Revenge of the Admiral

A lot has happened in the near three years since my last post.

No longer can i consider myself a renegade, this time i am bringing it down from the inside.

The funding crisis - that is affecting physics in the uk - is my Coup de grâce.

From now on, I will be shaping physics research in the UK.

Consider this my resurrection.

The admiral.

Obituary

Hey, I always wondered what happens if you read your own obituary. I saw an episode of the simpsons where grandpa simpson chases after a woman to a town called Branson where everyone is living in the past. At the show there are a load of celebrates who are past it, and everyone assumed were dead. Abe says to his boyhood hero, hey you are really dead, I have your obituary in my pocket. The guy turns to dust when he reads it.

I get a feeling of deja vu, like I have read or have already written, what I am writing here. I keep rehashing a crummy joke, but don't seem to remember doing so. Senilaty is fast approaching, if only I had heeded prof bobbletoffs advice and kept ahold of the Glenn cross.

I expect at least a double page spread in the torygraph, an 8 page pull out for my obituary in the guardian, the entire independent dedicated to my obituary (with a mean crossword at the back), although the times will probably only carry a few lines.

Well if I am gonna read it, I might as well just go the whole hog and write it myself.

Overlord Rear Admiral Alan, Master of the Universe, M.Sci. G.C. Ph.D. B.Sc. (bronze swimming certificate).

inventor of time, the first dimension, the second dimension, and co inventor of the third dimension. Leaded of the Movement Against Nachoes Ketchup and Yougat MANKY. His fine navy career took him to NAM, (well they have canals in Birmingham, don't you know).

After having read too much Nietzsche for his own good, Alan lived a double life, stuggling to find an absolute morality, his only inspiration a speech from that most fine astronomer JFK.

"ask not what astronomy can do for you, but what you can do for astronomy."

The admiral put astronomy before all else, and was a truly moral man, despite the genocide, terrorism, and bad jokes. His end was brought about by his alterego, Alan. No one knows anything about him.

Well i would love to stay and do this properly but I have to go and dance on his grave.

Mulleted Maestro

Judas

Every man gets what he wants. I wanted a PhD, and for my sins they gave me one. When it is all over I wont want another.

I would like to use this opportunity to say just how great the academic establishment is in this country. I would also like to praise the wisdom of the research councils. Most of all however I would like to say how much I love the members of the RAS, and that I would love to have all their babies.

I want to tell all dislikers of the RAS to rot.

As of now I abdicate the title of Overlord, and choose to be know forever more as the Mulleted Maestro. My reign of terror has come to an end, and I will use my influence to promote clear and accountable democracy to the eurovision song contest.

Finally I appeal to anyone out there who can lead to the discovery of the identity of the Raw Power Guy to get in touch. Don't let him know we want to make contact however as I am pretty scared just thinking about the guy.

I expect a bit of stick for my complete turn around in opinion, especially from Billy boy, who will probably never speak to me again.

yours unfaithfully,
Mulleted Maestro

Overlord or time lord?

Optimism suppressed the belief I had in the total failure of the quantum leap drive. Technological excellence is no substitute for maintaining the laws of cause and effect. There is no way that I can change the history of the RAS, without somehow changing myself. My own history is entwined to the RAS like vader to the force. My attempts to alter timelines has resulted in a visit from the Albert Einstein society of timeline preservation. Albo gave me the equivalent of a yellow card, attempting to break the laws of physics again will result in my erasure from history altogether.

I am not too disappointed however. The machine has another purpose, that I had not even considered early on, but is glaringly obvious. I have the power of eternal life. By creating a clone of myself, I can permanently transfer my life knowledge and experience to a younger version of myself to preserve my existence indefinitely. Sure I am young yet, but I will be able to retire my old body in mid sixties and start a new leaf of life in a twenty year old body.

It does raise ethical questions, I will need to train the young clone to actively work his brain so it is in optimum condition. Once I am ready I will have this young, probably brilliant physicist mindswapped, then terminated.

Even more tricky is the chance that he may outwit me, such a wise man will no doubt work out what I am scheming, and will attempt to have me erased. It is a chance I have to take to preserve myself indefinitely.

It turns out that one of my generals, Raw Power Guy, has been working on similar lines. His weakness is his vanity and his clone will replace him when he reaches mid thirties, in a bid to stay forever young.

The ECB has agreed to let us use Lords cricket ground as a meeting place, in exchange for my continuing work in winning the ashes for England. Dressing up as a crusader is not compulsory.

The Admiral

bella bella

The FBI must be pissed off. The trail has gone cold, according to the times anyway. Been taking Italian classes, I have a friend who speaks Italian who never really got the difference between being pissed, and being off. Am never really sure what we are taking about.

Well my new found freedom has given me the chance to do more research. I have always believed I could revolutionize computer processing, and now I have. Finally I have the power to accurately predict the weather, simply from a few observable factors on the sun, and the current state of play on Earth.

So what? Well I will tell you what. Knowing how the weather works means that I know how to alter it. Sure it is not easy, I cant change summer into winter by pressing a button, but I can bring order to the previous chaos of seasonal weather. I can make it rain on Monday, by altering the knife-edge weather patterns on Saturday.

For what devious reasons would I want to do this? It all comes down to the cricket. The ability to manipulate the weather can cause or prevent a washout in a test match, changing a defeat into a draw, or an abandoned match into a win. If England win the first test, I can set all future tests on the verge of a washout.

The only problem I can see is not in the science. I just cant make England beat Australia on the pitch, I can only prevent a defeat off the pitch.

The weather machine does have other uses. I could cause a rainy election day, where the notoriously slack labour voters will stay at home, where as the hard core Tory vote will surely brave the elements.

I could even cause localized severe weather to damage pro RAS facilities.

despite my brilliance in this field, the main academic forces still ignore my work, but this will be to their detriment.

Your glorious leader,
Overlord Rear Admiral Alan,
Master of the Universe, M.Sci. G.C. PhD. Order of the Garter.

Never read a pop up book about giraffes

Muhammad Ali said, "I am the greatest". He never said I am the greatest boxer, or the greatest motormouth, simply the greatest. If he was not the greatest boxer, if he had never been a boxer he said he would be the greatest bin man or whatever he did.

Sure everyone knows that I am the greatest astronomer of all time. That is practically indisputable. Astronomy is not everything though, I have been told, there is also life. I thought Ali was wrong, surely I am the greatest. Now I am not sure.

After astronomy, blogging must be the most important part of life. I dreamed of the sweetest blog, truly unforgettable, touching all who read it. Alas the divine blog eludes me, and all other blogs I write are simply a tribute to it.

I my quest, I have trawled the oceans of the blogosphere, seeking enlightenment. As I hit the next blog button, I kept finding that the blogosphere is a small place, dominated by miserable teenagers, and moody adults who wont accept they are not teenagers. Perhaps I am the only blogger on a quest. Am I the only one seeking out something that is not there? Should I just get a job?

I registered my blog with blogwise, a sort of search engine for blogs. They asked in return that I mention them on my blog, so I just have. From there I have found out why I should not do a PhD, and who wants to be the first Kuwaiti astronaut, see miscellaneous.

I guess it is just natural for an overlord to want more than he can possibably achieve. Has anyone found true meaning out there? Let me know. Pope Gregory IX need not leave a comment.

The admiral strikes back

I just know that fine artist, genius and living legend, agent George Lucas will not let the world of astronomy down. His parody of the inner circle of the RAS is the finest example of the incompetent bureaucrats at work. The jedi council represents the power base of the RAS, with the rest of the jedi as their stooges.

Agent Georges eye for detail is immense. The hideous green skinned goblin "yoda" so closely resembles Sir Martin Rees that his own mother could not tell them apart.

The force is just a play on beard, as in "let your power flow from the beard" and "let the beard be with you".

Of course, agent George more than anyone wants to see change at the RAS. The wise leader, Billy boy, and his powerful apprentice, that's yours truly, fight the beard wars to take ultimate control of the RAS.

I have been pressing for the construction of star destroyers, to reach out to the galaxy, spreading our wisdom and culture whilst maintaining our strangle hold on power. A very wise man by the name of George W Bush, was very interested in my plans and began development immediately. However someone seemed to have hijacked the name "son of star wars" and turned the project into some pointless missile program. What is the use of a missile when our most deadly enemies live on a planet around Betelgeuse?

The Admiral