Corrections to the blogosphere, the consensus, and the world

Tuesday, September 27, 2011


Talking over covers, I'm beginning to be bugged by the cover to Action Comics 1.

Iconic, yes, but....

Look at it! Supes has his hands in the air. That means the distance between his hands must be, within narrow limits, the distance between his shoulders - two-three feet. Which implies, looking at his grip, that the car is only two-three feet wide - which as that we can get a look at its front we can see it's not.

it's almost as if Simon and Schuster are just making shit up.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Thou wast not born for death, immortal bard

"Fourteen years ago in the floating island of Neo Verona, Leontes Montague and his men led a bloody coup and murdered all of the members of House Capulet, the rulers of Neo Verona. However one survivor, Juliet, was able to escape thanks to a group of Capulet loyalists. Fourteen years later, Leontes, the new Prince of Neo Verona, rules the land with an iron fist and crushes anyone who opposes him. Juliet, now a sixteen year old girl, fights against House Montague's oppression by becoming a masked vigilante known as "The Red Whirlwind". While attending a ball with a friend, Juliet meets Romeo, Prince Montague's son and both of them fall in love at first sight. Unlike his father, Romeo is a kind and humble man who is oppose of his father's cruelty and shares many ideals with Juliet. Unfortunately for them, Capulet loyalists are planning a rebellion to overthrow House Montague while Leontes is obsessed of destroying the threat of House Capulet permanently. As these star-cross lovers face many challenges and adventures together which will strengthen their love, an ancient secret hidden within Neo Verona is slowly revealed.
How else?

Wednesday, September 21, 2011


In what sense is Lawrence Block writing
'as' Jill Emerson? Writing As someone, I would have said, requires an intention to deceive, or to pretend to deceive, and isn't compatible with putting your actual name on the cover in even bigger letters.
Differentiated from the common "Ruth Rendell writing as Barbara Vine" in that RR did in fact put those books out first with only the Vine name, revealing all later: "Getting Off" is specifically labelled FIRST PUBLICATION ANYWHERE.
So why?

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Sergeant major general

Mr. Hepworth, who has been complaining about abuse by [Roman] Catholic priests, left the Catholic church for the Anglican, then that for the Traditional Anglican Communion, and is not pleading for readmission as a church into the [Roman] Catholic church, which is fine, but I do have issues with his ranking. He is described, and describes himself, as Archbishop Hepworth.
The Bishop of Australia, the ACCA's only diocese, is Archbishop John Hepworth, Primate of the Traditional Anglican Communion.
The Anglican Catholic Church in Australia (ACCA) is the regional jurisdiction of the Traditional Anglican Communion for most of Australia and also provides episcopal oversight for New Zealand and Japan. The Church of Torres Strait has jurisdiction in Queensland from the Torres Strait islands to just south of Townsville, as well as personal jurisdiction over Torres Strait Islanders throughout Australia.

So he's the archbishop of a church with one bishop; if he does anything wrong in his role as bishop, he'll be hauled over the coals by him as Arch. This seems.... inflated. I'd just like some kind of assurance that he actually has other underlings further down and isn't Archishop of Australia, Bishop of Australia, Prebendary, Canon, Archdeacon, and Deacon of Australia, and Vicar of Australia (nr. Moonee Ponds).

And here, if ever there was, is the spot for that old Round the Horne joke;

Enter Archbishop.
Kenneth Williams; "Hello, ducky!
(to audience) Well, it said 'arch', didn't it? If you want butch, I can do butch! I'm versatile!"

Friday, September 16, 2011

Rat week

Rat Week

By Osbert Sitwell

Where are the friends of yesterday
That fawned on Him,
That flattered Her;
Where are the friends of yesterday,
Submitting to His every whim,
Offering praise of Her as myrrh To Him?

They found Her conversation good,
They called Him 'Majesty Divine'
(Consuming all the drink and food,
'they burrow and they undermine'),
And even the most musical
Admired the bagpipes' horrid skirl
When played with royal cheeks outblown
And royal feet tramping up and down.

Where are they now, where are they now,
That gay, courageous pirate crew,
With sweet Maid Mendl at the Prow,
Who upon royal wings oft flew
To paint the Palace white -- (and how!)
With Colefax - in her iron cage
Of curls - who longed to paint it beige;
With John McMullen at the helm
Who teaches men which way to dress?
These were the mighty of the realm
Yet there were others less!

That nameless, faceless, raucous gang
Who graced Balmoral's Coburg towers,
Danced to the gramophone, and sang
Within the battlemented bowers
Of dear Fort Belvedere;
Oh, do they never shed a tear?
Oh, do they ever shed a tear,
From swollen lids and puffy eyes,
For that, their other paradise?
How far it seems from here, how far
Now home again
In the Ritz Bar.

Oh, do they never shed a tear
Remembering the King, their martyr,
And how they led him to the brink
In rodent eagerness to barter
All English history for a drink?
What do they say, that jolly crew?
Oh . . . Her they hardly knew,
They never found Her really nice
(And here the sickened cock crew thrice):
Him they had never thought quite sane,
But weak, and obstinate, and vain;
Think of the pipes; that yachting trip!
They'd said so then (‘Say when, say when!').
The rats sneak from the sinking ship.

What do they say, that jolly crew,
So new and brave, and free and easy,
What do they say, that jolly crew,
Who must make even Judas queasy?

The best feature of the Abdication, I reflected as in my mind I surveyed the scene, had been the eventual rout of these people; the worst, the manner in which they had ratted on the King and his friend, who had done so much for them; even those few who in this particular had not so conducted themselves had shown strongly other qualities connected with this objectionable animal, having burrowed and undermined … This was the mood in which I wrote 'Rat Week', a poem for which I make no claim except that, as its subsequent and fantastic history proved, it crystallised events and a certain pervading mood……
Since for the men and women of the future to whom this paper is addressed, the topical allusions and personal references that occur are sure to lie beyond possibility of identification or even comprehension, I will try to elucidate them by devoting to them a few pages, And since even the derivation of the title of the poem may by that time be obscure - I hope it will!-I had better start at the beginning .... The name 'Rat Week', then, was taken from the columns of the contemporary newspapers, which were trying, with the support of the authorities, to popularise as an annual event and national institution the setting aside of a certain week for the killing of rats, which, as they grew continually more numerous, were causing always greater damage and waste of food.
'Majesty Divine' was the phrase by which Lady Cunard liked to address King Edward VII I. The strictures I have made earlier about the King's friends do not apply to her, for she was a highly intelligent and cultivated American, with a streak of genuine originality in her character. She should have known better than to become a member of Mrs Simpson's set, but she had never understood or really liked English life -though she loved London- and, furthermore, her head had been turned by the new King showing her some attention, even going to her house and inviting her down to Fort Belvedere; whereas King George V and Queen Mary, who disapproved of her, and of her long and notorious liaison with Sir Thomas Beecham, ignored her as far as possible-an attitude which greatly mortified her. Certainly Lady Cunard was the most musical, as she was the most lively and genuinely entertaining, of those who composed this strange court, and she must have suffered at the King's want of feeling for her favourite art, though, realising it, she may have been less amazed than the rest of the London world when the King had taken to playing the bagpipes. On the wettest of evenings he would don a kilt and walk round Fort Belvedere puffing away at his droning and squealing bag of sounds.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Well, which is it?

Lion includes the Oxford Dictionary of English......
but elsewhere on the apple site
OS X Lion includes a powerful, systemwide Dictionary application containing the New Oxford American Dictionary

And given that in this context the word 'American' means 'absolutely not the English' this sounds more likely.

Thursday, September 08, 2011

Utopia Limited

Cross-referencing from a discussion on utopias over at Crooked Timber,

Surely one part of the explanation as to why GM is not lobbying for socialised health schemes is that, as Thatcher famously said, "There's no such thing a a company: there are only executives." The interests of the upper executives, as we have seen, are best served by them arranging circumstances where they are grossly overpaid until the company collapses in a screaming heap, when they take their loot and go home; it's certainly difficult to extract any other drivers from their practice. And this means that their planning timelines are in the order of two to three years, which means that they can afford to disregard any long-term damage to society.

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