Of Marvel And Money

Aha!  Found It!

No, not the Weirdstone of Brisingamen.  You see, I've been listening to a clutch of Youtube channels recently that have been - let us say "extremely critical" and leave out the swear words - about "The Marvels" specifically and both Disney and Marvel more generally.  Several quoted from a "Variety" article that I've only just tracked down.  Art!

Here for a reason

     The journalist responsible is one Tatiana Siegel, the V Editor for Film and Media, and she lays into Disney and Marvel with gusto, pretty much spiking them as Blade does with vampires (told you it was there for a reason).  Art!

Ol' Tatty

     You see, the shine has definitely worn off superhero films and television series, which is a bit of a problem for Marvel as these were their stock-in-trade.  One reason for this is audience burn-out, thanks to the sheer number of titles being produced and streamed or shown: "Wandavision", "Ms. Marvel", "Loki", "She-Hulk", "The Book Of Boba Fett*", "Secret Invasion", "The Mandalorian*" to name but some of the Disney + streaming shows.

     What's the take-away from this?  Even Bob Iger, the CEO of Disney, stated that the studio had lost direction and focus with it's streaming services.  More prosaically, it meant that producers were expecting their VFX teams to work 14 hour days with no overtime pay, one reason for becoming unionised.  It also meant shoddy and slipshod VFX work on the TV shows - and films.  Art!

    Incidentally, the article revealed that "She-Hulk" cost $25 million per episode, or $225 million for the nine-episode run, which works out at $1 million per minute.  Yet the VFX were allegedly execrable.  I shall have to take this on trust as Your Humble Scribe has never watched it and has no compulsion to remedy this deficiency.
     Further to the above, "Blade"'s original script had the character playing fourth fiddle to three female leads, who were focussed on teaching the audience 'life lessons', whatever they might be.  "A metal frisbee is not a toy", "Never run with scissors" or "Port means 'left' and Starboard means 'right", perhaps?  The star, Mr. Ali, threatened to walk away if this divisive nonsense wasn't rectified; he has two Oscars under his belt already and he was going to 'feature' in his own film?  It's already on it's second director and fifth script.  So - they are back to square one with six weeks to go before production starts.  Art!

     This is just bizarre.  As a promotion for "The Marvels" they are live-streaming cats in a cafe.  Whose idea was this? because I'll have a pint of what they're smoking, thanks very much.  Don't forget this film was originally budgeted at $250 million, before they did four weeks of reshoots, which analysts are estimating may have added AT LEAST $25 million to the total.  We'll probably have to wait until later in the year to get an accurate total for this, once British tax returns get posted.  Ol' Tatty is a bit behind the times on TM, because in her article it was being estimated as opening between $75 - $85 million, which has now been downrated to perhaps $45 - $60 million.  Which upper bound was the opening for Indy 5, a film that failed to get even 66% of it's budget back, let alone make a profit.  Art!

"Phoebe realised that, standing next to Harrison, her hat was a sad failure"

     We'll get an idea of TM's box office next Thursday, as these tentpole films usually have a premiere release in a limited number of theatres the day before the official opening day.  Bring your own popcorn.

Here's One For Those Not Present

As you should surely know by now, Conrad is dog-sitting Edna for two weeks, the hardest part of which is her acting as a Dog Alarm Clock.  Also, she covets my comfy chair above all else in this world, except possibly food.  Art!

"Yes?"

     True, it is next to the radiator, and it usually has a cardigan of mine to render it extra-specially comfy and padded, but - and I think most of you will back me on this - IT'S MY CHAIR!

     We have also been out for Second Walkies before nightfall, as once it gets dark the monsters come out, mostly the fireworks begin.

"Cango And Tush"

I am a little hesitant about posting this item, given how creatively bankrupt Hollywood is, and the possibility of one of their suits coming across BOOJUM! and stealing ideas.  Art!

Cango

Tush

     You see, "Tango And Cash" came out in 1989, and 34 years later if it were 're-imagined' for a modern audience, the two leads would be females - in this case strippers/models/waitresses <delete most insulting> with hearts of gold, who play characters at least thirty years younger than themselves, and whom break up <thinks> a slavery trafficking ring " - despite being ditzy blondes!!" or some such shizzle.  Nor would they take their clothes off; they're proper actresses you know, but it would guarantee a certain sleazy demographic paid to watch it.  Plus, Kurt Russell and Sly Stallone would have cameos as their disapproving fathers, who nevertheless come round to appreciating how empowering their chosen career is.  O and they both have Master's degrees in Advanced Astrophysics.  AND they used to work for NASA, but left because of the Patriarchy, which is symbolised by Tommy Lee Jones, whom they throw in a skip.
     Okay, Hollywood, that will be $20 million, thanks.

"City In The Sky"

We are having one of the occasional vignettes that describe life beyond the Arcology and Australia's coastal survivors.

     Since landing from Washington five years previously the fifty men and women of Operation Phoenix had managed great things.  Two completely re-assembled shuttles now resided in storage, preserved in an atmosphere of argon.  A kilometre-long runway had been constructed, painstaking metre by metre, north of the mine complex and along the bed of a road from before the Crash.  Recycled derricks and rigs had given themselves up to form a functional launch tower; the structure would have horrified NASA staffs from as far back as the Fifties, but it held up in a tropical storm without buckling or breaking, which satisfied Operation Phoenix.  If they managed to create a sufficiently powerful rocket fuel, they could even re-use their venerable landing shuttle.

     Yet over the last two years there had been a series of disasters and accidents.  Not from the locals.  No.  They were friendly enough, willing to trade for food, or do menial work under supervision, or help with communicating to other colonies along the Gulf of Mexico.  Nor were they allowed on-site; a long perimeter fence with ground sensors backed up by armed patrols, infra-red beams and occasional dogs kept any unauthorised visitors away.  The official representatives of Uncle Sam Downstairs weren’t going to chance anyone damaging their precious shuttles.

     Why, it's almost as if someone or something were carrying out acts of sabotage.

Thanks But No Thanks

This will probably have slipped from your memory, as it's old news.  Conrad has been trying to lay hold of a very particular military history work, which, if Art will do the honours after laying down his bowl of coal -

     Let me correct an error here.  This book was published in hardback in 2016, NOT 2022.  Presumably it didn't sell very well as there haven't been any new editions since then and it never came out in paperback, either.  A shame, that, it got good reviews on "We Have Ways".  Also, the cover price was £35, not £98, and the vendors are also ripping people off with a P & P of £16.16 when £10 would be excessive.  Kindly beggar orff!

Finally -

Since Edna cannot sit in the Comfy Chair, she has done the next best thing and is sitting on me.  This will have to end in a second as I have a comfort break and go make tea.

*  Yes yes yes, neither are Marvel.  I needed to lengthen the list.  Sue me.

Were I To Say "Gas"

You'd Probably Roll Your Eyes

And tut, whilst sucking your teeth (no mean achievement), then go on to complain that "Conrad is yarking on about Ruffian hydrocarbons again".  Then there'd be an insult or two thrown at Elevator Shoe Gimp and his penguin-impersonating henchmen - 

     Except today you'd be WRONG!

     Don't weep so, it's unbecoming, and you'll smear your mascara.  Art!

     Yes, that kind of gas, the poison one as invented by the Teutons during the First Unpleasantness.  You see British troops wearing their Brodie helmets and the Small Box Respirator, which gives the wearer a curious resemblance to a predatory insect.  Note the two chaps in the middle with Red Cross armbands, a device worn to hopefully prevent hostiles taking deliberate aim.

     The reason for rolling out this ghastly topic is because a question came up on Quora yesteryon:

How could the British have won World War I if they were not willing to use chemical weapons?

     Your Humble Scribe simply had to get his oar in here.

You are labouring under a misapprehension if you believe the British (and Commonwealth) did not use chemical weapons in WW1. They were extremely willing, but were coming from far behind Germany, with it’s enormous chemical industries that gave it an initial advantage.

The British ‘Special Brigade’ was a large unit of Royal Engineers who dealt exclusively with gas, principally in attack. They used it in ‘cloud’ attacks, in ‘beam’ attacks and with the Livens Projector by the thousand. Gas was also fired from light, medium and heavy mortars, as well as by all calibres of artillery. The British used a persistent lachrymatory gas dubbed “SKS”, which would contaminate dug outs, bunkers, tunnels etc. so severely they had to temporarily abandoned, as the concentration reached lethal levels. Whenever the Germans came up with a new gas the British would loudly proclaim about “The beastly Hun”, then go away and reverse engineer it. This is what happened with mustard gas, introduced by the Germans at Third Ypres in mid-1917. By September of 1918 the British were firing their own mustard gas shells back, to their immense satisfaction and the discomfiture of the Germans.

     Art!

     I recommended this work, as the officer who wrote it was in charge of the Royal Engineer's 'Special Brigade' that carried out British gas warfare, and whom quotes his very best chum Major Livens, whose aim was to reduce the expenditure of killing individual Teutons to a mere sixteen shillings.  Do not be deceived by  British sportsmanship in the games of cricket or rugby, they can be as utterly devious and diabolical as the most Machiavellian of  villains.  Art!

     The 51st Highland Division move into the attack, Somewhere In France.  I mention them because their divisional history describes a 'Gas Beam Attack'.  You or other readers would have a great deal of trouble looking up said event, because their Official History doesn't have an index.  Oooops!  Conrad, years back, went and did one for it.  Art!

     And in "British Weapons" we find -

     40 truck-loads of phosgene were run up on a light railway behind the HD's frontline positions when the wind was in the right direction, then all released simultaneously by an electrical trigger system.  For extra nastiness, this was done at night so the hapless Teutons didn't see the gas coming, over a narrow frontage of 500 yards. 

     The Royal Flying Corps went up once daylight arrived to inspect the damage, and reported 'a broad belt of discoloured grass showed that the beam had travelled some 4,000 - 5,000 yards into the enemy's country towards Douai.'  Art!

     That's a 'cloud' attack in daylight but gives an idea of what being on the receiving end of a beam attack would be like.

     We can be grateful that the only mass use of gas warfare was restricted to the Iran-Iraq war back in the Eighties, because as I always say, it puts the 'gas' in 'ghastly'.

     Quick!  Let us change subjects in an arbitrary and extreme fashion!

"Cakeable Of Events"

Conrad's ex-stable of compatriots at Sainsbo's were quite the palette of Hom. Sap. ranging from camp peacocks (Joshua looking at you) to strikingly attractive young ladies (no false modesty Manal) and taking in, amongst others, Leanne.  Leanne is one of those people who could, as I put it, have an adventure opening a tin of baked beans.

     Well, she recently opened a shop.  A bakery, to be specific, named - Art!

     It is located at 1 - 3 Fletcher Street, in Ashton, Tameside, Greater Manchester.  She is discovering all the additional roles and tasks that come into play when running a whole business from a real shop rather than your kitchen.  Art!

Leanne, not having an adventure

     I cannot attend at present, since my dog-sitting duties keep me bound to The Mansion by the furry ball-and-chain, but rest assured I will be hopping on the 409 to go inspect premises and products.  Dunno if they do gluten-free yet BUT Conrad doubts they'll manage a sugar-free cake.

     Wonder if I can pull off the "Give me free stuff 'cos I'm an influencer" scam?

Schadenfreude With Pictures

As you should surely know by now, Conrad is a terrible person who positively frolics in the misfortune of others, most especially when they deserve it (and they frequently deserve it).

     What is unusual is for us to have pictorial proof of the poison pudding, as we do today.

     The story is from Quora and concerns a catering manager who ran a Burger King at Sunset Esplanade in Hillsboro, Oregon; Original Poster informed that he'd raised the inspection rating to 98% from 50%, who had decades of experience in catering generally and whom was able to retain staff.  This is no mean feat in fast-food catering when so many staff are casual part-timers not looking to stay for more than a few months.  Art!

CAUTION! For illustrative purposes only

    OP might have trodden on a few toes, as he was shuffled out of his job in favour of what he called a 'snot-nosed punk', which sounds like nepotism at play.  SNP then fires OP 2 weeks later.

     THE NEXT DAY SNP rings OP begging for help over the phone in how to do what and when with whom - SNP came into the job knowing nothing about how to do it.

     OP then gleefully informs SNP that he's got OP's old job, he's welcome to it and he'll be getting exactly 0% help.  Art!

     

12 weeks later -

     The branch goes under 3 months later, so badly that it is permanently closed down, all 45 staff are laid off and the premises are sold to Chase Bank.  Art!

     There you go, sorry no photos available.

"City In The SKy"

The Doctor was half-expecting skull-duggery whilst strolling about apparently unawares, yet has been taken by surprise.  After all, what can possibly go wrong on a stroll around town?

     ‘Hmm. Interesting.  Pack hunting instincts.  Most unusual.’  He didn’t recognise the species, which might be a result of local mutations, evolution being driven faster than normal thanks to the presence of radioactive isotopes in the food chain.  Recognisable or not, they still had the air of being hunters, hunters and killers, carnivores.  Hungry carnivores.

     The line of spiders advanced, herding him back into a corner.  Discretion being the better part of valour, the Doctor tried calling for help – and realised the shed’s glass didn’t transmit sound very well, if at all.

     One spider, slightly in advance of the others, ducked down and he recognised it was about to jump.

 

INTERPOSIT FOUR:

     One reason the two American spheres had managed rapid construction, an equally rapid enpopulation and lengthy survival had been adherence to a fairly strict military organisation, which still remained formal and rigid after two generations.  A Shadow Cabinet still existed, and the hereditary Vice President still carried the authority of the old, pre-Crash United States.  Their Texan “Carlsbad Crew”, as the stiff humour aboard Washington dubbed it, had thawed under the influence of weather, fresh air, natural water and no worrying about whether their living space would stop rotating or not.  Thanks to the prototype laser defence grid, a great deal more of the United State’s infrastructure survived intact than anyone had expected.  The problems now were maintenance, as The Phage had so severely thinned surviving populations.

     O, a cliff-hanger!  How thoroughly unsporting of me.

O Ho Ho

Okay, that's it, time's up for Sam Bankman-Fried.  You may recall us going over the carcass of FTX, his scamble crypto-currency exchange, which was placed into receivership earlier this year.  Art!

SBF trying to look his smartest

     He's just been found guilty and is potentially looking at 110 years in prison, meaning his library books will have a bit of a fine to pay.

     One line in passing struck Conrad, given how deliberately obtuse, intermingled and complex the FTX web of companies were - most of the stolen funds have been recovered.  This is perhaps due to 3 of the other main criminals copping plea deals; they might have been instructed to explain where funds were hidden.  Or it could have been an extensive forensic audit, which Conrad would like to read about if it happened.  Or - is that just me?  

Finally -

Edna and I experienced a chilly yet bright and sunny morning walk today, for only the second time in fourteen trots.  Conrad has long maintained that he doesn't care how cold it gets as long as it's not raining.

     And with that we are so very very done, Vulnavia.

The Height Of Bad Manners

No!  Nothing To Do With The Post-Punk Ska Band

Who had fourteen minutes of fame back in the Eighties, and - surprise! - who don't get a picture here, as they are now very obscure and forgotten by all but a select handful as aged as Conrad, who i

     ANYWAY let me begin with a far more compelling picture, from the documentary "Escape From L.A." and don't worry, we'll get to the nuclear weapons soon enough.  Art!

PAY ATTENTION!

"Nobody draws until this hits the ground"

He cheated!

     You see that first picture?  That's a standoff.  Which my Collins Concise defines as:" The act or an instance of standing off or apart, a deadlock or stalemate, to keep or cause to keep at a distance."
     If you, as a person, are standoffish, then you are aloof or remote in manner, which is where the bad manners come in (although Conrad would have imagined it would be the depth of bad manners?), unless you're Finnish, in which case it's perfectly normal*.

     You are probably wondering what all this has to do with nukes, aren't you?  Of course you are! and if you aren't WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?  Art!

     

     Ladies, gentlemen and those unsure, allow me to introduce the GAM63 'Rascal', a South Canadian nuclear missile of the early Fifties.  "Rascal" is defined as "A disreputable person or villain" and, indeed, residents of the Sinister Union would have agreed vehemently with this description were they to encounter a GAM63 in real life.  The missile came out of a specification for an air-to-surface missile with the stated aim of: "Destroying well-defended targets that were en route to strategic targets", from a distance of 100 miles.

     This, you see, is a 'Stand off' weapon, to be used by South Canadian bombers against Sinister fighter bases, SAM sites, radar units, and anything else in the way of getting to a big juicy strategic target.  Art!

     Not being terribly accurate, the Rascal made up for it with a whacking big 2 Mt warhead, which would spoil your day even if it hit 500 yards from target.  The guidance system was a curious amalgam of inertial navigation and a bombardier aboard the launch aircraft watching a radar screen to direct the Rascal onto the aiming point over the last 20 miles.

      Yet Conrad, up till last week, had never heard of this missile.  What gives and why not?

     A few reasons.  For one, it was extremely large and thus required an expensively-adapted bomber to carry it, singly, without the ability to carry any other weaponry.  Secondly, the test launches, all 51 of them, had a very high failure rate.  Thirdly, the terminal phase involving a radar link was easily spoofed or jammed.  Strategic Air Command wanted the whole project dropped - ha! do you see wh O you do - and were able to get it scrapped shortly before it went live in late 1958.  Art!

     That there B-47 needed $1 million in additional equipment to carry and launch the Rascal, which is why SAC were happy to see the back of it.  I dare say the Sinisters were equally as happy to see an inaccurate flying mallet being sent back to Stores.
     There are, currently, still Atomic Rascals available for you, the general public, to purchase, except these cause injury only to a single person at a time.  Art!

     From ska to ski.  I think that's enough rascallry for one Intro.

     Motley!  Now you've got those skis on, we're going to paint over your snow-goggles and let you run free.

Conrad Is ANGRY!

Yes, again.  "How can this be!" I hear you gasp, and, pausing only to wonder if there is the merest smidgeon of sarcasm in there, I shall explicate.  Art!

     Excuse me?  What the Dog Buns! is this - they have "Pigs On The Wing" but not "Pigs"?  No "One Of These Days"?  Nothing from "Obscured By Clouds"? Or, indeed anything pre-1970?

     BAH!

Only We Can Prevent Veeblefetzers**!

In case you weren't around in the Fifties, which you won't have been unless you recognised the Rascal, you won't be aware of "Mad" and their single-word all-purpose McGuffin, the 'Veeblefetzer'.  Art!

CAUTION! Hazardous to voles

     Now you are forearmed and forewarned by BOOJUM! and need never fear being confronted by a wild Veeblefetzer.

"City In The Sky"

The Doctor is taking a little un-escorted stroll around New Eucla, seeing what he can see, and also attracting a small crowd of children from a nursery.

     His exporatory stroll seemed to be entirely uneventful, rather to his disappointment, so he followed a track off what passed for the main street in New Eucla, passing one of the big glass buildings Mike had said were used to corral sheep before shearing.  The doors were swung wide open, allowing air to circulate in what must be a sweltering box when full of sheep.

     Even though he expected trouble the savage impact on his spine came as a surprise, causing him to stumble inside the glass shed and fall onto the soft dark earth that smelt of sheep droppings, his umbrella falling alongside him.  A rustling thump, followed by a grating sound and a solid clack, were revealed to be a small sack thrown into the shed just inside the doors, which had been slammed shut.  That last noise had been a solid beam being dropped into place across the doors, holding them shut.

     ‘Ow,’ winced the Timelord, rubbing his bruised vertebrae.  The bruise would, without a doubt, match the end of that wooden beam. 

     Very well, the suspect had stuck him inside a glass shed.  Clearly there was more to this plan –

     ‘Ah,’ he murmured.  ‘I see.’

     From the sack crawled an enormous spider, it’s body easily bigger than his hand.  It scuttled out into the shed, followed by another dozen that rapidly scouted around before focussing on him.  Forming a wavy line across the building’s width, they cut him off from the door as he slowly backed away.  

     Arachnaphobes look away now.  Art!

Eucla as is

The Final Cut

No!  Nothing to do with Pink Floyd, get out of here with your monomania.  No, this is the last act of The Battle Of Harper's Ferry, as skirmish-gamed by Richard.  This was the second test run he'd done to work out any problems before taking the game to a convention or two.  Art!

     This is the last stand of John Brown and his accomplices, in the Engine House, where there were both hostages and a lack of light.  The US Army stormed the building using only bayonets, for fear of accidentally hitting the citizens of HF that were being kept prisoner.  They first had to bash a hole in the door with a ladder used as a battering-ram.  Art!

     After the whole incident was over, Richard asked us to turn over the Character Cards to see the fate of our men.  Not a good outcome for JB & Co. I'm afraid - all were executed by hanging in 1859.

     What balanced that outcome was Conrad's continual adding points to the 'Insurrection Count' whenever his card came up, instead of carrying out any actions on the board.  We were not told what the Count would do, nor if there was a critical total, except there was - Richard revealed that the count was high enough for the South to be on the brink of mass slave revolt (or so they thought!) and as good a result as was possible.  Art!

     You see, JB used the trial and courthouse as an oratorical platform to get his views on abolishing slavery across; he knew he was a dead man walking and didn't care if it meant he got to preach to the nation.

Finally -

Hmmm, interesting!  I am at that point in "Official History Of The War - Military Operations - Egypt & Palestine Volume I" where the Arab Revolt has just taken place in the Hejaz, which is what we now call Saudi Arabia.  Guess who's just put in an appearance?  Captain T. E. Lawrence.

     "Egypt & Palestine" is rather a misnomer: so far we've also had Libya, Sudan, now the Hejaz, Oman, Yemen and Syria.  Art!

El Aurens in local garb

*  We could compose a whole Intro solely on the subject of Finns being habitually and culturally misanthropic.

** This device is from the pages of Quora, not "The Daily Beast" for once.

We Have A Theme!

Not Sure How Long We Can Sustain It For

But here goes.  This idea, for your information, came up whilst I was walking madame this morning, and proved to have legs.  Possibly longer ones than Edna's.

     Okay, first of all, you need to understand that celebrities can be hard to recognise when not made up with a whole colour palette of cosmetics.  Art!

     This is obviously Anne Hathaway to starboard, and the bag-head lady to port is equally obviously her sister, who has nothing to smile about.  

     HA!  Gotcha - they are both Anne Hathaway.  That was me being catty.  Art!

     I've heard of DHP.  The others?  Well, they can't be that celebrated, Conrad's got no idea of whom they are and still less interest in finding out.
     It's funny, yet 99% of the 'Celebrities Without Makeup" photographs turn out to be of females rather than a 50/50 split with males.  Probably because we men don't need to purport to be preening popinjays plastered with paints, although to make my point here we do need to wheel on one male celebrity who resorts to make up, and how.  Art!

     I apologise if this image came up unexpectedly whilst you were eating your breakfast.  Nevertheless, the satsuma-tinted image is there for a reason.  Note how Citizen Trump's ears and eyes lack the sepia tinge of the rest of his epidermis?  This is because nitric acid would burn his corneas and damage his hearing of goggles, and you're not supposed to notice the ears.  One presumes that Darth Marmalade insists on being sprayed orange because it mimics a tan, and having a tan implies being out in the sun, which is a good optic for aspiring politicians, right*?

     Right.  Art!

"Yes, really, I got a hole in zero.  That's how good I am."

     Here's matey without his spray-tan - or perhaps he just eats too many carrots? - and a hat where his hairpiece normally sits.  So, you must be asking, where did his -

     TAN GO?!

     I'd thought you'd never ask!  Art?

TANGO: This is the nineteenth letter of the phonetic NATO alphabet, chosen for it's unique nature and lack of confusion with other letters of said alphabet - you don't get MANGO or QUANGO to recite when calling in a Sitrep to battalion HQ, do you?  No.  Art!

FOXTROT ALPHA SIERRA TANGO STOP TANGO ALPHA NOVEMBER

TANGO: A dance.

TANGO: What, you expected more?  You're not getting any more, and that's that.  The next iteration of this word that we're going to use is for a fizzy drink, 'carbonated swill' as Your Humble Scribe is wont to describe it.  Art!

     It's an utterly conventional fizzy drink flavoured with orange.  The only reason it's here is because the producers spent enormous amounts on advertising it with all sorts of ridiculous symbolism and analogy.  Lidl's version will be exactly the same but a fifth of the price.  And no, you don't get any of the adverts pictured here because they annoy me.

TANGO AND CASH: NO!  Not a holdover from the previous item.  Besides, did the banks invent chip and pin in vain?

     This is a daft yet entertaining action-comedy starring Sly Stallone and Kurt Russell, where Kurt plays the slobby Cash and Sly the uptight Tango.  Art!

     It was one of the last big pictures of the Eighties, probably a defining moment in cinema, and whilst the critics made a sour lemon face at it, the audience liked it to the value of $120 million, on a $25 million budget, so quite a big hit.  Conrad worries that, given it's over a generation old, and made wheelbarrows of cash at the box office, Hollywood will 're-imagine' it for a 2024 audience.  

    Ignore that last sentence.  It never happened (can't be giving those suits ideas).

Whisky Oscar Echo?

As you should surely know by now, we here at BOOJUM! are consistently Safe For Work and do not curse, so the crude acronym WTF is always replaced by WOE, meaning 'What On Earth?' when we come across another bizarre event or artefact.

     Thus today, courtesy of "The Daily Beast".  Art!

     The electronic gadget?  Your guess is as good as mine.  The other one seems to be a pocket ice-bath, and by leaning reallllly close to the screen and squinting, Conrad could make out a pair of spectacles.  A means to heat your spectacles up?  Cool them down?  Make them hop in the liquid like a tango dancer?  What On Earth indeed.

Being Beastly

Conrad is unsure what some of the journalists at TDB have been drinking, smoking or snorting, to come up with a sidebar news title like this one.  Art!

     O Rlly?  Art!

     That's from "Box Office Mojo" and doesn't include returns from Tuesday nor today.  How on earth is that 'Doomed'?  I suppose I really ought to read the article and see what they were talking about.

     Ah, they were complaining that it wasn't as scary as the game.

     This is like complaining a breeze-block isn't as tasty as a baked potato, or that cottage cheese lacks the structural strength of rebar concrete.  Dude, these are two completely different things.  Conrad suspects that the film critics at TDB were both embarrassed and annoyed that it's doing so well when they canned it.  Art!

     That egg on your chin was from an ostrich.

"City In The Sky"

Deputy Mayor Mike is escorting Alex and the Doctor around New Eucla, giving them a tour and potted history.  Well, to Alex, that is -

In fact, whilst Mike had been escorting them to the courier offices, the tannery, shearing sheds, the smoking sheds, and explaining the function of each, the Doctor had been keeping a cautious, watchful eye on the watcher.  Eventually he decided that body language, inflection and speech implied only what Mike had told them: he was there to keep an eye on them, and not under orders to inflict any harm.

     Very well, time to explore on his own.  He boldly strolled off, being watched by curious townsfolk who whispered to each other when he passed, and accompanied by a small cluster of children.  In time, a pair of teenaged girls caught up with the youngsters.

     ‘There you are!  What d’you think you’re doing!’ shouted one of the pair.

     ‘We was just watching the stranger,’ replied a child, meekly.

     ‘You don’t just walk out of the nursery!’ said the second girl, exasperated.  ‘That’s twice this month.’  She turned to the Doctor, who anticipated a telling-off for his involuntary Hamelin ability.  ‘Thanks, Mister Smith.  At least they all stayed in one place ‘cos of you this time!’

     ‘Happy to help,’ he said, bowing.

     ‘Ooh, int he polite!’ giggled the second girl.  ‘Come on you lot.’

     Manners maketh both man and Gallifreyan.

"The War Illustrated"

We are looking at a couple more individual frames from the magazine's montage section, all of which are from Italy, which was the only game in town for the Western Allies.  Art!

     This illustration shows a casualty being lowered into a 'Regimental Aid Post' on the beaches at Anzio, safely below ground level and thus less vulnerable to any enemy action.  An R.A.P. for your information, is the first stop for a casualty, whom are triaged and forwarded on to Casualty Clearing Stations for more advanced treatment.

Such as -

     The arty look is spoiled by Conrad being unable to eliminate the page, sorry about that Cecil Beaton-wannabe.  This Anzio farmhouse has been converted into a small hospital, specialising in abdominal wound cases, with large red crosses on a white-washed exterior, in the pious (and not necessarily unanswered) hope that the enemy will abstain from attacking it.

     Being aware that this amount of medical support is behind the lines to offer aid and succour is a boost to morale amongst the blokes that go out and risk being injured, just so you know.

Finally -

That's Sober October done with.  It being the weekly shop tonight, Your Humble Scribe will be purchasing a few bottles of beer, yes by gum Tweedledum, except I cannot drink any of them until Friday.  O well.  Patience is a virtue and all that.

*  It may also divert attention from his tiny, tiny hands.