The Philadelphia Experiment (2012)
Live commentary. Remember people: this is based on actual events. Really. I swear. Actually happened. With a little poetic licence. Mostly around the facts and the story and the people. Otherwise it’s all pretty close to the actual events that actually happened. An experiment in modern day. The sort of experiment that sees people wheel a car in and immediately start pressing buttons to make it turn invisible. I’m no experimental expert but I don’t think that’s the way an accredited laboratory would do things. At least they’re not taking safety for granted; everyone’s got a pair of shades. Teslas! Of course! If it can just get up to about 40 teslas then that should make it disappear. And it has! That’s real science there. Good stuff movie. Oh, it’s Maybourne from Stargate SG-1. An actual recognisable actor. Excellent. A modern diner and a hacker waitress. Naturally. So, we’ve got a ship from the past now in the present and it’s got lots of glowing, flashing, pulsing blue special effects all over it and people trapped in carbonite on it, plus one sailor with chewing gum on the bottom of his shoes. And what do the sailor from the past and the sheriff from the present do? Touch the glowing, flashing, pulsing blue special effects. Why? Training people! Who is training these people? You never touch glowing, flashing, pulsing blue special effects! The ship’s vanished and Maybourne’s gone too! Past sailor is now wandering around present town. Everything is strange! At least punks aren’t roller-skating past while listening to walkmans. Loud cars! A newspaper stand. It’s 2012! A modern diner again and the past sailor is there asking for Joe. Who’s Joe and why does he want a cup of him? He’s now asking for actual people and not coffee and there may be a descendant of one who’s not there now. He wants to pay for coffee but hasn’t allowed for inflation. Come on time travellers! You’ve got to allow for inflation! Hacker waitress now being told by other waitress that past sailor asked about grandmother. More importantly: hacker waitress answered the phone while driving. That’s dangerous. Don’t do that. Okay? Teslas! Effects! Sailor is in pain, bins fall over, cats and dogs living together. Downtown Chicago. Okay, now that was seriously quite cool. A ship appeared in mid air and crashed onto a skyscraper. A seriously quite cool part in the movie. I wasn’t actually expecting that. Of course, loads of people probably died and this will start a new government-santioned war against navies and the republican party will use the memory of this ship appearing to...
A Visit To Bletchley Park
Last weekend we decided to head off up north (or “oop north” if you’re an inhabitant of the wildlands beyond Hampshire) to take in our annual Super League game in Yorkshire. Travelling up north involves driving in the car and it’s far enough away to warrant a stop en route so – with a printout of a map of England (other countries are available), two compasses, and a ruler – I used an old trick from my days studying Engineering Drawing (before it became Technical Drawing (before it became Graphic Communication for my exam (which I got a B in, thank you very much))) and drew a perpendicular line exactly halfway between Portsmouth and Wakefield to identify the ideal place to halt, have a stretch of the legs, and possibly take in some sight of interest. I quickly realised this was only of any use if the roads between the two destinations were absolutely straight and, since they’re not, reverted to Plan B of closing my eyes, plonking my finger down somewhere between London and the Midlands, and hoping for the best. Plonk! My index finger landed on Milton Keynes and a shudder rippled down the length of my spine. First time’s just a test, I told myself silently, and prepared to pick again when I spotted the word Bletchley nearby. In the back of my mind there was a whirr of dials and cogs and a memory made itself known: Bletchley Park. Codebreakers. World War 2. Alan Turing. Enigma. A quick search confirmed that Bletchley Park was indeed in Bletchley (cf. Leeds Castle) and we had our mid-travel pit stop arranged! Your first experience of the secretive nature surrounding Bletchley Park comes in trying to find the place. Up the A5 we did travel until we saw a brown sign directing us towards our destination. We followed it and then saw another sign. We followed that one and then hit a roundabout where there was no indication where to go so picked an exit at random. A few minutes later with no signs at all we turned around and headed back. We saw a new sign and followed that until we reached another junction with no obvious indication where to go. About to pick a route at random again I just spotted at ground level, half-covered up by grass a small sign with an arrow pointing the opposite way. Nice try, Bletchley Park, but we finally found you! Bletchley Park itself was not what we were expecting. But I don’t really know what we were expecting. Probably best I just describe it. Huts and buildings, a mansion, a...
Lucky Heather
“Lucky heather?” The voice cuts through the general white noise of mumbled conversations, shop music spillage, and distant street-busking and traffic, slowing my determined lunchtime strolling through the precinct. I glance at the area in which the voice originated; it’s a woman, older than me, shorter than me, and holding more plantlife than me in an outstretched hand. And she’s started to smile, I’m guessing because I’ve paid her some attention. “Lucky heather?” she says again, edging towards me and forcing a couple of other pedestrians to swerve out of her way swiftly and with a barely-concealed look in my direction that says sucker from every angle. I lean towards her and then peer down at the sprig of flora gripped tightly in her small hand. The non-green bits are a pale mauve sort of colour but my knowledge of anything to do with nature is so poor that I can’t be certain that this isn’t dandelions with a lick of paint. Or even just dandelions. Maybe you can get mauve dandelions. I’m trying to clarify just how little I know about the subject. “What is it,” I say slowly, “about this heather that gives it a probabilistic advantage over other heather?” “Lucky heather!” she says with a wink. “Two quid.” “Uh huh,” I continue. “I’m just wondering if you have any peer-reviewed analyses of double-blind trials conducted on the luckiness of this type of heather.” “What?” “Have the findings of any research performed on heather variants to determine whether some have a correlation with statistically relevant improved luck appeared in a peer-reviewed publication?” The happy look has most definitely been replaced by one filled with irritation and confusion and it seems to suit her round face better. I begin to feel sorry for her and consider parting with two whole English pounds, justifying the transaction in my head as being one that might permit me to run a few scientific experiments on the mauve flowers later when I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Fortuitous dock leaf?” asks the scruffy, scrawny, bearded man behind me. He waves a rather sad-looking bit of greenery at me. I take a quick, deep breath in preparation to ask him a pertinent question but the newcomer lifts up a glossy magazine. “19% more fortuitous than other leaves in clinical trials in Canada according to Leaf Science Quarterly,” he adds. I’ve heard of Leaf Science Quarterly and know it’s got a good reputation in the field of scientific leaf analysis. Moments later I’ve exchanged two pounds for a dock leaf almost overflowing with fortune but that still leaves the forlorn-looking woman and her...
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