Do not want

You kids have gone too far with your novelty coffee flavours.

Also too, where do espresso-machine wranglers get off, calling themselves "barristas" like they are a kind of Roman siege catapult?

"Jewelry, sand-spiders and a surprise parcel full of Monkey"."I'll take 'Things Smut didn't give the Frau Doktorin for a 25th anniversary present' for $500, Alex."

The floristry industry must be terrified by the threat of competition from this innovative alternative romantic gift:

"Your intention was to capture one and bring it home to your girlfriend," the judge said during sentencing.

This, of course, comes as the culmination of the Case of the Purloined Primate. Fortunately the District Court judge saw the droll side of the whole episode.

"I don't know what happened in the squirrel monkey enclosure. The squirrel monkeys know. You say you couldn't find them and I don't speak squirrel. What I know is that by daybreak all the monkeys were distressed, two of them were injured, and you had a broken leg, two fractured teeth, a sprained ankle, and bruises on your back."

Under the circumstances, though, clemency was not possible.

Casford was also being sentenced today for an unrelated spate of violent offending over the summer.
He had pleaded guilty to a number of incidents, including an unprovoked assault on a man waiting in his car at traffic lights, an alcohol-fuelled attack at a dairy in Westport, and assaults on a Wellington City Council community safety officer and a night shelter resident who refused to hand over cigarettes.
The judge sentenced him to two years and seven months in prison for all of the offending.

"Casford told the zookeepers he broke his leg jumping the boundary fence", but I choose to believe that in fact the spider monkeys enlisted support from their allies in the nearby capybara enclosure.

Do you have a license for that minkey?


Meanwhile in Philadelphia, an arthropod collection fell victim to an inside job. WORST HEIST MOVIE EVAH.

According to a New York Times report, police have zeroed in on three suspects, all current or former museum employees. The report cites security footage showing thieves slipping out of the building with large plastic containers. And inside those containers? An estimated $50,000 worth of giant African mantises, bumblebee millipedes, warty glowspot roaches, tarantulas, dwarf and tiger hissers, and leopard geckos.

Somewhere in Philadelphia, someone is giving his girlfriend a Sicarius sp. Six-Eyed Sand Spider as a token of love and esteem.

Asking for a friend

What's a romantic way of celebrating a 25th anniversary?



Preferably not involving spending moneys.

Festive Fishmas wishes to everyone!

"Bad Santa III" took the franchise off in an unexpected new direction.

Spoiled for choice

Three kinds of gourmet black pudding: Walnut & Raisin, Paua, or pure hemoglobin.

Tenser, said the Tensor. Tension, apprehension, And dissension have begun

"What is the status of the Great Culling of Quacks narrative?" asked the usual chorus of voices in my head. "For over a week has passed since the last report; surely more drama has ensued since then. Also we have that stockpiled windfall of Stupid to work through."

And indeed, Derpsichore the Muse of Alt-Facts Butthurt has not been idle, and a communiqué appeared in the Riddled mailbox, deposited there by helpful pixies.

[Cue Dramatic Chords]

It is worth reading for the revelation that image photoshopping is detectable by tilting your computer screen and viewing it at the right angle, allowing the underlying pixels to show through the overlaid ones and change the colour of the image. Do not be deterred by the perfervid rodomontade of the writing... nor by the typographic style, which is that of 1640s Ranter manifestos, headed by an unprioritised busy-ness of pictures and MAJUSCULE SUB-HEADS overlapping and jostling for visual space, all convinced that they are the lede, and determined not to be buried.



Speaking of arch-Leveller post-Revolution Ranter pamphlets, surely I am not alone in thinking that "A Fiery Flying Roll" would be a good name for a fast-food delivery service.

Come to the point, Uncle Smut! 'Insert your chopstick in the solid meat!' [Bramah 1927]

OK. The communiqué impugns the personal morality of Erin Elizabeth of 'Health Nut News' -- intellectual owner of the Quack-Culling story -- and if she had any credibility, it would impugn that as well (the inquiring minds at Snopes devoted a fact-checking column to Erin's claims, but couldn't find any). It transpires that her story is a Straw-man made up of False Flags (or possibly vice versa): an example of Controlled Opposition, scripted to bring the Antivax Alt-Med cause into disrepute, with absurd claims that tar everyone with the brush of paranoid ideation; or to heighten the atmosphere of fear; or to redirect and defuse the people's righteous wrath by channeling it along acceptable directions; or possibly all the above.

More investigation here -- equally salacious, but more uncovering of true names, raking up of risqué pasts! The communiqués credit Erin Elizabeth with enough intelligence to recognise the Nazi conspiracy to take over the world using brain-damaging mind-controlling vaccination programs, and since she is not denouncing vaccines with sufficient vehemence, they conclude that she must be part of the conspiracy. They were totally not motivated by the sense of envy provoked by self-publicists who get more attention than the author.

Anti-Ranter propaganda? Or Friday
night at the Old Entomologist?

And there was drama! Luminaries of the Wooniverse weighed in, if only to comment that they didn't have any comment, since the option of "eschewing attention and simply not commenting at all" is patently absurd. The point of "not commenting at this stage" is to imply the possession of sekrit inside knowledge that one is currently prevented from vouchsafing. Readers will receive extra credit for recognising the source of the last comment in the thread, from previous Riddled scamblogging.

As any fule kno, the whole pharma-assassin fantasy began as a re-imagining of the suicide of careerist med-scammer Jeff Bradstreet in June 2015. So 18 months later a Private Forensic Investigator was trying to re-enact the crime, to prove that it was actually murder, in the manner of Five Red Herrings and sundry other classics of criminological training:

Candice Lee-Bradstreet was feeling annoyed.
11 January

Prayers needed... our forensic scientist is in Lake Lure today to conduct the scientific reenactment of the homicide of Jeff and the local detective will not cooperate.
He will not give him the exact location in Broad River where Jeff was found. Why? How can you withhold something like this?
Why would a police detective not want a forensic scientist to come in to help them solve this OPEN police investigation? I just don't get it.... makes you wonder

Progress in the re-investigation has hit a brick wall. My understanding was that the proper response to stonewalling from the local marshalry is to coax the information out of a sympathetic deputy -- with the help of lip-loosening shots of rye whiskey administered in a smoke-filled speakeasy -- but it may be that protocols have advanced since the documentary descriptions by Hammett and Chandler. Why the Private Forensic Investigator waited so long to even consider visiting the crime scene, and how much dispositive evidence might remain after a year in the open elements, these are questions for Cold-Case / CSI watchers more diligent than me.

Some might worry that there is so little to show for the ~$43000 donated for this crucial research through Bradstreet's sister-in-law's GoFundMe page. To assuage such concerns, Candice and Thom were filmed at last year's AutismOne scamfest trade-fair, revoicing their dissatisfaction with the official account.

More recent Facebukkake updates inform us of a second progress / brick-wall encounter, in which a crucial witness accepted the official 'suicide' story and will not cooperate with the inquiry. Which is to say that Bradstreet's widow is a person of interest and a legitimate target for innuendo:

Candice Lee-Bradstreet

1 May at 20:19

[...] We need Jennifer Lackey Bradstreet to talk to Det. Keever NOW. This video only shows a glimpse of the frustration our family endures with her withholding information from the family. [...] Put yourself in our shoes for a moment, feeling completely helpless, tormented with questions, and tormented that we couldn't be there, before she cremated his body, destroying all evidence and any chance we may have had at a second autopsy [...] Jennifer, if you ever read this, or somebody sends this to you, please know that we never wanted to suspect you. You have every opportunity to come forward and speak to law enforcement and clear your name. We want to believe you, we want to move onto other theories, but we can't do it until you talk. Until you do, you will always remain a suspect.

And a third:

Candice Lee-Bradstreet
1 May at 08:41

Regarding the lack of proper extensive tests on the weapon , finger printing ,etc We needed some very important tests done that were not. The car wasn't finger printed either that we are aware of.
Detective Kiever told us that his county did not have a budget for that extensive testing ....
So we offered to pay for it all.... he did not accept our offer.

Each of these accelerated encounters can only agitate the little mollycules of brickyness so that they move so fast as to perveate into the progress, while the little shining adams of progress are likewise in a state of bewhirldyment so they pass conversely into the brick wall, so keep this up for long and  progress becomes 60% brick wall and verce visa -- it is an ineluctable corroboree of the Atomic Theory.

Reassured that the donations were well-spent, we hied ourselves back to the Crowd-funding page to check for further updates... but there is no end to the drama... for suddenly the page is blank, cashed in and folded up, as empty as the chocolate-timtam honesty tin in the Riddled tea-room. No trace remains that it had ever been, apart from archived copies here and there! Sadly, the archive does not include the earliest comments (which were classics of the genre), nor the early dramatic progress reports, which spoke of collecting "tons of information" to be "processed and investigated"... information which must have subsequently evaporated, as often happens if you do not store it in a cryogenic repository.

No doubt Candice will explain the fund's disappearance and disposition as soon as she has finished advertising her new products, and bestowing bless-their-hearts upon Bradstreet's less-estranged family and friends.

Latest from the Riddled Gifte-Shoppe

1. The latest model of our popular "Flying Nun" Surveillance Drone is now in-store. Also works at ground-level with wings retracted [right]! Undetectable by your neighbour!

2. Solar-powered drone-spotter telescopes. Just plant them in the garden and forget them. Bluetooth-equipped, to download and install new targets automatically. Keep one step ahead of your neighbour's attempts to spy on you!

Merry Boxing-day-sales Day to all both our readers

We wish you the best of luck in returning those "Shared Experience VR Goggles" and exchanging them for something you really want.

It's springtime now and cares subside And the planting's almost done

There were random gratuitous acts of wrapping, and outbreaks of bedecking and festoonage at the Old Entomologist, and the moon was blotted out at night by the flights of reindeer and sleighs on reconnaissance expeditions. It did not take your perspicacious Riddled reporter long to recognise these as the warning signs of Christmas... which means that it is the season once again to open up the Riddled Gift Shop and offer some giving-time suggestions!

1. Self-pruning shrubbery. Perfect for every gardener. Saves no end of labour in Spring, leaving more time to lying on the grass drinking Old Sheepshagger. I have no idea why there is a stray chyron caught in the foliage like one of Charlie Brown's kites. For a small monthly retainer you can hire Another Kiwi to come out and shout at the trees occasionally, and the nice rocks in the foreground are free.

2. Apple tree. Condition uncertain as whenever AK goes out to shout at it, the naked snake lady throws apples at him. She does seem to get rid of the chyrons.

3. Trained bug-eating poultry. Make short work of hurebers, blackfly, whitefly, greenfly, yellowbacks and any other colour-coded insect pests.

For some reason the feathered little buggers will only peck at their arthropod targets if these are shaped like minims and crochets and quavers, and if they are caught on rectilinear spider-webs. I am beginning to suspect that poultry are not very smart and I sympathise with the dispirited mood of the kaka at lower right, forced into propinquity with such unintelligent company.

4. Non-pruning shrubbery is also available. We acquired the plants under the firm impression that they were grape-vines but after close inspection, Another Kiwi vouchsafed that the grape bunches are mere decorative adornments bedecking each bush, festooned around it like $mas decorations. There will be stern and forceful words with the vile Throgmorton the next time he sees fit to make an appearance. 95% naked-snake-lady free.

------------------------------------------------

It has come to our attention that the Self-Pruning Shrubbery illustration was in use as a printer's mark in books from the 1530s onwards. I can only surmise that time travel was involved, and perhaps an expedition to Leiden in 1529 to procure cheap Memlings.

Clothing-optional day at the Old Entomologist

In retrospect, possibly not as good an idea as it seemed at the time.
I blame the fish. They were drugged or something.

Yule regret it

Updated. Needs MOAR H. P. Lovecraft Historical Society.

Gift Ideas for the Whale in your life

1. Cephalopod head-wear.

Hey lookit me everyone! I are Pacman ghost! I are octopus! Please not eat me! HURR HURR

2. A fine tooth comb. Only suitable for baleen whales. Oh sure, you could give any old tooth-comb, but it's $mas so you might as well go the extra mile and pay for a fine one.

3. A scramble suit. WITH TASSELS.

4. Not that we are trying to increase the search traffic we receive for "cetacean asphyxiation porn".

We are at war with Christmas (and Podia). We have always been at war with Christmas (and Podia)

Here in Antipodia the time approaches to celebrate Paraphernalia, ancient Roman festival of whimsical gadgetry and tools too specific to be used more than once.

Now available from the Riddled Gift Shoppe: The Gripping Hand. The perfect addition to any construction bench. Grips like a vice, although which vice is probably best left unspecified.

Ethical issues about consuming clownmeat? Now your squalms and cruples can be a thing of the past, when you have your own cellular-assembly 3D tissue printer!* Can be programmed for any meat!  
[warranty does not cover production of svið]

Tired of a personification of commercialised festivity manifesting down your chimney every year? Folkloric entities drawing their power from centuries of psychic accretion can be dangerous and unpredictable. Summon and disperse it in total safety, shielded behind an Electric Pentacle!

Of course some people like ZRM and Thundra reject the modern technology and insist on being all old-school about it.

------------------------

* As noted over at LGM:

Clowns are like oysters: you have to open the hard outer shell and then you can eat the inside.

In another point of similarity, both are liable to squirt water in your eye in an attempt at self-defense.

You can't spell Pantomime without Ptomaine

The script for "A Very Riddled Christmas" -- this year's end-of-year production from the Riddled Amateur Dramatic Society -- emerged from a marathon Script Workshop and Velcro Barfly Night at the Old Entomologist. Everyone wanted a part, which is why there are three Krampusse, and three Santa Clauses at centre left arguing which of them is the real Personification of Generosity. We couldn't keep the library pixies out of it even though they had been at the green ginger liniment and went all giggly and topless. Evangeline van Holsterin's vile nephew Throgmorton did not officially get a role but he comes flying in through the window anyway; serves him right for twerking on the trebuchet.

Another Kiwi and tigris are whispering by the Xmas tree, which has a fairy on top but is otherwise bare and symbolic in the modern style.

As it happens, the footage above is not from the actual production, which has been postponed, with rehearsals currently suspended for health reasons. Instead it comes from tuning the Riddled Dream Machine to record "Santa Claus' Worst Nightmare". Cast members are all expected to make a full recovery, owing to prompt administration of the Galactic-Imperial Christmas Ale and Universal Antidote* to the appropriate orifices. Throgmorton remains tight-lipped as to the source of the 'special mince pies' he provided for the RADS AGM. Most of the cast remain tight-lipped as well, though that appears to be an effect of the botulinum toxin.

It is fortunate that Santa's dream follows the script of our pantomime so closely. Evidently what makes it so nightmarish for him is the Doppelganger / Trippelganger aspect.

Santa is not the only one to be frightened of meeting his own image walking in the garden:

Some people are more badly affected by the experience than others.

* Also known as GIXA, but only if you don't mind sounding like you have hiccups.

Fluffy slippers

Stylish and comfortable!

Deer friends

Riddled Enterprises latest product achieves a long hoped for combination of historical theme and sausages. Now your children can learn about the fascinating, mysterious and economically important world of the Salted Pineapple Trade while enjoying a hearty (or harty) meal of venison sausages.

"Mmmm, history!" your kids will say.
Actual product my differ from that shown, may even be in a tin that was accidentally labelled "Tropicana Cat Fud with Pineapple"
 

Firkin -- Not just a family of pine trees

Blind skwirls seek guide-dog

The idea originally came from Another Kiwi, to stock "Sexy Bankruptcy Barrel" costumes in the Gift Shop, in honour of the continuing strength of the NZ Dollar and to celebrate the increase of chocolate rations to 25 grams per week. But even a blind squirrel is right twice a day, and even a roomful of monkeys with typewriters will find a truffle given time enough, and the Riddled Enterprises governing board voted in favour of the proposal (at a moment in the meeting when I had been sent out of the boardroom on a spurious errand involving left-handed spanners).

So here are glamorous supermodels Greenish Hugh and I, in sample costumes, posing for photographs that will bring customers to the Gift Shop in their droves, a drove being one of the few vehicles large enough to fit a freshly-purchased Bankruptcy Barrel in the back. "Look sexy!" tigris exhorts us; "Wear them with elan and panache!" This is although we were told that wearing underclothes was cheating, even French ones. Also we have a sad on account of not fitting through the door into the Old Entomologist.


And look at AK in the garden bar! Somehow the jammy bastard has equipped himself with a different costume altogether. I call shenanigans.

We will see what the Dream Machine has to say about this.

UPDATE: In comments we continue to be the butt of tigris' jokes.

The individual to the left is being forced to dress in barrels as a humiliating punishment for a traffic speeding offense. He was caught doing the tun.

Space monkey, sign of the timeSpace monkey, so outta line

What has the world come to, that respectable middle-aged gentlemen are not safe from indecent assault when tottering quietly home from the Old Entomologist after an evening of "Phoronid Worm affiliations within the Lophotrochozoa and Akvavit Pong"? And the police and the radio hosts are not helping either, what with their "HA HA it is his own fault for dressing provocatively, he was asking for it".
Anyway Another Kiwi is too shaken to come into work today so I am left with a deskful of Baroque Emblemata engravings, trying to work out from his cryptic inscriptions what he was planning to do with each one. I hope they are cryptic inscriptions and not a record of his bets on the Tauherenikau Races.

The many inventions of Athanasius Kircher included the subway tunneling machine with the rotating head. In the absence of the metallurgic breakthroughs to equip it with proper cutting heads, he seems to have intended to fit it with moths instead, so it could slowly drill large circular holes through his best robes. The alternative is that it is an advent calendar for spiders with a nice juicy insect hidden behind each door, and that would be silly.

Evidently the Iranian government is still releasing photographs proclaiming their awesome high-tech accomplishments. Not satisfied with launching a monkey into space and disguising its identity with a Scramble Suit, or with their state-of-the-electronic-art stealth fighter, the state news agency has now released documentary proof of Iranian pilotless drone capabilities.

Go home, Baroque Emblemata engraver. You are drunk.