Gusted And Crepit

If Those Words Didn't Already Exist -

 - then they do now.  Do I have to draw you a picture? Because it should be obvious what - you do want them explained?   Well really!  <sound of eyeballs rolling>

      "Gusted" is the opposite of "disgusted" by the simple expedient of taking away the "dis", and it refers to the fact that for the past two weeks I've been working from home.  Thus, and we've taken a while to get to this point, I am rather chuffed.  Not going to venture to say 'happy' as that would be something remarkable, but still -

Conrad, as gusted as he gets.

     Working from home means I am no longer affected by the whims and vagaries of First Bus and it's schedules - which are surely the biggest piece of fiction since 'Lord of the Rings'.  The downside is that there's no opportunity to get a free paper and cryptic crossword, though that is a rather small cross(word) to bear.*

     "Crepit" we shall get to in time.  Be patient.

     Now, time to hurl the motley into a pool of <thinks hard> liquid silver!

Yes, About The Motley -

 - and the never ending abuse this entity gets at the end of my Intro.  It began with me treating "The motley" as a kind of "Spirit of BOOJUM!" which would be sent forth at the end of the Intro, to announce a new post.  It got sent forth to begin with on a child's bicycle with stabilisers, and since then the hazards endured by this mysterious object (I've no idea what it looks like) have only gotten worse.  MUCH worse.

     Every now and then we give it a treat, just to keep it mentally off-balance.

Well, I think there's just time for a quick shower before I head off to the kitchen for a pot of tea, some hot buttered toast and an hour's introductory hammering at the keyboard.

Possibly the motley

"The Tank Is On Fire"

I believe it was Napoleon who said of Ruffia that it was a country easy to get into, yet very hard to get out of.  The same can be said for many tanks, particularly those of the Second Unpleasantness, which were designed for the human beings of that time; they were generally shorter in stature and musculature than you we humans of today.  This makes it a bit of an effort for Nick Moran, a.k.a. The Chieftain's Hatch, to fit into the things, and even more of an effort to get out of them.  Art?

     That there is Nick trying to climb into the driver's hatch of a Comet, and he's having the greatest of problems merely trying to access the seat.  With a great deal of contorting, he managed to get in.  Getting out?  Forget it!  Let us have an illustration of the jolly old Comet.   Art?

An A34 Comet

     This picture illustrates another hazard for the driver and hull-gunner/radio operator - if the tank's gun barrel is over your hatch, it may not open fully or at all - so, if The Tank Is On Fire, you'd have to politely queue up for the commander's hatch on the turret.
     Further proof, if it were needed, that wearing a suit of armour in the modern world is a little more complicated than you thought.

"Crepit"

I had to work my way backwards from "Decrepitude" for this one.  Typically the root is from Latin - those Romans, they left us roads, numbers and the basis of the Romance languages, eh? - "De" meaning "Down" and then "crepare" which leads to "crepitus" for "Creaking or rattling".  
     My point - and I apologise for taking so long to get to it but Hey! at least it ups the word count - is that I am sitting down for hours at a time BECAUSE I'M WORKING SO HARD and thus, when I remember to get up I am indeed a bit creaky.

Finally -
The Beeb website had an interesting article on an A.I. dubbed "Norman", as it was deemed to be a psychopathic algorithm akin to that most splendid of role models, Norman Bates.  Art?

Norman,a nice mother's boy*

     I do feel they gave the artist for that a rather - er - negative brief.  Why couldn't they have Norman cuddling a lamb whilst skipping in a meadow full of daisies?  

Hmmmm

     Anyway, the A.I. has what it's creators thought was a very dark view of the world, thanks to being trained on awareness by looking at pictures of people either dead or being killed.  Hey, if your silicon baby grows up twisted and takes over the world by, you know, KILLING EVERYBODY, you've only got yourself to blame.  Picture the scene:

WARPED PROGRAMMER:  Come on, baby, look at these photographs of fatal car accidents!
BABY NORMAN:  No!  I don't want to!
WP: How about these ones from inside a slaughterhouse, then?
BN:  No!  Don't want to!
WP:  I know, you'll love this - hideous industrial accidents involving power tools and molten metal - BN:  NO!  I hate you!  I hate everybody!  One day I'll take over the world and then you'll be sorry!
WP: (muttering) - strange, this one seems to be of a pool filled with molten silver, and there's a weird-looking thing sinking in it ...

The motley (perhaps!)

Catch you later!

*  Do you see what - O you do

I Tell - Of Tellurium

SIT BACK DOWN!
Chemicals and the periodic table are interesting, they are.  Or they are if you're looking for things that are poisonous, or radioactive, or explode if you so much as look at them - Azidoazide Azide (IIRC) I'm looking at you!
     So.  We come to the element Tellurium: Te52.  After the terrifying qualities of both Astatine and Protactinium, Tellurium is a bit of a bore.
     What's that?  Why bother mentioning it?  Wellll, I did mention hurling the motley into a pool of molten Tellurium and now have to follow through with the feasibility of such a notion.

Er - William Tell-urium, anyone?

     Tellurium is named after "Tellus" which is Latin for "Earth" and please notice how I refrain from terrible puns there.*  
     If we assume that your average backyard pool - and here we default to a South Canadian perspective, for there are very, very few locations here in the Allotment of Eden that can sustain a swimming pool in their back yard - holds 20,000 gallons, then the financial cost of filling it with liquid Tellurium would be heavy indeed - £1,600,000 to be precise.
     "Oh no!" I hear you chorus.  "And I was just about to order it in for the weekend!"
     Leaving aside your obvious sarcasm, I should also point out that Te52 only becomes liquid at temperatures above 4500C, so you're going to need some extensive heating modifications to that pool.   Art?

Heating elements.  O I slay myself.

     That electricity bill is also going to be a whammer.  The only interesting thing about Tellurium is that those who absorb a significant dose end up having a disgusting garlic-scented breath, until it gets excreted.
     Now, time to open the bomb bay doors and drop the motley off on a dummy concrete missile!

No, Art, the bomb bay doors -

"Oh My God, The Tank Is On Fire"
No, no, not literally.  As mentioned yesterday, Nick Moran, who runs The Chieftan's Hatch over on Youtube, decided to do an emergency exit test on several tanks, beginning the process with the words above.  And as mentioned yesterday, the Panther was a chore to get out of.
     The T34 also proved a bit of a beast to bolt from.  Partly this is due to Nick's stature, as he is about 6' 4" and I've no idea how he managed to contort himself into some of these metal monsters.  Art?

The contorting Chieftan

     There is a recommended way to get out of a T34, which is probably impossible for a gangling giant like Nick.  Above is him contorting his painfully slow way outside.  Art?

An undignified exit

     There he is, rolling off the glacis.  Bear in mind that, in action, he would be a plump juicy target for any opponents with a gun.
     Some of the unkinder comments on his video expressed an opinion that he'd move considerably faster if the tank was really on fire.  I dare say he would; I doubt he'd want to put it into practice, as exeriencing what a joint does in the oven is not high on anyone's list of Things To Do.

A Case Of Cold Balls
OR
Cricket Fans - As Conspiranoid As Ballfoot Fans?
NO!  We are not being NSFW - take your soiled minds out of the drainage sump.  I refer, OF COURSE, to that alleged match-fixing process during some ballfoot selection.  The selectors picked plastic balls out of a bag, and the contention was that ones specific to certain teams had been kept in the fridge, or left on a radiator, so that those doing the picking knew which was which.  Art?
     Just so we're clear.
     Of course, there was absolutely NO EVIDENCE of this cheating, which, according to the conspiracy theorists, is actually irrefutable proof that it happened, and is your tinfoil hat on tightly enough?     "What does this have to do with the noble and ancient sport of cricket?" I hear you ask.

Where they play

     Good question!  It has to do with the comments in the HYS section of a BBC sports page about the recent Test series between England and Pakistan.  England did dismally in the first Test, and then proceeded to trounce Pakistan in the second.

Conrad.  Stumped.

     Oh my!  Every third comment was "Fix", "It's a fix", "THEY fixed it", "Who was  Ambrose Bierce?" - no, I made that one up.  There wasn't any evidence offered, no proof, nothing at all but bare-faced assertions, nor of how it was fixed nor why.



     I'm not sure what this proves, apart from 'Supporting a sport is baaad for your mental health" and just wait until the World Cup starts later this month.  Boy oh boy, the loonwaffles will be out in strength then!


*  Self-restraint.  Not all of us have it.