This starts the Refrigerator Monster arc, though not starting the whole webcomic.
So, well, as RM says, "Blarg!"
As to the rest of the world, Spike Jones comes to mind. He's one of the best parody musicians ever. Popular before and during WWII, he basically made fun of everyone and everything.
Glow Worm - Spike Jones and his City Slickers
The Parody Version
The Glow Worm - Miles Brothers
The Original Version
Der Fuehrer's Face - Spike Jones and his City Slickers
And on to modern times, more parody from Weird Al.
So, in these dark times, what has Beans done to himself lately is the most un-asked question ever. So, well, here it goes.
Saturday just about died choking on air. Inhaled, started choking, choking, chooooking. Finally hacked up absolutely nothing after turning blue in the face. Very weird, but this happens occasionally. Just nothing to choke on except air.
Sunday saw me trip over my own feet as one of my little toes decided to firmly affix itself to the carpet causing me to fall while turning and fortunately the granite windowsill caught my hip and kept me from catapulting through the window. Fortunately nothing was in my hands at the times, still hurt like the Dickens.
Sunday also saw the other little toe stretch out and snag... nothing and fold backwards yet again. Quick grab, pull straight out away from foot, pop back into place, eh, same same. One of these days I just need to cut those suckers off of me. (No, not seriously, but they've been warped, broken, spindled, folded and ripped up so much that the end is now at a 90 degrees rotation from normal position, so I'm walking on the outside of the toe, basically. Doc says it can be fixed but only once it becomes bad enough that it affects walking, like not being able to walk.
Sunday also saw my foot react violently to having a sandal-shoe put on it. Weird.
Monday was the day I tried to fork myself to death. With a fork. Spastic hand tried to shove a fork into my eye. Weird.
Today (Tuesday) saw me do nothing other than try to hide from the world. Except we had to go to one of Mrs. Andrew's doctors. Oh, look, there's a handicapped parking spot in front of the building (rather than having to drop her off and go park ten rows away like normal.) Park, whip out Lurch the wonder-chair and go to extract Mrs. Andrew from the Van and lo and behold the HANDICAPPED PARKING SPOT is on such a tilt that the chair, which has a tilt-meter that shuts it off if it's tilted too much, shut off because the tilt was too much. Get that, San Fransisco style street tilt in a handicapped parking spot. Whodathunk? Would it have killed someone to use a couple truckloads of fill and maybe spend $10,000 on a retaining wall to hold said fill so that the handicapped parking spot isn't at such a tilt?
Or, you know, put in more handicapped spots so that the doctor's office, which deals with almost 50% of mobility handicapped patients, has some room to park where the cars aren't shoved together?
Is it a physical impossibility for people who design or specify parking lots to actually use their friggin brains?
Like last year, when Mrs. Andrew was going to some rehab place so the person could talk to me and ignore her because people in wheelchairs are obviously deaf and mentally deficient. Handicapped parking was in the lowest spot in the parking lot. The handicapped ramp from the sidewalk leading into the building to the parking lot was at a legal angle to the parking lot. The parking lot itself? Tilted at a far more severe angle, so bad that when the van was parked parallel to the sidewalk I thought the van was going to fall over. And, to make matters worse, remember parking at lowest spot in parking lot? Well, during worse rainfall in years (2" in an hour) the said retention pond next to the handicapped parking filled and overflowed into the handicapped parking lot and if the van wasn't tall enough, we'd have had water in the van.
Seriously, planning parking lots. How difficult can it be? Why does it seem that the more degrees are required to design and regulate something, the actual usefulness and value of said something plummets?
Enough grumblings and physical mutilations.
On to Music.
I am a real fan of progressive rock (that is, rock that tends to be lyrical and musically complex, using orchestral concepts and such. Thus, ELO, Moody Blues, Kansas, Styx, etc.
So there's this one song that earworms constantly. And it's a good one. Mixture of really classical sounds, lyrical singing, obscure lyrics and all the other wonderful features of progressive rock (though this is more, according to Wiki, that it's a synthesis of psychedelic rock, proto-prog rock, blues and, who knows, west Mongolian throat singing or something. (last part added by me.)) That would be Procol Harum's "A Whiter Shade of Pale."
A Whiter Shade of Pale - Procol Harum
50th Anniversary Stereo Edition
Lyrics
We skipped the light fandango Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor I was feeling kinda seasick But the crowd called out for more The room was humming harder As the ceiling flew away When we called out for another drink And the waiter brought a tray
And so it was that later As the miller told his tale That her face, at first just ghostly, Turned a whiter shade of pale
She said, "There is no reason And the truth is plain to see. " But I wandered through my playing cards And they would not let her be One of sixteen vestal virgins Who were leaving for the coast And although my eyes were open wide They might have just as well been closed
And so it was that later As the miller told his tale That her face, at first just ghostly, Turned a whiter shade of pale
She said, "I'm here on a shore leave," Though we were miles at sea. I pointed out this detail And forced her to agree, Saying, "You must be the mermaid Who took King Neptune for a ride. " And she smiled at me so sweetly That my anger straightway died.
And so it was that later As the miller told his tale That her face, at first just ghostly, Turned a whiter shade of pale
If music be the food of love Then laughter is it's queen And likewise if behind is in front Then dirt in truth is clean My mouth by then like cardboard Seemed to slip straight through my head So we crash-dived straightway quickly And attacked the ocean bed
And so it was that later As the miller told his tale That her face, at first just ghostly, Turned a whiter shade of pale
Then, over on Borepatch's site, on Sunday, he presented the theme to the movie "The Seven Samurai." Which, if you follow the comments, led to me commenting on the music for the movie "The Magnificent Seven" (the real one, not the remake.) Borepatch: Fumio Hayasaka - Themes to The Seven Samurai
Which the music is really good, especially the theme music. Which is yet another really good earworm.
Theme from The Magnificent Seven - Elmer Bernstein
This is the type of unforgettable music that, well, is unforgettable. Like I hadn't seen TMS for maybe 25 years and saw it pop up on the TV and immediately started doing the 'duh, duh-duh-duh-duh,' to it right off. Really good.
Onward to a week of no personal injuries!!!! WHOOO!!! CHARGE!!! (Trips, fumbles, stumbles, curses, crawls away to a dark corner to hide from the world...)
Farewell Anya, you take a piece of our hearts with you.
Until we meet again, my sweet baby ...
Going sinker for a while, don't know how long. The Missus Herself and I are devastated. We shared our lives with her for almost twenty years. Nothing will ever be the same again ...
Since the Russo-Ukrainian war is already over year long, I will just set a timestamp of sorts instead of parts or other points discerning episodes. This time I will be short, because of personal/family life intruding. Instead, I will relate some very interesting analyses from Perun, who has risen to be my fave analyst:
1. The economic war:
Indicates state of the economic battle, which is where West is most openly involved, both as actor and as target.
TL;DR Version:
West has survived energy imports from Russia loss much better than expected, especially much better than Putin expected. In fact it is barely even on war footing. Russia survived that decoupling and sanctions also better than West expected. Ukraine survived everything Russia threw their way and didnt collapse into blackouts and cold.
All in all, everyone can at the very least follow up for another year or more.
2. Russian winter offensive:
TL;DR Version:
Costly, to both sides, but definitely more so to Russian one. And bringing some small gains in scenes reminding of WW1 trench nightmare. If/when Ukrainian spring counterattack comes, it can be very costly as well.
3. Attrition and Casualties:
TL;DR Version:
Trying to estimate attrition of equipment and casualties of troops Ukrainian claims are much more in line with visually confirmed wrecks, and considering dark numbers of not photographed wrecks they might be close to reality Meanwhile Russian claims sometimes are more than entire Ukrainian inventory of the item. Human casualties might be much harder to track.
4. The Air War:
TL;DR Version:
One of biggest surprises of the war was its air component. After initial chaos and Russian failed bid for air superiority, multitude of air defence systems have in fact enforced a Mutual Air Denial - a no-mans sky over the frontline where only few planes dare to operate in low altitudes, and at high casualty costs.
What is very important, not even delivery of Western jets is likely to change the balance much.
My addition: very significant considerations resulting from this for Taiwan. Giving Taiwan porcupine-like array of air defenses might be better investment than costly fighters - even though they might have own uses in keeping enemy at bay.
Fighting Chinese over their own turf will be probably only feasible for stealth aircraft.
Chinese attempts at airmobile landings - be it heliborne or paratroopers - are likely to end in slaughter for them.
Final words:
I expect Ukrainian offensive in the window from late April to early summer. There's tension between giving troops time to train, often with new western equipment, and giving Russians time to entrench.
As for where the hammer will fall, I am completely not ready to predict. In fact there is much likelihood that any speculations will be wrong, and part of effort to divert best Russian troops, as it was previously when Ukraine made a big show of wanting to retake Kherson, only to strike near Kharkiv.
Well, Campers...It's been an excellent week at Rancho Juvat this past seven or so days. Even after a long return from our Wine Cruise down the Danube river with our Winemaker and Winedrinker friends last week. All ramifications from a broken British Airways jet in Budapest and running through subsequent airports were cured with a 16 hour sleep session. We have now reset our nocturnal clocks to coincide with the sun's orbit.
Re: The Cruise, we got on the boat at Vilshofen an der Donau and cruised to Budapest. That involved 7 Days, 3 oops 4 Countries (seems I forgot the Czech Republic in my list of Germany, Austria and Hungary), beautiful scenery, good food and great wine. HIGHLY recommend AMAWaterways River cruises.
Yes, Beans, that's unpaid advertisement.
British Airways was a bit of a disappointment, but they did have one feature I liked, and for some reason, used virtually the entire flight.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make it do an aileron roll.
Rats!
Got to Munich and met up with our van driver and were off to meet the boat.
As one can see, this isn't an ultra large ocean liner. It holds a max of 162 passengers (~120 on this trip, 28 of whom were confirmed Texan wine consumers, the rest would be converted) so the atmosphere on board was quite pleasant.
Set sail and saw quite a few interesting sites.
Interesting photography courtesy of our new Friend, Nuncio Previtera. I think it's a cool shot.
The following morning we got our wine business out of the way with our first wine tasting. Open to all passengers, it went quite well with a lot of comments along two lines.
1. "I didn't know they made wine in Texas."
2. "Wow, this is very good wine."
Gary, the winemaker. Mrs. J is ready for the toast
So...Mission Accomplished.
Lots more sites to be seen as we got further south. One of the more interesting, historically, was this castle.
This castle was where King Richard I (AKA Richard the Lionheart) was imprisoned on his way home from the Crusades. It is also the location where I updated my understanding of the difference between the word "Can" and "May". There was a Hiking tour option with a hike up to the Castle itself. "May" implies permission, "Can" implies ability.
No, I didn't visit it.
Stopped at a very old abbey and inspected their wine cellar.
Did I mention "Very Old"? No, they wouldn't allow us to taste it. (I was ok with that.)
It did have a very nice Chapel though.
So early on in the cruise, we're back on board after an exhausting day exploring castles and drinking wine and I'm sitting at a table with one of the other guys from Mrs. J's group. Doing the usual "get to know you" routines and I mentioned that I'd been a pilot in the Air Force. He said that so had he. I asked the usual questions assigned to that "get to know you" track. You know..."What did you fly?" He said "F-4's" Well, the conversation got fun after that. I asked where he'd gone to Pilot Training. He said "Laughlin".
Talk about coincidence. So had I, but about 5 years before him. Meanwhile, one of the other guys on the tour was sitting at a table nearby. He leaned over and said he'd gone through Laughlin also. He'd gone through a couple of years later than my new friend and had then flown C-130's in the Guard. I asked my F-4 friend when he'd gone to Lead-In and which squadron. He'd said 1985 and the 435TFTS. Talk about Coincidence Squared. I was an IP in that squadron at that time. There's a good probability I'd flown with him. The three of us had a great time telling flying stories (commonly referred to by mere mortals as "Tall Tales").
But it was a good time.
This picture was courtesy of Milly Young, the F-4 Driver's better half. She showed it to me and I knew it had to put it in the post. Thanks Milly.
Per Beans Request, Panorama of Budapest taken from the Castle on the Buda Side.
On a different subject, it's been a while since I've updated Miss B's status. Bottom Line, Up Front. She's doing well and making progress. The pulmonologist has given permission to start weaning her off supplemental oxygen and she's handling the reduction quite well
She also passed a couple of significant milestones this past week. First, she's gone over 12 lbs and the fact that she's putting on weight is a very good sign. Another good sign is this.
She's able to sit up (for a short period) by herself. You GO, Girl!
On a final note, I had to run to Austin yesterday for a Top Secret Mission. Secrecy had to be maintained until the forces were successfully redeployed and the target maneuvered into the proper setting.
Mrs J was able to distract LJW by taking her shopping for Baby Stuff.
Apparently, Little Juvat was able to align the gravitational forces of the Moon, Sun, Jupiter and Mars and teleport himself from Honk Honk to Texas. A little quick thinking and a misdirecting comment by yours truly of LJW while He and I were RTB'ing from Austin kept the game afoot and...
Voila'! A little Family getting re-acquainted time for a week.
Marshal Michel Ney, duc d'Elchingen, prince de la Moskova François Gérard (PD)
Sergent Nicolas Guilbert turned to his fellow Guardsman, Caporal Jean Bruneau and smiled, "The King keeps sending us men, perhaps he expects the Emperor to save France. For Louis."
Bruneau shook his head, "Have you heard the rumors? Marshal Ney is approaching, he has sworn to return le Tondu to Paris in an iron cage. He has 6,000 men with him, artillery as well. What do we have? A single battery?"
"Ney? I shouldn't be surprised. It was the damned marshals who drove the Emperor into exile. They had gotten too comfortable with their titles and their estates." Guilbert spat on the verge of the road.
"Bah, dismiss all of them, promote the colonels, they have always been faithful!"
It was an extraordinarily tense moment, the Emperor, with barely 3,000 effectives, was facing Marshal Ney, the Bravest of the Brave, with over 6,000 men. Napoléon looked at newly promoted general, Charles de la Bédoyère and smiled.
"What do you think, de la Bédoyère? Does Ney mean to bring his Emperor back to Paris in an iron cage?"
De la Bédoyère grinned back, "I don't truly know, Sire. But I'm sure Monsieur le Marechal told Louis XVIII exactly what the king wanted to hear."
"Perhaps." Napoléon nudged his horse forward. "Now let us see what le Rougeaud¹ intends for us."
Charles de la Bédoyère had come over to the Emperor's side a few days before, bringing his 7th Regiment of the Line with him. This confrontation with Ney could turn badly.
While the Emperor had his spies in Paris, and in the army, it was hard to tell which way Ney would jump. Though rumor had it that Ney was disgruntled with the new regime, his wife had been treated badly by the old nobility. Perhaps ...
"Monsieur le Marechal Ney, my old comrade. It is a good day for battle, is it not?"
"Sire, I have decided that I can no longer serve the king. I know where my true loyalties lie. I have issued a proclamation to the Army that I believe the Bourbons have failed the French nation and that you, our rightful sovereign, have returned to the throne."
Ney looked nervous, he had thrown the dice, now he must play things out.
The Emperor winked at Ney, "Then come, my friend, let us advance and prepare to defend le patrie. I'm sure the other crowned heads of Europe have their own thoughts on who should rule France."
Marshal Ney nodded, then drawing his sword he turned to his troops and shouted out, "VIVE L'EMPEREUR!"
The soldiers' shouts rang up and down the valley and echoed from the mountains as they hailed the return of their emperor. Many would pay a steep price for their loyalty to the Bonaparte dynasty. None more than Ney and del la Bédoyère².
But that is in the future, for now the eagles fly north and soon will alight on the spires of Paris.
Proclamation to the French People on His Return from Elba, March 5, 1815.
Frenchmen: The defection of the Duke of Castiglione (Augereau) delivered up Lyons without defense to our enemies. The army, the command of which I had entrusted to him, was, by the number of its battalions, the courage and patriotism of the troops that composed it, in a condition to beat the Austrian troops opposed to it, and to arrive in time on the rear of the left flank of the army which threatened Paris. The victories of Champ-Aubert, of Montmirail, of Château-Thierry, of Van Champs, of Mormons, of Montereau, of Craonne, of Rheims, of Arcis-sur-Aube, and of St. Dizier, the rising of the brave peasants of Lorraine and Champagne, of Alsace, Franche-Comté and Burgundy, and the position which I had taken in the rear of the hostile army, by cutting it off from its magazines, its parks of reserve, its convoys, and all the equipages, had placed it in a desperate situation. The French were never on the point of being more powerful, and the élite of the enemy's army was lost without resource; it would have found a tomb in those vast plains which it had so mercilessly laid waste, when the treason of the Duke of Ragusa delivered up the capital and disorganized the army. The unexpected misconduct of these two generals, who betrayed at once their country, their prince, and their benefactor, changed the fate of the war; the situation of the enemy was such that, at the close of the action which took place before Paris, he was without ammunition, in consequence of his separation from his parks of reserve. In these new and distressing circumstances, my heart was torn, but my mind remained immovable; I consulted only the interests of the country; I banished myself to a rock in the middle of the sea; my life was yours, and might still be useful to you. Frenchmen: In my exile I heard your complaints and your wishes; you accused my long slumber; you reproached me with sacrificing the welfare of the country to my repose. I have traversed the seas through perils of every kind; I return among you to reclaim my rights, which are yours.(Source)
Word has spread of Napoléon's return, even now the crowned heads of Europe, through their representatives at the Congress of Vienna, have declared Napoléon Bonaparte an outlaw.
Europe would go to war once again, this time to stop a single man.
¹ Literally, the ruddy-faced, more likely intended to mean "the red haired." Ney was a ginger.
² Both men were executed for treason after Waterloo. De la Bédoyère in August, Ney in December of 1815.
Brigadier Tomasz Kasprowicz was admiring the view out over the valley towards the mountains. Though the road was steep, and very narrow in spots, they were making good time. Looking to his front he saw one of the Chasseurs à Cheval galloping down the road. The man was in a hurry
He heard the man shout something to his lieutenant but the rider continued down the road without pausing. Kasprowicz knew that there had to be enemies ahead. Perhaps, potential friends?
"Sire! One of the scouts!"
The officer commanding the Emperor's escort saw the galloper first, though before he spoke he saw that the Emperor had spotted the man as well.
"Adjudant sous-officier, what news?"
Napoléon Bonaparte was only 46 years of age, but wasn't in the best of shape. His lifestyle on Elba, though busy, didn't compare to the rigors of campaign nor the running of an Empire. Truth be told, he was bothered by a number of small ailments, but the stress of this moment was telling in the effect it was having on his health. Needless to say, the adventure could be ending a scant five days after coming ashore.
"Infantry, Sire! At least a regiment, they have no cannon that I could see."
Turning to Cambronne,² the Emperor sighed and said, "Battle order, no one fires without my command. Understood?"
Cambronne nodded and said, "Of course, Sire."
Soldat Michel Chevrier felt sick to his stomach. He could see, coming up the road near Laffrey, the bearskins of the Garde Impérial. In front of those men, he saw the man he had followed since he was a callow youth of 18. The man was wearing his gray riding coat, buttoned up, the air was cold here in the mountains, the famous hat on his head which every French soldier recognized.
Oddly enough, the Emperor was on foot, his hands behind his back, almost as if he was intending to inspect the men of 5th Regiment of the Line. Those men were deployed to stop the man, not receive him as their leader.
"Steady men, your King demands we stop this nonsense now." The young lieutenant had turned to address Chevrier's company. He was some spawn of the nobility, recently returned from exile, jumped up to command the 2nd Company of the 1st Battalion of the 5th. Most of the soldiers he addressed were veterans, many wore the cross of the Legion of Honor. As did Chevrier.
Jean Boutet, standing next to Chevrier, mumbled under his breath, "F**k the King."
Chevrier's hands were sweating, he had no idea what was about to happen, but the Guard had halted and the Emperor was coming up the road, alone.
Throwing his coat open, Napoléon Bonaparte yelled out, "Soldiers of the 5th, if there is a man among you who wishes to shoot his Emperor, HERE I AM!"
The silence was deafening, one of the 5th's new lieutenants, another scion of the petty nobility, began to give the command to fire, when the commander of Chevrier's battalion urged his mount forward, and screamed, "VIVE L'EMPEREUR!"
The battalion immediately broke ranks an surged forward, all of the soldiers yelling and jostling each other, trying to get close to the man they had followed for years.
Chevrier was among them, shouting "Vive l'Empereur" while tears of joy streamed down his face.
Le retour de Napoléon d'Elbe Charles de Steuben (PD)
The small army of Napoléon Bonaparte began to grow.
¹ This is a screen shot from the video in the source article, tracing the route that Napoléon and his small band of soldiers took on the way from Golfe Juan to Grenoble. The terrain in this area is very rough, but very scenic. I like the way the maker of the video superimposed the Napoleonic cavalry over the video of a steep section of the route.
² General Pierre-Jacques-Etienne Cambronne commanded the small detachment of the Imperial Guard which had accompanied Napoléon into exile at Elba. Later famous for what he allegedly said at Waterloo when the Guard was called on to surrender. He allegedly yelled out, "The Guard dies, they do not surrender!" More likely he yelled out "Merde!" (shit) which is known in France as "le mot de Cambronne." The word of Cambronne."
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