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Those of you who’ve been reading this blog for a while won’t be surprised by this video. You will, at least, be amused.


The little dude has been watching a total pissload of Astro Boy lately.

Win! Robots!

For the first five or six times through the 2008 Astro Boy movie, Atomique and I were totally thrilled that before his third birthday we’d managed to convince the little guy how badass robots are. I wouldn’t put that film into any top ten lists, though, and those viewings all happened inside a month. Ugh.

In order to survive, I made my brain think up the clever plan of securing episodes of the ’80s TV version of Astro Boy. There are fifty or so episodes, so I reckoned that ought keep the kid entertained while keeping mom and dad sane (which is what I’m told is the primary goal of every human family). So far so good. There was a point around episode three where I thought the strategy was bound for failure when he kept asking for ‘bigger Ackaboy’ but he seems convinced now by mom and dad’s assurances that the shorter episodes are just as cool.

We’re now a few episodes in, and one of the first memories of the show that sprang back to Atomique was how often Astro Boy’s sister Uran had her drawers on display. It’s fairly frequent, and thankfully some random photshopper from the Astro Boy Online forums has compiled a number of them into one shot, saving me the effort:

All of this leads me to the result of a chilling game of connect-the-dots that Atomique played while pondering further upon the tendency for the animators to throw in upskirt shots of Uran. I present to you the successor to the oft-rumoured used panty vending machines of Japan:


I don’t have anything to say today past that sensationalist headline. I’ll leave you to ponder upon it (or, hey, have a good quiet fap if that’s your thing).

I’ll get around to the children’s edition of ‘Make Yourself a Scientist’… soonish.

Some bits and bobs (space-bits and space-bobs included as well, of course) today:

That’s from an awesome blog I accidentally found, Geek Art. Nice stuff here. Very nice stuff. Go, go now.

Check these mad videos I found there:

I recently gave my dad the following advice about web browsers. For your own safety on the web as much as everyone else’s, give the following some consideration.

It’s important for the health of the internet as a whole to have users on a variety of web browsers out in the wild – it cuts into criminals’ profit margins to craft virii* and exploits that target multiple browsers.  That being said, IE has a lot of unbeatable  compatibility advantages, so I recommend using IE for safe browsing like web banking, your corporate intranet, government sites, etc. and another browser (any other browser, as long as it’s not IE: Firefox, Chrome, Opera, Camino) for run-of-the-mill surfing and visiting new sites.

* Yes, I know it’s ‘viruses’ these days, but I enjoyed the eccentricities of Latin words in English that we had last century. It’s not often I’m the crazy old guy clinging to the past.

My new FaceBook avatar. Yes, I’m a dork

Okay, the rant (a topic I’ve hit on before, but damn is the sequel a good one):

Dear lady at the pharmacy who tried to sell Atomique on homeopathic remedies because ‘this one time there was this cat who got hit by a car and I gave it something homeopathic because I couldn’t think of anything else to do and then when the cat got to the vet the vet said he was amazed that the cat hadn’t gone into shock and so it must have been the homeopathy that did it therefore homeopathy works’.

Listen, lady at the pharmacy: that story about one cat is a very very very poor sample size to back any statement of efficacy of your magic potions. Statistically speaking, I’m sure that one out of every such-and-such number of similar accidents involving cats results in the cat ‘surprisingly’ not entering shock. In clinical trials (and other, not so clinical events), homeopathic remedies DO NOTHING. Medical studies require a certain amount of test subjects to ensure a significant number of results in order to determine what effects a substance has. Not one thorough study, ever, has produced any observation that indicates homeopathic remedies do anything at all.

Not only that, but the underlying mechanism you claim is at work in your snake oil, that water has some kind of supernatural ability to remember the things that used to be in it, is not possible according to the laws of the universe that every single person who studies the way the universe works has come to agree to as the best model to describe how reality works. Homeopathy was imagined by some crazy dickface who foisted it as a miracle remedy on the uneducated public (the same knuckleheads who thought bloodletting was the best way to help the ill) of the late 1700s  – without rigorous testing to see if it actually did anything, an ultimate act of ass-hattery. His fraudulent douchebag followers insist to this day that it has value, despite volumes of scientific discoveries that make its underlying principle laughably retarded.

This is not some elaborate conspiracy to keep you from padding your coffers healing the poor by selling them expensive vials of water, it’s many people in many countries of various cultures all making the same observations and drawing the same conclusion about what those observations mean.

Please stop behaving like what you’re talking about is real, makes sense, or can be conceived of as truthful by anyone capable of reason. If you’re ignorant of the truth behind homeopathy, shame on you for pretending to be knowledgeable so as to try and convince a stranger to part with their money for nothing (Atomique, a clever bear, tells me she tactfully laughed her way out of this laughable situation without incident); if you’re a charlatan knowingly fleecing your fellow humans, go fuck yourself.

Killer amateur 3D tomfoolery by The Faking Hoaxer:

Okay, actually I haven’t. Bit of a lie there.

I’ve had all kinds of visitors as of late, and it’s kept me busy and away from my usual broadcast post on the outer rings of the blogosphere. In fact, I now have to undergo a strenuous training regime to get me back into shape for the rigours of deep-space blogging. With that in mind, until I’m blog-fit again, things may be a bit lightweight for the next little while.

Anyhow, was watching the excellent-if-a-bit-too-juvenile-but-you-need-to-get-the-kids-excited-somehow ABC documentary Voyage to the Planets last night. This week’s episode was a tour guide to Uranus, Neptune and their respective rings and moons. Given that a round trip to Neptune and back would take 24 years with current propulsion technologies, the episode touched on cryogenics; placing prospective astronauts in suspended animation to survive the tedium of spaceflight. I had thought that we were a way off (a long way off) any kind of progress in this field, but they interviewed a researcher who’s successfully placed mice into hibernation for a couple of hours and then woken them up.

Said Atomique: “Bags not being a test subject when they get to human trials.”

Said Viper Pilot: “Silly Atomique, that’s what homeless people are for.”

Okay, bye!

As I prepare to welcome a future space-funk warrior princess into my thermonuclear family (T-minus one day to scheduled arrival) I’m going to try and squeeze a few posts in while I can. I doubt much will happen here, though, so this means that these communiqués from the tip of our arm of the galaxy (my current posting, where I am unable to reveal what I’m doing – suffice to say it involves zero-g zombies and the Spandau Ballet reunion tour) may be far and few for the next few weeks.  With tiny humans at the fore of my thoughts, I thought I might share some bits and bobs of baby related tech, tunes and domestic-grade laser weaponry.

Actually, I’m going to steal content from Atomique to talk tech. When not busy educating me about the merits of Madchester she has a side gig blogging at a baby clothing shop, where she does her best to sneak science in between the articles about mothering techniques and store sales.

Baby-related science news and nifty gadgets that Atomique is bringing to the moms of Oz:

Music. Baby music. Man, babies have terrible taste in music. It’s repetitive, the melodies are basic and the lyrics are insipid. Wait, am I describing every ‘dance club hit’ from the early 90s or nursery rhymes? I’m confused. Whose space suit is this?

I was tempted to spangle this post with songs with baby in the title, but that felt like I was rubbing clichés all over myself and doing sexy dances for Russian sailors. Not that I know what that feels like – unless you mean Russian space-sailors, in which case a brother’s gotta work his way home somehow, right?

I can’t really find anything interesting about baby music. Well, kind of. Here’s a nursery rhyme in an ancient dialect of French:

Un petit d’un petit
S’étonne aux Halles
Un petit d’un petit
Ah! degrés te fallent
Indolent qui ne sort cesse
Indolent qui ne se mène
Qu’importe un petit d’un petit
Tout Gai de Reguennes.

Wait, I lied! It’s not actually French!  If you read it with an outrageously bad French accent, however, it reads like Humpty Dumpty. It’s from a collection of fake archaic French songs which all sound like English nursery rhymes when read like Pepé le Peu, called Mots D’Heures: Gousses, Rames (Mother Goose’s Rhymes).

Closely related to babies are toddlers. Toddlers have way better taste in music. That’s not saying much, but I’ll listen to The Wiggles or Yo Gabba Gabba over, say, Aqua or Nickelback.

A perennial favourite of toddlers which had some bangin’ tunes was Sesame Street; even more bangin’ is a whole album of Muppet Mashups.

Finally, we come to Babies With Laser Eyes.  Not every one of you may know this, but quite a lot of technology goes into the modern laser-eye equipped baby:

They’re not as uncommon as you’d expect these days. Frankly, I’m a bit concerned that some of the ‘bargain’ babies with laser eyes we now see coming out of south-east Asia don’t have the same level of safety measures in place as the traditional Swiss and Austrian models. Mark my words, it won’t be long before someone’s house burns down.

Okay, kids – I’m out of here. I’ll get all proud and post reconnaissance images of bub the second in the next few days, and then things may get very quiet. Keep fighting the good fight in my absence.

Er. I appear to kind of be busy.

Not so busy that I can’t throw a bad-ass space battleship at you, though.

I have discovered something so all-mighty and powerful that it defies, nay consumes, the boundaries of what can be embedded in this simple pneumatic blogification system.

Your brain melts here.

How could a film that falls halfway between The Watchmen and The Tick possibly be anything other than retardedly awesome? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

(Longer & more trailers for Kick Ass here.)

Viper Pilot Audio

Looking for music by Viper Pilot? This blog is the current home of Viper Pilot's Munition Works, where he stores all of his mashes and mixes.

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