A mixed bag tonight. There will be random subject changes, sometimes without warning. All sorts of things in the news presented themselves for both rage and wonder, so here’s a bit of rage to start off with.
On the radio at work (I think it was tuned to Northsound) there was a pitiful horrible bastard child whining about the deadly second hand smoke that you cannot see or smell, but which spends five hours wandering through every room in your house after every cigarette. Presumably it then hides under children’s beds until they fall asleep, only to emerge in the dead of night and break their toys.
Okay, drones. You believe in the existence of a terrifying thing that is totally undetectable? I can go along with that. Let the games commence. You will never know when you are breathing in tobacco smoke. It can travel upwind and across continents (heck, if they believe it can pass through solid walls, they’ll believe anything). It accumulates into vast invisible clouds with no smell and these clouds stay at ground level forever. These clouds can be five miles wide – and you might be right in the middle of one now. You will not know until you get The Lumps.
This is what you believe, antismokers. This is the stuff that makes Scientology look mainstream. If you can be convinced that second hand smoke is invisible and odourless then you are doomed to an existence of permanent terror, a Hell to make Satan clasp his hands in admiration at the simplicty and cheapness of it all. No flames, no pitchforks, nothing real at all. Just the permanent fear that the invisible and odourless demon might be all around you at any moment. Get out of that. Oh, but you can’t – maybe you’re not in a SHS cloud right now but think you are, so you move over there – but maybe that’s where the cloud is!
Best stay home but then there are smokers outside and the Doom Cloud can pass through solid walls and closed windows. Basically, you are fucked. Ha ha ha.
There can be no escape when you can’t see what you’re running from. You might just run straight into it. Straight into the welcoming arms of Death.
Speaking of running, just what is the ‘Run for Life’ rubbish all about? You cannot outrun cancer. You cannot threaten it or reason with it. It is made of you. You can avoid Salmonella or Listeria or Scrumpox or Llandudno Neck or Taiwanese willy rot by being careful not to get infected. Cancer arises within you. There are a lot of different causes (the invisible Doom Clouds are only one thing to fear in this delightfully fresh Hell) including genetic defects you didn’t know you had – and sometimes it just happens. Nature is like that. Random and sometimes vindictive. For the lulz.
There is a simple way to determine whether you are likely to have been born with a genetic defect. Do you believe in the existence of smoke that is invisible and odourless? If the answer is yes, then you are seriously defective and should pester your doctor daily until he kills you in a fit of exasperated rage. There is no other cure.
I still have my grandfather’s watch chain. Solid silver, hallmarked on every link. I have never considered selling it no matter how desperate things have been. He wore it in the first World War when, as he often said, he died fighting so little swines like my brother and I could go around shouting and fighting and generally being a pain in the arse. A shouted ‘I died in the war for sods like you’ could shut us up in an instant. Confusion is a powerful weapon.
I have no idea how old the actual chain is. He had attached a few coins to it, the French one and the Arabic one (I have no idea which country) are probably from places he was fighting in. The American dime is likely to be a trade from an American soldier he fought alongside. Unless he switched sides, but if he did he didn’t say. I doubt it. He was not impressed with Uncle Herbie’s Hells Angel gear. I have some of his old badges too, one of which is an SS cap badge.
The American coin on that chain is dated 1916 so two years from now, the chain will be a minimum of 100 years old. I will have a party for it. Maybe Mrs. Queen could be induced to send it a telegram. Is that a stunt I could pull off? It has to be worth a try. It’ll be easier if Dopey is on the throne by then, but then again it’s hardly worth tricking Dopey. Fish in a barrel. No, Mrs. Queen is a wily one and she has Cynical Phil on her team. Tricking those two would be a real challenge.
Again via #Octabber on Farcebok – another smoker for Frank’s smoker’s graveyard. This old man was hammered by the antismokers for no real reason at all until his health finally failed him. He will be classed as a ‘premature death due to smoking’. He was taken from us at the tender age of 90. How much longer would he have lived if not for petty, spiteful and (as his own case demonstrates) nonsensical claims that smokers die young?
Meanwhile, the drones are still breathing in that odourless, invisible death. I hope the bastards choke on it. And I hope their cheeldren wake up screaming every night because of something that isn’t even real. Most children do at some point but this time, their drone parents can’t tell them it’s not real because they are stupid enough to believe in it too.
I have converted another at work to pure leaf. This one doesn’t want to buy it so I have given them seeds. A bit late to get flowers but they’ll get leaf. I almost converted one of the bakers to pure leaf but she was only on one or two a day, then she got a bun in the oven so stopped altogether. I am not going to even try to tell her about my chain smoking auntie whose sons are all strapping huge lads. I am not going to prevent her stopping smoking because I know she lost one in the past, and every precaution should be taken.
In fact I will never try to convince anyone who wants to stop smoking to carry on. Smoking is a choice and should remain so. If you smoke but don’t want to do it, don’t do it any more. If you smoke, become pregnant, and believe all the stuff about smoking turning your baby into a kipper, then stop smoking. The stress of worrying about it will do more harm than the smoking. Stop, and lose the stress.
I have rarely bought food from a Subway shop. We do have one locally but I am rarely looking for food while they are open. My hours are odd, and more suited to the curry houses. Which is okay. I really like curry.
Now it seems that Subway are taking bacon off the menu and having Halal-only shops. This is likely to wipe them out as fast as the pubs that embraced ‘no-smoking’ before the smoking ban.
They claim that their Halal meat comes from animals that are stunned before slaughter. This is a prime example of the stupidity of those suited monkeys who consider themselves intelligent. If the animal is not fully conscious when killed then it is not Halal. If it could be stunned before slaughter and still be Halal then there would never have been a problem. Subway is thus evidently run by morons. Do you want to eat food prepared by morons? You can if you like. Speaking as an intestinal microbiologist with 30 years of experience, I am not touching any of it.
I don’t care about Halal but I do like bacon. If I am hungry mid-day, a bacon roll is my preference. So if Subway don’t sell bacon I will go elsewhere – no problem for me, no problem for them. Their business, their choice. My favourite curry shop will not sell me a bacon sandwich either. I do not expect them to. I have another source of readymade bacon sandwiches and it will never be Subway. Since they now sell no bacon, have never sold curries and are evidently run by idiots, I see no reason to trouble them at all.
Finally, the point of the title.
A Thing has been invented, a wonderful Thing with endless possibilities for small scale model makers. Imagine fitting the rigging onto a 1/600th scale ship just by drawing it with a pen. In the air. Yes, from September this year, it will be possible. It’s expensive now and will remain so until after Christmas but then I bet the price will drop.
Sometime, even today, science still manages to do something actually useful. What a pity it is more and more the commercial side, and less and less the old ‘blue (now grey) sky’ science that comes up with innovation.
The future is like the past. Real science, real invention, will depend on private money. And maybe that’s not a bad thing at all.
If you are spending your money on your idea, you’ll be a damn sight more frugal than if you were spending mine.
I wonder how much of her own money the Dreadful Arnott has ploughed into the cause she so believes in? My bet is … none.
What’s your bet?