again <mutters darkly>.

     Your Humble Scribe hadn't heard of this disaster until late last week and felt like sharing a bit of the dismal as he has plenty to go around.

A Slightly More Minor Disaster In The Making

Back to that winning Youtube vlog of DANGEROUS toys for boys (and a few girls) from the Sixties*, the decade before they took health and safety seriously.  Art!

     This is the Gilbert company's 'Atomic Energy Lab' which may have been inspired by Ike's 'Atoms For Peace' initiative, or, more likely, a way to turn a dollar.  It included a cloud-chamber, Geiger counter, electroscope, spinthariscope and, the real deal appeal, three samples of radioactive material.  Alpha, beta and gamma radiation sources, since you ask.

     I was being a tad cynical about the kit, as Mr. Gilbert was sincere about educating young boys - note the absence of any girly presence on the box art - in the ways of science.  What told against the kit was not safety concerns per se, but the cost, equivalent to £800 today.

     Sane scientific analysis of the AEL explained that radiation exposure was minimal and as harmless as the blurb promised - AS LONG AS THE RADIOACTIVE SAMPLES WERE LEFT SEALED.

     Would you trust a ham-fisted clumsy clot like a ten-year old Conrad with -

     No, don't even go there.

"The War Illustrated Edition 198 19th January 1945"

Okay, okay, I've been very verbose above and will try to corral my itching-yet-inspired fingers to be less loquacious.  Art!

     Once again they're blaming Von Rundstedt for the Ardennes offensive, which is unfair and probably hurt his feelings.

     ANYWAY the first picture shows South Canadian artillery after having to change locations, which gunners hate having to do.  First of all they have to locate themselves incredibly accurately on their maps, then range in their guns, work out distance to targets, liaise by radio with their Forward Observation Officers, stock ammunition well away from their guns, and finally dig the guns in, which is a real chore in hard-frozen ground.  Below that is a hastily established machine gun position, with no cover and hardly any concealment; next job will be to find sandbags.  At bottom a group of South Canadians cluster around a King Tiger, a 70-ton monster that was unrecoverable if it broke down or ran out of fuel thanks to it's sheer mass.  I don't see any signs of damage so it may simply have run out of diesel and been abandoned.

     I wrote a lot again, didn't I?

Cock-A-Doodle Done

David Cronenberg once gleefully claimed kudos for being nicknamed 'The King Of Veneral Horror' - "It's a small kingdom but it's mine!"

     In the same way, an hotel in the Phillipines has been awarded the signal honour from the "Guiness Book Of Records" of having the largest artefact in the world that resembles a chicken.  Art!

     The twist in the tail is that they only serve duck and pheasant.

Finally -

Better get back to that Phillipines zombie movie, "Outside" which has quite a bit of depth to it and is just as much about family dynamics as the walking undead.   I should add 'unhappy and dysfunctional family dynamics'.  Though how would any family cope with society breaking down under the Zombie Apocalypse?  Ah, the big philosophical questions that zed films raise, hmmm? Interesting to hear Tagalog interspersed with occasional English.  Art!

     Cherish those smiles because there are precious few in the film itself.

     Magadang gabi!

*  I checked and they were fibbing, this is from the Fifties.  The era when Atomic Power Was Your Friend**.

**  Like sharks.