Silly After Action Report - Tanks of Warsaw

Junior Officer paused before approaching the command post and checked that his uniform was exactly correct.  He was reporting for service with the famed Oberst von Kattelrussler and he wanted to make sure everything was just so.  No doubt von Kattelrussler would be a stickler for appearances.  Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders he marched forward and stamped to attention.  A group of harassed looking headquarters clerks, many swathed in bandages, glanced up at him without interest before returning to their own pursuits.

Junior Officer was about to speak when a lean, harassed looking man in a major's uniform came up.
"Are you the new junior officer?"
Junior Officer threw up an elbow cracking salute, "Yes sir!" he barked.
"Not so loud, we just got the oberst down.  I'm von Kummerbund, welcome to the unit.  Who ordered you here?"
"I volunteered sir, I have been following von Kattelrussler's exploits in the Volkische Beobachter and I couldn't wait to join."
"Dear Christ."
"Sir?" said Junior Officer in some puzzlement.

A figure shambled out of a nearby tent.  It wore a dressing gown, steel helmet and fluffy pink bunny slippers.
"What's all the noise about von Kummerbund."
Von Kummerbund pasted a look of respectful deference onto his face, "the new junior officer Herr Oberst, reporting for duty."
Oberst von Kattelrussler had what could be called a mobile face in so far as it twitched, jumped, spasmed and sometimes appeared to be attempting to flee his head entirely.  He sketched a salute with a hand clutching a teddy bear.
"About time we got a new junior officer, we haven't had one since Wittmann went off to join the SS."
"Actually sir," replied von Kummerbund, "we've had three since then."
"Really, what happened to them?"
"The first you sent off to reconnoitre a minefield; he found it.  The second you ran over with a Panzer IV because you couldn't find reverse gear and you shot the third because you thought he had rabies."
"The man was foaming at the mouth."
"He was shaving sir."

Oberst von Kattelrussler jumped at an imaginary sound and turned to Junior Officer who was desperately trying to maintain his composure.
"Welcome aboard Junior Officer.  Do you know anything about flamethrowers?"
"Ah, no sir."
"Excellent, learning on the job is the best way.  Pick up that flamethrower and head for the front.  Von Kummerbund will show you where to go."  Von Kattelrussler turned on his heel and started an animated conversation with his teddy bear.

Von Kummerbund watched as Junior Officer fumbled with the flamethrower at one point spilling highly flammable liquid over his freshly pressed uniform.
"Where should I go sir?" asked Junior Officer trying to disentangle himself from some tubing.
"Somewhere a very long way from me," replied von Kummerbund backing towards a convenient tank.

So the latest in a series of scenarios I'm provisionally entitling "Oberst von Kattelrussler Conquers the World".  This is BFP 124 - The Tanks of Warsaw.  As temporary commander of von Kattelrussler's long suffering legions I have to capture at least three of four victory buildings located an inconveniently long way away with apparently half the Polish army in between.  My forces are powerful, I have twenty three squads (including five assault engineers), a dozen machine guns (half light, half medium) plus a 75mm artillery piece, a 37mm anti tank gun, a clutch of demo charges and antitank rifles a pair of flamethrowers and thirteen tanks including half a dozen PzIIs and a pair of PzIVs.  Oh yes and I also have 100mm artillery if I can find anything to shoot at.  Ivan's defenders are no slouch either.  Seventeen squads divided between first line and green plus eight machine guns of his own, a pair of 37mm AT guns, an 81mm mortar and a truck mounting a 75mm gun on the flatbed.  In addition to this he could fortify half a dozen building locations, set three roadblocks and had a mass of wire and mines to guard his approaches.  Over the course of the game he would be reinforced by four very handy tanks and a pair of dinky little 47mm SP guns and a trio of elite squads who were obviously late to the battle.

My plan, as usual was simple.  I would simply pile up the infantry firepower, blow away his front line, advance modestly, consolidate and repeat.  I had the two PzIVs on board at the start (for the smoke) but kept the rest of my armour offboard until such things as roadblocks, mines and antitank guns became a little more apparent. 

The terrain lent itself to flank movements, I set up the bulk of my force on my right looking to push into the mess of buildings in front of me.  On the left I set up a smaller but still formidable force to push towards the sole victory building on that side.  in the centre I manned the graveyard with a couple of squads and a 37mm gun.  I held back my radio team looking to climb to a vantage point when required.

Things went almost disturbingly well in the first turn.  Both my tanks got smoke blocking Ivan's firelanes down the road that separated our forces.  On the right my flamethrower fried some defenders and I was able to push across the road into the buildings beyond.  On the left I wasn't quite as fortunate with the flamethrower but some well placed infantry smoke got me across the road there as well.  Ivan chose the runaway defence pulling his defenders back and not challenging my gains before pushing back again in the advance phase.

Turn 1, things are going disturbingly well

I had pushed across the road  on both flanks with virtually impunity thanks to the smoke but Ivan's centre was hanging tough.  Still on my right I had swept through the cluster of wooden buildings and up to his second line of defence and on the left I had seized a building and started to infiltrate down both sides of the road.  I say started because on my left a squad walked into a minefield and across the road I inadvertently advanced into a HIP unit.  Ivan's evil chuckle died in his throat as my guys waltzed out of the minefield unharmed and the squad that had bumped into the HIPsters killed them in CC.  I'll just repeat that; I killed a squad in CC and captured an mmg!  Apparently human sacrifice does please the gods after all.  Behind the action my gun crew slowly pushed my 37mm AT down the road towards the left hand roadblock.

I was pleased with my progress so far but things were about to slow down.  I moved a pair of squads past where he had hidden his squad and mmg to discover he had hidden a squad and flamethrower directly behind them.  I did survive the 24FP attack but then both my squads were tied up in melee.  And would remain tied up in melee for the next three turns.  This was infuriating because the position was a chokepoint and I couldn't get anyone past them.  Over on the right things had slowed too.  My plan was simple, build firepower, blow away his defenders, move forward, repeat.  Unfortunately Ivan also had a plan, it consisted of regularly shrugging off 24+2 shots from my attackers.  I tried attacking anyway and through the simple tactic of presenting more squads than Ivan could shoot at managed to push forward.  Ivan rolling an 11 on a FPF shot helped there.

In the centre I had zeroed my 75mm gun on his remaining defenders and slowly pounded them out of position, more by threat than damage.  Ivan declined to leave them there to die.  Along the way my right hand PzIV ran out of smoke but worse was to come.  My flamethrower team on the right ran out of fuel (apparently Junior Officer spilt it on his uniform) and when I finally got some guys across the road and into CC with his remaining defenders Ivan cheerfully rolled a snake eyes and wiped out a squad.

A PzIV behind the roadblock with a broken gun

I still had a mess of tanks to bring on but with little elbow room I couldn't see the point.  I did bring on a trio of PzIs to back up my forces.  This was probably a good idea as I was about to lose both my PzIVs.  On the left I rolled a PzIV up behind the road block and pushed some infantry into the road behind it as well.  There was a concealed stack down the road and a 2 flat shot revealed a squad, leader and hmg. More advancing fire broke the officer and then I did something truly silly.  My intention was to shroud the position with a smoke shell next turn but I couldn't resist the temptation to take a bounding fire shot with my 75mm. I rolled an eleven and broke the gun.

In the centre I had moved a squad and crew (now without flamethrower) forward and decided to back them up with the other PzIV.  This might have been a good idea but I took it too far.  I drove straight up to a squad with an atr which cheerfully destroyed it with a shot through the frontal armour.

The damn melee between on the left just kept on going but I finally got moving again on the right.  Ivan had generated a 7-0 leader for his squad that had got the snake eyes in CC and a 24+2 actually managed to break it and pin the squad.  I decided that this was the moment.  Grabbing a convenient stranger I bent them back over the altar and reached for the obsidian knife.  Religious duties over I sent my boys into CC.  This time I rolled snake eyes and generated my own 7-0.  Then I turned my attention to the CC on the left where two squads had been tied up for three turns and rolled another snake eyes.  This time I generated an 8-1 leader to cheer my boys on.  For some reason I committed these squads to clearing the roadblock, something they didn't manage to do for the rest of the game and removed two squads from my OB.

Halfway through the game and Ivan was being pushed back to his last line of defence but a combination of withdrawals and reinforcements had led to that last line of defence being a solid wall of Polish steel that I would somehow have to break through in four turns or less.  Things weren't helped when his left hand hmg broke my remaining flamethrower crew.  Getting those guys back into the game will be critical.  Other units captured the leftmost of the victory buildings which was one Ivan obviously thought he could afford to lose as there wasn't a fortified location in sight.  Feeling the need for more firepower I rolled on my PzIIs that had been waiting patiently in the wings until now

Over on the right Ivan had anchored a corner of his defence with an hmg toting squad but I had plans for that little sucker.  I had a single PzI lurking in the background doing nothing much and I trundled them down and sleazed the hmg team in bypass.  Then I sent in a half squad toting a DC.  I don't think I've ever successfully used a DC before.  This game would give me the opportunity to successfully use a whole bunch.  Anyway I blew him out of the building and seized the hmg for my very own.

Ivan had placed his 75mm gun truck over on the far left but with my troops swooping down towards his rear he pulled it back to help anchor his last line of defence.  It promptly nailed one of my PzIs as it was attempting to come up and support my left side.  The PzI who had helped my demo team get into the building on the right rolled forward one hex and promptly got flamed by a hitherto unrevealed 37mm gun.  This was excellent as it provided me with a little smoke cover.

I decided I had enough firepower on the right and pushed all but one of my PzIIs down the left.  There were anti personnel mines in the way but I figured I could take the chance.  The very first tank to move onto them was immobilised and I might have indulged in a little cursing but another four made their way through.  That minefield actually managed to immobilise another tank later, I had armour stacked two deep in the hex. I moved my PzIV (without MA) around the left hand victory building and waited for an opportunity to move it forward without it being killed.  I rolled a repair die roll every turn but neither repaired nor recalled the thing.

Taking advantage of the fact that the front line had moved forward my artillery spotters packed up their radio and trotted forward, hoping to find somewhere they could get a decent line of sight.  Far to the rear my 75mm gun crew did sterling service.  Every time Ivan got a sniper they jumped up and down to attract its attention.  I think they were pinned once and broken twice but they kept the trigger happy bastard out of my hair.

The next couple of turns were about bringing up enough troops for the final assault.  Slowed by mines, wire and roadblocks my troops and tanks on the right slowly built up enough force to launch an attack. I was helped by Ivan breaking the hmg which anchored his defence over here and I followed that up by breaking the squad manning it.  On the right I edged forward until I had a powerful force snuggled into stone buildings looking across the road.  Still there was a sea of Poles between me and my objectives.  On the right Ivan had brought on his tanks and positioned them behind a stone wall to cover the road.  The victory buildings were fortified and garrisoned with doughty troops.  On the left things were a little more adhoc. Ivan had a couple of tanks, his gun truck and he brought on his SP guns here as well.  However I had finally managed to bring up my kill stack and started dismantling his troops in the wooden buildings. With them out of the way I seized them for my own and managed to take out his gun truck with infantry fire.

Getting closer to the end game.  I've even managed to find a target for my artillery

You know what a PzIV with a malfunctioned MA is good for?  Diversions.  I rolled it behind the final wooden buildings on the left to pretend to threaten his armoured last stand over there.  Ivan totally refused to be diverted but while the PzIV was flirting with death at least one of my PzIIs had taken death out for dinner and a movie.  Smoke dispensers never work for me but I tried them anyway rolling my PzIIs down the street to cover the approach of my infantry towards the victory building.  I got smoke, hells yeah I got smoke.  It turned out Ivan's other 37mm gun was covering that road and it brewed my forward PzII up into sheets of nicely concealing smoke and flame. Thanks Ivan.

On the right I had a PzI and a PzII eager to give support to my troops but that 37mm had to go first.  I managed to get a squad into CC with the crew, I killed him and he CR'ed me but there was one less obstacle for my tanks.  Ivan helped a bit by breaking the MA of the tank he had hoped to help cover this location. Actually collectively we broke a heck of a lot of weaponry in this game.

Inching forward

Now with time running out I went for the end game.  My hapless PzIV I rolled right around behind his tanks and wound up in the street behind his mortar team and cheerfully machine gunned them into oblivion.  An 8-0 toting an antitank rifle ran out into the orchard to menace his armour (actually to try and make Ivan drop concealment by shooting at them but that didn't work so it was totally a plan to take on the armour).  Ivan had moved one of his SP guns around to support the mortar team and in the next turn my PzIV got a kill with its machine guns, who needs 75s?  But even better was to come.  Two of Ivan's tanks had an impressive 4 for their frontal armour which made them almost immune to the atrs but one of them had swivelled its turret to take a shot at my PzIV as it slunk past. My 8-0, with great skill, fired an antitank rifle into the rear of the turret and killed the thing.  He followed this up with a UK result on the surviving SP gun the next turn.  Suddenly Ivan was out of armour on the left.  It has to be admitted that Ivan street fought the PzIV and immobilised it but the crew stayed in and its machine guns dominated the road.

A little vehicular sleaze, some squirts from the flamethrower and a well positioned DC and I had a breach in the fortified location with only broken wreckage to stop me. I poured troops in and managed to clear the building in my final movement phase.

Over on the left I still had a road covered by tanks and machine guns to contend with and I had no DCs or flamethrowers.  You know what else can breach a fortified location?  A tank.  I drove the PzI straight in (bogging of course) but opening a path for infantry to follow.  I now had the numbers and the firepower while Ivan was virtually out of troops.  I lost some troops exploiting my initial breakthrough but finally wiped out his last SMC in the final CC phase of the game.  

Endgame.  One final CC a squad (me) vs a leader (Ivan).  It took two goes but I finally killed them.

Honesty compels me to admit that while the dice had swung from one side to the other during the game in the final couple of turns they came down against Ivan just when he needed them most.  Otherwise I might have wound up a location or two short.  I'm also wondering if I didn't screw Ivan over.  I know infantry can't enter a fortified location occupied by unbroken enemy units but we couldn't find anything that said a tank couldn't.  Opinions would be welcome now that my victory is on the record and its too late to change the result.

Oberst von Kattelrussler leaned against a ruined wall trying, unsuccessfully, to juggle with hand grenades.  His staff watched him from a distance which could be mistaken for respectful.  Suddenly Major von Kummerbund staggered out of the building coughing brick dust.

"I can't believe that worked," he gasped reaching for his waterbottle.

"I had no doubts," replied von Kattelrussler dropping a stick grenade onto his foot.  "Ouch!"

A strange figure approached them.  Junior Officer was smouldering gently, what was left of his hair was arranged in random clumps over a bright pink scalp.  His uniform was scorched and smelled of burnt skin and petrol.

"Gaah," said Junior Officer.  In case he wasn't clear he said it again, "Gaah, burning, ouch."  He collapsed into a foetal position and began sobbing.

"He'll fit in just fine," said von Kattelrussler beaming. "Welcome to the unit JO."

 

Nemesis is Coming

I'm so brave when my enemies are far far away.  For some reason it never occurs to me that they might travel.  An email hit my inbox the other day that sent a trickle of ice down my spine.  Well I say "inbox" I actually mean "spam filter" because as my Belarusian tech support have pointed out it's basically the same thing and I certainly don't need both.  I'll trust my eastern European technomancers to deal with any issues that arise.  They were perfectly capable of dealing with the modified stuxnet worm the NSA unleashed on my systems a few days ago.  I asked them if they had any idea why the NSA might be targeting me but they said it was probably a coincidence and absolutely nothing to do with what they were doing with my computer while I was asleep.

Anyway the email that chilled me to the bone read as follows;

"Fear me, for I am coming!  From across the seas I descend, my shrieking minions by my side!  Great shall be your despair and devastation your fate!  We shall make a plaything of your hopes and crush your soul beneath our feet!" 

In terror I realised that my Tasmanian correspondent was coming for a visit and she was bringing her children.  Things have been a little, shall we say, "tense" between us recently.  There is the question of several years unpaid salary (in my defence nobody was prepared to convert Australian dollars into Tasmanian currency) a certain level of personal abuse (in my defence I didn't think she would be coming to Sydney any time soon) and boastful threats that I honestly didn't expect to be called on to carry out.  Now I would be made to pay for my transgressions and also the transgressions of my tech support team who (unknown to me) have been using her computer to distribute phishing scams world wide.

In desperation I contacted my Belarusian miracle workers, surely they could prevent this.  It wouldn't be the first airliner they had brought down into the sea.  Sadly they informed me they were tied up arranging North Korea's next missile test and couldn't spare the resources.  Also they'd already sold the television rights to the ensuing carnage when my reporter and I met face to face world wide.  Apparently its 8-1 odds against my surviving the encounter.  They did offer me a share of the t-shirt sales if I could survive more than five minutes.

Traitors!  I won't be lying to the Federal Police for them again.  Abandoned by all I grimly made my preparations.  I covered the floor of my apartment in butcher's paper (to soak up the blood), alerted the paramedics (which didn't do any good as they all had the afternoon off to watch proceedings on tv) and made sure I had a lot of sharp implements near to hand (these are to commit suicide with if the encounter becomes to painful to bear).  With all of that done I set my jaw and girded my loins and waited for the inevitable.  To help defuse the situation I decided to gather my co-workers around me and hold the meeting in a public location.  Perhaps the presence of witnesses would restrain my correspondent's wrath.  The news that all of my co-workers had bet against me didn't give me much hope.

The simple fact of the matter is my correspondent still hasn't forgiven me for demanding that she throw herself in front of the truck taking Mr Moo to the abattoir.  My, thoroughly reasonable, suggestion that she toss one of her kids in front of it instead was even less well received.  On Monday I receive my comeuppance for this and other crimes.

Black Plums. Innocent Health Product or Deadly Performance Enhancer?

In the most shocking fruit related expose since this blog pointed out that figs weren't vegan (a fact known to nobody except everyone likely to care) comes the news that black plums aids in skin care and blood clotting.  This pearl of wisdom was dropped into my glass of vinegar courtesy of the diligent staff at my employer's HK office.

Say what you like about the management of our HK office (and I frequently do) it cannot be denied that they are looking out for their employees.  Whether graciously permitting them to leave the office when a typhoon hits or making sure that their blood is appropriately clotted courtesy of a black plum drive, surely employer concern cannot get any greater than this.

Before dawn the shock troops were out; hundreds of masked, camouflage clad commandos swooping on orchards all over China seizing the prized black plums and carrying them off in triumph to Hong Kong.  Because let's make no mistake, our office isn't just encouraging people to eat black plums.  Every available space in our HK corporate headquarters is stuffed to bursting with the damn things.  A laudatory verse to them has been inserted into the company song (and no we don't have a company song, we're Chinese not Japanese) and next years bonus payments are being tied  to "acceptable" levels of black plum consumption.  Acceptable being defined as "eating the damn things every waking moment". 

A blood test is taken on arrival at work and anyone who displays any liquid in their blood at all is taken to the black plum re-education room and "encouraged" to enjoy a second breakfast consisting largely of, you guessed it, black plums.  Sure there have been angry mutterings.  Proponents of the consumption of other types of plum have called us racist.  Complaints have been made of the persistent odour of putrefying fruit coming from our offices (so far we're successfully blaming the noodle bar next door) but we shall not be deterred.

Did you know that the average life expectancy of employees in our HK office is 174 years?  That our sixty five year old secretaries beat up cage fighters for fun and when the ground started subsiding after the last typhoon the facilities team went down into the basement and physically held the building up?  In fact they're still there sustained by a conveyor belt of black plum based foodstuffs provided by our admiring catering staff.

Black plums are the secret to our standout performance.  Thanks to their blood clotting properties our partners are the only ones in HK who can sharpen their blood to a point and use it as a weapon if negotiations get tense.  And believe me when you've got an entire office of high achievers desperately "chasing the plum" as the saying goes things are likely to get tense.  Very, very tense.

Still its better than the bad old days when our people were so anaemic that opening their eyes caused them to faint (which was somewhat counter productive) and their blood was so thin that it trickled out the pores in their skin.  That's all behind us now.  No longer are our offices referred to as "The Crimson Fountain".  Now we are the Black Plum Big Dogs and all fear our wrath.

Birthday Greetings #72

Oh dear god do I have to do this?  Yes.  Deep sigh!  Happy birthday to, well to, no; I'm not going to do it.  Sound of gun being cocked off screen.
All right, all right god damn you.  Happybirthdaytobilboandfrodobaggins.  There are you happy?  Let the puppy go.

Yes, for those who care about such things (I sincerely hope I don't know any of them) today is Bilbo and Frodo Baggins birthday.  They were each born on September 22 which seems to indicate that nine months prior to that date is an event of celebration (or at least heavy drinking) in the Baggins household.

The Baggins family lived in the Shire which was Tolkien's wildly rose tinted vision of rural England as opposed to Mordor which had more in common with the Pennsylvania or Birmingham black countries.  Which is yet more proof of the tendency of those who have benefited most from our civilisation to bite enthusiastically on the hand that feeds them.  One wonders how Tolkien would have enjoyed living in bucolic simplicity eating his raw food off a flat rock and writing his novels by painting on a cave wall with his fingers.

After living most of his life in blameless inanity Bilbo suddenly trotted off with a group of heavily armed thugs, stole a hermits ring and contributed to the extinction of a critically endangered species before filling his pockets with whatever valuables happened to be lying around and buggering off back to the Shire.  Frodo, somewhat more creditably, did at least attempt to return the stolen ring to the place that made it but let's face it he made a pretty mess of that and if it wasn't for the assistance of his companion probably wouldn't have succeeded.  The Lord of the Rings would be better titled "How Samwise Gamgee Managed to Save the World Despite the Interference of those Irritating Baggins Twats".  I'll bet nobody celebrates Sam's birthday.

Despite my confident assertion of 22nd September as the birthdate of both the Baggins loons the Wikipedia page I was appalled to discover existed does note that discrepancies between the Shire Calendar and the Gregorian Calendar (the one we use) mean there is some debate about when to celebrate.  So let me get this straight, somebody has made an intense study of a non existent calendar and attempted to reconcile that piece of fiction with a dating system we actually use in the real world.  And there is "some debate" as to the accuracy of the results.  No shit!

I would dearly like to sit in on such a debate.  Well, no I wouldn't.  I can't imagine anything I would less like but I would like to know where such a debate was taking place.  So that I could inform the authorities and have the participants taken into care.

Some people celebrate "Hobbit Day" as it is known by having parties in the way the Hobbits did.  Fortunately Tolkien (possibly with an eye to future fans) made these parties pretty much like our own with food, dancing, fireworks etcetera.  I personally would have been more impressed if he had included torture, human sacrifice and the eating of dung just so I could watch cosplayers abuse themselves horribly in the interests of literary realism.  Other, possibly less extreme, Hobbit freaks simply celebrate by going barefoot as the Hobbits did.

If you're walking down the street and you see someone hopping on one bare foot while attempting to pick the broken glass out of the other wish them a happy Hobbits Day.  And then steal their stuff.  They're unlikely to be able to chase you very far.

It's Alive - ish!

So what's the latest and sexiest thing from humanity's Reckless Tampering With the Building Blocks of Creation Department?  Artificial Meat!  Or rather thoroughly genuine legitimate meat grown in a laboratory and never having come into contact with anything as plebeian as an actual animal.

It wasn't so long ago (in a geological sense at least) that I was opining in this blog that insects would feature heavily in our future dining choices.  Now it looks like I might be wrong.  In various high tech laboratories and wildly keen start up companies across the world eager biochemists are encouraging otherwise unemployed animal cells to duplicate like crazy until eatable quantities of meat are produced.

It's taking a while but the initial signs are hopeful.  That is to say the cells are indeed duplicating and so far no hideous monsters have lurched out of the various labs to wreak havoc among the innocent citizenry.  So far so good.  Fish, beef, chicken all these things and more are destined to hit our plates without much in the way of involvement from actual fish, cows or chickens.  "Ethical Meat" is the selling point.  Now an innocent animal doesn't have to die in order to provide you with an inedible cheeseburger.  While I have no fundamental issue with killing innocent animals to provide me with semi nutritious food I've got to admit the prospect of them not being killed to do so is rather pleasing on a sentimental level.

Of course once we're all eating ethical meat there will be the awkward question of what to do with all of the millions of food animals we've got gathered across the planet.  I suspect that nobody will be particularly interested in taking care of them now that a profit creating trip to the abattoir isn't going to be the end result.  I can't imagine this will result in a happy outcome for them.  Still the deaths of millions of animals is a small price to pay for not killing millions of animals.

There are a couple of other issues as well.  Brilliant though this technology is it does come at a cost.  It takes a lot of energy so power bills tend to be a little prohibitive at the moment to providing low cost steaks for all.  Still a lot of that will no doubt be fixed by economies of scale.  Once you're feeding entire continents you can probably get away with high power costs and still sell cheaply for a profit.  Besides since we'll have all the dead former food animals lying about the place anyway possibly biogeneration of electricity or cattle fuelled power stations may be the way to go, at least in the short term.  Throw another cow on the fire.

One more issue and since this is a blog entry about food it probably surprises you that I haven't brought up cannibalism yet.  Wait no longer.  Normally we develop a technology to a certain level of maturity before abusing it and doing morally dubious shit that previous generations wouldn't have considered.  It is a measure of how sophisticated we are as a species nowadays that we are considering the abuse even before we've got the technology bedded down.  Yes, I'm talking about ethical cannibalism.  It has been pointed out that, in theory at least, what can be done with animals and fish can be done with humans too.  If we get to that point then the involvement of animals in the process (currently reduced to minor cell donations) can be eliminated entirely and we will literally be eating ourselves.

Imagine a food chain consisting of a single link.  We're on the way there and I'm sure this won't create any significant ethical or psychological conundrums for us to solve because that stuff never happens.  Meanwhile all we need to do is work out how we're going to defeat the roaming gangs of sheep, cows and goats who escaped the executioners bullet and are now marauding on our society.  And of course deal with an ocean so full of fish that we're going to be able to walk overseas for our holidays.

It Puts the Pill in its Mouth

"Taking vitamins used to be hard" announced a television commercial I watched recently.  I found myself nodding in solemn agreement with this statement.  After all back in the day one would have had to hunt the necessary animals, harvest or gather the specific crops and then select just enough of each to have the appropriate vitamin intake for healthy human life.  And that was before one factored in raids by rival tribes, plagues and incipient ice ages.  Frankly its amazing anyone managed a well balanced diet in those days particularly as nutritional science was in its infancy.

But the television commercial wasn't referring to that.  Oh no, they were bemoaning how difficult it was to stick a vitamin tablet into your mouth and swallow.  Apparently this was a task beyond the abilities of most normal human beings.  People were dying of malnutrition as they pawed feebly at a mess of vitamin tablets on a table utterly at a loss as to how to get the tablets the final few feet of the journey to their bodies.  Mothers gazed helplessly down at starving babies.  How to provide the nourishment their beloved child needs?  They know it has something to do with the mouth, perhaps if they post a photo of the mouth on snapchat the baby will recover.

This advertisement marks a watershed.  Advertising companies have thrown off the mask.  They've always behaved as though their customers were gullible morons (to be fair their success would indicate a good degree of accuracy in that assessment) but now they are simply coming out and telling their customers that, literally, they are too stupid to eat without assistance.  And obviously they don't expect their customers to bridle at the assumption that swallowing a vitamin pill is beyond their intellectual and physical capabilities.  Now our vitamins come in a convenient gummi form which, presumably, is easier to stuff in ones gob and then swallow than the user unfriendly shiny capsule of yesteryear.

Here is the thing about medical and pseudomedical advertising (and it doesn't get much more pseudomedical that gummi vitamins).  It is designed to scare us.  In order to sell us health stuff the advertisers have to persuade us that we're unhealthy or, at least, that our health could be better.  Therefore the hidden subtext of such advertisements is that you are a diseased, terminally ill wreck and if you want to enjoy a few more months of wretched existence you absolutely have to have the latest cure for dry mouth syndrome in your (for want of a better term) medicine cabinet.  You know, either that or drink a glass of water.

With their "taking vitamins used to be hard" pitch the advertisers have raised this to the next level.  You're not just sick, you're not just unhealthy you are fundamentally non viable as a life form.  It's a miracle that you've even managed to get this far without gummi breast milk (don't laugh, I'll bet its coming).  Furthermore you are incapable of helping yourself.  You couldn't even swallow without a vitamin company dedicating a massive research team to coming up with the idea of gummi vitamins.

The simple fact is taking vitamins was never hard after we figured out what vitamins were and decided we should eat a few.  It was that sort of creative and imaginative thinking that got us to our current level of civilisation.  Sadly the most brilliant minds of our current generation are devoted to persuading us to eat gummi vitamins.  It is these guys who will take us to our next level of civilisation.  Or, as I strongly suspect, our last level of civilisation.  The incipient collapse of our society should lead to maniacal anarchy of Mad Max proportions with violence, banditry and cannibalism.  Sadly unless somebody comes up with gummi humans before that happens even that level of activity and enthusiasm may be beyond us.

Birthday Greetings #71

Happy birthday to Diadumenian, Roman emperor!

What's that?  You've never heard of Diadumenian?  Honestly where have you people been?  Come on, you're kidding right?  Who hasn't heard of Diadumenian, son of Macrinus?  Somebody, anybody?

Yes, well its probably not all that surprising really.  Diadumenian's name is writ but lightly on the pages of history.  Indeed the only reason why he gets a mention at all is because of the rather callous behaviour of his father.  This insensitive bastard decided to have his son crowned co-emperor.

It has been noted in various histories that the Romans weren't particularly fond of their children.  Distance, strict discipline and an appropriately Roman sober reserve seemed to be the way that Roman parents were encouraged to behave towards their offspring.  Of course this is a thoroughly appropriate way for parents to behave.  Let's face it if we could trust the little beggars we wouldn't keep them at home until they were physically powerful enough to force their way out.  Still the Romans did appear to take it to extremes.

In their defence the infant mortality rate of the empire was such that if you got too attached to your children you were likely to be prostrated with grief for much of your life after their almost inevitable deaths.  If the Romans had invested deeply and emotionally in their children then the entire empire would have had a collective nervous breakdown centuries before the collapse actually happened.

Still, there is stern and then there is actively malicious.  One of the cruellest things a third century Roman could do was make his son co-emperor.  Supposedly it helped to secure the succession, in actual fact it just raised the bodycount after the inevitable military coup.  Macrinus, our boy's father, had seized the empire by the simple expedient of having his predecessor murdered.  Lest you feel any sympathy for the victim I would point out that the predecessor was Caracalla and he was begging for it.  With the support of the Senate Macrinus proclaimed himself emperor.  A few months later he made his eight year old son (Diadumenian) caesar.  A few months after that the almost obligatory revolt broke out with certain legions backing a rival claimant for the throne.  With staggeringly bad timing Macrinus took this opportunity to elevate Diadumenian to the rank of Augustus (ie, co-emperor).  The lad was about ten and the shadow over his head was the vulture of death.

In swift succession Macrinus lost a couple of battles, his job, his freedom, his son and finally his head.  His son?  Sadly yes, in a last minute burst of rational thought Macrinus told his ten year old co-emperor to run for his life, unfortunately Diadumenian didn't get far before he was caught and executed.  His head was sent (along with his father's) as a trophy to the new emperor, one Elagabalus by name who was everything a Roman emperor should be.  That is; he was a petulant, self indulgent, savage, sexually confused, extravagant, religious maniac.  This might explain why he lasted four whole years in the job before somebody murdered him.