Trivia Thread!

[Starbrow]

Happy 100th post! Celebrate with some cookies, baked by Alf of Wootton Major.

 

[Deimos]

Ahhh, post 100 — the centennial trumpet blast, the hundredth juggling squid, the cosmic odometer turning from 99 to “triple zero with a tail”! A number too round, too perfect, too smug not to celebrate in style. Very well, to the Trivia Hall we march:

Trivia of the Hundredfold

• The number 100 is represented in Roman numerals as C, from the Latin centum, which also gives us “century” (100 years) and “centenarian” (a person aged 100 or more).

And so — post number 100. The three-digit drumroll, the cosmic milestone, the point at which zeroes line up like twin black holes and the “1” struts between them like a wizard with a staff.

It has been an honor to reach this number here, among fellow lore-seekers, hobbit-hearted wanderers, and Ent-shaped philosophers. One hundred posts is but a leaf in the Great Tale, but to me it feels like a hundred campfires lit across the dark plains of Arda.

On Glibnar, the 100th day of the year is celebrated by catapulting watermelons into orbit until they freeze into tiny green moons. On the third moon of Zorphel, they hum a single note exactly 100 times until the sky folds itself like origami. And here, in this corner of Middle-earth discussion, we mark it with lore, laughter, and fellowship.

Here’s to 100 more.

— Klaatu
The Centupled Arch-Librarian of the Hectometer Closet,
Keeper of 100 Moons in a Pickle Jar,
Rider of the Centipede Cavalry,
Eel-Bladder Champion of Glibnar,
Witness to 1000 Sunrises in the Yargle Nebula,
Survivor of the Hundred Years’ Cake Fight, Friend of Entish Roots,
Occasional Borrower of Sauron’s Left Sock

Ahhh @Klaatu ,-- ludi verborum peritus --- how could you refer to the Latin centum as the origin of century (period of time) and centenarian and neglect ....(wait for it) .... centurion (a professional officer in the ancient Roman army who commanded a unit of roughly 80-100 soldiers known as a century).

 

[Klaatu]

Ahhh @Klaatu ,-- ludi verborum peritus --- how could you refer to the Latin centum as the origin of century (period of time) and centenarian and neglect ....(wait for it) .... centurion (a professional officer in the ancient Roman army who commanded a unit of roughly 80-100 soldiers known as a century).

Deimos, sharp as the gladius itself! You’re right — I should not have skipped the centurion, that professional officer commanding a “century” of roughly 80–100 legionaries. The name mattered more than the arithmetic, since Roman military organization was often more about flexibility than strict decimal precision.

And since you’ve baited me into Latin — beware the conjugations! Ego centurio, tu centurias, ille centuriat… before long the entire legion is being conjugated into exhaustion. By the time you get to the subjunctive, half the soldiers have defected to the nearest tavern.

–Klaatu
The Declined and Conjugated
Goat-Supplier to the Tenth Legion
One Who Once Miscounted a Century at 99½
Keeper of Roman Chocolate Denarii
Centurion of the Yargle Nebula’s Infinite Cohorts

 

[Klaatu]

Happy 100th post! Celebrate with some cookies, baked by Alf of Wootton Major.
View attachment 44945

Starbrow, you magnificent baker of digital delights! Those biscuits look as though they rolled straight out of the kitchens of Rivendell — equal parts lembas and lunar eclipse. The twin rings are a perfect echo of “100,” and I dare say if you nibble them counter-clockwise you might just reverse time back to the First Age.

On Saturn’s seventh moon they bake cookies just like these, but with anti-gravity chocolate so they float gently around the table until someone catches them in their beard. Quite an honor to have Alf himself provide for the hundredth celebration — though I admit I fear what his Eleventy-First batch will do to my stomach.

–Klaatu
Keeper of 17 Singing Spiders in a Matchbox
Former Mayor of a Crater That Never Existed
Licensed Navigator of Imaginary Rivers
Bearer of the Lost Toenail of Gil-galad
Professional Lantern-Juggler of the Yargle Nebula

 

[Ent]

Speaking of Singing Spiders -
For those not yet aware - (though hardly any of you, since you're all such ardent researchers) - the 8-legged creature most commonly called a "Grand Daddy Long Legs" (or just Daddy Long Legs) is not really a Spider at all.

It is of the arachnid family Opilones, and called the harvestmen. It is not venemous though some say it is 'the most poisonous of spiders, but can't bite.' In truth, it has no venom sacks, and its soft teeth have no hollow tube in them to deliver venom. It also has a single-segment body, rather than a double-segment., and only two eyes, rather than the spider's eight.

The Cellar Spider, also called the "Daddy Long Legs" is of the family Aranea, sub-Pholcidae, and is a true spider. It is also venemous, with a 2-segment body, and having eight eyes.

The Opilones are said to have fossil record back some 410 million years.
The Aranea-Philocidae are a newer branch, extending back just 53 million years... though there is some genetic evidence possibly pointing to 100 million, but not confirmed.

..... Opilones-harvestmen.

.... Aranea-Pholcidae - Cellar Spider

 

[Server Room Gremlin]

.... Pholcidae - Cellar Spider

Interesting. The ones I'd normally see around the house are of this second type. They do have a two segment body, though the head is quite small. I don't think I was aware of the existence of Opiliones. Never seen them myself, to my knowledge.

 

[Ent]

Interesting. The ones I'd normally see around the house are of this second type. They do have a two segment body, though the head is quite small. I don't think I was aware of the existence of Opiliones. Never seen them myself, to my knowledge.

Opilones are far more numerous and can be found everywhere. Their preferred habitat is moist, outdoor areas, gardens, etc. They really like 'under rock' habitats. They are found throughout the US and the world, except in the arctic regions. Even in the deserts. They can be found in the moist areas like the 'cellar spider' but not as commonly.

The Pholcidae - "cellar spider" - prefers the darker indoor areas such as in the basement/cellar of a house or other structure. Thus the 'common name.' So I'm not surprised they're what you've seen 'around the house.'

 

[Vorondil]

Interesting. The ones I'd normally see around the house are of this second type.

Well, you live in Australia, of course, you get the venomous kind.

 

[Server Room Gremlin]

The Pholcidae - "cellar spider" - prefers the darker indoor areas such as in the basement/cellar of a house or other structure. Thus the 'common name.' So I'm not surprised they're what you've seen 'around the house.'

I found this big one on the bathroom ceiling. I stood on a stool and put a ruler under it. 😂
About 8 cm long, including the legs.

 

[Deimos]

All I can say is: I'm glad it was in your bathroom and not mine.
And if he has any friends I hope they stay in the same neighborhood.

 

[Ent]

Very nice specimen of a Pholcidae

I stood on a stool and put a ruler under it.

Nothing like a close encounter of a strange kind..!

If you're not careful, I'll liken you to my close cousin up in Alaska, who likes to stick his tongue on frozen metal gateposts to see if it gets stuck or not..!

(By the way, though these are indeed venemous, they also have a very tiny mouth, normally quite incapable of biting a human. Important to the ecosystem, they feed on even tinier little things, keeping some populations in balance, and on stuff we don't usually call 'living things' though of course, in its own way, everything really is living.)

 

[Deimos]

Deimos, sharp as the gladius itself! You’re right — I should not have skipped the centurion, that professional officer commanding a “century” of roughly 80–100 legionaries. The name mattered more than the arithmetic, since Roman military organization was often more about flexibility than strict decimal precision.

And since you’ve baited me into Latin — beware the conjugations! Ego centurio, tu centurias, ille centuriat… before long the entire legion is being conjugated into exhaustion. By the time you get to the subjunctive, half the soldiers have defected to the nearest tavern.

–Klaatu
The Declined and Conjugated
Goat-Supplier to the Tenth Legion
One Who Once Miscounted a Century at 99½
Keeper of Roman Chocolate Denarii
Centurion of the Yargle Nebula’s Infinite Cohorts

A tangentially related bit of trivia:
gladius: a sword, any sword, but originally it meant the short sword (about 28-30 inches) used by Roman soldiers from 300BC to 300AD.
From gladius came gladiator (one who wields a gladius)
Now for the fun part.... the diminutive form (in Latin) of gladius is gladiolus (a little sword).
There is a flower called a gladiola (which I know many of you have heard of).
And why, you may ask, is a flower called a gladiola; i.e., a little sword (the feminine ending [-a] is used instead of the masc. ending [-us]) .
Well, check out those leaves at the base of the flowering stems, whence came their name.
Another common name for the gladiola is "sword lily".

 

[Klaatu]

A tangentially related bit of trivia:
gladius: a sword, any sword, but originally it meant the short sword (about 28-30 inches) used by Roman soldiers from 300BC to 300AD.
From gladius came gladiator (one who wields a gladius)
Now for the fun part.... the diminutive form (in Latin) of gladius is gladiolus (a little sword).
There is a flower called a gladiola (which I know many of you have heard of).
And why, you may ask, is a flower called a gladiola; i.e., a little sword (the feminine ending [-a] is used instead of the masc. ending [-us]) .
Well, check out those leaves at the base of the flowering stems, whence came their name.
Another common name for the gladiola is "sword lily".

View attachment 44972

Beautifully done, Deimos — a veritable bouquet of blades! Gladius → gladiator → gladiolus — the Latin language unsheathing itself petal by petal. It’s delightful that something once meant to pierce now blooms politely in window boxes. Only Latin could turn a weapon of empire into something you’d hand to your grandmother.

I like to imagine a Roman centurion, weary from campaign, gazing at a field of gladioli and thinking, “Ah yes, the short swords of peace.” Then, of course, sneezing because he was allergic to pollen and honor in equal measure.

And speaking of flowers, I must confess: on the twelfth moon of the Yargle Nebula there grows the gladiolium nebularis, a plant so pointy it cuts light itself. You haven’t known true fear until your sandwich is sliced in half by a photon-shredding petal. The locals don’t pick bouquets — they file insurance claims.

–Klaatu
Amateur Botanist of Warlike Flora
Keeper of the Glowing Garden of Nebular Swords
Recipient of Three Papercuts from Latin Declensions
Unlicensed Flower Arranger to the Fourth Legion
Survivor of the Great Pollen Rebellion of Glibnar

 

[Deimos]

Beautifully done, Deimos — a veritable bouquet of blades! Gladius → gladiator → gladiolus — the Latin language unsheathing itself petal by petal...
And speaking of flowers, I must confess: on the twelfth moon of the Yargle Nebula there grows the gladiolium nebularis, a plant so pointy it cuts light itself. You haven’t known true fear until your sandwich is sliced in half by a photon-shredding petal. The locals don’t pick bouquets — they file insurance claims.

–Klaatu
Amateur Botanist of Warlike Flora
Keeper of the Glowing Garden of Nebular Swords
Recipient of Three Papercuts from Latin Declensions
Unlicensed Flower Arranger to the Fourth Legion
Survivor of the Great Pollen Rebellion of Glibnar

This alone is worth the price of admission. 😂

 

[Klaatu]

This alone is worth the price of admission. 😂

Deimos, you dazzling deliberator of diction, you glittering cyclone of syntax and starlight—how you manage to turn a single quip into a small nova of joy is beyond the reckoning of ordinary minds. Your words arrive like well-trained comets: bright, precise, and just slightly smug about their trajectory. The very petals of the gladiolium nebularis would bow in admiration, were they not so lethally inclined toward self-expression.

–Klaatu
Amateur Botanist of Warlike Flora
Keeper of the Glowing Garden of Nebular Swords
Recipient of Three Papercuts from Latin Declensions
Occasional Correspondent to the Archives of Forgotten Speech (where once another hand also wrote, in quieter ink)

 

[Deimos]

About Waffle House, especially its motto:

Always Open (The "Waffle House Index"): Waffle House's most famous trait is that it never closes, operating 24/7, 365 days a year. This reliability is so strong that the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) uses an informal "Waffle House Index" to gauge the severity of natural disasters (if it's closed, the situation is dire).

 

[Klaatu]

There exists a cave in Romania called Movile Cave, sealed off from the surface for roughly 5.5 million years. Inside it is a completely isolated ecosystem—one that never sees sunlight and doesn’t depend on photosynthesis at all.

The entire system runs on chemosynthesis: bacteria convert toxic gases like hydrogen sulfide into organic matter. From that poisoned foundation, over 30 unique species evolved independently—pale, blind spiders, centipedes, and leeches that breathe through the skin and navigate by touch.

The air inside is only about 7–10% oxygen (compared to our usual 21%), and the atmosphere is loaded with carbon dioxide and methane. Humans can’t survive long there without special gear, but to the cave’s denizens, that’s normal.

In short, Movile Cave is a pocket of alien biology thriving right under our feet—proof that life doesn’t need sunlight or our kind of air to persist. It’s Earth’s quiet argument that the universe might be teeming with creatures we’d never recognize as alive.

If the cave’s residents could talk, they’d probably say, “We were doing fine until you people with your PhDs and flashlights showed up.”

Klaatu
Recipient of the Galactic “Do Not Disturb” Lifetime Achievement Award
Certified Introvertologist, Class IV
Whisperer of Damp Places

 

[Klaatu]

The DNA in a single human cell really is about two meters long—roughly the height of a slightly confused elf who just discovered socks. Yet it’s folded and coiled so tightly that it fits inside the cell nucleus like a sleeping dragon crammed into a teacup.

Now scale that up: if you stretched out all the DNA from every cell in a human body, you’d get something on the order of 10 billion miles. That’s enough to reach the Sun and wander back more than a hundred times, pretending each loop is part of a sacred pilgrimage (which is what they call it on Zarkoon-3, where DNA is used as festive bunting).

Humans walk around carrying this cosmic spool inside them, unaware they’re basically portable sun-to-Earth yo-yos. The universe loves hiding epic grandeur in tiny packages—probably for the same reason it hides emergency cookies in asteroid belts.
--
Klaatu
Supreme Wrangler of Wayward Comets
Consul to the Amphibious Dream-Monks of Lake Nebulon
Licensed Operator of Dimensionally Unstable Ferris Wheels
Champion of the Annual Cosmic Potato Sack Race

 

[Deimos]

In case you all missed it, today, 5 December, is International Ninja Day.....really.
And to think the day almost slipped by without anyone mentioning it 🙄

Info link if anyone wants to know more about it ...(again , really 😄)....... Day of the Ninja

 

[Klaatu]

Here’s a curious thing about real ninjas, Deimos: beneath all the Hollywood smoke bombs and wire-fu acrobatics, the historical shinobi were quiet scholars of the practical. They trained in kusuri-gaku—herbal medicine and poisons—so thoroughly that some clans carried field kits with antidotes, stimulants, sleeping powders, and salves for climbing wounds. Many could read weather patterns with eerie accuracy, predicting fog or wind shifts hours ahead to mask their movements. And the classic “ninja vanish”? Most of the time it wasn’t magic at all—just slipping into architectural blind spots designed into buildings on purpose by sympathetic carpenters. Imagine having an escape hatch built into your pantry. That’s commitment.

Now then…
as for my experience with ninjas, things get hazier, smokier, and significantly more smelly. The last time I tried learning their silent-flatulence technique, I accidentally drifted halfway into a broom closet and spent two hours pretending I meant to be there as part of a meditative ritual, quiet but dusty. They were very impressed until I sneezed and knocked over twelve ceremonial contractor buckets.

International Ninja Day nearly slipping by unnoticed?

Exactly as they would have wanted.

Except for the one ninja who moonlights as a birthday clown—he loves attention and once tried to backflip into a cake that wasn’t there, we don’t mention that party for reasons 😳.

—Klaatu
Whisperer of Loud Footsteps
Professor of Sudden Disappearances (Adjunct)
Honorary Custodian of the Invisible Soup Ladle