Cows and kangaroos, equally dumb?
Exhibit "M"
Exhibit "N"
For those of you new to the series...here's the previous exhibits...
The first...
Exhibit B
Exhibit C (definately one of my fave's)
E & F
G
J,K,&L
And in a brilliant act of blogging one-upsmanship, it seems our pal rhino has started a series of "Why humans are dumber than cows or kangaroos" I'm sure there will be many, many fine exhibits in that piece.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
!! Mummy News !! Mummy News !! Mummy News !!
It seems that the Egyptian government has hired Robert Ballard (The fellow who found the Titanic wreck - amongst other underwater relics) to find the sarcophagus of Menkaure - the Pharaoh buried in the third largest pyramid at Giza.
Read the whole super-interesting story right here.
Incase that link doesn't last...here's a nice little bit.
Built from polished blue basalt to transport the king's earthly remains to the next world, the elaborately decorated vessel lay hidden inside the third-largest of Giza's renowned Pyramids for more than 4,000 years. In 1837 the British colonel Richard William Howard Vyse blasted his way into Menkaure's sepulchral chamber using gunpowder and discovered the stone casket.
The mummy was missing by that time — ancient Arabic graffiti indicated that the colonel was not the first to find the chamber — and he realised that his discovery could open the way for a new generation of grave robbers. “As the sarcophagus would have been destroyed had it remained in the Pyramid,” he noted in his diaries, “I resolved to send it to the British Museum.”
So the fellow puts it on a ship, and the ship runs into a storm and sinks. For a few hundred years this sarcophagus has been resting at the bottom of the Mediterranean, and now they want to find it, and if anyone can, it'll be Ballard - that's just what he does.
However, knowing me, you know I can't just let it ride like that, so here's a few ideas.
1)Menkaure's mummy was missing when Vyse got there...it's implied that vandals took him, however, wouldn't that be the perfect ruse for a mummy? Paint some graffiti on the walls - make it look like he'd been stolen - and hide out in another secret pyramid chamber.
Read the whole super-interesting story right here.
Incase that link doesn't last...here's a nice little bit.
Built from polished blue basalt to transport the king's earthly remains to the next world, the elaborately decorated vessel lay hidden inside the third-largest of Giza's renowned Pyramids for more than 4,000 years. In 1837 the British colonel Richard William Howard Vyse blasted his way into Menkaure's sepulchral chamber using gunpowder and discovered the stone casket.
The mummy was missing by that time — ancient Arabic graffiti indicated that the colonel was not the first to find the chamber — and he realised that his discovery could open the way for a new generation of grave robbers. “As the sarcophagus would have been destroyed had it remained in the Pyramid,” he noted in his diaries, “I resolved to send it to the British Museum.”
So the fellow puts it on a ship, and the ship runs into a storm and sinks. For a few hundred years this sarcophagus has been resting at the bottom of the Mediterranean, and now they want to find it, and if anyone can, it'll be Ballard - that's just what he does.
However, knowing me, you know I can't just let it ride like that, so here's a few ideas.
1)Menkaure's mummy was missing when Vyse got there...it's implied that vandals took him, however, wouldn't that be the perfect ruse for a mummy? Paint some graffiti on the walls - make it look like he'd been stolen - and hide out in another secret pyramid chamber.
-or-
2)Menkaure was in the sarcophagus, Vyse new it and lied, and the mummy got pissed when being shipped away from his home, so he used his mummy powers to summon up a storm big enough to sink it...knowing in 200 years or so, his people would come looking for him, and bring him back.
-or-
3)Menkaure was in the sarcophagus, tricked Vyse into thinking he wasn't, because where on earth is a mummy safer - than in a museum? Looked after, preserved, protected...it's PERFECT! But, some agents - supernatural or otherwise, realized this act had to be stopped, and sank the ship. After all - who wants the third most powerful mummy in the world on the loose, or worse, TOTALLY PROTECTED AGAINST DESTRUCTION! Now, after 200 years, Menkaure has finally orchestrated his watery prison jail-break, and according to plan, will be found, pulled from the sea floor, and...PLACED IN A MUSEUM!
I'm going with #3, but feel free to draw your own conclusions.
I'm going with #3, but feel free to draw your own conclusions.
The Big Bang...Universes...that kind of junk
So a week and a half ago, I saw this story on the Beeb, and was struck by the implications. Here's one of the munny quotes...
Dr Adrienne Erickcek, from the California Institute of Technology (Caltech), and colleagues now believe these fluctuations contain hints that our Universe "bubbled off" from a previous one.
(...)
Their model suggests that new universes could be created spontaneously from apparently empty space. From inside the parent universe, the event would be surprisingly unspectacular.
The problem was, I couldn't quite get my head around what this all ment...so I just dropped it. However, Warren Ellis has a nice take on it.
Dr Adrienne Erickcek, from the California Institute of Technology (Caltech), and colleagues now believe these fluctuations contain hints that our Universe "bubbled off" from a previous one.
(...)
Their model suggests that new universes could be created spontaneously from apparently empty space. From inside the parent universe, the event would be surprisingly unspectacular.
The problem was, I couldn't quite get my head around what this all ment...so I just dropped it. However, Warren Ellis has a nice take on it.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Getting Closer...
Got a couple of juicy stories I'll be posting about tomorrow...
Tune in then...
same fjord time
same fjord channel.
Tune in then...
same fjord time
same fjord channel.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Not a lot on the intertubes...
Tonite to catch my attention. Maybe there's never that much out here, in the tubes. Maybe it's nothing but stupid stuff blown waaaay out of proportion. Or maybe it's just one of my virtual friends just showed up in real life on a whim, and I have to offer a very real experience to a very solid human, that up till now I've only ever known from digital packets.
And the latter, my fine friendly Fjordlings...is a moment I hope you all can experience. This internet thing is real don'tcha know. Sometimes when you reach towards the digital void, the digital void really physically reaches back...and fjucking grabs you!
Are you going to be ready if it actually happens?
And the latter, my fine friendly Fjordlings...is a moment I hope you all can experience. This internet thing is real don'tcha know. Sometimes when you reach towards the digital void, the digital void really physically reaches back...and fjucking grabs you!
Are you going to be ready if it actually happens?
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Yaknow me...
I'm like nearly everyone...I try and like things, and I try hard to like people.
I'm almost always disappointed.
Common enough, methinks...I mean, I can't be the only one. Right?
Well, if you're in my camp on this one (you try and like things, and try hard to like people, and are almost always disappointed) this place is exactly what you need. Almost enough to restore your faith in everything.
I'm almost always disappointed.
Common enough, methinks...I mean, I can't be the only one. Right?
Well, if you're in my camp on this one (you try and like things, and try hard to like people, and are almost always disappointed) this place is exactly what you need. Almost enough to restore your faith in everything.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
In the Archives...
I just found May 2005 to be really interesting...like this little work of penmanship.And that's just the tip 'o the iceburg. There's a heap more I've got to get thru just to finish the month. If I see anything else that's particularly noteworthy, I'll make sure to update this here post.
***Update***
Meng, the whole dang month is retardedly astounding! Howabout this little bit on lists?
Saturday, June 07, 2008
The Continuing...
Exhibit "J"
And Exhibit "K"
Honestly, I dunno why I'm still doing this...it's like, hasn't the point been made already? Probly, but then again...
Exhibit "L"
And Exhibit "K"
Honestly, I dunno why I'm still doing this...it's like, hasn't the point been made already? Probly, but then again...
Exhibit "L"
Friday, June 06, 2008
There Will Be Another (one)
Friday lays in a hammock tied to the underside of a strangely bent palm tree, that reached out over the white sands of a beach, which gently fade under warm Caribbean Ocean waters. Mexican beer sits under him in a metal bucket filled with ice, placed strategically in the shadow of the trunk. One of the sweating bottles is in his hand, and he takes a swig as the sound of waves washing gently upon the beach gradually drive all of his crazy pondering thoughts away into nothing.
"Was Jesus a super awesome carpenter? Because Buddha and Mohammad were pretty well off kids. They took that leisure time to focus on transcending into demi-gods...or maybe even real Gods, but, how did J.C. fund forty-days and forty nights alone in the desert, his parents could only afford to give birth in a stable! He must have been pretty amazing working wood, in order to fund more than a month away from his workplace...was his shop still there when he came back?"
Whoosh - washed away. Somewhere a seagull cried twice, then another wave rolled up gently on the beach.
He had another sip of beer, and wondered about his own spiritual gravity. Were there Guardian Angels hovering about him as he lay in the hammock, or perhaps there were other spirits that shared an affection for his energy that were drawn to it like moths to light, keeping him safe? Were his ancestors about in spirit form, looking to keep him from harm? And did he owe them some sort of sacrifice to keep some, or all of them appeased?
Whoosh - washed away. Friday shifted his head, and just watched the gentle waves coming in. A brown seal* poked it's head out of the water, and looked about for a moment, before diving down...emerging twelve feet further along the coast to pop his head back up, and continue his observations. He then appeared to look straight at Friday appraising for a good long moment, then disappeared under the waters for good.
Friday rocked his hammock into a more pronounced swing, and drained the rest of his beverage. He tossed the empty bottle in a torqued spin, that landed directly (opening down) in an open spot near the edge of the ice-bucket full of beer. On his next swing, he reached down with his left arm, and grabbed a full bottle from the bucket. He raised himself from the waist for a brief moment to take a sip off the top of the new bottle - enough to assure he wouldn't spill on his chest, when he took another drink while fully reposed. Then he lay back.
What about Monday, and Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday...he pondered. Shouldn't they be part of...
Whoosh - the waves washed gently in, and it was gone.
Friday was past it. He realized that pondering here was impossible, and totally a waste of time. The hammock swung gently in the breeze off the sea. There was no point in thinking about anything except how gjoddang nice this place was. Even if he took this time to find something remarkable, it would be gone in five minutes, replaced with something else...
His head caught a flash of light-brown streaking from the sky, and then a splash in the water. A pelican emerged from the water, and finished swallowing a fish. "Isn't that nice." Thought Friday, "except if you were that fish I guess...that would suck."
Whoosh - the waves washed gently in, and it was gone.
The sun shone down - diffused by the palm's shadow, and it was nice. Friday had a sip of cold beer, and it was nice. A gentle cool breeze blew in from the sea, and it was nice. A cinnamon skinned waitress clad in a grass skirt walked up towards the beach towards his hammock, and it was awfully nice watching her move.
Whoosh - the waves washed gently in, and it was gone.
Friday wondered what he had been thinking about, as it seemed curiously satisfying at the time. He had a sip of beer, rocked in his hammock tied to the underside of a strangely bent palm tree, that reached out over the white sands of a beach, which gently fade under warm Caribbean Ocean waters. "Well, this is nice." He thought to himself. And that was the last thing he thought for a long while.
Happy Friday
*The author does not know if brown seals, or any seal's habitat includes the Caribbean Ocean, it just seemed like a really nice thing to add there.
"Was Jesus a super awesome carpenter? Because Buddha and Mohammad were pretty well off kids. They took that leisure time to focus on transcending into demi-gods...or maybe even real Gods, but, how did J.C. fund forty-days and forty nights alone in the desert, his parents could only afford to give birth in a stable! He must have been pretty amazing working wood, in order to fund more than a month away from his workplace...was his shop still there when he came back?"
Whoosh - washed away. Somewhere a seagull cried twice, then another wave rolled up gently on the beach.
He had another sip of beer, and wondered about his own spiritual gravity. Were there Guardian Angels hovering about him as he lay in the hammock, or perhaps there were other spirits that shared an affection for his energy that were drawn to it like moths to light, keeping him safe? Were his ancestors about in spirit form, looking to keep him from harm? And did he owe them some sort of sacrifice to keep some, or all of them appeased?
Whoosh - washed away. Friday shifted his head, and just watched the gentle waves coming in. A brown seal* poked it's head out of the water, and looked about for a moment, before diving down...emerging twelve feet further along the coast to pop his head back up, and continue his observations. He then appeared to look straight at Friday appraising for a good long moment, then disappeared under the waters for good.
Friday rocked his hammock into a more pronounced swing, and drained the rest of his beverage. He tossed the empty bottle in a torqued spin, that landed directly (opening down) in an open spot near the edge of the ice-bucket full of beer. On his next swing, he reached down with his left arm, and grabbed a full bottle from the bucket. He raised himself from the waist for a brief moment to take a sip off the top of the new bottle - enough to assure he wouldn't spill on his chest, when he took another drink while fully reposed. Then he lay back.
What about Monday, and Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday...he pondered. Shouldn't they be part of...
Whoosh - the waves washed gently in, and it was gone.
Friday was past it. He realized that pondering here was impossible, and totally a waste of time. The hammock swung gently in the breeze off the sea. There was no point in thinking about anything except how gjoddang nice this place was. Even if he took this time to find something remarkable, it would be gone in five minutes, replaced with something else...
His head caught a flash of light-brown streaking from the sky, and then a splash in the water. A pelican emerged from the water, and finished swallowing a fish. "Isn't that nice." Thought Friday, "except if you were that fish I guess...that would suck."
Whoosh - the waves washed gently in, and it was gone.
The sun shone down - diffused by the palm's shadow, and it was nice. Friday had a sip of cold beer, and it was nice. A gentle cool breeze blew in from the sea, and it was nice. A cinnamon skinned waitress clad in a grass skirt walked up towards the beach towards his hammock, and it was awfully nice watching her move.
Whoosh - the waves washed gently in, and it was gone.
Friday wondered what he had been thinking about, as it seemed curiously satisfying at the time. He had a sip of beer, rocked in his hammock tied to the underside of a strangely bent palm tree, that reached out over the white sands of a beach, which gently fade under warm Caribbean Ocean waters. "Well, this is nice." He thought to himself. And that was the last thing he thought for a long while.
Happy Friday
*The author does not know if brown seals, or any seal's habitat includes the Caribbean Ocean, it just seemed like a really nice thing to add there.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
1000! (that's one fjuckin' thousand)
Special Message From The Casa Aloha: Fjord Corporate H.Q.Receives as following:
Aloha!
Well now, that wasn't so hard, was it?
Since our humble beginnings on January 19th 2005, 'ole Fjord here has attracted 17,051 visitors, and 34,484 page views. Since then, we've also caused 14 dangerously violent riots, brokered a peace treaty between Micronesia and Java, sold 3,000 pairs of defective shoes to Paraguay, robbed a bank, using the proceeds to purchase five surplus Soviet tanks, and intervened in time to stop scientists from making a black hole (twice) and a sun on our fair planet. I am aware our record is something of a mixed bag, but it's been fun.
What's not so fun, is remembering those who have fallen in the service to Fjord. Over the span of three years, we've lost Mindfuck, Fjord Borg, and Q-dog to BBS (blogger burnout syndrome...(there should be a national day of mourning, it's happened to so many...one can only wonder where they are today, wandering the streets of some strange town-with the other homeless bloggers, digging thru trashcans looking for something to eat, shouting at fire hydrants and passing cars...minds destroyed by the all-consuming webmonster...but I digress)) Internet time is like dog-years which according to the numbers is like TWENTY FIVE YEARS! And boy, it does feel like it sometimes.
Anyways, as heartless as it sounds, I ain't got time to mourn the fallen. There's this (and another, and another) post to be written, and I'm the only one left to do it. So, here's some things I'm awfully proud of.
1)Spreading the word about the insidious mummy threat.
2)Keeping you abreast of Pirate news.
3)Informing everyone about the also insidious jellyfish threat.
4)Mister Pigglesworth and Mister Gimpson
5) Drunk Elephants
6)A ridiculously huge amount of great stuff in the archives. Only...from the early days there are plenty of busted links, and pulled You-tube videos...sigh...
7)A whole mass of Friday Posts - there's frikken 21 google pages of that shit!...Dang!
(please note that the previous links are best used by copying and pasting the actual link underneath the google listing you want to view...its a different color, and sadly, not a hyperlink - that's how google rolls)
And finally, I'd like to mention that it makes me awfully proud that some people actually come here specifically to read my stuff. Thanks! As sappy as it sounds in text, I really do appreciate it. In fact, it's the only reason I do this here stuff.
Well, that's it from the WCB of Fjord. I think I remember writing somewhere there are no trumpets that sound for important moments...ah yeah, here it is , I think I'll just let that one fill in for the proper ending to this post.
Aloha
-Tsunami-
Yaaay! Politics!
I dunno if you know the backstory, but last nite John McCain gave a speech to a few supporters, and he did it in front of a green background. Lots of people said the background made him look strange...
Sadly No, has this freaking hilarious post that you really gotta see.
Sadly No, has this freaking hilarious post that you really gotta see.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Mad Scientist Type Stuff!
A fellow has built a 26 ton ball, that he's gonna fill with molten metal, and then spin for a while, to find out more about planetary magnetic fields. The full story and a cool little vid is over at NPR.
(Found by neatorama)
***Update***
Just found this digging around on reddit - NASA Makes Magnetic Fields Visible...it's mind blowingly cool!
(Found by neatorama)
***Update***
Just found this digging around on reddit - NASA Makes Magnetic Fields Visible...it's mind blowingly cool!
Heh, I guess when it's on a platter
You just gotta serve it up. (Continuing from the previous post)
Prehistoric man may have executed rivals from neighbouring tribes to steal their women
Ahhh, women. Worth stealing since (at least) 7000 B.C.!
And in an amazing twist, a link off the side of that story takes us back to this little diddy from 2007 - Site used by man 5,000 years ago. What's the amazing twist? Well, howabout this...
Steve Speak, senior keeper of field archaeology for Tyne and Wear Museums, said: "Trying to make sense of all the various dates from the same site is a bit of a puzzle - it seems the spot was reoccupied almost continuously throughout the prehistoric period. "What isn't clear is what it was actually used for, it's not well enough preserved for us to say that it was a farmstead, a defensive site, a settlement or something more spiritual in nature.
Didn't I just write this...?
"Anyhoo - the point being, this shit's pretty neat...being almost entirely left to your imagination. Not one authority on the subject can't be brought low by a new discovery, but really new paradigm-shifting discoveries from the pre-historic age practically don't ever happen. So fjuck the experts, they know as much as you!"
Being so resoundingly backed-up a mere day later by the internets makes me feel as though I really hit upon a solid truth here. So much so that if you desire, I'll be happy to give you a (really crappy looking) CERTIFICATE OF EXPERTISE IN THE FIELD OF PRE-HISTORIC ARCHEOLOGY - FROM THE FJORDIAN (err...thinking quickly on the fly here) COUNCIL OF SCIENTIFIC INQUIRY! (yes, that will do nicely.)
Any takers?
Prehistoric man may have executed rivals from neighbouring tribes to steal their women
Ahhh, women. Worth stealing since (at least) 7000 B.C.!
And in an amazing twist, a link off the side of that story takes us back to this little diddy from 2007 - Site used by man 5,000 years ago. What's the amazing twist? Well, howabout this...
Steve Speak, senior keeper of field archaeology for Tyne and Wear Museums, said: "Trying to make sense of all the various dates from the same site is a bit of a puzzle - it seems the spot was reoccupied almost continuously throughout the prehistoric period. "What isn't clear is what it was actually used for, it's not well enough preserved for us to say that it was a farmstead, a defensive site, a settlement or something more spiritual in nature.
Didn't I just write this...?
"Anyhoo - the point being, this shit's pretty neat...being almost entirely left to your imagination. Not one authority on the subject can't be brought low by a new discovery, but really new paradigm-shifting discoveries from the pre-historic age practically don't ever happen. So fjuck the experts, they know as much as you!"
Being so resoundingly backed-up a mere day later by the internets makes me feel as though I really hit upon a solid truth here. So much so that if you desire, I'll be happy to give you a (really crappy looking) CERTIFICATE OF EXPERTISE IN THE FIELD OF PRE-HISTORIC ARCHEOLOGY - FROM THE FJORDIAN (err...thinking quickly on the fly here) COUNCIL OF SCIENTIFIC INQUIRY! (yes, that will do nicely.)
Any takers?
Monday, June 02, 2008
So today I went all ancient-style
I mean super ancient-style! Like pre...we know nothin about nothin ancient.
(hopefully this stuff will be posted below these awesome photos - but with blogger ya never know.) (Oh-and please click to embiggify!)
Anyhoo - there's been a little action over at Stonehenge lately, and while that report wasn't so astounding, it was kinda neat. (and btw the timelapse video is totally worth watching.) What's more neat, is this little website called Stone Pages that gives a whole array of pre-historic monumental construction throughout Europe. (very be careful, you can get lost at this place for a long while)
Of their massive collection of places and sites, there is a tiny backstory that does very little to slake your desire for more knowledge of what you're looking at. Undoubtedly there is more info about specific places that you could find, but not much more. One of the great things about pre-history is that there is so very little to find out. What you see is what you get. The stuff that anyone finds in these places, regardless of sophisticated technological analysis, has been so reduced by time, that it's practically like analyzin' nature. I, like everybody, wants to know how people, who didn't even know what technology was, moved 70 ton stones hundreds of miles, to build something that has remained for 6000 years.
And why? Yea, the "why" is also a good question too. Must have been for a good reason, no? I seem to recall reading an arcticle about some practitioner of the Chinese art of Chi, (or perhaps more correctly, "Qi") who did a study of Europe (or England - can't recall) and found many of the important convergent spots of Chi energy had pre-historic structures built upon them. (A quick search of google and wikapedia couldn't find what I was looking for, but maybe more intrepid internet users might be more fruitful...if that's yer cuppa tea, lemme know.)
Anyhoo - the point being, this shit's pretty neat...being almost entirely left to your imagination. Not one authority on the subject can't be brought low by a new discovery, but really new paradigm-shifting discoveries from the pre-historic age practically don't ever happen. So fjuck the experts, they know as much as you! As fer Stonehenge, the common theory is that the massive blocks came from a quarry in South West Wales, dragged by sledges over rolling logs onto the Salisbury Plain, and then, by means unknown, placed in their current location. Of course, then there's this guy who just came up with a completely different, and more plausible explanation...
I don't buy into the "if you don't know history you are doomed to repeat it" school of thought, but I do know it's pretty interesting.
Friday, May 30, 2008
995
So listen, I know there have been a lot of things that have happened this week - to all of us! But I really do have to emphasize that THIS WEEK, we learned there was whale bacon!
It's not every day, or even every week that whale bacon comes along...I'm just sayin.
(oh, and yeah the title is dead on. In 5 more, we'll be at 1000 posts here @ fjord. I did a little piece speculating about creating a blog right here...and for no good reason I gave up all my secrets as to how to write a really astounding blog post over here.)
Yes, I think everyone can take something away with them this week.
Whale Bacon!
It's not every day, or even every week that whale bacon comes along...I'm just sayin.
(oh, and yeah the title is dead on. In 5 more, we'll be at 1000 posts here @ fjord. I did a little piece speculating about creating a blog right here...and for no good reason I gave up all my secrets as to how to write a really astounding blog post over here.)
Yes, I think everyone can take something away with them this week.
Whale Bacon!
Is Firday?
So hell fjordian minions, I dig it's Friday and alls, but I alzo been writin' a big chunka' the day, and really am aboot to stop draggin' my finders (err...typo, wuz suppozed to be fingers) over this here key-bored! However, since you stopped by...I'll leave yas wid a chunka da eggspanded Pigglesworth and Gimpson tale I'm workin' on.
(P.S. It's the second part of the last P&G story I wrote - like two weeks ago...)
Moments later they passed through Clarendon Square in a cold rain, stepping over puddles, and forcing their way through a mass of umbrellas and glum-faced workers on the sidewalk, who hurried towards home or some other warm locale. Not long after they were on Seymore Street, and hurrying towards the worn doors of a dirty stone building. Of course, describing the two doors Pigglesworth and Gimpson were hurrying towards as “worn” is an understatemnent. They had, after decades of use, been polished down to the bare wood by countless passing hands. There was not a fleck of paint within four feet of the handles, and inches of wood had been brushed away into smooth dimples, where one might find their hands naturally moving towards in order to open the portal. If one had done such a thing, one would have found the oak doors had become so smooth that it felt like balsa-wood to the touch. Of course, this was when it wasn’t wet.
Above and around the two doors, was an arch of massive granite blocks. Whether the
arch was ornamental, or entirely structural was a secret unknown to those who lived in the place, or frequented it. However, bolted to the huge key-stone of the arch was a rusty iron pole that projected out more than five feet. Fastened to it with chains, was a dripping sign that swung in the breeze with random squeaks, reading “Boddington & Son Billiard Room & Public House.”
Pigglesworth moved up the three steps to the door, and pulled it open. Gimpson, mere feet behind his companion, dashed through the opening first. Seconds later they were removing their overcoats and hats, placing them on overflowing hooks and coat-trees positioned near the door. They had barely completed the task, and turned towards the bar, when a grizzled sailor stepped directly in front of them. He had short gray hair stuck on a head some six feet-four off the ground. Under that was an ugly face that had seen many ugly things, and a body that was formed from years of hard labor, and capable of a few years more. He jabbed a huge finger into Pigglesworth’s chest.
“Well, if it isn’t Lieutenant Pigglesworth! I’ve got more than a few scores to settle with you from the H.M.S. Swift, and I’ll begin the accounting right now!”
With that, he formed a powerful fist as he pulled his arm back. Before he could continue his assult, there was a solid “thunk” whereupon a confused look passed his eyes, and he fell straight down to the floor, crashing upon his rump where he sat, reaching up to feel the back of his head. Behind him was reviealed all five-foot two of young Peter Boddington, who brandished a thick bottle in his hand.
“Ere then!” He said down to the sailor, “We don’t go for louts like you assultin’ our regular customers, much less good ones like Mister Pigglesworth and Mister Gimpson. So take your hide elsewere, or I’ll give ya another drubbing!” He pasued with the bottle poised in his hand, waiting to see what the sailor would do. The sailor continued to rub his head in confusion.
“GO ON THEN!” Peter said much louder.
The sailor moved unsteadily to his feet, and turned towards the door. He had however, either a very powerful grudge, or had decided he wasn’t going to take being humiliated in public by a 17 year-old boy. He spun quickly spun around – throwing a fist in a wide hook towards Peter’s head. In a heartbeat, Peter slipped inside the punch, and with a short overhand clubbing motion, smacked the sailor promptly in the face with the bottle. He fell backwards to the floor, and didn’t move. Peter turned back to Pigglesworth and Gimpson.
“Never you mind about him. I’ll take care of it. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Oh, that reminds me…father was just over at the bar chatting with some fellow and he says – not to me at the time, I was just passing through with some mugs, but I overhears him say, “What a pity my friend Mister Gimpson isn’t here, why he’s a man of science.” If he’s still there, you should say hello, I sure he would be happy to see you.” With that, he turned around without awaiting a single word, and with surprising strength, picked the huge sailor off the floor by the scruff of his neck – and back of his jacket, and heaved him through the doors, into the street.
“Jolly good show.” Said Pigglesworth to Peter, as they moved towards the bar.
“Why I enjoy coming here,” Said Gimpson, “always feel safe.”
(P.S. It's the second part of the last P&G story I wrote - like two weeks ago...)
Moments later they passed through Clarendon Square in a cold rain, stepping over puddles, and forcing their way through a mass of umbrellas and glum-faced workers on the sidewalk, who hurried towards home or some other warm locale. Not long after they were on Seymore Street, and hurrying towards the worn doors of a dirty stone building. Of course, describing the two doors Pigglesworth and Gimpson were hurrying towards as “worn” is an understatemnent. They had, after decades of use, been polished down to the bare wood by countless passing hands. There was not a fleck of paint within four feet of the handles, and inches of wood had been brushed away into smooth dimples, where one might find their hands naturally moving towards in order to open the portal. If one had done such a thing, one would have found the oak doors had become so smooth that it felt like balsa-wood to the touch. Of course, this was when it wasn’t wet.
Above and around the two doors, was an arch of massive granite blocks. Whether the
arch was ornamental, or entirely structural was a secret unknown to those who lived in the place, or frequented it. However, bolted to the huge key-stone of the arch was a rusty iron pole that projected out more than five feet. Fastened to it with chains, was a dripping sign that swung in the breeze with random squeaks, reading “Boddington & Son Billiard Room & Public House.”
Pigglesworth moved up the three steps to the door, and pulled it open. Gimpson, mere feet behind his companion, dashed through the opening first. Seconds later they were removing their overcoats and hats, placing them on overflowing hooks and coat-trees positioned near the door. They had barely completed the task, and turned towards the bar, when a grizzled sailor stepped directly in front of them. He had short gray hair stuck on a head some six feet-four off the ground. Under that was an ugly face that had seen many ugly things, and a body that was formed from years of hard labor, and capable of a few years more. He jabbed a huge finger into Pigglesworth’s chest.
“Well, if it isn’t Lieutenant Pigglesworth! I’ve got more than a few scores to settle with you from the H.M.S. Swift, and I’ll begin the accounting right now!”
With that, he formed a powerful fist as he pulled his arm back. Before he could continue his assult, there was a solid “thunk” whereupon a confused look passed his eyes, and he fell straight down to the floor, crashing upon his rump where he sat, reaching up to feel the back of his head. Behind him was reviealed all five-foot two of young Peter Boddington, who brandished a thick bottle in his hand.
“Ere then!” He said down to the sailor, “We don’t go for louts like you assultin’ our regular customers, much less good ones like Mister Pigglesworth and Mister Gimpson. So take your hide elsewere, or I’ll give ya another drubbing!” He pasued with the bottle poised in his hand, waiting to see what the sailor would do. The sailor continued to rub his head in confusion.
“GO ON THEN!” Peter said much louder.
The sailor moved unsteadily to his feet, and turned towards the door. He had however, either a very powerful grudge, or had decided he wasn’t going to take being humiliated in public by a 17 year-old boy. He spun quickly spun around – throwing a fist in a wide hook towards Peter’s head. In a heartbeat, Peter slipped inside the punch, and with a short overhand clubbing motion, smacked the sailor promptly in the face with the bottle. He fell backwards to the floor, and didn’t move. Peter turned back to Pigglesworth and Gimpson.
“Never you mind about him. I’ll take care of it. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Oh, that reminds me…father was just over at the bar chatting with some fellow and he says – not to me at the time, I was just passing through with some mugs, but I overhears him say, “What a pity my friend Mister Gimpson isn’t here, why he’s a man of science.” If he’s still there, you should say hello, I sure he would be happy to see you.” With that, he turned around without awaiting a single word, and with surprising strength, picked the huge sailor off the floor by the scruff of his neck – and back of his jacket, and heaved him through the doors, into the street.
“Jolly good show.” Said Pigglesworth to Peter, as they moved towards the bar.
“Why I enjoy coming here,” Said Gimpson, “always feel safe.”
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Speaking of Smart...
This blog sure ain't been in the mensa level lately...
but I will present you with exhibit "I"
but I will present you with exhibit "I"
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