I Say Chewbacca - It's Sir Paul Macca!

That Is, Sir Paul McCartney
Chewbacca I ought not need any introduction thereto.  Sir Paul's nickname is "Macca", for those of you who have been living in a barrel at the top of a pillar way over in Kirghizstan since 1959.  And that's the last of The Beatles that I can use to pimp the blog, although perhaps Brian Epstein and George Martin might sneak in there as Beatles Number Five and Six.  Oh, and Pete Best, too.  Number Seven, then.  
     Right, bait-clicking Intro over, let us proceed to finalise today's second blog.
     What's that?  You want a picture?  Really!  You lot are like children, if there's no photo it never happened.

Paul McCartney wearing Chewbacca

"Gravity's Rainbow" By Thomas Pynchon
Now up to page 640, which means 84% done, almost seven-eighths.  This will be terrific news to those of you who wonder why such weird novels exist, and who on earth would read them*, and who amongst such a fraternity would bother to describe reading a weird book by a weird author in a weird way on a weird website.
     Anyway, back to pigs. 
     Sorry, did I lose you there?  Tyrone Slothrop, our quintessential anti-hero, is traversing post-Second Unpleasantness Europe wearing a pig costume, and has been befriended by a pig.  Technically a sow.  

Sew.  Close enough

TP goes on to mention "Barrow" and "Gilt" pigs in a little hymn to how wonderful pigs are, so obviously - obviously! - Conrad had to look these up.  They are varieties of castrated pig, which echoes later in the novel when Major Marvy gets - I suppose it would be The Unkindest Cuts Of All.
     I now have to impose a couple of sub-headings, please forgive me -
     Coincidence
     Ah yes, no day or week would be complete without these falling upon your humble scribe's shoulders.  They are broad shoulders but they can only take so much.
     So, on our office intranet the faintly risible notification came up last week "We're making fish more transparent!" that immediately had the jesters responding with quips.  Conrad - you knew this already, didn't you? - was right in there with his single word reply: "Isinglass".

Eyes in glass.  Close enough

     What the advisory meant was about packaging information.  Isinglass, for your information, is processed fish protein, which used to perform the roles that transparent plastic does nowadays - Isinglass is transparent.
     And utterly obscure.  Yet, what word do we encounter today in "Gravity's Rainbow"?  
     "Isinglass" on Page 635.
     Quimporto
     TP describes this bizarre and unlovely drink on page 615.  A combination of quinine, beef-tea, port, coca-cola and a peeled onion.  It doesn't seem to exist any place outside the novel, but what do you know!  Drunkpynchon has taken up the baton and not only created this monster, but drunk it as well.

http://drunkpynchon.com/2015/02/01/quimporto/

     I urge you to go read the hilarious description of how he managed to consume this chemical cocktail.
     Tom also gets brownie points for mentioning in the text the "1922 Committee", whom I think I have mentioned myself.  They are, or were, an extremely influential group of Tory backbenchers** of a distinctly right-wing cast, and one is rather awed that an American had heard of them at all.

Oh Dear It's Been A Year
Yes, Conrad the Idlest Wargamer In The World, has proof of just how lazy and dilettantist he is.

July 2014

     Until reading the blog notes of a year ago, I didn't realise it had been 12 months since I set up this game.
     Let me update you:

July 2015

     You may not believe it, this is after the table had been considerably tidied up.
     
You What?
A friend has just been posting on Facebook about talking to yourself.  Conrad never stops doing this, as usually he's the only person in the room who knows what on earth he's talking about***.  The advice offered was that, as long as what you say to yourself makes sense, you've got nothing to worry about.
     There's no such reassuring information about writing to yourself.  Take this, for example:

     I don't want to strain either your eyes or intellect trying to decipher this.  It apparently came about from "Avengers: Age of Ultron", where Ultron is a mad robot replicating himself.  I have sat down and worked out three different ways that this might be achieved, and then how long it would take -
     - must have been on leave dogsitting Edna and thus had lots of spare time, yeah, that's gotta be it, that way it makes sense ...

"I am Groot"

* Me!
** British politicians
*** But not always.

There's No Comparison - It's George Harrison!

When He Was Alive, That Is
Yes, Conrad's shameless, charmless and frankly base attempt to boost blog traffic continues, by exploiting individual members of The Beatles.  It would be tricky to use the group's name as there isn't much scope for rhyming anything with "Beatle", except maybe "foetal", and that looks to be a bit too far over the dividing line of Good Taste.
     Anyway, George.  Pretty obviously he wasn't part of the major songwriting duo, and he couldn't hit things with rhythmic precision, so he had to carve out his own niche as The Third Man, in a way.

No!

     I apologise for Art.  Another session in the septic sump and denial of coal should see him right.  Art?  Move your scrofulitic hindquarters!

George, totally rocking it with the "Jesus" look

Manchester Comic Con 2015
Conrad missed this seminal media event <sad face> which is a good thing as funds are low and he'd have been tempted to buy lots of wonderful things and hike up a huge overdraft <happy face>.
     Darling Daughter went last year and said it was rammed, with a huge queue to get in.  Once you're in, however, you are, to coin a phrase, Amongst Your Own Kind.

Kinds like this

     Conrad is not convinced that this is a good thing, knowing what he's like on the inside.

More Of Darling Daughter
You may not be aware, as the modest father that I am doesn't boast very often, but Sally is doing a 3D Art & Design degree at Manchester Metropolitan University.  She left behind at the Mansion a vast roll of prep work, designs, sketches and organisational trees, which were due for the bin.
     

     There's a couple of the ones I saved.  Quite what to do with them now is another matter; tacking to the walls, probably, to enhance the Upstairs Lair.

An Old Complaint Letter Draft
I'm sure you enjoyed a bit of schadenfreude* at my letter of complaint as detailed on BOOJUM! last week.  I did in fact send another letter to First Bus last year, over a couple of sides of lined A4, handwritten, so I don't have a copy of it to copy and paste.
     I did find the draft version in my notebook, so you can now enjoy even more schadenfreude. Not too much, it has calories.

"Dear Sir, Madam or Other

                                        Just as drama derives from conflict, so surely must excitement derive from uncertainty.

     At least, this is how I understand the administrative and planning functions of First Bus operate.

       "Won't it be so much more EXCITING if our passengers enjoy that frisson of uncertainty!"

     I also suppose your managers agreed.

     "Reliability and timetables are so blase!  What passengers need is a little sampling of the eternal chaos that drives the universe."

     Thus the 24, 181 and 182 services are become - erratic.  And that's being kind.

     Let us examine your slogan "Get on board with First Bus".

     Firstly, to be able to get on a First Bus, it needs to be there.  A small point, perhaps, yet quite important.

     Next, there is the issue of being physically able to board the bus.  The 24 service runs only every 30 minutes and is consequently totally "rammed" with standing-room only being the rule, not the exception.

     

     - here an aside.  Are the Master Timetables engraved on granite?  Or stone? Etched, perhaps, on a sheet of platinum?  Never to be altered?  Because the 24 maintains the same frequency at rush hour as at noon.  At these times when travellers are greatest in number, when logic would dictate more buses - "Ah", says First Bus management.  "Our timetables were laid down by our ancestors in times long past.  We dare not amend them for fear of offending the gods."  One supposes you have to consult the entrails of a goat before altering a schedule?

(A Transcription of a Timetable and Route Meeting)

     SENECA: Forsooth, Tarquin!  The omens are not propitious!  This goat's liver has three lobes to it.

     TARQUIN: Aye, Seneca.  Last night a black cat crossed my path, and there were owls.

     SENECA: So - we ignore the roadworks and use the same route?

     Back to your slogan "Get on board".

     Thirdly, it's no use me getting on a service that is supposed to go to Rochdale but stops in Royton, or which should go to Shaw and which stops in Chadderton at random.  Do your drivers get an Arbitrary Destination Alteration bonus?

     Lastly, and I make this point because I am not convinced that First Bus's HQ staff actually understand the world of work - as they are all independently wealthy and only come into the office to stave off boredom - but those of us who catch the bus of a morning are usually trying to get into our place of employment.

     Big hin: employers like employees to arrive ON TIME.

Let us amend your slogan to one a little more accurate.  "Get on A board".  The board in question being a skateboard, a far more efficient, reliable and accommodating form of transport than First Bus."

Well there you are.  We shall see if last week's letter generates a reply, as the one above didn't.  But then again - it's First Bus.

That draft has really pushed up the word count, so I shall post a couple of pictures and clear off.  Don't want to push customer patience too much**.

Dog Dancing On Duvet
Edna, easily trained and always up for a treat, did her Standing On Back Legs trick for the camera yesterday:

     She had hours of fun with the squishy orange ball.

Cat Takes Both Nap And Mickey
Inevitably, when Conrad set his book down upon the kitchen table, who came along but Jenny -

Two minutes earlier that table was cat-free

     And she didn't disappear until the food did.



*German - malicious enjoyment at another's expense, a.k.a. rubbing hands with glee
** Unlike First Bus

It's John Lennon - With A Pennon!

Indeed It Is James Di Griz
I know, I know, now I have to explain who James Di Griz is.
     Once upon a time there was a an author, cartoonist and editor called Harry Harrison, whose parents apparently lacked the creative spark.  He invented that science-fiction legend "The Stainless Steel Rat*", the nickname of slippery Jim Di Griz.
     Jim, I have to say, is not one of your noble heroic paragons of virtue.  He is, in fact, a shockingly prolific criminal but who does have a sound moral compass - he refuses to take a human life.
     There you are.

I had this edition

     There was also a jolly entertaining strip in 2000AD, drawn by Carlos Ezquerra:

Modelled on James Coburn

     Oh - John Lennon?  Do you really want to know about him?  Oh go on then.

BOOJUM! obliges

My Night Out On Friday
I shall only post a few photos as it's never that much fun looking at complete strangers enjoying themselves whilst you're changing hypergolic fuels for your missiles.  Anyway, last night was Dan's last day working at The Electric Goldfish Bowl, because he's skipping off with fairy feet** to go work in Japan. 

That's Dom, with the beard, Dan Mark 2 and our hero Dan "Firestarter" 

     Dan bamboozled your humble scribe with a bit of Japanese, before explaining that it was "small talk".  Whatever you say, Dan.

That's Rick,  Dom and Dan again

     Conrad knows "Domo Arigato", which he seems to recollect is "Ta***" and "Kaiju", which refers to those giant monsters that the Toho studios turned out for decades.

The supporting cast - every one a mate of the Firestarter.

     He isn't really an arsonist, it's just that his surname rhymes with "Firestarter", and because Conrad hasn't gotten permission to post these photos, his last name shall remain shrouded in mystery.
     If you go back about a year, you will find photos of Conrad out in Leeds at Dan's stag do, which was an extended drinking session of quite epic proportions.

How To Snore More
Sophie at work - no, not this Sophie, that Sophie - has a wickedly mischievous sense of humour, and if she'd been given the right career advice, would probably be a professional anarchist laying the Establishment low by now^.  She posted this on FB:

No, it's not a real post ...

     "How is this relevant, Conrad?" I hear you asking.
     2 reasons.  1)  Sophie has a septum piercing herself.  
     2)  Conrad himself has a deviated septum, coming from when he broke his nose going headfirst over the handlebars, the only thing breaking his fall being his nose.  He should have been back for corrective surgery but - as you already know - being a huge coward could never face up to the prospect.
     Consequently - and here we finally reach the reason for that title - he snores at such volume that it can be heard at the other side of the house, and on occasion has been so loud he's woken himself up.

Egad!  Torture For Some Is A Treat For Others
I'm sure if you've read the blog with any regularity then you recall about me banging on about making a longhand index for my official history book - about the 51st Highland Division in the First Unpleasantness.  This run to 50 sheets of paper, and I now have to type it up.

Rivetting stuff, eh?

     This isn't a chore to yours truly, after all I added 32,000 hexagons by hand to a sheet of green cotton, although in my wisdom I doubt that anyone but a professional indexer^^ would truly enjoy this typing up.
     Horses for courses, jays for ways and parakeets for streets as they say.

Oh - a Comment has been added that I didn't put there.  Stimulated by the Exploding Rat article, they recommended that I check up on "Operation Mince Meat", which has nothing to do with mince or meat nor doctors either.  I may come back to you on this.

Special Operations Executive
This is fruitful ground indeed.  As you may recall, their instructions were "to set Europe ablaze", and this they proceeded to do with great gusto.
     I would like to reassure you that since most of Europe was occupied by either Nazi Germany or it's allies at the time, this was not merely the British blowing things up for fun.
     Now, if you are out to create mayhem and chaos, you like to sneak up on your enemies unannounced, without a volley of gunshots ringing out and advertising your presence as people out to Cause Armed Mischief.  Enter the De Lisle Carbine.

Victim's eye view

    This was a heavily modified Lee Enfield rifle, with a ton of baffles being used to silence the noise of operation, giving it the "bloated barrel" appearance, made all the quieter because it used sub-sonic ammunition.  The most noise it made was when the bolt was cocked.
     Although designed and intended for use during the Second Unpleasantness, the DLC was allegedly used long afterwards by the winged-dagger chaps in Northern Ireland and the Falklands.  Given the nature of their work the truth will probably only be released under the 100 Year Rule.




* Nothing to do with exploding ones, sorry.
** Not literally, Dan's no mere slip of a chap.
*** Northern dialect for "Thank you very much"
^ The Establishment acknowledges it's grateful relief
^^ Such people do exist.

It's Edward Lear - With The Gear!

It'll Take A Minute To Work This One Out -
 - so please bear with me.
     Okay, first a little divert to "Gravity's Rainbow", where two characters are having a fight with specially-sharpened runcible spoons.
     I know, I know, "What's a runcible spoon?"
     By association it's become one of these:

A Spork?  A Foon?

    You can't see it too well here, but one edge of the spoon has been sharpened, the better to cut into things.
     Now, razor-sharp of eye and intellect as you most assuredly are, you noticed that proviso "by association"*, because it has a bit of a history.
     The word "Runcible" was created by Edward Lear, the purveyor of nonsense verse - "The Owl And The Pussycat" a prime example.  He called lots of things "Runcible", including a spoon, which stuck in the British national consciousness, gradually evolving into the Foon/Spork you see above.

Enough textual pseudy self-aggrandizement**!  More pix!

Hello Coincidence And Could You Stop Bothering Me?
Please?
     Unusually, reading more Thomas Pynchon has not resulted in more worrying interactions of space and time. Oh no.  Now it's Twitter that's doing it.
     First, what is the CD face up nearest me of all 650 CDs in the Upstair Lair?  This:

"The North Borders" by Bonobo

     Then I read this on Twitter, following a Tweet by Brian Bendis:

"Kanzi, a bonobo ape ..."

     What are the chances of that happening?  AND WHY DOES IT KEEP HAPPENING!
     
BOOJUM! Courting Controversy
Not really, it's just that some folks have recently described/accused/condemned the blog for being "Highbrow", which comes as something of a revelation.  It is what it is, and I like using long complicated words, because if I've had to read a hundred books a year since the age of 11, you can damn well suffer the consequences!
     Now, the following should thoroughly undermine this nonsense about intellectualism -

Dioralyte, Dioralyte!

Number one in a field of two.

Dioralyte, Dioralyte!

It helps you when you poo.

Dioralyte, Dioralyte!

It stops you feeling blue.

Dioralyte, Dioralyte!

Puts the salts back into you!

     What do you think?  Mileage as the backing song for an advert about Dioralyte***?

You What?
There are inventions and creations that are so obviously wonderful that you can't help but offer silent thanks for them - the i-pod, Marshmallow Fluff, Challenger Main Battle Tanks - and others where you wonder what was being smoked, snorted or drunk at the time.
     Like this:

Pic on the right

     An LED light shower head.
     What?  Is this for those who like to shower with the bathroom light off? People who are light-headed^?  People who simply have to have the latest bit of techno-tat?
     That's not all.  Let me add this picture:

Milk Bottles.  Obviously!

     Let me add further evidence:

See?  Conrad does not lie^^.

     In what possible way are those deformed caricatures bottles of milk?
     I know that the milkman is a dying breed, but really!

A First Bus - Immobilised By Cupcake Wrapper
A True Story.  Conrad was riding the 409 homewards when the bus pulled up alongside a bus stop - I labour the point here as this is not at all a given since we are talking about First Bus here - and the driver seemed to be off in his own little world.  Given it was the same dead-eyed buffoon who got lost last week, this might have very well been the case.  Anyway, we sat there, the doors not opening.
     And we sat there.
     And we sat there.
     It turns out Driver Eunce^^^couldn't open the doors, which remained stubbornly closed.  He sat in his cab, the very picture of Baffled Incomprehension, utterly at a loss.
     Did he find out what was preventing the doors from opening? 
     Of course not!  Remember - First Bus.  No, it was a lady passenger who pointed out that a wad of paper had jammed under the door, preventing it from moving, and she got up and removed said paper, which enabled the doors to open.
     So.  An eight tonne bus with a driver, stricken dead in it's tracks by this:

God help us if it had been a foil wrapper!

Currently getting my groove on to Mew's "Cross the river on your own", good lord aloft what a good song this is, best of 2015 to date; I've played it probably 4 times a day for weeks and still not tired of it.

Well the word limit has come around again, and there was a load more to add.  Maybe later.

Chin chin!


* Mister Hand apologises for the fearful elitism so casually shown here.
** Sorry, that's also fearfully elitist, isn't it?  O the irony.
*** If Mister Hand was a head, he'd be shaking it now.
^ Sorry.
^^ This is a lie
^^^ It should have been "Dunce" but he mis-spelled it