It’s five past 5 across Conference III (leave work early, Colorado — you have our permission), time to hit bricks and get that freakin’ weekend started, am I right?
Of course I am.
It’s been a tough week for some of you so loosen your belt, pop a top, grab a spoon and stop being such a sourpuss. III Communication’s got good news for everybody.
Every Friday, bloggers from around The Heptarchy will update us on the news and notes from their teams (with that fancy header image courtesy of Mike D, updated anew this week, and like democracy itself, it’s a perpetual work-in-progress). Yes, we ripped this off from TRH’s Pacific War Room; no, we don’t care. And since we ripped it off, we’ll follow their lead and go in standings order.
Today In History
Explorer I, the first American satellite (and the third overall after a pair of Sputniks), rides to space atop a Juno I rocket, on this day in 1958.
It was the beginning of the successful U.S. space program and, ergo, the beginning of the Cold War Space Race.
It stayed under power for 136 days and in orbit until 1970 making more than 58,000 orbits.
Hers was a scientific mission — part of the International Geophysical Year — but there’s no doubt there was a little of “oh hey Russia we can do that, too (finally!)” involved too. After all, the U.S. trotted out Wernher von Braun at the press conference (as pictured). That’s a little bit of a how-do-you-do to the Soviets.
Today In History
On January 30, 1661 — two years after his death and 12 years after the execution of Charles I — Oliver Cromwell was exhumed from Westminster Abbey and he was executed even though he was dead:
…the shrouded bodies in open coffins were dragged on a sledge through the streets of London to the gallows, where each body was hanged in full public view until around four o’clock that afternoon. After being taken down, Cromwell’s head was severed with eight blows, placed on a wooden spike on a 20-foot (6.1 m) pole, and raised above Westminster Hall.
Today in History
In 757, Chinese Emperor and general An Lushan is assassinated by his favored eunuch Li Zhu’er at the behest of An’s first son, An Qingxu.
An Lushan had gone blind, developed full-body ulcers, and gotten angry (as anyone would if blinded and covered in ulcers) and was in the habit of executing those who angered him. Knowing he was close to the end, it was rumored he planned to name a younger son, An Qing’en, as his successor. Thus, An Qingxu, afraid his father would have him killed, conspired with the eunuch and a general, Yan Zhuang, to instead kill the emperor.
Today In History
On this day in 1393, Charles VI of France hosted what would be known to history as the Bal des Ardents. Our French-speaking friends know that means “The Ball of the Burning Men,” which may be the most Conference III name for a party ever.
Charles became king on the death of his father, Charles V, at just the age of 12. Now 15, the party was intended to raise his spirits, one of many events planned to raise the spirits of Young Chuck, who had a bit of a spell the summer before.
Officially, the ball was to celebrate the third marriage of one of the ladies-in-waiting of Charles’ wife and, in the 14th century, remarriages of widows were often occasions for tomfoolery.
But this one went horribly awry.
“We are in a crisis in the evolution of human society. It’s unique to both human and geologic history. It has never happened before and it can’t possibly happen again. You can only use oil once. You can only use metals once. Soon all the oil is going to be burned and all the metals mined and scattered.” — M. King Hubbert
In 1956, M. King Hubbert devised what is now called the “peak oil theory” — in short that there is a point, for any geographical area, at which petroleum extraction peaks and then will go into terminal decline.
It is a wildly pessimistic supposition, but an influential one nonetheless. It has helped craft energy policy for decades. And it makes some sense. Petroleum takes thousands of years to form in a complex process of rotting ferns and decaying dinosaurs. We are using more than is being produced. Eventually, we will get all we can and then we will get far less until we can get no more.
Holy [cow], this was a crazy [fuddledudding] week. The same day we launched the Conference III Crown of [Fecal Matter], the Perds made sure the Stars had a Stetson full to the brim with manure by giving them a 4-1 shellacking, making their record an abysmal 1-8-1 in 2014. It was the first time the Stars wore the infamous [chapeau de connerie] this season and some of you blamed me for the loss, claiming that this great new award was a jinx. [Flip] you! You should have had more confidence.
Today In History
In 1778, Henry Knox’s expedition to move heavy weaponry to American fortifications outside Boston arrived in Cambridge.
The so-called “noble train of artillery” was 60 tons of cannon and other heavy artillery captured at Fort Ticonderoga. It was moved “by boat, horse and ox-drawn sledges, and manpower, along poor-quality roads, across two semi-frozen rivers, and through the forests and swamps of the lightly inhabited Berkshires to the Boston area.” It is regarded as one of the most incredible logistical feats of 18th century warfare.
Knox’s arrival helped the Continental Army break the siege of Boston, sending General William Howe out of the city with a clutch of Loyalists to Halifix, Nova Scotia.
III Communication 