Check out the four video clips here. Plus ça change and all that. Clinton is especially interesting, though no one later accused him of lying.
How to Spot Bad Science
|Our watercooled machine gun (non-operative, dang it)|
|Our machine gun in the pillbox|
|Sure am glad they don't have a mortar.|
Jim Welsh in back. George Savitske with 'noccs
Jim was a member of the Adventure Club
|Let's aim our mortar right about there, where Savitske is.|
Home-made mortar in background.
|Our beloved pill box. At the bottom of a hill, with no easy|
escape for the gunners. Hmm.
|Our beloved pill box being blown to smithereens along with|
gunner Carl Symmons whose immaculate hand will
protrude from the resultant debis.
|Stuntmen? We don' need no steenkin' stuntmen!|
Red, executing forward somersault in media res.
|Jim Reilly, producer and editor|
|George Savitske, later a colonel|
|Dan Hommer, once of the Adventure Club|
|Red Scannell, surveying his domain|
|Joe Dobrota, hiding behind cast titles|
|TOF, downy-cheeked agent of world domination|
Left: Sterling Carter, of the Adventure Club
|Carl Symmons, under debris. RIP|
Congalach son of Mael Mithig was at the assembly of Tailtiu one day when he saw a ship moving through the air. Then one of them [i.e. the ship's crew] cast a spear at a salmon, so that it came down in front of the assembly. A man from the ship came after it. When he seized one end of it from above, a man seized it from below. "You are drowning me!" said the man aloft. "Let him go," said Congalach. Then he is released, and swims upward away from them.
A king of the Irish once attended an assemblyLater, the story was transferred to Clonmacnoise. Seamus Heaney wrote a poem of this version:
With quite a crowd, a thousand in beautiful order.
They see a sudden ship sail the sky,
And someone who casts a spear after fish:
It struck the ground, and swimming he retrieved it.
Who can hear of this without praising the Lord above?
The annals say: when the monks of ClonmacnoiseThroughout all these versions, from the brief one-liner in the Annals of Ulster through the fuller account in the Book of Ballymote to the transfer of location to Clonmacnoise, TOF is struck by the sheer matter-of-factness of the accounts. Oh, by the way, ships with their crews were plainly seen in the sky this year... There's no gosh-wow who'd-believe-this! as if ships that sail the air were two-a-penny.
Were all at prayers inside the oratory
A ship appeared above them in the air.
The anchor dragged along behind so deep
It hooked itself into the altar rails
And then, as the big hull rocked to a standstill,
A crewman shimmied and grappled down the rope
And struggled to release it. But in vain.
‘This man can’t bear our life here and will drown,’
The abbot said, ‘unless we help him.’ So
They did, the freed ship sailed, and the man climbed back
Out of the marvellous as he had known it.
|He ain't heavy. He's my ancestral patron saint.|
|San Placido, looking especially placid.|