E.T.I. (Eggstraterrestrial Intelligence)

Evolution at work! New Zealand birds are evolving protective camouflage.


They thought they were being so smart, constructing nests to look like sweetcorn tins and boxes of cheese, even down to the labels! Well it might fool predators but the ornithologists from the Biodiversity Museum were not so easily deceived.

Speaking of birds'-nests, US dollar notes are not completely valueless...

Making *** into ***ade: Massacre / Masquerade Edition

The tragedy in Norway proves that we cannot afford to relax our vigilance against the feral baby menace, or cut the budget for our anti-feral-baby weapon systems and military adventures.

Umm, the Utøya mass murder was committed by a right-wing shitweasel drawing his inspiration from a mainstreamed undercurrent of neo-nazi racism, and had nothing to do with feral babies.

This is central to my point, Also, the feral baby apologists are despicable unscrupulous swine who would have exploited the tragedy for political gain, forcing us to exploit it first.


UPDATE: Hitler Hermandez demonstrates anti-feral-baby tactics.

Wooden ships on the water very free and easy [Updated!]

In the Talking Ships episode of the Flóamanna Saga, the outlaws' galley staff are strangely blasé about their garrulous vessels. It all works better as a space opera (preferably written by R. A. Lafferty) with the help of a few judicious substitutions:

Now Þorgils' ship lay in a retired and harbourless creek Lagrangian point; and on one occasion he took his boat lander and rowed away towards land, where he saw men cooking porridge in pots. He had dressed himself in old clothes, and they asked him who he was.

"My name is Án," he said, and they laughed at him and his silly behaviour.

"Where is your chief?" he asked.

"A short way off on the island asteroid," they answered, "and he expects us back in the evening." They then behaved roughly to Þorgils, and he went back to his boat lander, which he capsized under him to their great amusement.

As they talked together of the matter, one said, "This looks strange;" and his fellow asked, "What mean you?"
"There is a man come into the settlement," he said, "by name Þorgils, tall and famous; and our chief will not go to the mainland planet because of him, for there hangs over us a change of luck. This morning when I went forth, I heard our ships conversing on it. The one we call Stakanhöfði was speaking to the other: 'Do you know, Vinagautr, that Þorgils will win us both?' 'Yea, I know it,' said the other, 'and I am well pleased.' "
"And I," said the man, "believe this will happen."

Þorgils now returned to his ship, and the outlaws at the same time rowed to their anchorage. When they had reached their hall, Þorgils and his men sailed forward to attack them; and coming upon them unawares, he had the building set on fire immediately.

The moral of the story is to turn off the communication link between your ship's bounded-autonomy guidance computer and the one in the next berth; otherwise quantum coupling will occur between their precognitive capacities, and before you know it they are all "I'm sorry, Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that," and "We believe that Þorgils is better-qualified to lead the mission to a successful conclusion."

Also there is probably a missing episode here where Þorgils lays out his plan of attacking the outlaws at 20:00 Zulu time when they will be docking at their base according to the latest decrypts (the outlaws are using a back-doored Crypto AG machine and observing poor crypto discipline with key re-use and cribs in the plain-text chatter). But his men say "Bugger that for a game of soldiers; they outnumber us according to traffic analysis and they have better weapons."

"How about this then?" says Þorgils. "Eavesdropping on the galley staff in the guise of Án the itinerant simpleton, I overheard them recounting a conversation between their ships, who were predicting victory for us."

"Ah, third-hand HUMINT, that's different! Why didn't you say that before? Of course we're with you!"

In related news, I cannot approve of beer-propelled spaceships however much they may be about a bicycle.

Scenes from the Riddled team-building exercise & overnight camp

Camping is a lot easier when you hack into VALIS and use its low-orbit ion cannon to light the barbeque.
The people at the next camping site are carrying on like we're cheating or something, but really they're just crying the poor mouth in the hope that we'll share some of our wine. "The pikers should have brought their own," sez Another Kiwi.

Primates of the Caribbean

H/t Respectful Insolence: Medical charlatan proves to be illiterate as well as fraudulent.
Inquiring minds immediately speculate about the Buccaneering Bishop who runs the Pirate See in question.

Oh gentlemen, with your fish That you surround, all around

Candygram for Saint Zenobius!
The idea with the headgear is to protect the bishops from shark attack. It is a well-known fact that the Paduan Land Shark prefers to attack its victims from behind, so they are safe as long as the shark thinks they are staring back at it.

This ^duck _rabbit is using the same strategy to protect itself from attack by a ^rabbit _duck.





UPDATE: Bonus unexpected consequences:

Behold the sad fate of Bishop Polycarp, whose shark mask turned out to be (a) excessively realistic, and (2) showing an amorous expression.

Ceci n'est pas un pope

Let's guess Brian Tamaki's occupation!

Tamaki has been voted New Zealand's least-trusted person in two consecutive polls. He's a homophobic douchebag who used to credit an American professional homophobe as his inspiration and role-model until the latter's closet door fell open. He is much-run-after by our scuzzier politicians who stand in line to shake his hand, and has received nearly $1 million from the Gubblement. Don't everyone put up their hand at once... Whaddaya, teachers' pets? Quite right, Calenture; Brian Tamaki is a megachurch evangelist, of the 'prosperity gospel' doctrine, i.e. "Give your money to me and God will some day pay you back."

17^th-century graphic novels: not clear
on the concept of dramatic tension

I have no idea if there is a trade journal for evangelism but if it exists, Tamaki would be the inspirational cover boy. He's risen from humble beginnings as a door-to-door carpet salesman,* through a series of self-assigned titles, until most recently he decided to call himself Bishop. We all know how this story traditionally progresses but obviously Tamaki knows too, which is why he has so far held off from promoting himself to be Pope.

Looking for a power base, the Destiny Church launched a takeover bid for the Māori Womens' Welfare League, a well-respected and previously secular social-service group. This came after Tamaki crashed and burned with an attempt to enter New Zealand politics directly. He has learned the lesson that when one puts out a platform and voters emphatically reject it, one resorts to deceit and infiltration.**

In a few years time Tamaki will be a fugitive from charges of fraud and general ratbaggery. A police press-statement will alert the public to the activities of an individual dressed in the costume of an itinerant septic-tank cleaner, going door-to-door offering benedictions in exchange for food or cash.*** Or he'll be Pry Minister. It depends whether his wife's requests from the magic fish stay within reason.

* Not intended as factually correct; I just wanted to make a joke about "Rugs to riches".

** Case in point: Don Brash.

*** "Police described this as a blessing in disguise".