Thursday, July 29, 2010

Wheels Within Wheels...

C.S. Lewis, author of the 'Narnia' series, died on exactly the same day as the Kennedy Assassination. OR DID HE?

There are many good reasons why English gent Lewis potentially wanted Kennedy dead. For example:

1. Kennedy was a Catholic, Lewis was a Protestant. Screwtape didn't like Catholics.
2. Lewis was about talking lions. Kennedy was slipping a length to Marylin Monroe. Join the dots.
3. Lewis' book 'Peleandra' contains detailed numeric references to the exact wind-shear factor which had to be taken into account by the shooter in Dallas.
4. The Zapruder footage shows a seemingly innocuous wardrobe behind the grassy knoll.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Its an oft-used phrase but there's nothing new under the sun, and nothing proves it quite like today's post on Sniff Petrol, the increasingly erratic car-related website we all loved then got quite bored with when it wasn't being updated for six months at a stretch. However, there's nothing like Ferrari tomfoolery to get ol' Sniff back in action, so thanks to the fact that he's been stuck in an 'I hate Ferrari' time-warp for the last few years, the minute the Maranello team a) lead a race and b) break the rules, Sniff's back in the saddle like the years since Schumacher's retirement never happened. Those old faves are back, D.I. Blundell and Crazy Dave, both of whom were conspicuous by their absence when there was nothing to whinge about, Englishmen were winning championships and Ferrari were in the middle of the pack.
How about a story on Red Bull? What about the Brawn team winning on debut last year? No, while the entire face of F1 was busy changing Sniff was busy piddling on, wearing his Ferrari hairshirt and being irrelevant. Now, for one brief shining moment he's managed to recycle the zeitgeist, like a hippy who wore flares for so long that one day he went for a walk and slightly fewer people laughed at him.

Congratulations, sniff. Now fuck off again.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

How To Blow Up A Whale

Humans are by-and-large a coastal species. If you live by the sea for any stretch of time (in species time) sooner or later you're going to have to deal with a beached whale. Generally these can be rehabilitated back into the ocean by being kept wet and threatened with bagpipes (the bagpipe is the hereditary enemy of the celaphod), but every once in a while one will up and kark it.
If the whale has died, two things are important. First you must make sure that all of the people who tried to keep it alive know that they have failed. Guilt and the stress of holding a watering can over a whale for 72 hours without a break can often combine in hilarious ways. I recommend a camera phone and a quick upload to youtube. Hell, if you can't keep the damn whale alive, you might as well go viral.
Secondly, despite what the Greens may say, whales aren't constructed of hugs an unicorn farts. They're usually full of blubber and guts and other whale shit that starts to go off quite quickly. With all of the angry tree-huggers still milling about the opportunity to cut off a big hunk and have a barbecue is not going to be there (despite it being the only time that harvesting and eating whale would be acceptable) so there's only one thing left to do to stop disease spreading from the slowly-putrefying carcass: blow it up.
This is not as easy as it sounds. For a start, in western society explosives are not easy to get hold of in large quantities....or are they?

To blow up a whale, you will need:
1. Grease;
2. A flatbed tow-truck;
3. A Caltex Starcard;
4. Quite a lot of duct tape;
5. A biggish cork or bung
6. A marine flare.

The first step is to securely tape the carcasse's mouth shut. Go around the head using a single piece of tape in a spiral motion. Once this is achieved, you need to get the whale up onto the back of the tow-truck. You may think that it would be quite difficult to persuade a tow-truck driver to help, but in my experience if you explain the situation quite fully most tow-truck operators are only too keen to give it a go and in some cases even waive their fee.
Once the whale carcass is on the truck, drive to the petrol station. It's handy here to have nicked the fuel card from a work vehicle earlier. Whales can usually hold several hundred litres of petrol (assuming the mouth is securely taped up) which can get pricey. As in the case of the tow-truck driver, once you explain the situation most service station attendants will be only too happy to help out. Once at the service station the filling of the carcass is simplicity itself. Simply climb on top of the whale and shove the fuel nozzle straight in the blowhole. Depending on the pump speed filling shouldn't take more than five minutes. When the carcass is filled, pop the cork in the blowhole and bob's your uncle.
Drive to wherever you have decided to blow up the whale from. Ideally this should be out of the suburban area. Try to avoid shopping-centre carparks.
Once the site has been selected, place the whale on the ground and remove the cork from it's blowhole, replacing it with the marine flare. The petrochemical contents of the dead whale may have settled during transit, so it may be necessary to top it up a bit from a jerry-can.
Move everyone except yourself to a safe distance. Light the flare. Run like hell. Assuming you're not drunk* you should be able to reach cover before the flare burns low enough to ignite the petrol.
Film it and put it on youtube, next to the video you prepared earlier. For heaven's sake, footage of exploding whales is exactly what youtube is for.

*Don't be drunk. Alcohol and blowing up whales JUST DON'T MIX.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Dr Solar, Man of The Atom!

Those who know me well will know that one of the indulgences I allow myself is the reading of comic books. Usually, I read Dark Horse Comics, as they have the most interesting stuff: The Goon, Conan, Hellboy and a lot of good little short-run things usually involving the Whedons. I don't usually stray away from this except to buy graphic novels, but lately i've been getting into Marvel (World War Hulks, to be exact) and I have to say it's opened my eyes. Thus, when DH announced that they would be publishing a new run of Dr Solar, I was enthused. Dark Horse publishing superhero stories? Sounds great.
It wasn't. I got the first issue today and while the writing was quite good the artwork was terrible, and as comics are a predominately visual medium this impacted on my enjoyment a lot. Dark Horse, if you're going to continue with thr superhero stories, could you please:

1. Draw the comic in such a way that I can follow it between frames. In Dr Solar the framing was just a non-connected series of shots. Comics grew out of that in the Forties, for hubbard's sake.
2. Have your characters engage. Some non-stock poses would be nice, as would characters making eye contact instead of standing around like mannequins. Facial expressions are always good, too.
3. Pay attention to what's supposed to be happening. If you don't draw it, I can't see it. It's the first issue, I have no idea what powers Dr Solar has, so having him point vaguely in the direction of the bad guy, with a corresponding 'fwoom!' coming from said villain does nothing to tell me what just happened. Nothing.
4. Stop the 'photo-realistic' artwork. How realistic was it? Have you ever seen the animated Lord of the Rings? About like that.

Dr Solar looks promising and could be quite fun. Dark Horse, why don't you pick up a Marvel or a DC and take some notes on how a superhero story should be drawn. They're where they are today for a reason.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010

The Tweelight Saga

I will confess to feeling a little bit of shock and awe today upon reading the news that a New Zealand chap had died whilst watching the new Twilight movie.

Please, gentle reader, exercise caution when watching this movie as it is apparently now possible to be bored to death.

Friday, July 02, 2010

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Office...

Today as I was walking back to the office whilst on the tail-end of my lunchbreak, I saw an advertisement on the back of a bus. It was a largish ad with a couple of wine glasses and beer bottles and the words, in cursive: "Don't take the cat."

As I am an Englishman by both descent and inclination, I was immediately affronted. While I have no idea where it was suggesting I shouldn't take my cat, It seemed to me that although I rarely take my cat anywhere, whenever I do I generally have a pretty good reason and, frankly, am not about to be arbitrarily gainsaid by a bit of vinyl tacked on the side of public transport.

It was about then I realised it actually said "Don't take the car" and was, presumably, about the dangers inherent in drink-driving. I felt a bit strange after that.