This is a map of high areas of Radon gas in Northern Ireland. If comic books have taught us anything, it is that radiation is good for us, and gives us superpowers. Although "Super-Strabane Man" worries me.

But if you read the article (here)

There is a telling line

"Radon levels are raised in parts of the districts of Newry and Mourne ... and several areas in the central districts of Cookstown, Dungannon and Omagh."

Omagh



I'm just saying...

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Santoys-Sushi-Set/dp/B002GJ75T2/ref=sr_1_33?ie=UTF8&s=toys&qid=1258991436&sr=8-33

This just seems an invitation to disaster. Like letting Duj use chilli in a dish, or asking Stig if he has a carving knife.

I think everyone hates Mandy. However, going after file sharers was one of his more surreal moves, given he's meant to be a political svengali, alienating almost everyone under 96 might be a mistake.

Also he has shit hair.

If you have found this message then you are either the shopkeeper elect, or a dry cleaner. Know this; I am Galazar, known as the Wolfguard, once keeper of the shop. I cannot tell you of your mission, nor of how you should live, each must find his own path. However, should you choose wrongly, all of time will unravel and the death of the world, and worlds yet to be will stain your hands into the eternal perdition which you shall be thrust.

 

Know this also. Once, in a time of horror, the shop itself was destroyed, and I preserved its essence in leather and canvas, torn from the sheeting of the roof before it was sundered. Do not dwell on how this occurred save to know that though its walls are mighty, there are forces beyond even its capacity to protect you. In time, I gathered sufficient parts, and treasures that that which is the shop could reform from its place outside of time, and in my quest I was aided by a coat I made from the canvas and leather and from a bag of similar construction. Though the shop reformed some of its gift stayed resident in the garment, and it has its own threading path within its pockets. Call forth from it, and it shall come, but know that it calls from and of its time no later, and that the art of calling is learned, not luck, and while in randomness it preserved my life, it was almost a century before I mastered the calling. They are items of power, but are uncursed, they are the bookmarks of the shattered place. Take care with them, for they are but the first of the reward.

 

If you are a dry cleaner, the coat is hand wash only, but surface stains can be spot treated.

 

Galazar, the Wolfguard. Born.. 1045 Anno Domini, Never yet Dead.

Our intrepid band of Blood, Rocsa, Sel, Freeble, Kilo and Echo have set out to find the fallen star that prevents the vast complex of the Chicken Farming machine from providing its (non-explosive) reformed meat patties to the small (and dying town) of Aeon. Have the Shrievers taken control, who will seize control of the guano pits, what secrets lurk in the fields of broken glass which obsessed the armour making Rocsa. Will Blood ever cop off with Sel? and will the players repeatedly note that Echo is better leader than them, despite being a termite? What will Silky Joe make Blood wear next time they meet? Are the knights really all there is to the awakening of The Sentinels. And will stigandnasty919 shut up about my liking the Amalgam series.

Volume II "Return to Aeon", tagline "they will return to Aeon"

*learnt that from time spent with advertising execs*

The tag line for "Clash of the Titans" is "Titans will Clash"

How long do you reckon that took to work out. I mean seriously.

"Someday, they'll be Gone.. Gone with the Wind"

Very clever people.

Very clever.

Don't get me started on the bloke who picks the music for Grey's Anatomy either.

Solomon Kane is due as well... I think stigandnasty919 and I would both prefer Sulieman Quinn

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/8349632.stm

It is with some alarm I have to inform all the readers, that the Cromac has escaped. Safely contained in a clay block under Belfast for many years, it burst free over the weekend and is now possibly ramaging near you. Cormac Gargantus, is as most know an aquatic creature, believed to be the last of its kind. Approach with caution, unless you're making a film about it. The Northern Irish Secret Service (NISS), hushed the incident up with the old "Water Board" trick, because there were no chinese lanterns or weather balloons to blame.

NI Water spokesman Bill Gowdy said the road collapse was caused by an air pocket which was probably disturbed a year ago during work on the Belfast Sewers Project.

He said the depression in Cromac Street damaged an old Victorian sewer about four metres under the road.

The tarmac mostly stayed intact, but a 15 square metre hole emerged underneath the road.

Mr Gowdy said the air pocket was an "exceptional event" caused by Belfast's "unique clay geology"

However we know better

 

"Nothing to write home about" is a fairly commonly used expression, generally referring to the sudden need to alert people to your everyday activities, a mindless waste of anyone's time really. I think they call it Twitter now. I'm wont to imagine the letters though that people would actually write if they did find something worth writing home about in the quotidian effluvia of their lives. I suppose it would be a cross between twitter and texting, with only the price of postage protecting us from that horror. God bless the Royal Mail (opinions may vary)

Naming no names. I'd imagine people's mothers would get something of a flow of missives to open with ornamental knife (of course) themed...

Banks Banks Banks Banks Sport Sport Sport Ewan McGregor Lobster.

I used it the other day "The smoked gammon was nothing to write home about"

When is Smoked Gammon something to write home about?

I suppose it could have had wheels or something. My mother only lives around the corner though. Seems unlikely I'd have not just popped around to tell her. Also when do you stop calling your parents abode* home, by reflex.

Further on the twists and darts of expressions, we hear "There goes the neighbourhood" a reasonable amount, mostly by the lazy, or people with sacks, but you rarely, if ever get "Here comes the neighbourhood", possibly because it sounds like a lynching.

Yes, its a Friday

*Or Adobe, if you like ogre/photoshop references.

www.amazon.co.uk/Uncle-Milton-Remote-Control-Scorpion/dp/B001UZHATS/ref=br_lf_m_1000282753_1_3_ttl


I worry about Uncle Milton

"Uncle Milton I know you're trying to be nice to the kids, but couldn't you just buy some Ferraro Rocher like everyone else"

Leading to the tagline of

"Ah Uncle Milton with this mound of Tarantulas you are really spoiling us"

As almost none of you know, we have a Writerly Wednesday. It's like a writers group, but isn't exactly, which is why it's writerly.

stigandnasty919 presented his latest work "Tom Tom Macoute's Schooldays" a picaresque work of literary fusion, combining the coming of  age at a public school with a tyrannical Haitian regime. Often overly sympathetic to his characters, in this piece I think having all the lead characters buried alive in mounds of straw was particularly poignant. Mrs Morienos did some excerpts from her Haunted Fridge ouevre, this time about the Uncheese. That is one crazy white appliance. Renfeldt did a think piece called "And all the world's a ball" were he likened all politics to tennis balls. Always challenging, one of the only writers in the group who persistently smells of rubber. I delivered chapter 35 of "Exeunt Omnes 1972", which as regular attenders know is about a group of circus bears who escape an East German dance camp, and try to work their way back home by putting on impromptu allegorical plays, whilst being pursued by the Stasi. Thomas Noehr shall eventually do the art whether he likes it or not. That is I suppose if I ever finish the thing about the wasps.

Apologia

scriblix couldn't make it this week, so in her absence we just assumed she loved Wolverine, and made snikt noises for fifteen minutes.



Black Moon, you saw me knifing a crone
Without a scream in my heart
Without a moral of my own

Stay safe kids. Happy Halloween. Don't let the question marks bite.

Marie-Henri Beyle or "Stendhal", author of The Red and the Black and the Charterhouse of Parma... Actually if I'd been called Marie-Henri, I might have had a pen name. My pen is of course called Mister Scribble, but I digress, back to Stennibabes. He wrote "On love" in 1822, and in it expounded the idea of the crystallization of our admiration, our love for a person. The evolution of that process he mapped as a journey from Bologna to Rome. He charted this development of love in terms of the leaving of Bologna, the ascent of the Apennines, and the road to Rome itself. He drew this picture on the back of a playing card on the way to visit a salt mine in Salzberg, apparently to impress Madame Gherardi. Why she wasn't impressed by being on a visit to a salt mine is beyond me.

"Hey babe, want to come back and visit a salt mine"

That beats "come up and see my etchings" hands down, and knees together. (ask stigandnasty919 )

He also had a psychosomatic syndrome named after him, because he went a bit off the reservation when he first saw Florence. Personally its Zebedee that weirds me out. Notably this has no association with Stockholm syndrome. Or Oslo syndrome... (which is very similar but much much more expensive to live in)

The points in the journey according to the precis in Rubbishopedia.

   1. Admiration – one marvels at the qualities of the loved one.
   2. Acknowledgement – one acknowledges the pleasantness of having gained the loved one's interest.
   3. Hope – one envisions gaining the love of the loved one.
   4. Delight – one delights in overrating the beauty and merit of the person whose love one hopes to win.

I'm fairly sure that was in an advert for Fry's chocolate (makers to H.M, The King)


The expectation child is the evil one, all the other clones can go home. thanks for your time.

Er.. oh yes. Stendhal's On Love.

So reading it I was thinking about the journeys of one's life. I mean that in the Stendhal sense and not the reality tv sense of "my journey", which means anything at all, providing you don't mention it's only a tv show.If I was to draw the vectors of between sanity and madness, through what places would that line travel.

Or from having hair to looking like the Mekon, what are the points on the map.

This is not a GIS issue scriblix , mind you I bet there's a name for metaphor maps, a bit like choropleth or something.

What are the journeys in your life? <- redundant punctuation mark.

Courtesy of the lovely people at Bitterwallet, who hate banks, so they can't be bad.

So, anyway....

It's not very often that on matters of the occult, I seek outside my own smoothly wired brain, but I was at a loose end, and while tidying my office I gathered up a lot of orphan cards from random places. After I reached 70+ I got bored tidying and started using them as a tarot deck. My question is, as you are all masters of the divinatory arts, what do you make of this spread?

Far far far too many DC showcase collections

Anyway



Bruce Wayne's tailoring really leaves a lot to be desired. Is that Armani?

I'm just playing with the FBI's FACEs package for doing identikits and its awful. I mean you'd be better off using the Sims.

Lord knows how they ever catch anyone.