Pay Attention! There Will Be A Quiz Later

And If You Get It Wrong -
     That invasion fleet has laser-cannons that can singe the bristles off a fly's antennae at a million miles distance, in the dark and with one eye closed.
     Just so you know you're standing on the edge, figuratively ...  

The Edge, standing on

Frankenstein
     It's nearly 200 years since Mary Shelley conjured up this modern fable.  Obviously it resonates with society because today Conrad spotted a bus poster that featured the title and tag-line:  "Frankenstein; after 200 years he's still alive".
     NO!  NO!  NO!
     Excuse me - let me quaff some bismuth-hydrobromohexane* - that's better, the pulse has settled a little.
     Being a bit of a stickler - okay an obsessive saddoe - Conrad likes the facts to be correct.  Victor Frankenstein was the doctor who created the Monster; "Frankenstein" refers to the Doctor, not the Monster!
     I don't suppose we're allowed to call him "The Monster" anymore, either, given that this is the touchy-feely PC 21st Century.  "Differently-beautiful" or "Handsome-lite", perhaps.  And - don't tell me, old Faceache has managed to find his way to America. And - there will be a female romantic interest.  And - if there's a baddy, he'll be played by an English actor <Mister Hand prevents any more tedious rambling by moving on>

Slipknot's missing member

Escutcheon
     Let us hasten away from what Hollywood has done to classic English literature and instead soothe our savage breasts with - language (music in the next item).
     "Escutcheon" is pretty definitely an import into English, probably post-Norman, and refers to a range of dishes cooked up in the castle kitchen for the local lord and his retinue, done kebab-style impaled on spare swords that happened to by lying around.
     What's that?
     It's not?
     It means a bit of brass around a keyhole?
     Oh, come on, reality!  How boring is that!

Unfortunately this will not open your front door.  Tasty, though

I-Pod And Car
     Thanks to the USB slot in the mobile-murder-machine that Conrad drives to work in the Daily D1ckhead Death Derby, it is possible to plug in an I-Pod** and have it play tunes.  However, the I-Pod plays a strange randomised list of unconnected songs.  Then, after a random period, it crashes.  Classical FM then comes over the speakers for a minute until the I-Pod remembers that it ought to be playing music.  It starts back at the beginning, and if you were 125 songs into the playlist, why then you need to click on the "Next" button 126 times.  Then it crashes again -
     The I-Pod.  Not as cute as a puppy, but you can't plug a puppy into an USB port.   Well, you could, but the RSPCA would prosecute, and Anna would be very cross indeed.
     Today's traffic jam:

NO!

Whoops!

This, for a mile.  Thankfully music hath charms and prevents Conrad going beserk with an atomic howitzer

Progress
     Yes, I have managed to sort a considerable number of books since posting last night's state of play.  Gaze in wonder!

Only another 250 to go!

Er - yes I have been reading them - only one book though, and I can give it up any time I want.  Any time.  Any time at all.  Not addicted.  

So - Tanks?
     Yes indeedy.  And because it is February, in which month Valentine's Day falls, here is a Valentine tank:

Mk III in desert camouflage

I'm afraid that, at 17 tons and 17 feet long, it isn't an acceptable substitute for a bunch of roses.  Although, if you are in trouble with the partner, it would make a pretttty effective refuge.

In Ending
     Obligatory cute animal picture, which has been rather monopolised of late by Edna, our domesticated wolf:

Repeat after me: "Domestication wolf not cute puppy!  Domestication wolf ..."

"Wanna pet me? I do mastication.***"

*  Sedative for twitchy aliens.  Also retards fires, strips paint and kills fungi.
**  Whoever invented the I-Pod gets a free Staying Alive pass when that invasion fleet arrives!
*** "Mastication" - chewing.

Tally ho!

Fid!

To Be More Accurate, "Fidelis"
     The Latin for "Loyal".  Hence the motto of the US Marine Corps, "Semper Fidelis" - "Always Faithful".  It forms a male name - "Fidel" - hmm seem to remember some connection between a Fidel and the USMC.  
     Contrariwise, it is also the root of "Perfidy", which means "treachery" or "Base behaviour" or "Jolly well not on".
     And, if you are as old as Conrad, you will remember "High Fidelity", being a measurement of the faithfulness of a musical reproduction.
     Ah, "fid".  How versatile a root it is!

The potato.  Another versatile root

I Must Apologise
     No, not for keeping those cheeky Ukranian rascals in the Lower Dungeon - no, for using the word "paroxysm" yesterday, even astericking it and then not explaining what it is.
     You may uncover your eyes, Victoria, it isn't rude.  It merely means "an intense expression of emotion". Like this:

Conrad paroxysming*

Dallas Buyers Club
     Conrad is learning that bus posters are a fruitful source of input for the blog.  They are present everywhere, and change on a regular basis, providing variety in the media landscape, and a few puzzles.  They whiz by at a rate of knots, meaning that ones' first impression might not be altogether accurate.
     Take the film named in the title, "Dallas Buyers Club".

Most people use those "seat" things on the inside, Matthew.

Now, it may just be me - the humans in the audience can support this - but there are no clubs here!  No staffs, no truncheons, no batons, no axe-handles, no crowbars - no blunt instruments at all.  I think "Dallas Buyers Concealed-Hangun" or "Dallas Buyers NINJA HANDS OF DEATH!"  would be a more appropriate title.

The Crying Of Lot 49 And Seven Psychopaths
     Coincidences are starting to stack up with TCOL49 and the real world in a worrying way.  Last night I watched the end of "Seven Psychopaths" - an hilarious black comedy - and it ended with the Vietnamese Psychopath transmuting into a Bhuddist monk who immolates himself in protest at government policy.
     What do I read about in TCOL49 today?  Yes, a Bhuddist monk who - you know the rest.
     Plus, plus, get this, 49 is the square of 7!
     I bet Philip K. Dick would have an explanation for this ...

"Except  for you, Conrad.  You're just potty.  And the aliens are still subverting your reality."

The Grand Design
     My intention yesterday was to sort out the books that normally roost in an overhead cupboard, fondly believing that there can't be that many different sizes of book, can there?
     Can't there!  I've sorted about 30 books and there are 19 different sizes so far - sizes vary across paperback, softback, hardback, over time and by publisher.  At this rate my invasion fleet will have arrived before the books get sorted.
     An illustration of the chaos of book sizing:

A fraction of what's driving Conrad to distraction

Also Serves As A Marinade

If you have an alien digestive system

Well, it does rather look like the lime pickle you get in Indian restaurants, doesn't it?
     May be it's just me.

So - Tanks?
     Welllll not really.  Behold the mighty behemoth that was the British "Lorry, 30Cwt, Anti-Tank":

Quail in terror, puny German panzers!

These were essentially an armoured chassis stuck on a truck, mounting the Boys anti-tank rifle, which is the "anti-tank" part of the title.  In reality the only way a Boys could stop a tank was if you jammed it into the tracks and used another to clobber the tank commander around the noggin when he emerged to see what was making that horrible grating noise.
     So.  Not very "tank".
     The other awkward thing is explaining to a contemporary person used to the metric system exactly what a "Cwt" was.  This is the abbreviation for "One hundredweight".  There were twenty hundredweight in a ton.  Yes, twenty, not a hundred.  A British hundredweight was a "long" hundredweight, consituting 112 pounds.  112, not a hundred.  No, I don't understand and it doesn't make any sense to me, either - see the Philip K. Dick quote above.

And To End -
   Time for another cute animal picture - 

Edna, thinking horribly evil thoughts, no doubt.

* This may not be a real word but I made it up and I'm proud of it!


Chin chin!