Hark! Hark! Respect The Shark!

No!  I Don't Mean The James Woods Television Series
- although given that it was James Woods, probably best to deliver respect anyway.  Nor do I mean the actual big bitey ocean-dwelling fish, although given the conveyor-belt arrangement of teeth that they have, once again respect and a healthy distance is probably the safest option.

If he smiles, I swear you'd see fangs

     I refer, in fact, to the "Sharknado" films, which I had been vaguely aware of in the sense that there were big bitey fish and weather phenomena, although not necessarily in that order.  It was not until I perused Tomorrow's Litter-tray Liner and the television section that I noticed "Sharknado 4: The Fourth Awakens".
     "Good grief!" I can hear you expostulate from here.  "They made four of them?"
     Yes indeed, Apollo Creed.  I didn't know whether to be impressed or depressed at such news.  If they're still making them then you fools must still be watching them*.  

Chainsaw versus flying shark - Hell, I'd pay to see that!

     Conrad, being both inquisitive and a bean-counting bore, wondered what the box office returns for these films might be, and checked over on IMDB and Box Office Mojo.
     Aha, but Asylum, the people who churn this stuff out, made them as Television Movies to be broadcast, not shown in cinemas.  They thought that one through, eh?  So there are no box office dollars to count.  The budget for each can be totalled at about $1 million, and since DVD sales for the original came to $2 million, they're onto a winner straight away.  Not only that, one of their statements linked the franchise (I think we can admit that's what it is) to a profit of $19 million that year.
     Nice work if you can get it.

The Weasel Shark, long a favourite here at BOOJUM!

     How we laughed.  Back in 1975, I mean.  Your humble scribe clearly remembers reading a wargaming magazine about <deep breath> a GI in Vietnam who tinkers with his transistor radio and gets zapped into an alternate reality where he has to combat - er - "land-mobile" sharks.  This was back when I was routinely sober so it's not my imagination at work, either.
     I also noticed how the Rating on IMDB increases over time: 3.3; 4.1; 4.2; 4.9.  That last figure is almost "Okayish (if you're not too fussy and/or drunk)" and Conrad confidently predicts an Oscar nom by 2020.

Stranger Things
Conrad caught up with this new series yesterday and watched three episodes one after another, although - since I like to mix it up - not the first two episodes.  
     Colour me impressed.  Set in the Eighties, it automatically does away with that Magic Plot Wand, the mobile phone.  Frankly, for all your humble scribe cares, Gandalf and Superman could magic and move all the mobile phones into the heart of the sun and he'd not miss them one iota.
     It has a definite "Twin Peaks" vibe to it, and yes, that was Matthew Modine, playing a bad guy.  As noted by folks already, the soundtrack also has a very John Carpenter feel to it, which is a good thing in case you were wondering.  JC gets referred to, though not excessively.

How to scare cats - the John Carpenter way!

     So, what was there to worry about?
     The serrated teeth of the Coincidence Hydra, that's what.  There I was on Monday, talking to Sophie about Hugh Everett, dad of Mr. E of Eels and a scientific genius to boot, who dreamt up the "Many Worlds" concept of quantum physics.

Mister E, looking a bit pugnacious

     Who and what do we get mentioned on "Stranger Things" last night?  Yes, Hugh Everett and the Many Worlds concept.
     What are the chances, eh?

Hugh Everett, looking clever

Mea Culpa!
I don't have the evidence to hand, but - go on, a confession is in order.  We were notified last week that the walls next to our office lifts had been repainted with special scrawly paint, which folk were encouraged to write upon.
     Pete, being innately conservative, respectful of authority and with no sense of mischief, asserted that these walls were only for official - excuse me - Official Writing.
     Conrad, having the heart of an anarchist**, believes that anyone can write anything on these walls, providing it's not slanderous, an incitement to riot or obscene.  So!

Heart of anarchist, face of a bottom

     'Did you write something in Latin on the wall?' asked Russell the next day.  He and Tom both eyed yours truly with interest.  Their list of suspects amounted to one: me.
     'Ah yes, was it that obvious?' I replied.  Apparently so.
     And the tag?

"QUI CUSTODES IPSOS CUSTODIET?"

     And because I'm a bit of a swine, I ain't going to translate.

This, though, is a clue

*  FOOLS!
** I keep it in jar on my desk.

Tremble In TERROR, Tom!

Yes, Raw, Quivering, Primeval TERROR!
None of that "slightly paler skin and a touch of sweat terror" you see in the magazines, I'm talking about the - what's that?  What kind of magazines do I read?  None of your business, and stop sidetracking the post*.  
     Oh yes, indeedy, my thunderbolts are out for young Tom.  Thunderbolts, giant hailstones and orbital kinetic energy weapons, too.
     "O Lord Aloft!" I hear you exclaim.  "What has he done?  Spilt tea on your latest issue of "The Goon"?  Smeared greasy fingerprints on your hardback edition of the "Codex Seraphinianus"?  Bought you two tickets for "Miss Saigon"?"

Conrad:  thinking, drinking and plotting Tom's destruction.
Who says  a man can't multi-task!

     None of the above.  He's the fort- 
     "Where can you get those interesting-sounding magazines?" I hear you interrupt, again.  Once again, NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! 
     Tom, as I started to say, is the recipient of a loaned DVD, that of "Forbidden Planet", and the rogue isn't going to finish watching it - scarcely credible I agree (cue chorus of critical cat-calls) gentle reader**! - because he mentally jibbed at the idea of Robbie The Robot being a source of wonder to people who travelled in a Faster Than Light pie-dish.  I don't think his ape's brain was all that impressed by the Krell, either.
     Can I, in the spirit of mischief, persuade him that "Sharknado" is a critical masterwork that he cannot live without seeing?  It would be sweet sweet revenge ...

Today's Travel Tale
Note the absence of "trauma" in the title.  This may be a short item.  The bus is on time, and a double-decker - no Metro, however - and so far (as I write this on the way into work) it hasn't blown up or burnt down.
     Yet.
     Of course, the cyborg War Wallabies might still be waiting for us in Chadderton, in which case tell everyone that I went down fighting bravely -

Yes yes yes, more robot than cyborg.
D'you know how hard it is to find cyborg wallaby pictures?

     Now, let the phaeton of phantasy be rolled out decorously and carefully, past the heaped rubbish that used to be the motley, the gallimaufry and the pantechnicon.

The Bomarc Missile
An item at the time that Herman Kahn was writing his second edition of "On Thermonuclear War", this thing really looks the part of a nuclear-tipped interceptor.  Designed to destroy incoming Sinister bomber formations, it's actual use at several kilometres height might well have generated a sufficiently large EMP to instantly kill the radar equipment it was protecting.  Oh well.  Eggs and omelettes.
  Art?

Blast off

     Their deployment was interesting.  Stored horizontally, it was covered by a retractable shelter that split and separated; the missile then erected vertically (Freud would have loved this stuff), the erector detached and off went Bo.  Far easier and cheaper than digging out a vast subterranean silo, though conversely only capable of sustaining a few p.s.i.
     Herein the link to a short Youtube clip of it in action:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvEnFyQCuz8

     Conrad has to admit they look rather creepy as they align upright with no apparent human input.  Since they never got used in real life, he suspects the Sinisters and their air force found them equally as forbidding.

You What?
This is an issue Conrad didn't know existed until earlier this week, because he has a mild dislike of The Muppets - except for Mad Harry - and takes pains to avoid them.
     So - Doctor Who and - Muppets.  This is bizarre and worrying.  Very worrying.  Believe me, this is the thin end of the wedge, first it's daffy denim Daleks -

Terry Nation spins in his grave -

     - and cute cuddly Cybermen -

- to the whirring accompaniment of Kit Pedler and Gerry Davis

     - and the next thing you know it's HUMANITY UP AGAINST THE WALL!
     Just you wait and see.

Mad Harry.  What's not to like?

     Right, I'm going to end a bit sooner than usual as Darling Daughter has come up to visit and we don't often see her.  Don't fret, we had a chinwag before BOOJUM! began.

*  I can sidetrack however often I feel like, it's my blog
** Unless you are Tom reading this, in which case you're making yourself a static target, Tom, and those orbital kinetic energy weapons are very very accurate ...

How To Rate Your Mad Scientist Minion

We'll Get To That Shortly
Firstly, a bit of a redux about Manchester Comic Con.  I didn't add this in yesterday due to not thinking of it at the time, so, since my subconscious has had a night to work on it, you get to reap the benefits.
     Knives!  Swords!  Big choppers!  and all that ilk, edged weapons I believe the collectors call them.  A going concern.  It's possible to ignore all the exotic firearms - although that stormtrooper lugging about an MG34 replica might well cause your local police firearms officer to feel a bit twitchy -

Yup, replica MG34 indeed

     - thank you, Art - as all those blasters and lasers and phased plasma rifles are none functional.  We hope.  Imagine the mess if there was a negligent discharge from a 40-watt - well, non-functional is the word.
     Now, whilst those firearms might make for expensively-tooled, precision-engineered clubs, the same cannot be said of the sharp things present.  Sharp pointy things retain their stabby utility whether it's 2000 BC or AD, and sheer metal mass grants them effectiveness even if their edge is dulled.

Because swords, men and beer combined  never caused an accident, ever.

     This rather pales by comparison with the San Diego Comic Con, held recently, where the mighty Bruce Campbell was in attendance.  This meant dozens of Ash impersonators, which also means - Shotguns! - cue further police twitchiness - and - Chainsaws!
     Given the weight of a chainsaw those can't be the real thing, can they?

Unclear if prop or not.
We'll cross fingers and guess "prop"

     There is a safer (if more boring) alternative.  Art?

Meh.

     Now, before we get to the Mad Scientist bait, I must tell you about today's travel trauma.  No, sorry, there's no choice, it's got to be endured.  So - SIT BACK DOWN!

A Tale Of The 24
When the 24 bus turned up on time this morning, being a double-decker and with copies of The Metro to boot, what could possibly go wrong?
     Yeah, Conrad, you had to ask.
     Firstly, the ticket machine didn't work, so no bus pass.  Well, at least a free ride into work - bonus!
     Except - sniff sniff - what's that nasty smell?
     (Here I should point out, gentle reader, that Conrad has practically no sense of smell and if he notices a stink, it is truly noticeable).
     Smells like burning plastic.
     Oh it is burning plastic -
     "There's an electrical fault," announced the driver, so we passengers all decamped from the bus to witness black smoke oozing sullenly from the engine.  One more stop and we'd have been at the 181/182 stop, which I could have caught into Manchester.  However, I don't doubt the 24 would have been a mobile bonfire by that time, so - small mercies.

An artist's impression

     No free ride - bogus!
     Although, as Pete observed, things would have been hairier had Keanu and Samantha been present.

How Mad Is Mad?
Does a world dictator/continental despot/absolute ruler need to keep testing his mad scientist minion, just to make sure he's not going completely potty (draining-the-Atlantic Ocean-into-the-Earth's-core kind of potty) or even sliding into remission (putting out a fire at the orphanage)?  Oh, and we are definitely only employing one Mad Scientist here, the classical Supreme Leader model of old, because today's Mad Science all seems to be dreamt up by committee, which is dull.

The Mad Scientist's Mad Scientist

     Further to this, there ought to be a rating scale, measured in <thinks deep thoughts> "Fausts".  Let us enumerate:

     0 - 1 Fausts:  A trifle eccentric.  Wears odd socks.  Forgets birthdays, wears fingerless mittens.  Almost a Good Guy
     1 - 3 Fausts:  A bit barking.  Wears a metal Gadget Guantlet, forgets what year it is, can be provoked into killing when enraged.  Quite Bad.
     4 - 5 Fausts:  Bad and Mad.  Wears a human suit.  Hands replaced by Skull-Crusher Horror Holders*.  Unsafe if left unsupervised in Lab.  Possible challenge to Supreme Leader.
     6 - 7 Fausts:  Evil and unpredictable.  Hands are now detachable Supersonic Stealth Stranglers.  Forgets own name.  Liable to vaporise minions on a whim.  Definite challenge to Supreme Leader.
     8 - 9 Fausts:  Usually already Supreme Leader.  Hands now normal but eyes replaced by laser cannon.  Fond of torture, perversion and opera.  Kills at random to keep minions keen and interested.  Sole weakness is sprouts.
     10 Fausts:  Satan in a lab coat.  Forgets which universe he owns.  Having rendered sprouts extinct, is now worried about brocolli.  Destroys whole plants at random.  Sole weakness is spelling.
     
Finally
I know Bryn Hammond as an author of military history.  Not personally, you understand, or I'd not dare be so rude about him.  He's also a lot sportier than your humble scribe, which is not difficult, and posted this on Twitter:

???

     An example of the mysteries of sport, and cricket especially.  Sadly I cannot ask Phil, my Pub Quiz companion and a man infinitely more sporty than I, what any of this means since our team has to cry off this week.  

And there I shall leave you for tonight



*  Copyright and patent pending