Daily archives: August 14, 2003

The Sun is a Mass of Incandescent Gas

A gigantic nuclear furnace.

Yes, it’s one of those steal They Might Be Giants lyrics for post titles days.

For years, the world’s largest scale model of the universe was in Peoria, Illinois. At 1 mile to 125 million, it is 35 miles long. It allows the hosting of asteroids even further away. Is there one that would fly through Longsight, I wonder?

Get them young

From: John

To: Pattinson,I,Ian

Subject: Makes you wonder if there is a thing called propaganda anymore

Found this while on my conference call….Good read. Literally.


Kind Regards,


From: Pattinson,I,Ian

Sent: 14 August 2003 12:04

To: John

Subject: RE: Makes you wonder if there is a thing called propaganda anymore

a constructive, interactive dialogue on many aspects of American society ??????

Right, so long as the interaction involves the misinformed towelheads suddenly realising that America isn’t the Great Satan and then rushing out to buy halal Big Macs.

I think America needs a populist magazine all about other countries, particularly those it has invaded/ is about to invade. It could have a history of the country, cover CD of popular music, discussion of popular TV and film and ‘day in the life’ pieces from people in the target audience’s age range.

From: John

To: Pattinson,I,Ian

Subject: RE: Makes you wonder if there is a thing called propaganda anymore

well America realises they can’t reach the older generation. Just like any good corporation, you have to get them hooked young!!!

Anyway, the best part of the of it all, is that all content is approved through three different state department committees. Why don’t they just call it what is? State sponsored propaganda. Hmm…I get my own answer to that question….Doesn’t sound as good.

Thank god it is Thursday. I am off to the dentist tomorrow morning to get me teeth prepared for dental hell in the states.. Not fun.

Heavensent- Chapter 10, Part 5

Landfall was a long thin beach, sheltered from the worst of the coastal currents by a string of tiny islands. The flying boat skipped over the light waves and drove a way up the sand.

Sheel was first out, scanning the tree line for signs of trouble. She signalled and Jayn stepped down. Gimm and Bobb came next, laden with any useful equipment they had been able to remove from the plane.

They walked up the beach, the sand giving way to pebbles and then earth. Under a tree curved by the wind of the ocean, they laid out the map and calculated their position.

“There is a fishing community amongst the islands.” Gimm did Jayn the courtesy of talking in a language she could understand. “But these red marks I believe are military camps.” He looked at Jayn, to check her response. Knowing she should not, she nodded assent.

“There is swampland behind the beach almost the entire length.” bobb noted, “But that is a major highway and there are minor roads to the shore all along its length.” His head jerked up and he looked around. After a moment he returned to studying the map as if nothing had happened. “We have company.” he told Gimm and sheel in their own language, then to Jayn. “There are a number of people in the trees watching us. You expect a welcoming party?”

“Not my mission. I do not know.” Jayn stood up and stared into the green darkness. She could see nothing and only heard the rustle of branches moving.

A figure moved from behind a tree. Others joined it and advanced toward the group around the map. They were all armed, though only two of them held guns. The rest brandished harpoon bows and the larger implements used to hook and kill fish. One of the rifle carriers stepped forward and studied the little group, who had now all stood. “Wrong place. Landing there.” He pointed down the beach.

“Not marked.” Gimm held up the map and indicated the beach.