Hark, Hark, The Dogs Do Clarke

To Subvert An Old Nursery Rhyme

For Lo! we are back on the subject of 'Greenland', that disaster film I inexplicably annotated and reviewed, and which has sustained the blog for these many weeks.  'Clarke' is the central film Macguffin, a planet-busting comet of enormous size and numoursness that has Mysteriously Snuck Up On Earth, with it's trajectory being either completely unknown, totally mis-calculated or known by governments who cravenly conspire to conserve their own carcass.  Art!

     One of that extremely small niche cowboy-dinosaur crossover films.  We are supposed to buy into the idea that a ten-ton dinosaur, thirty yards tall, can Mysteriously Sneak Up On Hom. Sap. in broad daylight, without being either heard or smelt. Yeah right, just like Clarke sneaks up on the Solar System

     ANWYWAY John, Allison and Nathan have become separated. Their intent is to meet up at Dale's farm, Dale being Allison's dad.  Art!

      Dale is the scrawny dude to starboard, as John arrives and breaks up the last poker game these old dudes will ever play, thanks to Clarke killing everybody off shortly.  Tut, John, you really lack manners!  Art?

    Here we see that Dale has a boatload of medals, which sharper eyes than mine have worked out mean he's a Vietnam veteran, possibly from the 173rd Airborne Brigade.  Meaning that he's a no-nonsense dude with the inherent tenderness of a teak railway sleeper.

     Then, shortly afterwards, Allison and Nathan turn up at the local bus-stop, because Dog Buns! the world may be about to end but South Canadian bus drivers will deliver passengers to their destination!  Art?

     Nathan, John, Allison and Dale in one shot.  Morena proving that she can jiggle enticingly - ACT! I mean act - act with the best of them.  Act*.  Art!

     Once again, we get television as the great expositor, revealing that the largest fragment of Clarke to date, 9 miles across, is going to hit the Mediterranean between North Africa and southern France at exactly 08:47 EST, meaning property prices in the Balearics are going to take a tumble. 
     So, SUDDENLY the powers-that-be are able to accurately predict where comet fragments are going to hit? Don't forget, this bombardment has been going on for 24 hours at this point.  

     Then, because presumably it cannot make a difference to the doomed viewers, the broadcast shows the huge underground refuge at Thule in Greenland.  The secret is out, for all that it will do anyone.  Equally suddenly - Art!

     Another Clarke fragment hits Kentucky, where our protagonists are located, in order to generate dramatic tension and because the scriptwriters are lazy dastards.  Props to the CGI people, their aftermath shot is outstanding.  Art!

     Very apocalyptic.  This is what John, Allison and Nathan are fleeing, as he thinks there's a chance they can get a flight from Osgood, just inside the Canadian border, to Thule in Greenland.  He got this information whilst in the back of that fateful truck earlier on.  Art!

     That truck heading north is John et al, booking it to try and reach a flight from Osgood.

     BUT WAIT!  Whom are those thanatos-inclined individuals who are headed into the Pocket Version Of Hades that we witnessed in the previous illo?  Maintaining proper highway separation between vehicles, to boot.  Conrad, were he one of these drivers, would have at least pulled off onto the hard shoulder to see what we're dealing with.  Art!

   Apologies if this is a tad unclear, it wasn't very well defined in the film itself.  What you are looking at is a rail derailment in the distance, because cheap thrills can only come from cheap spills.  The road has been blocked and thus the traffic tailback, which will probably take a day or two to reconcile and resolve before - O! silly me! we'll have the apocalypse before then. Whatever.  It's almost as if someone has it in for our pr HOLY DIABETIC CLAM-BAKES!

     An artillery barrage of comet fragments hits the traffic jam, and one can only exclaim in stunned surprise that there was a cinematic consequence of all that traffic being jammed in one place.  I mean, it's almost as if there were some supernatural force agitating against our protagonists .....

     Of course, I might be overthinking this -


A Little Gentle Shoeing 

As you may be aware, Conrad has no time for Donold Judas Trump, whom is the walking, talking definition of a narcissist.  Contrast his appearance on the golf course, where he appears to be an unholy blend of werewhale and wereslug, and his appearances as Prez, with his diaper, corset, elevator shoes, makeup and hairdo.  His man-crush idol, Putinpot, also has a public persona, where makeup and lighting are used to smooth away the ravages of time and stress.  Not easy being a genocidal dictator, you know.  Art!

     This is Bunker Grandad as of a couple of days ago.  No flattering lighting or makeup, just a 73-year old, old man worrying about who's going to stab him in the back.  Tee hee!  Also - Art!

Apparently Charlie Chipmunk Cheeks ought to be wearing glasses thanks to his fading eyesight, except he's far too vain to ever bother, as they make him look less 'hard'.  Anything he reads from is printed in VERY LARGE FONTS to compensate and staff are cautioned never to mention this, or it's window-diving time.


More Of Mordorvian Misery

a.k.a. 'Barad-Dur Is Going Bust', or the second instalment of my annotations concerning 'Joe Blogs' vlog about major Ruffian employers.  I should explain that none of this info is being passed on to Putinpot or he'd look ten times worse.  Art!

KAMAZ: Ruffia's biggest manufacturer of trucks, both civilian and military, with a 30,000 strong workforce.  As with Avtovaz, they have now gone over to a 4-day week, thanks to low civilian demand due to the orcses logistics and construction sectors contracting.  There are increased input costs to accommodate, a shortage of parts and the state is not ordering enough military trucks to balance out the shortfall.  Possibly because they are now resorting to donkeys.


Conrad's Victorian Brass Faucet Collection

Ha!  Just testing.  No, in fact we are back at BOVINGTON TANK MUSEUM once more, and we have now moved on from the Battle Of France period, which ends in June 1940.  Art!

     This is Tiger 131, as captured by the British in Tunisia, and a big beast it is too.  Note the interleaved suspension system, which gave a very smooth ride for a 56-ton metal monster, yet which was another example of Teuton over-engineering.  If an inner road wheel needed to be seen to, you had to remove two outer wheels to get to it.  The tracks needed replacing if you transported it by train, as otherwise it was too wide.  Needless to say, it was a tremendous gas hog and if it broke down you  needed two or three enormous recovery half-tracks to salvage it.  Yes, it had a whacking great gun and very thick armour, and was practically hand-assembled with absolutely no concessions to mass production.  Detroit laughs at you 131, laughs at you.  We shall revisit this character.  Art!

     The humble Panzer III, workhorse of the Panzer divisions until 1942.  The one here has been up-gunned to the 'long' 50 mm gun, from the 'kurz' 50 mm and the 37 mm before that.  The turret ring didn't allow for any bigger gun to be installed and they were taken out of service and converted to assault guns, where they did sterling service.  The yellow paint scheme may be desert camouflage or the standard base paint colour used from mid-war onwards.

This Is Getting Interesting

Another politician that Conrad cordially detests is the South Canadian Speaker of the House, 'Moscow' Mike Johnson, who is one of DJ Tango's more accomplished bootlickers.  Art!

     The Democrat, Grijalva, got elected a month ago and Johnson is trying to delay her being sworn in, because she will then sign a petition to release the Epstein files, bringing the number of signatures to the quorum and forcing their release.  This is all very bad optics - if Trump is innocent, why all the prevarication and delay?  Watch this space. 

*  And jiggle <Mister Hand strikes again!>