Dangerous Vizions

Don't Forget, Folks, Conrad Says Exactly What He Means
Not only that, he is a treacherous and untrustworthy character, who will shamelessly prostitute the talents of others (not to mention pictures of cute animals) in order to promote BOOJUM!  

Er - some animals cuter than others ...

     For example, with that title you were no doubt expecting a rant or thumbs-up on that seminal collection of science-fiction short stories "Dangerous Visions" by Ol' Harlan.
     HA!
     Instead I give you "Vietnam Initiative on Zoonotic InfectiONS" - here's a link to prove that your deceitful driveller is not merely throwing word-salad at you -

http://www.sanger.ac.uk/science/collaboration/wt-vizions

     "Bah.  Hardly dangerous," I hear you sneer.
     Hardly dangerous?  Recall, if you will, the film "Contagion", because that's what could, potentially, come screaming out of the five-level jungle canopies of Vietnam.  Dangerous.

So, This Harlan Character?
Not, gentle reader, to be confused with Jan Harlan, long time film associate of Stanley Kubrick, not yet Viet Harlan, Nazi-era film director; instead I refer to the author - NO!  not Harlan Coben - Harlan Ellison.  The science-fiction chap.  Wrote "Demon With A Glass Hand" for The Outer Limits.  Oh, and "City On The Edge Of Forever" for that Star Trek nonsense, too.  Art?

When he was young and dangerous

     More pertinently, he is also responsible for "All The Sounds Of Fear", which I pinched for this week's title "All The Sounds Of Gear".  Art?

Proof it exists.

     And that was going to be pretty much for the Intro, as sufficient proof of how clever I (think I) am, except your humble scribe was unable to just leave it at that.  "Dangerous Visions" was a controversial collection of short stories that came out in 1967, and I've read some of the stories in other anthologies if not the collection itself.  Doubtless all about sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, the classic trifecta that your parents warned about, and the first two are way beyond the remit of BOOJUM! (unless they are commercial pharmaceuticals dispensed on a functional diagnosis, by a properly licenced physician).
     "Eh what?" I hear you query.
     A Doctor.  Drugs as prescribed by a Doctor.
     "Eh?  Which Doctor?"
     No, no, you've got the wrong relative pronoun!  It should be "Doctor Who?"
     "Ah!  I see!  We're back to Dangerous VIZIONS - a Doctor from the World Health Organisation?"
     - I think I've been clever enough for long enough.

How to scare cats - the Jan Harlan way!

Bela Lugosi's Dead.  Or Is He?  And - How Do You Tell?
Inspired by a track ("Bela Lugosi", obviously - "White Pulse " would have been odd) on John Carpenter's "Lost Themes II", and also by Bauhaus, and by reality.  Dear Bela, to steal a phrase from Annette Peacock, towards the end of his life was unable to get a buzz from mere beer or indeed alcohol.  This, presumably, is because his liver had gone on strike over being worked to excess.  Thus Bela sought oblivion in the arms of - formaldehyde, wasn't it?  Yes, the horribly smelly stuff that science labs and museums use to preserve organic specimens.  So he did get <pause for appreciative sneers> pickled, in a way.
     Plus, how do you know he's dead?
     "He's not moving!" - no, because he's in a formaldehyde-fuelled stupor*.
      "He's not breathing!" - as Lord of the Undead he doesn't need air.
     "He's going rotten!" - no, he's just not had his daily shower, and if there's one thing formaldehyde does, it stops things going rotten.

How to scare cats - the Bela Lugosi way!

Anchovies
On Thursday Conrad bought some tinned sardines and then, for the sheer exuberant heck of it, a tin of anchovies.  It is several years since I last remember eating anchovies, for reasons which will become clear.
     If you want to replicate the taste and texture of eating anchovies, marinate a matchstick in brine for a week.  Dry it out.  Shred it.  Mix it in with a pile of salt.  
     Eat.  

Anchovies: the secret truth

     Oh, you might want to add a bit of engine oil to lubricate the whole sorry mess.
     Now, since I have the blog as a material witness, I don't have to wonder about anchovies again, as I shall surely never let them cross my mouth again.

OH NOES!  Two Bulbs Gone!
Conrad occasionally wonders how they replace bulbs from the interior lighting of the Electric Goldfish Bowl, since these are five stories above ground level and would require either an excessively long ladder or the world's smallest helicopter to replace.  Art?

Two down!  Not merely one but TWO!

     Or - since I've never seen them being replaced - teleportation by the Facilities staff, who need to keep their awesome superpowers under wraps?


*  I have no idea if such a thing exists and am far too squeamish to find out

I Take The Fifth

A Day For Cheating -

As yours truly is off out after work tonight and not due back home for an age, I am merely going to post links to old historical BOOJUM! bits today, and you can choose to view or not as the fancy takes you, you rump-fed ronyons -

From 2015:

http://comsatangel2002.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/on-scene-with-ted-levine.html

From 2014:

http://comsatangel2002.blogspot.co.uk/2014/08/danger-conrad-robertson.html

From 2013:

http://comsatangel2002.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/shades-of-hawkwind-and-moebius-and-ai.html

Catch you later!

All The Sounds Of Gear

No!  I Do Not Mean Drugs
"Gear" refers to sugar, for are we at BOOJUM! not ever so SFW?  Why yes, we are, thank you for asking, apart from some of the darker themes present that your management (and most right-thinking people, probably) wouldn't approve of.
     Getting back on track, your humble scribe Conrad is essentially a 6 foot sweet tooth with feet.  His regular breakfast of ice cream probably hints at this, as does his regular purchase of 6  bags of boiled sweets on the weekly shop.  

2 minutes 45 seconds-worth of sweets, for Conrad.

As a youngster, he used to be in the tupperware container that held all the caster sugar for baking, the instant Mama's back was turned. He had discovered that the sugar 'caked' together on the top and could be scooped up by the fistful in great lumps.
     Which he did.  Conrad's fists, never things of beauty, have the compensating charm of being large, and thus of holding lots of sugar*.
     And so to the present day.  Conrad sat at his desk yesterday, sucking and then crunching his way through handfuls of those boiled sweets, until a thought struck him.
     "I answer the phone to customers all the time.  Surely they can't hear me crunching. Can they?"
     So he called Emily whilst furiously masticating a sherbet lemon, and she was able to hear what has been described as "glass bottles being smashed in a canvas sack".
     Oh dear.
     So, today, we had Starburst instead, because they are soft and chewy.  Art?

(shhhhhhhhh!)

Today's Travel Tale
Ah yes, the 24.  On time?  Tick box.  Double decker?  Tick box.  Copies of The Metro?  Don't be ridiculous, two out of three is perfectly adequate for You Scummy Passengers!
     Besides that, someone else was having a far worse morning - it looks as if one car had pulled out to get past the street-sweeper and run head-on into another car that might also have pulled out to avoid another street-sweeper.

This kind of street-sweeper.  Not a bloke with a broom.

     I also wanted to mention the weather, which is unremittingly grim today.  'Tis the season of Sogg, truly - minus the "y" because we living in the Lake of Eden keep looking to the skies and asking that same question**.
     Late addendum on the way home:  Weather treachery!  Not raining, and there is sun between the clouds above.  From Lake to Garden in an afternoon.

I'm Sorry, Your Honour, I Have No Idea
You know Conrad, at least on the surface (what lies beneath is not for the faint-hearted), and once again I must apologise for an idea that simply popped into my head without rhyme or - well, without reason, anyway.  "That daft old Victorian song," I sniggered to myself.  "Let's spoof it!"  So without further adieu -

"Come into the garden, Maud,

For the black bat night has fled.

I guarantee you won't be bored,

There's a body here, ever so dead.

It's a bullfighter who got gored

With a horn all through his head.

I won him as a kind of reward

For baking such excellent bread.

Now, madam, I won't be ignored -

Get up and out of your septic bed!

     What do you think?  I could try and work in Sue Perkins and Paul Hollywood on the back of the baking stuff, and perhaps laser cannon and zombies, because - well, what doesn't go better with laser cannon and zombies?

Give That Man An Award!
If not two.  You ought to know what Conrad's attitude toward the mobile phone is by now: a violent dislike tempered only by them usually having a camera attached.  However, when my starship invasion fleet gets here you'll learn to live without them, O Yes Indeed!

<five minute pause whilst your humble scribe cackles and rubs his hands with evil glee>

     This chap obviously has the same sneering contempt for hideous digital media devices.  Art?

He he he!

     The landlord was fed up of people staring into their laps, drooling idly and tapping away like arhythmic woodpeckers, so he did something about it.
     Conrad salutes you, sir!

     A little under the normal count, which is fine by me - it is, after all, MY blog - as I am off to do the weekly shop tonight, rather than Friday.  No pub quiz tonight, you see, and I shall be going out after work tomorrow, so at best there will be only a Cheat Sheet BOOJUM! for the 5th.

Pip pip!

* Mama, when she found this out, was not impressed. There were words.
**  The grim GREY skies, just to labour the point a little.