It's A Rose

Not A Lesser Stinkwort
I believe Shakespeare said that "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet", which was contradicted quite powerfully by Anne (in "Anne of Green Gables") who asserted that it certainly wouldn't smell as sweet if it had been named the Lesser Stinkwort.
     Quite right!
     Of course, this being BOOJUM! logic and commonsense are both rara avis around here, so we shall move on to muck around with language.  Art?

Another rose

     Yes what ho, John Leguizamo!  That sprinkler bit at the business end of a watering-can is called a "rose".  Now you knows*.
     Nor is that all.  I present this picture of a tea rose -

For straining tea.
Obviously.

     I did think we had one in the kitchen but couldn't find it, so you'll just have to make do with this picture instead.  Art?

Tea strainers.  In a row.

     Close enough, I think you'll admit, and finally because I had the idea -

Rows.

     Yes, that last one was a bit painful, wasn't it?
     I can hear you querying where Conrad is going with this.  "What is the white-haired duffer warbling on about now?"
     Not taking up the issue with my snowy locks, I shall continue.  May I?  May I really?  Thank you ever so much!
     I did refer in today's afternoon post to Minden Day, and because I overlook nothing in my desperate attempts to increase blog traffic, here's the link:

http://comsatangel2002.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/back-on-schedule.html

     This is probably very meta, or something.  Anyway, I mentioned eating roses on Minden Day, a tradition within certain regiments of the British Army.  This goes back to the Battle Of Minden, in 1759, when the British, and German allies, gave a French army what is known in tactical terms as "a right shoeing".  The British troops had plucked local roses and added them to their uniforms, because they - well, it certainly wasn't because they were drab and dull.  Art?

A right lot of peacock dandies!

     So the tradition has been established that for an officer's first Minden Day he needs to eat a rose**.
     It could be worse, it could have been something involving the Welsh Guards, in which case you'd need to eat a leek.

If Elon Musk Didn't Exist -
I keep saying this.  You'd have to invent him.  I remember a criticism of a Robert Heinlein short story about an inventor named Dean inventing a drive which he called the Dean Drive, which was used for interplanetary travel.  I think it was Chip Delaney doing the criticism, which implied that private space travel - ha! - how ridiculous!
     Well, jump forward 60 years and here's Elon Musk, who owns Space-X, inventing rockets that are re-usable.  Art?

Falcon 9 heading home

     You can check this out on the Beeb website.  It's short but very cool and technically impressive; a rocket returns from delivering a satellite payload, manouvering down to a perfect touchdown on a platform in the middle of the ocean.  Did I say "impressive"?  I actually meant "awesome".
     The idea, in case you wonder, is that the rocket can be re-used after refuelling and refurbishing, a process far cheaper than building a new one from scratch.
     Oh, that knocking you can hear?  That's the 22nd Century asking to come in.

The Simple Pleasures
One thing Conrad enjoys is sitting outside and reading whilst sipping a cup of tea.  This is because i) It's free and ii)  Vitamin D is good for you. Sadly at times - in fact a lot of the time - our island weather means that it's extremely bad for your health to sit outside.  Not so this weekend!  Allow me to grace your screens with a snowy-haired man with feline companion:

If a single pen is mightier than the sword, how much better are four?

     Allow me to also render a vista of the back garden with wicker impedimenta:

     And solar-powered lights.  Don't forget them.  They work, too.  Art?

Barely detectable but there.

A Comment!
And one that is repeatable.  Degsy, with experience in the field, posted a reply to Conrad's whiffling on about Electro Magnetic Pulse.  I can't copy and paste so I'll just have to type it out***.
     "When some of the early MIG jets were captured by the West and taken apart, much derision was made of the valves and other "primitive" parts within compared to the transistors and other "cutting edge" technology in Western jets.  Later it was realised that all those primitive parts were far more robust, not just for the harsh Siberian winter weather, but also EMPs.  So there you are.  Old ain't necessarily bad."
     I remember much the same being quoted in the mid-70's when a Sinister pilot defected with his Foxbat and landed in Japan.  
     And I thoroughly concur with Degsy's last four words.

MIG Welding (Metal Inert Gas)

     Come on, Art, you'd done so well up until now -

(Conrad puts Tazer away)

*  Yes, this is ungrammatical - but it rhymes.
** Conrad used to drink rose petal tea; eating the petals wouldn't have been a stretch.
*** No, this is NOT simply to up the word count. Honestly!

Back On Schedule

Mind You - And Pay Attention There! -
- since it's my blog I'll post when and how frequently I like.  Last night, instead of bunking off and composing a new, fresher, funnier post*, I stayed with the rest of the family and watched "10 Cloverfield Lane", since Darling Daughter and boyfriend Tom were visiting.  Not a common occurrence and it would have been churlish to decamp to the Upstairs Lair simply to entertain you lot.
     A good film, by the way, which constantly changes direction and leaves you questioning which way it's going to change again.  
     Right, back to BOOJUM! again, and a little combined trumpet-blowing and stats review - SIT BACK DOWN!  It is interesting.  yes it is**!  In a few weeks it'll be our third anniversary, and it would be nice if the blog could hit 30,000 visits on that date or earlier.  Only 600 to go so not an impossible or unlikely task.
     So!  Invite all your friends!  Check in five times a day, if you must.

Some People Have Entirely Too Much Time On Their Hands
I originally directed this slur against the people responsible for this:

Still, pretty cool

     More recently I made citric comments about the Mission Log people (Ken Ray and John Champion) and was challenged about that.  I don't think you can possibly dispute the post title with the following as evidence:

"Willem Dafoe on a child's bike riding away from a burning town"

     That's a very sinister-looking Willem Dafoe, you'll have to concede.  I strongly suspect he has been intimately involved with the burning here, and the reason he's on a child's bike is because the Electro Magnetic Pulse disabled all the cars.
     No, hang on, am I confusing that with something else?

The Worst Of Sandhurst
You people living beyond the boundaries of the Garden of Eden may not be familiar with this British institution.  It's where potential officers go to learn how to blow things up, order people around and to eat a rose on Minden Day.
     

Well it made me laugh

     I know what you're thinking now.  "Bah, Conrad, that was thirty years ago!  I'm sure behaviour like this no longer happens."
     Don't you believe it.  Consult that excellent modern narrative "The Junior Officer's Reading Club", which will fill you in.

A Tower Is Assembled
Darling Daughter and Tom were present for lunch today, with the rest of us pressing food on them.  "Have this haslet"  "have an egg" "do you want beans with that?" etcetera.  Art?

The assembly process

     Those are Tom's hands in the foreground.  Just so you know.
     Once assembled your humble scribe had to get a shot, for evidence, you know:

     DD and Tom both found that the tricky bit was managing to near-dislocate their jaws in order to eat the burger.
     You may not think this as "news" or even entertainment, but Sal doesn't visit that often and I like to keep you informed, for the truth will set a fee***.

I Froth With Wrath
"Wrath" pronounced as it ought to be, "Roth", none of that South Canadian "long a" here, thank you very much, otherwise it won't rhyme.
     That minor point cleared up, I do hope the entertainment value of seeing an old man foam at the mouth - rage, obviously, not rabies - about the Pubic Services^ provided by First Bus has not diminished.  Once again, comparing their strike service to that of day-to-day leads inevitably to the question "How do you tell the difference?"
     Last Wednesday the 24 was so late it terminated in Royton, not Rochdale, and the bus driver actually apologised f - sorry, the shape-shifting alien imposter who had eaten the driver yet not completely absorbed his memories about customer service - apologised.
   "A sled" - that's what it said here.  At that very moment, whilst I was scribbling out this post as a longhand note for later transcription, Anna arrived in the atrium. This obviously meant that all scribbling activity ceased, since it would be rude and ignorant to give a lady so nice anything less than 100% attention^^.
     We shall never know what on earth I was going to waffle on about, so just assume it was frighteningly witty and caustic and would have caused the First Bus management to fall on their (metaphorical^^^) swords and redeem themselves.


Okay, 2 things - we're at count and I have to chauffeur DD and Tom, so - chin chin!


*  This is how I see it, and that's that.
**  I didn't capitalise the "y" to see if you were paying attention.  were you?
***  Something like that, anyway.
^  See what I did there?
^^  If this embarasses her - I don't care - tee-hee!
^^^ Unfortunately <sad face>

We're Back!

Yes, The Gang Is Here
Conrad, Oscar, Art and the million voices in my head that make up BOOJUM*!
     If you clocked on yesterday, or this morning, expecting to hear more novel nonsense and instead had to be satisfied with guff that was from last year or the year before, then I apologise, but only a bit.  I got home late, then had to do the shopping, then had some left-over Chinese for tea and by then had to - there was no choice had to - finish watching "Bones".  By then it was 21:20; it normally takes 60 minutes to put a blog together, 45 if I'm really hoofing it with lots of notes to work from.  So, no posting before 22:00, which is leaving it rather late.

World's most uncomfortable chair?
Why here?  Why not!

     Excuses Reasons why over, it was interesting for Conrad to look back at these older posts, as I normally never revisit old product.  No special reason for that, apart from believing that you have to go forward and evolve OR DIE.  Something like that.  It may not be the done thing, but I did find myself amused at the scrivel in review.
     "Where on earth does this stuff come from!?" I wondered, and then realised.
     "Hmmm.  From inside my head."
     Again, either illuminating or worrying.  Perhaps both?
     Now, let the motley commence!
     Oh, by the way I am on a schedule here, as Darling Daughter is due to arrive soon and I don't want to be in the Upstairs Lair tapping away whilst she's here, as a visit is a rare event.

"Mission Log - The Big Goodbye"
Back to Ken and John again, reviewing the Next Generation episode named above.  They normally begin with a load of trivia, then recap the episode, then go over it millimetre-by-millimetre** to examine for morals, meaning and messages.
     First they ran over South Canadian phone trivia, about the dialling conventions and code used, plus the well-known film phone prefix "555-", leaving your humble scribe a bit lost as he hates phones at the best of times.  Then they reviewed the cast, which included film veteran Dick Miller, fellow vet. Laurence Tierney and an also-ran called Harvey Jason.  Sorry, Harvey.
     Rather than have me bang on second-hand, here's a link to the chaps holding forth:

http://www.missionlogpodcast.com/the-big-goodbye/

     And of course I shall end with a photograph of theirs.
     One thing that stuck in my mind was a remark of theirs about spelling, always a subject close to your humble scribe's heart.  Captain Picard's spelling is apparently very spotty indeed, and they postulate that with 24th century word recognition technology spelling is a lost art.  Just as today, they boldly state, nobody practices beautiful cursive handwriting.
     HELLO!

Beautiful AND cursive

     Now, I did promise to leave you with a Mission Log photo, so here you are:

"Carefull, Dayta, I thinkk weev anoid him"

"Forgotten Voices Of The Falklands" By Hugh McManners
Forgotten?  Already?  Well, I suppose it is over a generation ago.  This is a riveting assembly of first-person accounts of the Falklands War, all the more so as it includes Argentinian and Falkland Islander narratives.  Certain people do not come out of it well; Admiral Woodward for one; government spokesman John Nott for another  ("Putting foot in mouth" would have in fact been a good thing for him, as it would have prevented him from talking).  I remember reading "Time" at the moment the British were storming the island of South Georgia, and seeing a cartoon set in redneck country with a couple of bewildered good ole boys being given the once-over by a couple of British soldiers.  You'll just have to take my word for it being amusing as obviously - obviously! - I cannot find it today.

Some copy editor uses the title he's been dreaming of ...

    Being clinical, it was a very strange war for the 20th Century.  Fought between two formal armies, one professional the other mostly conscript, involving hi-tec air and naval forces with practically nil civilian involvement, sticking strictly to the rules of war, and with a definite winner.
     Plus Harrier jump jets! (more of this later)

More Veterans At 50
I know Mandy reads BOOJUM! so I am taking a calculated risk here.  We've already had the B52 Stratofortress bomber, the M2 Browning Machine Gun, and Pink Floyd.  Let me also introduce - Mandy!
     No, no surname.  We don't do that here.  Principled, don't you know.  Also I work with these people and naming their names would definitely get me into trouble.
     Mandy, rashly, believed that taking her actual birthday as leave would mean nobody realised it was indeed her 50th.
     WRONG!

O so wrong

     We didn't have a plane towing a banner overhead, but that's all that was missing.
     Happy 50th Mandy!




*  "A million voices" is either a joke or an exaggeration.  You choose.
** I realise this is Metric not Imperial but we are talking about the 24th Century here.

The Past, With Added Blast

Tonight We Will Be A Bit Retrospective
I hadn't planned this, it's just how life, imagination and a few screen-shots worked out.  If I had any integrity or serious critical intent then I'd be carefully laying out ideas, having them cross-over, analysing and analogising, working out puns ahead of time and being clever with words.
     Instead I'm just going to make it up as I go along*.
     Okay, first of all the BBC website this morning was reporting on obsolete technology still in use in South Canada's strategic defences.  Art?

This, for the younger among you, is a floppy disk

     Well now.  I suppose you lot, being all Metric, don't know what inches are.
     GO AND FIND OUT!  BOOJUM! still sticks proudly to Imperial measures, because they are what made the Empire great.
     Assuming that you are now educated in inches, Conrad loved the response of a military spokesman about all this comparatively stone-aged technology (cutting edge for the Sinisters, mind): "It works."
     Yes it does, as we have not been immolated in a gigantic planet-wide thermonuclear shooting match.  In fact clunky older technology tends to be more robust and resilient than cutting-edge present day stuff, as we shall soon see.  Not only that, with the bigger vacuum tubes you could toast bread on them, they gave off so much heat.

Oh Look More Old Kit
It's not just old computers the South Canadians still hang on to, take a look at a B52:

A.k.a. the "B.U.F.F." - Big Ugly Fat Fellah

     This flying dinosaur came into use in 1955, making it another 50-year veteran.  They've been progressively upgraded over the years and whilst they retain all the aesthetic charm of a flying cement-truck, their ability to Blow Things Up Big Time has only increased.
     And what's this, making a noise like a woodpecker from Mars**?  Why, it's the M2 Browning Machine Gun.  Art?

The Ma Deuce.
Quite the mother.

     This antique has been in use since the Thirties.  Why is it still around?   
     "It works."
     Not just works, works dangerously well.  Unless you're sitting inside a tank when one of these opens up, you are going to be seriously perforated.  You can demolish walls, split boulders and chop down trees with an M2, although this kind of thing is frowned upon anywhere except the battlefield.

More 50-Year Veterans
If you have been paying attention then you know one of Conrad's favourite bands is Pink Floyd.  Their run of records from "Piper at the Gates of Dawn" to "The Wall" are what your talented typist believes to be their best stuff, when they were a genuine group.
     What's this about the Royal Mail?  Art?

RM are going to make an absolute mint on these!

     They're fudging the 50-year thing a little by claiming that's when the group went professional, although I shall cut them a little slack, no doubt relieving them mightily.  A little scary.  50 years!
     I recall Nick Mason's autobiography stating that in their early years audiences hated them, absolutely hated them, because their music was so different.  Who's laughing now, eh?

E.M.P.
NO!  I have not mistyped "E.L.P." - we have moved on from prog rock.  Pay attention!  "Electro Magnetic Pulse" which is a brief yet very intense burst of energy produced by the detonation of a nuclear warhead at altitude.  It is about the only thing a foofoodilly does that isn't harmful to Hom. Sap. although it's extraordinarily bad for electrical and electronic systems.  Anything with sufficient cable or components large enough will fry like pork lardons in butter.  

Local magnetic field also matters

The critical aspect is height, and we're talking kilometres here.  So, "Broken Arrow" and "The Day After" both got it wrong.  Heck, in "BA" the explosion was in an underground mine, dammit - height, Hollywood, height!
     Now, recall what I've been going on about recently, the Sprint and Spartan nuclear-tipped interceptor missiles, the latter especially, both designed to Go Off At Height.
     Would this not create an EMP that could affect vast areas of the USA?  Imagine a footprint at Ground Zero of thousands of square miles affected.
     Not only that, wouldn't this same EMP also knock out any incoming warheads to the limit of the horizon, like blindsided birds***?  Which would, ironically, render Spartan far more effective than intended or designed.
     Come to think about it, "Miracle Mile" got it wrong as well.
     Oh yes, the 50 year veteran bit.  Well, one of the "Starfish Prime" high-altitude nuclear detonations resulted in an EMP that knocked out streetlights in Hawaii, a very long way from the detonation point. 900 miles away, in fact.  That was then, with clunky old resilient robust technology so - if this happened today ...

A lovely sunset?
NO!  The Starfish Prime detonation.

*  As usual
** I nicked this from Faith No More
*** An American allusion, yet quite fitting I think

Mission Blog

You'll See What I Did There -
 - in just a minute.  This post is actually a holdover from yesterday and the bus strike (chorus: "how do you tell the difference?") when I got a lift into Manchester with Degsy in the Murdermobile.  One of the corollaries* of getting a lift in this fashion is listening to "Mission Log - A Gene Roddenberry Star Trek Podcast" as downloaded and Blue Viewed.  This site has the ambitious aim of detailing every one of the 726 episodes of Star Trek broadcast, and you have to admire their ambitions, as at the rate of one episode per week, it will take them 14 years to complete.  Ken Ray and the - aptly named - John Champion are the creative forces behind the site, and herein a link:

http://www.missionlogpodcast.com/

     WARNING!  May seriously impact your spare time!  They are half-way through Star Trek: The Next Generation having gone through the original series.  That merely leaves 7 seasons of Voyager, 7 seasons of Deep Space Nine and 4 series of Enterprise.  By which time, as Degsy points out, a new Star Trek series will have arrived and been running for years.  Heck, these guys might never finish!
     This podcast dealt with the episode "Justice", which Conrad would have sub-titled "The Planet Of Arbitrary Capital Punishment", where Wesley Crusher is sentenced to death by the humanoid Edo for being annoyingly precocious.
     No, sorry, for - er - destroying some plants.  Yes, "plants" not "planets".  

Told you so!

Big on gardening values, these Edo.  Gardening, ball sports and carnal frolicking too - which is where we pull down the critical blinds and move right along.
     Lest you think I mock, try talking for 45 minutes on ANY topic in detail without repeating yourself and keep doing it for 20 years.

Helping to flog the blog

O Noes!
Sorry, I realised I missed out some Glossary yesterday.
     "Hom. Sap.": Abbreviated version of "Homo Sapiens", which is Latin for you lot - humans.
     "Murdermobile": Our motorised money-pit.  Comes with folding seats, CD player, atomic howitzer and a mysterious squeaking noise.

Picture The Scene
Imagine that the Wicked (but hot!) Queen has inveigled** her recalcitrant*** magic mirror into revealing the location of Snow White, and that she hastes there with a poisoned apple, disguised as an hideous old crone.

I'm not sure why she's wearing a diver's wetsuit

     WICKED QUEEN:  Hello dearie -
     SNOW WHITE:  My God!  Should you be out without a bag over your head?
     WQ:  Eh?  What?
     SW:  Don't come too close, you might impinge on my beauty.
     WQ:  I - what?
     SW:  Also, if you're trying to sell things, move along now.
     WQ:  But - I came to give you an apple.  See?
     SW:  An apple!  Do I look like a horse?  
     WQ:  It's a very nice apple.
     SW:  Is it organic?
     WQ:  Er - ah - oh, yus, ever so.
     SW:  I don't see the Soil Society sticker.
     WQ: Oh, aye, must have rubbed off.
     SW:  Besides, is it Fairtrade?
     WQ:  What's that?
     SW:  Trendy.  Besides all that, I'm on a soft fruit diet.
     WQ:  But - the apple.  I picked it special.
     SW:  Oh give it here you nouty old cow.
     WQ:  Oh good.  Oh.  Aren't you going to eat it right now?
     SW:  No I am not!  Soft fruit, like I said.  I shall peel it and puree it and boil it up with sugar and water.
     WQ:  But that will -
     SW:  Yes?
     WQ:  Oh, nothing.  I'll be going, then.
     SW:  Yes, cut along quickly now and put your bag back on.
     WQ:  Oh and yer got a pimple coming on yer nose.

"Tomato, anyone?"

"The B.F.G."
Conrad was intrigued by a full-page advert in The Metro yesterday, even to the extent of taking a photograph.  Art?

     Which is obviously an abbreviation for "Big Foot Girl", a touching tale of a girl and her podiatric pulchritude of plenty.  Or, a Big Foot.
     NO!  Not Bigfoot, although the owner of that mighty appendage might well be considered a variety of cryptid.
     Actually Conrad is uncertain about this one.  The original animation is much-loved, even by a flinty-hearted scurmudgeon^ like your humble scribe.  So - W.S.S.  ("We Shall See")

Snozzcumber, anyone?

* Things <translation courtesy Mister Hand>
**  Persuaded <translation courtesy Mister Hand>
***  Stroppy <translation courtesy Mister Hand>
^  Like a curmudgeon except worse