A Cabin In The Woods

NO!

This is nothing to do with that film of the quite similar name, that I haven't watched and know nothing about, apart from it being a horror movie, and there's a cabin, and - you may be ahead of me here - it's in the woods.  But of course.  I mean, a cabin in the centre of Gomorrah-in-the-Irwell (it's raining heavily here) would be bizarre, not scary.  Well, it does allow a bit of a clickbaity picture.  Art!

Your Air b'n'b - with anti-gravity!

     This tale is one of those posted on Youtube from Reddit, where a minor start turns into an epic worthy of Homer, and yes I mean the Greek poet not yon chap from that television series.  First, imagine a South Canadian house with a large backyard pool.  Art!

     Next, imagine an Original Poster who loathes his two sisters, their husbands and their demoniacal offspring.  Add in a poolside barbecue, have The Evil Sisters And Spouses all be drunk, and TESAS's three kids running around with no parental supervision.

     What can possibly go wrong?

     The TESASTKs decide to run up to people and push them into the pool, because they are the offspring of TESAS, whom think this is tremendously funny.  Hubris, mate, hubris.  The implings then rush at OP, who sees them coming and dodges out of the way last minute, meaning they all three run straight into the pool.  Everyone bar the TESAS think this is hilarious as the little pieces of excrement wail and flounder in the water.  Art!

     What makes it even more amusing for OP is that the kids had been using their parent's phones to film the proceedings, both phones now sitting at the bottom of the pool.  Predictably TESAS are exceedingly wrathful that - um - not entirely sure about this - that OP didn't just let the kids push him into the water?  They rant and tant at everyone and GREAT BIG SURPRISE nobody volunteers to get their phones out from the pool.  One of the male TESAS is so drunk that, whilst arguing, he trips over and uses his head as a blunt instrument on the poolside flags, at which point OP and wife leave.

     This kind of behaviour is why OP hates his TESASFKs and he and wifey only attended because his mum bullied the wife into it.

Remember this

  First of all, Face-Hammer BIL needed to get his face stitched together again, and since he was barely capable of standing, OP's dad got the chore of driving him to the "Emergency Room", as the South Canadians call it.

     Next day, the TESAS begin a group chat that slanders OP, his wife and his parents, so OP blocks them.  Mum is not amused.  Next day Mum orders the TESAS to attend her house again and apologise to OP via phone, which they do, rather reluctantly and not at all sincerely.  OP unblocks them.  All done and over with, right?

     You are so wrong.  And naïve.

     

Remember this?

     Unsmashed Face BIL texts OP, informing him that he's going to be paying the $5,000 for both mobiles -

     - at which point OP blocks him, then forwards the text to Mum and Dad and says that's it, No Contact with TESASFK from now on, and neither OP nor his wife will be attending any event they're at.

     This seems to have sent Dad over the edge, because he rings the TESASFKs up and forbids them from ever bringing their kids round again.  This is the equivalent of having them collectively sit on a cactus, as Mum had regularly been used as a free babysitter.

     Oooops.

     Not only that, informs Dad: you can no longer use the vacation house, because it's actually OP's property, he bought it and allowed M & D to use it (there!  A Cabin In The Woods explained!).  Art!

Step into my parlour ...

     That cactus?  Now being used in lieu of toilet-roll.  The TESASFKs, you see, used it on a frequent basis for themselves and parties of friends.

     We're only beginning the madness that is A Cabin In The Woods, so I'll call a halt at this point or the whole of today's blog will be nothing but the TESASFKs and ACITW.

More MacGuffinry

For your information, a 'MacGuffin' is an artefact used to drive the plot of a film, which is inconsequential in itself.  Art!

Back when cigarettes were cool and manly

     Here's a couple of items from the webpages of "The Daily Beast".  Art!

     I can guess the function of the MacGee to starboard: an electronic scale for measuring very small objects, such as gemstones.  Allow me to peek behind the scenes and I shall elucidate.  Art!

Called it

     The bizarre device to port reminds me of that frightening Polish film poster for "Cabaret" and I don't know if we should reference it here, as once seen it cannot be unseen.  O go on then.  Art!

     Allegedly a toy.  Not a torture implement at all.  O well, reality can be boring at times.

I Did Wonder

As you should surely know, Conrad loves to grouse about the British weather and climate.  2024 got off to a good start with a bright, cold morning that became  progressively darker and more dismal, and today has been one of those days where you keep the lights on all the time.  "What a disgustrous day!" I opined to myself when looking out of my Sekrit Layr.  Well, it appears that there is a reason for the torrential rain and lowering skies.  Art!

"The River Irwell got a bit choppy"

     Actually that's an utter lie, this is Newhaven Harbour in Sussex.  I had you going for a moment, though, didn't I?

     The culprit is Storm Henk.  I thought we'd only just had a storm, Storm Gitta or somesuch?  Whichever, it's stormy whether it's Gitta or Henk.  Do you see wh - O you do.

"City In The Sky"

Cease the disease come the pleas -

      This bizarre message made no sense to Ace and it was lucky that Davy transcribed it onto his electronic notepad for later recall.

     ‘I’ve got to organise down here so this is all in your hands, Ace.’

     She stared at the minute speaker.  What?  What was the Doctor raving about now!  If all these people on Arc One were ill, had he contracted their illness himself, making him babble nonsense?

     ‘Professor, what the bl-’

     Before she could finish her coarse question, the speaker emitted a continual and unpleasantly piercing high-pitched squeal that ended all radio communication from Eucla, then and afterwards.

     Davy looked at the device with astonishment.  Someone was jamming the broadcast from Downstairs!  His disbelief about alien infiltrators dropped a quantum level.

     ‘Okay, what the devil was that message about, Ace?’

     The young woman shook her head in worry.

     ‘Davy, I have absolutely no idea!’

     The Director looked at his shoes, then at the occupied clinic beds.  That Smith man compressed a great deal of intellect and ability into a small physique, he didn’t talk nonsense for it’s own sake and knowing that there existed every possibility of being cut off with every passing second, he’d not babble meaningless chatter to his contact aboard the arcology.

     Of course - obviously! - I know what it means.  But I'm not going to tell you.  I'm horrid like that.

More Bad News For Harry Hamster Head

Chipmunk Cheeks, in case you were unaware.  His annual address at New Year was less than four minutes long and never once mentioned 'War' or 'Ukraine' because if he doesn't mention it then it doesn't exist.  Not only that, he looked more akin to Max Headroom that Peter The Average, giving new life to the claims that he's actually dead.  Art!

Dimya

Max

     O yes, the item.  Here's a headline he won't be happy with. 

     So much for This Sceptred Isle resorting to eating squirrels out of desperation.  Yes, that was their line last year.  There were a few very amusing Comments in there. 

U

Reply posted by ubercurmudgeon, today at 17:57ubercurmudgeon

17:57

to richard

ubercurmudgeon replied:

Heat evaporates more water from the oceans. That water has to go somewhere. In the North Atlantic, that somewhere is Wales.

     No!  You cannot call the residents there "Whales".  That would be too cruel and mocking.

Finally -

Better get those pistachios chopped up for the icey cream.

Can You Feel The Brute Force?

Allow Me To Elaborate A Little

"Starr Warz" (sp?) has one of the best examples ever of Brute Force, that being the Death Star, which - SPOILER ALERT! - is capable of destroying entire planets with a single burst of it's Supermassive Blaster Cannon or whatever they christen it.  Art!

     That, gentle readers, is how you resolve an argument Darth Vader style, because there are no comebacks, witty one-liners or eye-rolls after experiencing that.

     This wouldn't be BOOJUM! if we didn't abruptly change course after an intro to the Intro like that, so allow me to whistle up Robin Prior and a continuation of his destruction of that Wehraboo fantasy, that the Teutons were ever so much better at waging war than anyone else during the Second Unpleasantness.  Art!

One of these Teuton PoWs is looking forward to captivity in Canada

     Ol' Rob then tackles the myth of the Allies merely using brute force instead of skill, which - again! - is a reversion to the Warrior Ethic as it happened during the siege of Troy.  Three thousand years ago.  Some historians who ought to know better <coughcoughJohnElliscough> seem to think that 'brute force' was somehow unfair.  How dare the Allies have tens of thousands of aircraft and tanks  and artillery pieces not to mention mountains of bombs and shells!  If only it was a fair fight between 12 Teutons in a field and 12 Allied soldiers, then we'd see who was the better warrior -

      This is ludicrous.  In case you hadn't noticed, the Allies deliberately as a policy substituted metal for manpower wherever possible.  The Teutons were quite happy throwing their Warriors into combat and getting them bicated, which is like decimated except five times worse.  Art!

Ignore the South Canadian soldier!

     Ol' Georgie was a Canadian artillery officer who went through Normandy, and he pithily remarked that, after six weeks in Normandy, even the hardest-bitten SS trooper had to be chivvied out of his trench at bayonet point to attack, because they dreaded their inevitable encounter with Allied artillery.  Art!

Being all spiteful

     This is HMS Warspite, unloading 15" shells on the hapless Teutons on D-Day.  A single broadside from this old lady weighed 3.5 tons and the only protection from them was i) Be somewhere else when they landed, or ii) Have at least a yard of reinforced concrete covering your delicate hide.  Can you imagine Winston Churchill saying to Admiral Dudley Pound "O I think we'll leave the battleships out of D-Day, not sporting old chap, don't you know!"

     Then you have air power.  This adds a third dimension to warfare and it's neglected at your peril.  The bare statistic that the Allies had 11,590 aircraft available on the day tells you, once again, metal not men, and their loss rate was only slightly over 1%.  Art!

     Air supremacy, thanks to legions of giant flying mallets, meant that the Teutons could only safely move at night, for about eight hours, cutting their strategic movement ability by two-thirds.

     Of course - obviously! - brute force only works if applied properly, which Ol' Rob is careful to point out.  I can think of one contemporary egg-deprived army that tried to use brute force and has been failing miserably.  They can hit static civilian targets no bother; but on the battlefield?  Not happening.  In fact more Death Tsar than Death Star -

     Which is where we came in.

A Little Good News

Conrad has a certain sneaking regard for Jeremy Renner, thanks to his barely concealed distaste for Cheesy Larson on their dual interview.  Art!

     Yes, I cut the bottom of that quote off, as it was much too rude.  But heartfelt.

     As you may recall, Ol' Jezza got run over by his snowplough as he attempted to stop it from crushing his nephew.  Make no mistake, this was a near-fatal accident that broke 30 of his bones and required tons of surgery.  Art!

     Now he's back.  Good to see, although he may never manage action stuff as previously.  If all you're familiar with is his stint in Marvel films as Hawkeye, try watching his excellent turn in "The Town", which is one of Ben Affleck's best moments too.

"Horsemastership"

O my goodness, you couldn't get away with language like that nowadays.  It cropped up in <takes breath> "Official History Military Operations Egypt & Palestine Volume II Part II", and is quite distinct from "Horsemanship", a word that will have readers wincing at how un-PC it is.  Sue me.  OHMOEP is from 1937.  Conrad understands that 'Horsemanship' is a term that applies to riding a horse, whereas 'Horsemastership' is all about taking care of Dobbin, not out of any kindly notion that Horses Are Cute, but rather getting the best military efficiency from a steed.  Art!

     Anna appears to have been a bit of a one-trick pony, because I don

     ANYWAY the OH points out that horses used to campaigning in Palestine (and Trans-Jordan, and Syria, and the Lebanon) got acclimatised and accustomed to their rather harsh lifestyle, and endured conditions that rendered new remounts coming to the Middle East unfit for work.  Being able to go for long periods and distances without water was one acquired ability they had.  Art!

     "A" Squadron of the 19th Sikh Lancers made their way to Damascus across Syria without losing a single horse, either to enemy action or thirst, hunger or accident.  That, ladies, gentlemen and those unsure, is Horsemastership.

"City In The Sky"

Things are afoot both Upstairs and Downstairs.

     ‘Is Ace there yet?’ asked the tinny, anxious voice from the radio.

     ‘Not yet.’

     ‘I’d return to Arc One to help, Doctor Davros, if circumstances here weren’t so grave.’

     That got his attention.  How could it not!

     ‘How bad is it?’

     ‘Oh, no actions from our alien squatters – yet.  But I’ve forced their hand, and they’ve forced mine.  Things are going to hot up very soon and I’m needed down here even more than Upstairs.  Nor can I be too explicit on this broadcast.’

     ‘Oh – eavesdroppers.’

     Davy felt silly having said the word the instant it left his mouth.  “Eavesdroppers”, aliens whom nobody had ever seen, carrying out indirect actions to the detriment of humanity, like the invisible Dev spirits of his ancestral homeland.

     Ace and Terry came into the tent, looking with alarm at those stricken and lying on their hastily made beds.  Prakasz hurried over to them.

     ‘Blimey!  Is it catching?’ blurted Ace.  The nurse ignored her and herded both over to Davy.  Both young people caught sight of Barclay lying, moaning and sounding very sorry for himself, half on and half off a bed.

     ‘The Doctor,’ announced Davy, handing over her transceiver.

     ‘Ace!   Are you alright?  Never mind, no time to chat.  I need you to intercept one of those horses we first encountered when we arrived and give it a good punt, a right mouthful, put it at the back of the onion-bag, in the middle of the lowest Australia as defined by the Communications map.’

     Don't ask me, I only wrote it.

Read 'Em And Weep

All this talk of eggs becoming rare and precious in Ruffia made me recall a novel for Young Adults that I read many decades ago, entitled "The Case Of The Silver Egg".  I know any readers in Ruffia itself will think this a tasteless jibe at their lack of edible ova, and - wellllll you may have a point there.  Art!

      I think I first encountered it as a television adaptation, and being a hair-splitting pedant even then (early Seventies) I tracked down the book and read it.  There is indeed an egg-shaped device that is metallic in colouration, which has been stolen, or the inventor has been kidnapped, one of the two, maybe both.  Art!

Ignore the Latin!  Ignore the Latin!

     "We do it for a good cause" in case you were wondering.  Or even if you weren't.

     
Finally -

Conrad has to say that he's secretly glad the weather this evening and yestereve was so dismally wet and woeful.  Otherwise countless hundreds of bafunes within earshot would be letting off fireworks, which makes Edna anxious.  Please note I AM STILL NOT A DOG PERSON.  Mind you, those Shibas that turn up in memes mocking Harry Hamster Head are amusing.  Art!

"An ostrich egg is THIS BIG!"

Insert Eggy Pun Here

Or, The Cracks Are Showing

We are now into month 22 of Hamster Head Harry's Special Idiotic Operation, which is about 21 and a half months longer than he'd planned for or anticipated.  We here at BOOJUM! regularly keep you updated with the grand sweeping landscape of how the Ruffian economy is up an excrement river in a barbed wire canoe with tennis-racket paddles.  The average Ruffian doesn't want to know anything about the Call-It-A-War-And-Go-To-Jail, instead pretending that it doesn't exist because it doesn't affect them.  Wellllll - Art!

Takes you back to the dear old Sinister Union, doesn't it?

     Now it is affecting them.  The queue you see above is Ruffians lining up to buy eggs, because there is a national shortage and they have to shell out about ₽100 per egg, which comes out to about a dollar per ovum (a word I learned from Cryptic Crossword clues).  That's if you can actually acquire them, thanks to the shortage.  There are all sorts of allegations flying around as to what, exactly, has caused this shortage.  One is that grossly inferior Ruffian food killed off lots of laying hens, and another is that the Egg King has been artificially inflating prices.  In the cold hard light of reality, rising energy costs and Western sanctions have also had an impact, which of course cannot possibly be mentioned or, again, you go to jail for ten years. Art!

Very pretty.  Also inedible.

     Nice try, Art.  Tazer?

There you go

     That chap in the middle is Gennary Shiryaev, who is one of the Ruffian magnates that own the factories where hens lay eggs.

     On December 27th he was shot at by a disgruntled person, twice.  They missed with both shots - possibly thanks to deficiency diseases caused by lack of egg - but the principle of the thing is what matters.  Ruffians have been used to eggs as a staple food, and they're unhappy at having to pay $10 per pack.  A case has now been opened against Shiryaev about organising a price-fixing racket; locals are hoping it gets cracked soon.  Art!

"Don't shoot me, I'm only the piano player" didn't work as an excuse

     When confronted about this crisis on a call-in show, Chipmunk Cheeks was taken completely by surprise, for two reasons.  One: he doesn't have an inkling of how the peasants and serfs live, and Two: if there is a scam going on, he's not been given a slice of the profits, which he'll be extremely angry about.

     ANYWAY in Topsy-Turvy Land, a.k.a. Ruffia, the authorities are now insisting that there is no egg shortage, and ten years in a gulag awaits anyone who dares to disagree.  The police and FSB are now empowered to arrest anyone hoarding eggs, so expect a few high-profile set-ups to display how seriously the shor - sorry, the Not Shortage is being taken.  Also, the Ruffian plan to purchase 1.2 billion eggs from anyone who'll sell to them (at a dollar an egg, this is going to eat into the National Welfare Fund) because of course - obviously! - that's what you do when you have a Not Shortage of eggs.  Art!

     You may not have encountered these jokers before.  They are the "North Atlantic Fella Organisation", whose mission statement is to mock and satirise the Ruffians and their malignant boot-lickers.  They have, predictably, latched onto the ongoing Not Shortage of eggs in Ruffia and are relentlessly beating every mote of humour out of it.  Art!

O I see.  The Eestis have stolen all the eeggs.

     All very silly, yet it has enraged the Krembots, trolls and fanbois, who are claiming that NAFO is obviously funded and organised by the CIA.  Or MI5.  Probably both simultaneously.  NAFO has, inevitably, picked up on this idea and is running with it.  Art!

     Conrad, of course, was unable to resist throwing in a bad pun.  Art!

     Which is where we came in.

Here's One I Prepared Earlier

As they used to say on "Blue Peter".  This will up the word count and save me time.  Here goes -

Why did most European countries use cavalry units during World War I and World War II when horse infantry seemed obsolete by then?

Rob Connolly

Former HR at Sainsbury's (supermarket chain) (2017–2022)Sat

I will limit this to WW1. Cavalry were occasionally useful on the Western Front but barbed wire was a big problem for them. By the time of the “Kaiserschlacht” in 1918 the Germans had very little cavalry left on the Western Front, which was good news for the Allies as a few German cavalry divisions would have made things much, much worse. The much longer and thinner front lines on the Eastern Front meant cavalry was still useful at an operational level.

Where cavalry really, really excelled was in the Middle East: Egypt, Palestine, the Hejaz (modern Saudi), Syria (including what is now Lebanon) and Trans-Jordan (now Jordan). The British, and especially the Australians (and Kiwis) had multiple divisions of cavalry, which the Turks lacked: the Australian Mounted Division, the Yeomanry Mounted Division and the 4th and 5th Cavalry Divisions; in addition there were something like 12 Indian individual cavalry regiments. These allowed for rapid tactical movement and large-scale operational and strategic manoeuvres that completely outclassed the marching Turkish divisions. They could, and did, make classic cavalry charges with swords and lances - yes, really, in 1918 - but were also able to operate dismounted as infantry.

On a side note, the Sherwood Rangers Yeomanry fought in Palestine in 1917 and 1918. Twenty-two years later they returned to Palestine as a garrison force, again as cavalry.

Don’t get me started on the Light Car Patrols …

     There you go.  All cavalry facts lifted from "Official History Military Operations Egypt & Palestine Volume II Part II".  If you really want to know, the campaign became very fluid after the Third Battle Of Gaza began, during which the British (and Commonwealth) cavalry turned the Turk's left flank.  Art!

     I think, judging from what I can see of their headgear, these are Australian cavalry charging at a gallop with the sword.  Not sure who the cameraman is but I would advise not getting in the way.  Note the second and third lines in the background.  For those interested, the horse artillery (13 pounders) and machine guns (Hotchkiss) will be on the flanks, shooting them in.

"City In The Sky"

Warden Barclay has now been revealed as Patient Zero, generously spreading around a fever that nobody aboard Arcology One has any resistance to.

     ‘You wouldn’t have let me bring him if I’d told you the whole story.   Now, I need to speak to Ace, quickly.’

     Davy Tabbed the nearest healthy person to bring Ace and Terry over to the temporary tent ward, then sat back to chew a nail and think.

     Arcology One had, purposely, never been intended to be sterile.  If it had, then when the crew  returned to Earth they would have died in short order from a thousand different micro-organisms they had absolutely no resistance to.  Since the last member came aboard  there hadn’t been any outbreaks of serious communicable diseases thanks to the lengthy screening process for the original crew two generations ago.  Now they faced a disease from Downstairs that had never been encountered before, a disease doubtless completely benign to the Australians since they’d grown up with it, and which the terrestrial dwelling Ace and Doctor could shrug off un-noticed.  A bug mutation from the outback, bred from fallout and flu.

     On the positive side of the balance, Arc One’s population were fit, active, well-fed, healthy individuals with access to medical care beyond anything imaginable Downstairs.  No obesity, idleness, poor nutrition or substance abuse existed on the sphere.  Nobody had died from this outbreak of – what could they call it?

     ‘Barclay’s Bug,’ said Davy aloud, with a touch of malicious amusement whilst looking at the twitching Warden.

    Aptly, and cruelly, named.

Here's One I Alluded To Earlier

You can always rely on South Canadian media to obsess over monarchy, which is surprising in a nation that deliberately got rid of theirs, the rank traitors <long rant redacted by Mister Hand> then a national anthem thanks to arson.  Art!

     Yet British royalty is insufficient for them to get their Kingy fix.  Art!

Okay, 'Queenie fix'

     Hmmmmmm if the alternative is Pumpkinhead, one can sympathise a little.  Art!

Frighteningly accurate.  Hang on -

     Nope, that's not Politics as he's merely a citizen now, and not God-Emperor King as the voices in his head tell him.

Finally -

It's actually a rather nice day as regards the weather.  A good way to see in 2024.  I may, perhaps, take a constitutional stroll.  No, Edna, that was only 'perhaps'.

Chin chin!