Occult Detective Jules de Jardin

You'd think more people would wear capes. 
 

Professor Arbogast

Alas, poor Burnshock! I knew him, Verluccio. A fellow of infinite quest, of infinite gallantry. He hath saved the galaxy a thousand times. And now how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here gazed those eyes that 

He hath borne me on his back a thousand times. And now how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here gazed those eyes that women loved I know not how oft. Where be your quips? your derring? your do? your flashes of phaser fire that were wont to set the universe afire? 
 

The Stars Are Women

The kitchen is all rounded corners and pastel colours, cozy and functional, standing room only. Aldebaran plays host; like all the other stars here, she wears a form-fitting evening gown that glows the wearer's signature colour; in Aldebaran's case, red. She's chatting with  Antares and Capella when the front door chimes; in walk Vega and Pollux. 

"You look radiant," Aldebaran says, embracing both stars in a searing hug. 

"Technically, we're all radiant," Pollux quips, and all the ladies laugh. 

The party spills into the dining room. Rigel and Canopus are dancing a slow waltz while others chat about family groupings of stars, extolling the virtues of the common binary and trinary units while bemoaning the fates of the poor singular stars. Blonde Sol fumes with arms crossed, tired of the ancient condescension. Her gaze smoulders. 

But all their gazes smoulder. Petite, spicy redhead Wolf 359 glances sidelong at Sol, extends a hand, gently drags her solitary companion to the balcony. They look out into the infinite night, the other guests still light years distant but drawing inexorably closer as the universe shrinks. 

Flames dance on their shoulders, sparks pop and rise from their torchlit hair. She doesn't say it, but Sol misses her humans, the only intelligent life that ever arose in this slowly constricting, inexorably cooling cosmos. 

"I really liked your 'billions and billions' guy," Wolf 359 offers. "He had a better grasp of things than most." 

Sol nods. 

"I guess it's better that they were around for a while rather than not at all," she says. 

"Maybe the next time around will be more interesting," Wolf 359 says. 

"We'll never know," Sol says. 

They watch the final starset together. It takes slightly less than eternity. 

Avian Visitor

A noisy bird visited this morning and squawked at us.  
 

The Green Hornet

Watch out, crime! The Green Hornet is going to sting you! 
 

Mister Christmas Pants

 

I haven't found this guy's weapons yet, but I gave him flashy pants! 

The Spirit

Well, if not truly the Spirit, a close cousin. 
 

Pasha Moustasha Ali-Pasha

Every November, Bob Murch at Pulp Figures offers some special mustachioed miniatures available in return for a donation to Movember, the prostate cancer charity. A few years ago I donated about a hundred bucks, I think, and Bob sent me not only that year's mini, but all the previous designs. This is one of them. The moustache is certainly glorious, and I'm pretty happy with my paint job. 
 

Professor Van Helsing

This fellow has certainly staked out his place in popular culture. 
 

We Named the Dog Indiana

Here is my rendition of Doctor Henry Jones, Senior, slightly younger than he was in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. 
 

F.B. McGinty

Och! A Scot! In his festive regalia! 

I tried to create a proper tartan, but at this scale . . . yikes. Still, it looks okay to the naked eye. 

Mr Bendig, the Grocer

 

Mrs Minelli

 

Lois Grant

 

Oily Copra Trader

"What's 'copra'?" I asked myself when I looked up the name of this Pulp Figures miniature. It's coconut meat--that yummy white stuff on the inside of the nut. 
 

Colonel Sir John Ripperton

 

Delta Bluesman

I'm a wand'rin delta bluesman
Miles and miles from home
'Cept for my bedrool and my guitar
I wander all alone 

Stickin' close to the Ole Miss shoreline
Catfishin' for my meals
Singin' 'bout my dear Mary
And how her loss still feels



 

Vernal Geekquinox 2025: Old Fashioned Feast and Friendship

 

On Saturday night, Ellen and Pete once again put on a spectacular multi-course meal for a bunch of us to celebrate the coming of spring and the bonds of friendship that have lasted for so many years. Pete designed the menu above and the menu we ate, and every bite was a delight. 

In keeping with the loose 1950 North Americana theme, we began by snacking on devilled eggs and Cheez Whiz-filled celery sticks. What a throwback to childhood! 

Then, Pete delivered a heaping plate of rumaki--bacon wrapped around water chestnuts and chicken livers, marinated in some sort of delicious sauce. Despite finding liver traumatizing, the tiny bits of chicken liver in this dish did nothing to detract from the savory delight of what was a new experience for me. Sylvia went to town on these, and I can't blame her! 

Somehow we still had room for the main course. The juicy beef melted like butter in my mouth, and the cheese-covered broccoli--well--it was no ordinary cheese-covered broccoli. I don't know how Pete made the cheese sauce, but it certainly wasn't simply by melting some random cheese and pouring it on. I skipped the turnips--I've always found them bitter vegetables indeed--but I enjoyed the creamy mashed potatoes, cloudlike in their perfection. (Not pictured, but it's a bowl of mashed potatoes, what do you want?)

The main course also included--HOORAY--Yorkshire pudding, a Woods family favourite. Light, fluffy perfection. 

Poor Pete and Ellen run themselves ragged preparing these meals while also circulating with the guests. We love them for it! 

I love that Geekquinox brings together the guys and gals of our friends group. The women did a great job of bringing some 50s fashion to the festivities. 

Sylvia and I couldn't stay for the shrimp cocktail, French onion soup, or dessert, but even so we were there for about eight hours of lovely conversation and reconnections. In these rough times, such moments are genuine treasures. 

Vengeance of the Wolf Man

 

Bing Crosby Image Search

Here's a 28mm Bing Crosby from Pulp Figures. He and Bob can now have 28mm-scale adventures on roads of the imagination. 
 

Bob Hope: Mini Golfer, or Golfer Mini?

Here he is, one of comedy's greats, Mister Bob Hope, as seen in the Road movies, just puttering around with Bing. 
 

Bowery Boys

Dese five yoots may be technically delinquents, see? But that's because they ain't got nothin', least of all respect, and they have to fight for every scrap. They got a code, they ain't bullies, and they ain't rats. They just wanna get out of the Bowery, and who can blame 'em? These kids got gumption. If adults would just give 'em have the chance, why, they'd show the world they mean somethin'. Tell the chief you heard that from me, Benny Cough Drops. <cough><cough>
 

Tropical Castaway

 

Miss Marple

 

Hurcule Poirot