I Know, I Know
You think this is going to be a brief retrospective about the hilarious scenes in "Generation Kill", where the ironically-named 'First Suicide Battalion' (that is, they expected to be sent in first ahead of everyone else) test their M.O.P.P. procedures, and their embedded correspondent embarrasses himself, so inept is he. Art!
'MOPP' is what the South Canadians refer to very formally as their protective kit, 'Mission-Oriented Protective Posture', rather more prosaically known as a 'Noddy Suit' by British soldiery. As you can see above, it protects against nuclear, chemical and bacteriological threats, but not heat. Being completely enclosed in the desert must have been a minor species of torture.
But of course - obviously! - we're not whanging on about that.
Nor, sadly, are we on about 'Rollmops', those delicious Continental dainties consisting of herring pickled in sugar and vinegar and wrapped around chopped onion. Art!
Dog Buns. Now I'm hungry.
No, what I'm going to refer to here is the humble mop, an implement consisting of a wooden shaft and a head made out of a mass of fabric threads, utilised to clean floors. The word 'Mop' itself comes from the Latin <hack spit> 'Mappa', meaning 'Napkin'. Art!
Admittedly this is Mus. Sapiens, but humanoid enough for my analogy to remain mostly true. Here, the idle skiving apprentice looks to exploit the dungeon mop as a labour-saving device. Of course, it all goes horribly wrong, Art!
Conrad rather suspects the well would run dry long before the castle resembles 'Waterworld'.
Well, generations of technological progress have given us the direct, much more obedient version of the animated bucket and mop. Art!
The 'Zerodis', a steal at £45
You, the contemporary equivalent of the idle skiving apprentice, fill this gadget up with warm soapy water, set it going and off it wanders, cleaning the floor whilst you eat sweet chilli crackers and sip your Marmite drink. Probably watching something trashy on Netflix, too, if I'm any judge.
ANYWAY today's torrid tale of toxicity is a rather less apocalyptic one than the usual, where one party ends up £100,000 down, minus an eye or hospitalized with food poisoning. Or all three.
The narrator here is Big Sister, and the other parties are her boyfriend, hereafter BSB, and her brother, Little Brother Bottomhole, LBB. You see, BS and BSB had taken pity on LBB when he'd been kicked out of his family home for using drugs and was living in his car. They let him move into their apartment, where things were fine until near the end of their lease, by which time he was exhibiting serious Bottomhole behaviour. Art!
'Little brother bottomhole' courtesy AI Art Generator.
At least it's SFW.
The couple had been given their Zerodis by BS's grandma, who no longer wanted it, and BS and BSB had regularly used it to clean the apartment floors after they went to bed. All it needed was a regular supply of replacement mop heads, which she and BSB bought. LBB never used it once, nor did he buy any replacement mop heads, THE UTTER CAD!
His 'moving out' before the lease expired was a protracted process where he would randomly turn up, unannounced, and remove his stuff, taking it back to his boycave in the burbs, or wherever. To him, 'His Stuff' also included the Zerodis, which he took without asking or discussing, blowing off later phone calls about it and claiming it was his all along because Grandma had gifted him The Precious for his birthday centuries ago and it wasn't being returned. Well!
They changed the locks, put up a security camera and informed the leasing agency that LBB was persona non grata. BS sent LBB a long text explaining that he was being dismissive, rude and entitled about the Zerodis, to which he replied that he also wanted their plasma-screen television and they could bring it along when it was convenient for him, and The Precious was all his HIS HIS.
BS had given up all hope of ever seeing The Pre - excuse me, the Zerodis again at this point, which is where a resolution came in from right out of left field, if you'll forgive the mangled analogy. BSB had a 'private conversation' with LBB which wasn't detailed but which involved a threat to destroy his reputation - reading between the lines here, it involved growing drugs in a greenhouse-room - which was already in the gutter going down the drain. Art!
 |
| Liberated! |
It turned up on their doorstep in a box. Apparently LBB feared being traduced more than he lusted after The Precious, so they got it back intact, and are now going No Contact with the swivel-eyed loon. Nor did he get their telly. What an utter cad and bounder, and proof that drugs turn your brains to moosh. Also, I tried the AI Art Generator for an image and it disappointed. Art!
Don't you just love a happy ending?
Number One With A Bullet
Normally this phrase means that this is a big hit and has come storming up the charts like a runaway missile. Not today. Today it means that the bullets are directed at it, because it's so utterly awful.
Yes, we are at the final entry in Jeremy Jahn's Bottom 10 list of awful films from 2024. Art!
"The Crow"
Jezza said that he was morally conflicted about watching this cinematic turkey with his brother, as both are fans of the Nineties original - which, yes, Conrad has seen. Jezza really let rip with his criticism of this version, so much so that I can't copy his speech. He also scornfully derided the studio's attempt to reframe their release as being 'true to the source material', which is a graphic novel I'm unaware of. Jezza is, he's read it and poo-pooed the studio's claim. "There is no human connection" he states amidst other criticisms, and indeed Jezza seems to have put more thought and creativity into his critique than the entire studio input into their burned offering. Art!
Thus, at best, at absolute peak best-possible-interpretation performance, it made $12 million, on a $50 million budget. So at least there won't be a sequel.
Antipodes
Which is Latin <hack spit> for 'Opposite the feet', and is usually present in This Sceptred Isle when we talk about either the Ockers or the Polite Australians, as the common belief here is that these two nations are directly on the side of Earth opposite the Allotment of Eden.
Not so. Art!
There we are, superimposed on the Pacific, nowhere near either of the ANZACs and possibly closer to Antarctica than we are to the Ockers.
The same erroneous belief exists in South Canada, which came up when I was footling around doing research for "The China Syndrome". You remember that? Where a nuclear reactor meltdown would burn through the Earth's crust and sail merrily across the mantle and core, a la a sailing ship?
Nope. Art!
As you can plainly see here, South Canada is mostly in the Indian Ocean, apart from the bit that tickles Antarctica. You can see why this never caught on as a descriptive phrase: "The Indian Ocean And Antarctica Syndrome" doesn't have the same cachet, does it?
Sound Sound
You ought to be aware that I'm watching Season Two of "Invincible" at present. It does seem to be following the outline of the comics, though jumbling stuff up in order to increase the drama early on. Amber, Mark's girlfriend, does seem to have a longer character lifespan and arc in the television series than she ever did in the comic. Not sure how long this will prevail, as we all know who Mark ends up with. Art!
Never mind ogling Eve in her swimsuit superhero uniform, what I meant to say here is that the soundtrack is always interesting, with tracks I've not heard by unknown artists, alongside with the only-to-be-expected rap guff. For example, 'Knock Me Off My Feet' by SOAK. The track and artist's details are available in a handy expanding side-bar for those of us who want to know, and I did want to, and now I do.
Finally -
Getting a bit too far beyond Count, gotta stop being so prolix, in which case, toodle-oo!
No comments:
Post a Comment