Seasoned Greetings On A Wet Christmas

Zoinks! As Shaggy Would Say

Conrad was a tad unsure as to whether he'd do a blog on Christmas Day, but I've got enough background and items for three normal-length posts, so I have to allow this flood of content to be either curated or sluice-gated, depending on which metaphor one chooses.  Oscar*!

     Hmmmm not sure lava flow equates well with liquid water.

     ANYWAY You may recall many months ago I posted clips from the Youtube account of 'Post 10', a South Canadian vlogger who is an unsung hero of his community.  Armed with a digital video camera and a rake, he goes about righting wrongs, the wrongs being blockages in water maintenance.  Typically culverts.  Taking a quick look at my Collins Concise, a culvert is: "a drain or covered channel that crosses under a road, railway, etc." so if these get blocked it can lead to backed-up water flooding the road and/or pavements sidewalks.  The only pay Ol' Po gets is the monetization on Youtube.  Oscar!

     The big picture here is the lower end of a culvert.  The inset at top port is Post 10, walking on the ice formed over backed-up water, where the higher end of the culvert has become clogged.  Oscar!

     Here you see Ol' Po smashing a hole in the ice, then dragging the blockage away with his Mighty Rake.  This allows the miniature lake beneath the ice to drain away, and you can tell because the unsullied pristine white ice at the lower level ends up besmirched - not a word you expected to see today - by the dirty upstream water.  Oscar!

     Watching this kind of blockage removed and seeing the waters flowing freely again is kinda Zen (or 'Son' in Korean).  Eventually the force of water - and Ol' Po's boot - breaks up the downstream ice.  He states on camera that he'll be back in a few days to check on how the drainage has finished up.

     So there you have it, an assault on an icy blockage, which is where today's title comes from.

     Motley, I fancy a gin and tonic.  Make it with plenty of 

Christmas Temporarily Postponed

Darling Daughter and Quiet Tom aren't coming up to visit The Mansion until tomorrow, so the opening of presents won't take place until then, if Wonder Wifey can resist the urge to allow her itchy fingers free reign.

One To Wince At

A department of the Saint-Musse hospital at Toulon was evacuated when a 75 mm artillery shell from the First Unpleasantness was discovered at Accident & Emergency.

     The thing was, it was discovered stuck up the rectum of an 88 year-old man, who had arrived to complain that it was impossible to remove.

     Explosive Ordnance Disposal experts were called, and confirmed that the shell was inert.  Having ensured that the operating room would not blow up and the staff with it, said shell was removed.  The patient, who was not named, explained he'd found it at his brother's house.  Oscar!

9" of - well, I leave that up to you

     He did not explain how it came to be where it was.  Conrad is positive that it was a ghastly accident, because the thought of DELIBERATELY inserting a possibly LIVE ARTILLERY SHELL where the Sun doesn't shine is surely up amongst The Worst Decisions Ever Made.  Oscar!

The original article

     Aha!  Realisation dawns!  It was the shell casing that had been inserted, because this whole shell is about 14" long.  The medical staff wouldn't have been able to see if the explosive shell itself was present.

     It still brings a tear to one's eye**.

Let's Have A Few Bright Lights

Just to get our minds out of the gutter after that last item.  Yes, we return to the BBC's photo exhibition on said theme. Oscar!

     Courtesy Jerry Olivas.  This was taken in Southern California at sunset, with that Michael Bay-filter sky plus traffic and lights in the dusk.  Quite evocative, Jerry, give yourself a pat on the back.  And - did the local county have a surplus of traffic lights going when these were put up?

"The Sea Of Sand"

I know, I know, not very 'Peace on Earth, goodwill to all men' kind of stuff, skip it if you're feeling that pacific.

     As you should so surely recall, the surviving humans from the FSD had ventured into the desert to try and intercept any vehicles coming to see what had happened to the garrison.

After nearly three hours they spotted evidence of the passage of a large number of vehicles – tracks in the sand, including what looked like caterpillar treads.  They set off to follow, stopping to check ahead for likely routes the presumed British convoy had taken.  Despite losing the trail occasionally on stoney ground, the Sahariana made good time, catching up with the vehicles they were following to the extent that Roger could see them in his binoculars. 

          With startling speed they caught up with the convoy, Roger realising that the other vehicles had slowed down.

          ‘Find higher ground,’ he ordered Tam.  ‘We’ll see what’s slowing them down.’

          That meant a short detour south-west, leaving them half a mile from the now halted convoy.  Roger counted an open staff car, three Bren Carriers, five trucks and two armoured cars – Daimlers, he noted, mounting a two-pounder gun.  Thirteen Corps took threats to their depot seriously.

          ‘Sir,’ warned Tam, pointing southwards.  A scattered arc of black dots were out on the desert sands, but at such a distance that it wasn’t possible to know if they were advancing or not.  The head of the convoy must have seen their opponents too, and stopped to decide what to do.  The convoy started moving again, just as Roger decided to try catching up.

          Without warning, a sudden enormous ripple of heat swam upwards from the sands, temporarily obscuring the convoy in a vast bubble of hot air. When visibility cleared again, none of the vehicles were moving.

          ‘Slow down!’ hissed Roger, not understanding what was happening and not liking it one bit.

     He is wise to be suspicious.

The Answer To A Question Nobody Asked

Because Conrad's temp work involves dealing with - er - 'Mulysatoof' stock, he has come across multiple mentions of a 'beanie' hat or cap.

     Having to wait at the bus stop for the 409 naturally leads to pondering the big questions: are we alone, where is Judge Crater, why is it called a 'Beanie'?  Oscar!

     The only explanation that makes sense is one from Quora, where they say the early versions at the beginning of C20 had a bean-sized button on top to gather all the threads together.  I can go with that.

THE TOYS OF TERROR!

The last one from Legal Eagle's list of toys that were too dangerous for children yet which got sold to them.  Try this one for size: the "Gilbert Atomic Energy Lab", which was intended to fire children up with enthusiasm for nuclear energy and fission bombs.  Oscar!

     Complete with Geiger counter, Cloud Chamber, Electroscope - and 4 jars of radioactive isotopes.  Mister Gilbert, the creator of this collection of chemical concoctions, said it was perfectly safe as long as the seals on the sample jars were not broken.

     Right.  Kids and small glass containers.  What can possibly go wrong?

     Nothing terrible, it transpired, because the Lab was pricey, the equivalent of about £500 nowadays, and thus sold only in small quantities.  Parents everywhere breathed sighs of relief.

Finally -

Heyyyyyyy sunshine!  Dog Buns.  We know what that means, don't we, Edna?

*  He's depping for Steve, who's on leave and who was depping for Art, who's on leave.

**  Laughter or pain, either will do.

All Present

Yes, Your Humble Scribe Has Been Doing Last-Minute Xmas Shopping

Partly because here in the UK the Christmas season begins in late September, before Halloween and Bonfire Night even, which causes me to sneer dismissively, grumble "Bah!  Humbug!*" and not bother about getting presents until mid-December.

     ANYWAY I presume that you all have better things to do than read the fever-dreams of an old fart, so all you get today are links, links and links.

     Of course - obviously! - we need a click-baity picture to ensnare the unwary.  Steve!  (Steve is depping for Art, whom is off on leave).

     Science-fiction as a genre is not known for it's humour across the board ("Red Dwarf" is the exception that proves the rule), so this seasonal image from nearly 70 years ago might raise a smirk or two.  Just imagine, 69 years before this publication, science-fiction was being written by Jules Verne and H. G. Wells.

     And now for the links.  CAUTION!  Not all had an entry on the 24th.  I hope you can forgive me.

2021

BOOJUM!: Serendipity Strikes Sinisterly (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2020

BOOJUM!: What? Are You Still Here? (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2019

BOOJUM!: The Mark Of A Civilised Society (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2018

BOOJUM!: The Ends Of The Earth (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2017

BOOJUM!: Bad Company (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2016

BOOJUM!: Of Peacocks And Chickens (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2015

BOOJUM!: Conrad - Still Hates Musicals! (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2014

BOOJUM!: Lord Of The Rings (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2013

BOOJUM!: Congratulations! (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

*  Which I cannot eat any more unless they're the sugar-free version THANK YOU DIABETES

Wriggling Like A Worm On A Hook!

Actually That Might Be A Bad Analogy

Conrad is unsure if angling has escaped charges of needless cruelty towards worms.  Perhaps the RSPCA's more - ah - fringe members are even now cooking up an animatronic, waterproof worm substitute that costs only £50 a throw.  Art!

Sorry, I just had to check

     Meet a set of soft plastic worms.  Yeah, but the RSPCA one wriggles so realistically!

     ANYWAY this Intro is nothing to do with angling, though perhaps including fishing is not altogether incorrect.  For I refer to the very recent decision by an organ of South Canadian government, the House Ways And Means Committee, to release into the wild a set of partially-redacted documents.

     Ho-hum, I hear your bored response.  Hmmmm, okay, let me just say that these documents are the tax returns of Citizen Trump from 2015, before he was Prez, until 2020, when he stopped being Prez.  Art!

A hanky for the Tribble-Topped-Beer-Keg-In-A-Suit

     These are the tax returns that Don has been fighting to keep secret since 2016, wriggling - hence today's title - like a worm on a hook.  He's gone through every delaying tactic imaginable, apart from dementia or death, and he might have to resort to those when this info gets out.
     Don't panic too much about the 'redacted' bit, because the documents have to have any kind of personal reference deleted, because DPA*.

     So, what might these records reveal?  David Pakman, a Youtube vlogger probably seen as The Radical Left in South Canada, and Slightly To the Left Of Centre in the rest of the world, did an excellent short breakdown.  Art!

Dave, possessor of a great Noo Yawk accent

     1)  He's not as wealthy as he claims to be.  Michael Cohen, the sleazy yet amusing 'fixer' for Trump, says that he and others were told by Trump that he wanted to be worth $10 billion, go and see to it.  Art!

Mike, possessor of an even better Noo Yawk accent

2)  Conflict of interest.  Meaning that Prez Trump's relationships with, ooooh, say a foreign power inimical to South Canada might come out.  Or his business deals might clash with his duties as Prez.  Art!

<lips zipped>

3)  Tax fraud.  This one is almost guaranteed, given The Trump Organisation's guilt in this area.  Art!

4)  Abuse of charitable funds.  Covfefe Man already has a history of this with hos own charity, which he used as his own spending money.  Charity begins at home, right, Don?

5)  Hidden assets.  Because, you know, Citizen Trump is not known for being honest, open and forthright about anything, ever.  Remember how he claimed to have been 'secretly knighted' by HM Queenie?  I rather imagine she'd have beaten him black and blue with a sword blade rather than en-noble him.

STAND UP FOR QUEENIE!
Sit down for Trump

      No doubt Citizen Trump is weeping into his ketchup-slathered steak at this news, being the victim in his head and vowing that, if he ever gets to be Prez again, David Pakman (amongst others) is going to be first in line for falling out of a window.  Obviously inspired by - well, who can say?

     Conrad remembers how one of the defendants in the Guinness Trial got off: by pretending to have dementia.  Once he got off scot-free, he made a living by giving speeches to businessmen.  Citizen Trump ought to get together and compare notes.

Shades Of Liverpool Ballfoot Club

Yes, I can hear you gasping at this invocation.  Don't worry, I've not been replaced by a sinister doppelganger; I know about the anthem "Walk On" being the signature tune of Liverpool fans because Sir John Peel was an Lpool fan, and it's on as the fade-out of a Pink Floyd song.  Art!

     What brings this on?  The visit of another Prez, to another Prez.  Art!

     Here we see the diminutive Prez Z, standing alongside Prez Biden.

     Prez Z may not be physically big but Good Lord Aloft, does he have testicular fortitude!  Only a day before this he'd been visiting the troops in the front lines near Bakhmut, where you can hear incoming artillery while he hands out medals to Ukrainian soldiers.  Whilst Peter The Average -

     ANYWAY Ol' Joe told Zelly that he - and Ukraine - would never walk alone.  This is good news for Ukraine, because South Canada can bankrupt the Ruffians simply by supplying weaponry to Kyiv.  Like the very sophisticated (and expensive!) Patriot anti-missile missile system, which has really irked the Ruffians.
     On a more tangential approach, this visit to South Canada is a first for Prez Z, since he's been a tad busy meantimes.  You can bet that security was tight; the Secret Service and Z's own security details and probably the FBI, with drones and overwatch teams and plainclothes police.  Art!

     A good bodyguard never looks at their principal, only outwards at possible threats.

"The Sea Of Sand"

Our human fugitives are busy discussing how to warn off anyone approaching the aliens who now hold the FSD at Mersa Matruh.

Sarah shrugged in silent acknowledgement of the other’s argument.

          ‘How can we warn anyone about anything?’ asked Templeman, taking a sudden interest in the topic when everyone had assumed he was asleep.

          ‘We can’t,’ admitted the officer.  ‘Not unless we get north of the depot and intercept them.  The problem is that I don’t know which direction they might come from.’

          El Agheila, Benghazi, Mechili, Tobruk, Bardia, Sollum – half a dozen places covering a full one hundred and eighty degrees.

          ‘And we’d need the Sahariana,’ added Roger, looking again at Dominione.  ‘I don’t fancy running into any of those big glass monsters in an unarmed truck.’

Surprisingly enough, Dominione was easily persuaded to lend “his” vehicle, with the proviso that the gunner, Torrevechio, went with it.  Roger agreed, and Corporal Mickleborough drove.

          Roger had a solar compass, a relic of his days at the dig before the outbreak of war.  His plan was to head out of the wadi, then travel north and gradually curve over to the north-east, either intercepting the hopefully approaching convoy or at least picking up it’s tracks and following them.  Whilst the corporal drove he would scan the radio wavelengths for any traffic.  Privately he doubted that he’d pick up anything.  The alien’s radio-jamming was pretty effective.

Their trek northwards amounted to a long, tiring slog across gravel and sand, bogging down in soft sand several times and needing to resort to sand-channels.  The sole canteen of water got passed around sparingly.

     A solar compass, I should explain, is nothing like the more complex mechanical version, and if I can prod Art into sentience with this white-hot pitchfork -

More Of The 'Bright Lights'

You know, the BBC photographic competition.  Art! O stop fussing and put a bit of Sudofed on it.

     Courtesy Harri Holmberg.  This, apparently, is a lightshow in Stockholm, Sweden, celebrating the life of Alfred Nobel.  Yes, that Alfred, the one who is responsible for the Nobel Prize.  And dynamite.  Mustn't forget the dynamite.  Good on the Swedes for not being shy about that, in addition to his creation of the Bofors armament works.  If you study any photographs of the Second Unpleasantness featuring anti-aircraft guns, you are sure to find a Bofors 40 mm in there somewhere.  Art!

*  "Data Protection Act", not "Donald Postures Annoyingly**"

**  Although he does.

More Red Flags Than Xi-Ji Ping's Birthday Parade

Conrad Is Talking, Of Course - Obviously! - About More Manglement

I don't know who coined that word but they absolutely hit the nail on the head, and repeated the hammering process many times over.  'Manglement', for those who don't know what Conrad is babbling witlessly about - which means you've not been reading BOOJUM! WHICH IS A CRIMINAL OFFENCE!!* - refers to managers who come into an organisation, or whom get promoted within it, and whom then send an avalanche of metaphorical excrement down through the structure.  This is usually because, whilst they may have a Master's in Business Administration from Yale, they have precious little hands-on experience on the shop floor.  Art!

     Let us now regale you with a story from Youtube put up by Original Poster, who worked as a joiner/woodworker in a whacking big factory that made cabinets.  OP's team were routinely efficient workers who regularly outpaced other teams across the floor, meaning that they were good at their jobs.

     Enter a whole new layer of senior management  RED FLAG NUMBER ONE.  A whole raft of new management all at once?  Not a good idea.  The sensible thing to do would be bring them in one at a time.  Except Manglement does not do Sensible.  Art!

Probably hideously bad for you, given that colouring.  Also, layers.

     This layer of <thinks> lollygaggles proceeded to flex their muscles by sacking 47 staff RED FLAG NUMBER TWO.  This is new management demonstrating that they are here to make changes, because they can.  Not that the changes are - that word again - sensible.

     Then this strata of stupid appointed a relative of theirs on many hundreds of thousands of £££, 'To help with a project' RED FLAG NUMBER THREE.  This sounds like naked nepotism, creating a sinecure so that Uncle Pete can afford his mortgage payments.  Art!

Proof that 'naked nepotism' is not rude

     Then came the dreaded 'Efficiency Drive', which means trying to make up for the 47 people who were sacked without admitting it RED FLAG NUMBER FOUR.  If it wasn't broken before then there'd be no need to fix it now.  Departments and teams across the factory floor were tanking in terms of efficiency.

     Seniorful (say it aloud) then descended on OP's department, loudly declaring that they were woefully inefficient and needed to adopt the new process for cutting cabinet wood, i.e. only work on a single batch at a time.  Productivity immediately fell by 50% RED FLAG NUMBER FIVE.  Were these numpties not keeping track of productivity and targets? 

     OP and his colleagues instituted a process of malicious compliance, only working a single batch of cabinet wood at a time, which drew the length of the job out to perhaps 3 hours instead of 1.  RED FLAG NUMBER SIX, if your most efficient workers are seeking to subtly undermine and sabotage you, things have gone very, very wrong.  Art!

A functional cabinet-making factory

     The conclusion to this tale is highly satisfying, coming as it does when a lot of these managers simply get shunted sideways or are 'let go' or 'leave to seek challenges elsewhere'.  The whole layer of senior management were fired for bringing the company to the brink of bankruptcy.

     RED FLAG NUMBER SEVEN when the company went back to their old ways profitability recovered almost overnight.  Suck that and see!

Konrad's Killer Kebab Krusade Kontinues

Yes, we'll have a temporary moratorium on proper spelling here.  One of Your Humble Scribe's guilty pleasures - apart from watching 'Lucifer' on Netflix - is getting an Extra-Large Donner Kebab from Tony's Fish & Chip Shop near the bus stop I use on the journey home.  These things are not for the faint-hearted.  Art!

With puny fork for scale

     This rump kebab is in fact what's left after two days, so it will most certainly form part of my evening meal tomorrow.  And no, Edna gets not one jot or tittle.

Devin's Toys Of Terror!

Conrad has done occasional articles on children's toys that were ridiculously dangerous in the past, none of which have appeared on Devin's list, which is one reason to look at it more closely.  All the more so since he tends to include the legal consequences of selling suicidally-dangerous plastic and metal tat.  Art!

Klackers!

     These were a variation on the bolas, a weapon (note that word) used in South America to bring down cattle.  The idea was that the child holding their handle would manage to have the Klackers bounce up and down so rapidly that they'd hit together repeatedly in very short order.  Sounds great, right?

     Wellllll no, they sounded annoyingly loudly.  The balls, MADE OUT OF GLASS, also had a tendency to shatter.  Filling a child's face with shards of flying razor-edged shrapnel was deemed to be A Bad Thing and they were banned.

"The Sea Of Sand"

Our gallant survivors are discussing possible next steps to warn their human compatriots about the very non-human occupants of Mersa Martuba.

One good thing was the gradual recovery of Sergente Cappriccio.  The paralysing ray’s effects slowly wore off, until the burly NCO could gingerly sit and talk without help.

          ‘I felt as if hammers hit me, all down my side,’ he explained to Sarah.  ‘It still stings.’

          Lieutenant Llewellyn in the meantime was working on when British forces might put in an appearance.  They needed to be warned about the threat in Mersa Martuba, what it constituted and in what strength.  The Italian radio didn’t pick up anything and wouldn’t transmit, so that medium was out of the running.

          ‘We need to try and warn the force en route,’ he told Sarah.

          ‘How can you be so sure they’re coming?’ asked Sarah, quite justifiably.  ‘All we’ve seen is a solitary aircraft.’

          Roger sighed, an expression of despair at the civilian’s lack of understanding.

          ‘Logistics, Sarah, logistics.  No army can move in the desert without huge amounts of supplies, which is just what Mersa Martuba was established for.  The schedule for advancing on Tripoli might have slipped but that depot contains hundreds of tons of supplies we need.’  Casting a quick glance at Dominione, aware that such explanations were slightly undiplomatic, he added:

‘Besides, Thirteen Corps won’t want the Italians pinching our supplies.’

     Ah yes, dull boring logistics the war-winner.

Light Ye Brightly

Another entry from the BBC's 'Bright Lights' photographic competition.  Art!

     Courtesy Louise Moon.  This one is cheating a bit - well, okay, a lot - because whilst that is a real lightbulb, the fizzing and sparking energy that appears to be shooting out from it is, in reality, a lit sparkler going off behind it.  Still, it is a nifty image and the competition judges can't have been too bothered, since it still made the cut.

Finally -

Just in case you were wondering, Your Humble Scribe has been on his very best behaviour at his temporary employer, Footasylum in Sandbrook Park, on the outskirts of Ur-on-the-Roch.  We all know how dark and sardonic Conrad can be, which has been bottled up and censored for the time being.  No point in scaring people un-necessarily, although I do need to check on Nic's claim about inflatable raisins.  Just to keep you in the loop.

* It's not yet but when I take over O how it will be!

Johnny Seven

I Know What You're Thinking

No, we're not talking about "Short Circuit" here, even if it is a highly entertaining film, and the opening scenes cleverly obfuscate - not a word you ever expected to hear today - exactly what is lasering battlefield targets into ash.  Until we find out it's - Art!

One of these

     This, gentle reader, is Johnny Five NOT JOHNNY SEVEN and no we're not talking about a sequel to a sequel.
     In fact we are talking about a toy that was brought up by Devin Stone in his vlog about "Toys Of Terror", which didn't actually cause death and destruction in the real world, unlike things like the Sky Dancers, although it kind of did in a metaphorical way.  Art!

     BEHOLD THE WONDER THAT IS 'JOHNNY SEVEN: THE ONE MAN ARMY'!!

     <slobbers silently in awed wonder>.

     When Conrad was much smaller, he got one of these as a present, because his grandma lived and worked in South Canada and thus had access to this piece of wonder.  You could not get these in the UK.  Hah!

     Let me walk you through the various bits of hardware of this weapon.  Art!

     Here you see the bipod folded up underneath the barrel, and the stock removed, for use in sustained indirect fire - er - I suppose, which is possibly a bit beyond the conceptual grasp of seven year-olds.

     There are various projectiles you can plug in and fire.  Art!

     The one attached to the front is the anti-personnel missile, IIRC.  Snug and secure in the side-attachment is the anti-tank projectile.  And that thing sitting on the raised ramp is a grenade.  A note to those with a bit of tactical nous: if you fired the grenade with the ramp lowered, it would fly backwards over your head, enabling you to ambush sneaky-petes trying to ambush you.  Art!

     That's the bullet-well, which stored twelve hard plastic rounds that you could fire hard enough to hurt your sister and make her cry to have a significant impact, and which unsuspecting parents might well tread upon in their bare feet.  Not as bad as Lego, because they had round surfaces rather than straight lines and pointed corners, but enough to make you spill your tea.  Art!

     This is the bit my parents detested above all else.  If you dragged that handle backwards and then pressed the small metal stud to port, it would make an horrendous metallic screeching noise supposed to resemble a machine gun being fired.  "But Dad, it's an authentic representation of a minigun firing a sustained burst!" did not cut much ice at the time.

     Don't go away!  For we are not done yet.  Art!

     Yes, that rear handle was actually the visible part of a completely detachable pistol that could fire caps.  Good practice would have been to hand it to the Number Two of your fire-support team <Mister Hand redacts a whole lot of silliness here> to get more ammo.

     I think Devin's point here was that, although this bit of kit is incredibly fit, it's not illegal, as a whole lot of ear-bashed, foot-bruised parents with smaller siblings rendered legitimate targets, would have hoped.

     Also, for those children who never grew up - Conrad definitely in there when it comes to Things Exploding - there is a note of caution about acquiring one of these via E-bay or other online venues, because they now retail for about £450.  So - pay the monthly gas bill or acquire a Johnny Seven?

"Right, Doris, there's a reason we're wearing five sweaters each at the moment ..."

Conrad Nods Cynically

I do this at a lot of things, so you might be wondering which in particular it was.  Well, button your lips and fasten your zips, it's about the Amber Heard and Johnny Sev Depp defamation trial, which has not cast either in a particularly good light.  AH lost her case in South Canada, which had all the JD fans whooping enthusiastically.  Taking a page from the Citizen Trump playbook, AH promptly appealed.  Art!

     A couple of days ago she ditched the appeal, posting on social media that "this was not a concession."

     Except it most certainly is.  Rather than go through the courts again, she has capitulated, because prating on social media renders one unliable to legal consequence.  Citizen Trump does this too - rants and tants on Tooth Social, but dares not to take legal redress, because he would get his bottom fried in lard at 200OC.

     One can paint oneself as a martyr all one likes on social media.  Trying to do so in a court of law has rather severe consequences.  THIS - going off at a tangent as we are wont to do - is why Rudy Giuliani and Sydney Powell avoided all mention of electoral fraud once they got into a court-room 60 times out of 60.  Art!

Tasteful, that's us.

     Let's have an item a little less gruesome and tacky.

On The Theme Of 'Bright Lights'
Yes, this is a BBC photographic theme, and Conrad can't help thinking about one of Sir John Peel's favouritest tracks, "I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight" by Richard and Linda Thompson. Art!

     Seriously, if you've never heard this one before, make an appointment with Youtube.

     ANYWAY that BBC themed competition.  Art!

     Courtesy Simon Torr.  Very clever - a Cornish mine engine behind the galaxy of the Milky Way.  One wonders how long he had to expose that to get all the stars in, because light pollution in situations like this is a problem.

"The Sea Of Sand"

From a sea of stars to a sea of silicon dioxide (with trace minerals).  The Doctor and Sarah are both bound for a mutual confrontation.

It was tricky, trying to keep the car between himself and the guardians of the depot, and rendered trickier by the bulky ammunition box.  Their attention may have been on the truck slowly chugging at them instead of the still-stationary Saharianas, or the sound of gunfire that came crackling over the depot.

          The interior of the armed Italian car showed a collection of well-stowed tools, weapons, ammunition, canteens and tins marked “AM”.  Once again, showing a worrying familiarity with illegal methods of vehicle ignition, the Doctor began to turn the engine over and drove off, keeping one eye on his rear view mirror. 

          I need to find Sarah! he worried.  I hope that gunfire was nothing to do with her.  How I hope!

 

Sarah felt a little of the burden the Doctor regularly carried, finding it difficult to reconcile the British and Italians together.  A bit of wit, a bit of humour and some old-fashioned female last-resort flirting helped to keep tempers calm.  The amused disgust of the British soldiers towards their new allies was muted when they recognised the machine-gun mounted on the Sahariana.

          ‘Hey, Tam, that’s a Bren gun!’ pointed Davey.  ‘One of our British guns, Miss,’ he explained to Sarah.  She translated this, and the Italian gunner nodded with a rueful grin.  He gave a long speech in Italian, which Sarah translated for the British audience sitting in the back of the Chevrolet.

          ‘He says – Torrevechio, the machine-gunner – says that they are glad to get their hands on British machine guns like the Bren because their own are always jamming.  Italian grenades are useless, their rifles are feeble and only a madman with a death-wish would operate one of their light tanks.’

     Ah yes, the grass is always greener, hmmm?

Finally -

It was a Dog Buns! endurance test in the office today, because Your Humble Scribe forgot his earphones and had to listen to the <hacks> music chosen by the Bright Young Things in the office.  Nary a bagpipe nor a hammer dulcimer to be heard, forsooth!

At A Bit Of A Loss

Your Humble Scribe Is Currently Watching "Die Hard"

With Quiet Tom and Darling Daughter, whom have never seen it before.  This is problematic, because it's a pretty engaging film and here I am trying to compose an Intro, which is tricky enough at the best of times.  And even more so when I've got no idea of what to put in this Intro.  Art!

     I could, of course - obviously! - go on about the unending controversy about whether DH is a Christmas film or not.  Except I won't, because whole families have been split irreparably on this matter since 1988.  

     Instead, let us abruptly switch track and instead focus on Elon Musk, because I found a BBC item about himself and Twitter.  Elon, as you should surely know by now, recently acquired Twitter for an unspeakably huge amount, and in a display of Manglement for the ages has been messing about with his new toy instantly.  He makes decisions on the fly, then abruptly changes course, leaving everyone confused.

Muskie

     Having sacked half of his workforce, a lot of his managers have also jumped ship, because they didn't feel like 75 hours weeks on a 35 hour salary.  Elon has stated that Twitter is losing £3 million per day, which amounts to £1 billion per annum, which is perhaps why he's put forward a poll suggesting that he step down as Chief Executive Officer of Twitter.  Art?

     Hmmmm well, this might allow him to appoint another person as CEO in place of him, which would get him off the responsibility of buying a company he tried to back out of.  Then he could probably go back to running electric cars and trying for the Moon, and kind of forgetting about the £35 billion he spent on buying  Twitter.  The investors might not be quite so forgiving.  Art!

     I think that'll do for today's Intro.

Ladies And Gentlemen And Those Unsure!

We have a theme!  The BBC, in their infinite wisdom, have put up another exhibition of photographs, on the theme of "Bright Lights".  Thanks for that, Auntie, it makes the creative heavy lifting a little lighter.  Art!

     Courtesy Lucy Spiers.  Thanks Lucy!  She was impressed by the play of light on wet pavement ('sidewalk' to our South Canadian readers), being broadcast from the Fish & Chips truck.  Yellow and blue - reminds me of a colour scheme that's been around a lot since February ...

Devin Stone And The Toys Of Terror

Our favourite Legal Eagle has suffered a split lip from these particular minions of mayhem: the 'Sky Dancer'.  Art!

     We presume when he was much younger.  These things look quite harmless, until you fire them up, because those 'wings' are made of nice hard plastic, and they rotate at high speed to enable the SD to fly through the air.  We may be able to capture an image of one in flight.  Art!

     As Devin pointed out, SDs are highly erratic in flight and frequently travelled in unpredictable directions, which was bad news for lots of kids, since they are launched at face level.  Meaning lots of lacerations to the face, to eyes and to ribs and to teeth and even concussion.

     Under official sanction, 8.9 million of these 'Spinning Death Helicopters', as Devin dubbed  them (he might be biased) were recalled.

Lord Peter's Crossword

Another one where the solution raises even more questions than does the 'clue'.  Here's the clue: "When all is read, then give the world it's due; And never need the world read this of you (2)."

     And the solution?  RD.

     No, I don't get it either.  There are Notes on a few of the Solutions, and this was one: "Refer to drawer".  Well thanks, Dot, because that explains nothing.  Let me Google this one.

     Aha.  This goes back to the ancient paper-based system of banking and cheques.  If the party issuing the cheque did not have sufficient funds to cover the balance on the cheque, it would be rendered void by the bank and the payee would need to contact the party issuing the cheque.  "You've stiffed me!" being a good opening sentence.  Art!

     Considering this story was written in the Thirties, one can see why Conrad, coming along eighty years later, would be unfamiliar with the term.

"The Sea Of Sand"

We left the Doctor battling dehydration in the Libyan desert, reduced to drinking water from a truck radiator.  Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it!

Not a good sign.  These derelicts must belong to the Italians who captured the depot, and who were in turn overwhelmed by the bio-vores.  The bio-vores who now stood guard over their conquest.

          Sarah!  Oh I hope that girl had sense enough to get well away!

          One of those Italian desert cars would be a sensible and stylish way to travel across the desert, lower in profile than the truck and doubtless faster, too.  What would divert the bio-vores once he tried to drive the car away? 

Well, how about a truck mysteriously approaching the depot?  That should do the job.  He carefully pulled the steering column apart, exposing the wiring and started the engine whilst putting the handbrake on.  The next part was to slowly release the ratchet on the handbrake until it only just held, then put the truck into first gear, lashing down the accelerator with a length of string.

          Hefting his newly-acquired box of food, the Doctor jumped down from the truck and skulked, as he felt it , towards the nearest empty Italian car.  The impetus given to the truck by his jumping from the rear must have jarred the handbrake loose, and the truck began to move slowly forward. 

     Crafty old Doctor!  I note that, in addition to having stolen the TARDIS, he seems quite adept at stealing motor vehicles.  A useful skill if not exactly a moral one.

A Sahariana.  Yes they were real.

The Borgias:  As Black As Painted?

Conrad came up with this question as a result of Ol' Dots infamous crossword, which suggested one needed protection when dining with the Borgias, because they were so thoroughly soaked in eeeeevil that they thought naught of poisoning a guest, just to keep their eye in.  Art!

     There were all sorts of other allegations, about sexual depravity, corruption, incest, poisoning, murder and hogging the port instead of passing it along.

     The truth is that the Borgias did indulge in corruption and bribery, except they were, in reality, far less horrid than other powerful Renaissance Italian family dynasties.  The traducing of Lucrezia, for example, seems to have been utterly without foundation.  Murders attributed to Cesare would have been to his major disadvantage.  And if Rodrigo had bought the papacy, so had many, many Italian clans.

     What made the Borgias so detested was that old factor: they were outsiders.  They originated in Spain, and were always seen as aliens in Italy.  Nor were they all that successful, because unlike other native clans seeking power, they tried to motor their way to fame and riches, instead of working slowly over time.  When they failed in their attempt and went back to obscurity in Spain, why, all their former 'friends' and 'allies' were happy to stick the knife in.  Art!

     Here we see Valencia, in Spain, where the Borgias originated from.

 

     And with that I think we're done.  DONE!