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 "I have only tripped over one of these picnic baskets," called out Handyman Apprentice Miles Blundell, "the one all the crockery was in, 's what it looks like. . . . I guess I didn't see it, Professor."

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Here we come to the place that will divide readership into two groups: those who think my numbering system is way off and the correct people who don't. I've been meaning to discuss how easy it's going to be to mess up the numbering system on the sentences just from simple human error (that's the kind of error made by a simple human like me) but I hadn't thought about an encounter with a full stop after an ellipsis. Based on every grammatical rule I've pretended to have read in the past, that's the end of a sentence. I mean, it's obvious, right? The period is just a normal period coming at the end of the ellipsis. They're obviously two separate pieces of punctuation that just happen to look like they're part of the same punctuation. I don't even know why I'm spending so much time discussing it! What am I? A style manual?! Boring!

Why even bring it up, right?! If it weren't the end of a sentence it would just be an ellipsis and then more words! Sheesh! You know what this rambling on defensively about an obvious decision that nearly nobody would argue is all about, right? It's about writing something on the Internet! You're constantly thinking of what people are going to attack you for so you're constantly pre-defending every single statement you make! I say "you" when what I really mean is "me" but also maybe think I mean "we"?

You know what? Forget all that! Let's get to Miles!

Years of terrible tropes in media of clumsy characters now has me picturing Miles Blundell as the fat kid. Right? The fat kid is never graceful or sharp dressed or sexually intimidating! The fat kid is always just clumsy and eating desserts. Like every scene, the kids will be racing down a forgotten mine shaft being chased by aliens and the fat kid is all, "Hang on! I keep tripping over my licorice rope!" Pretty sure Pynchon expects us to have been pre-programmed with this visual since Miles is clumsy, trips over picnic baskets, and is named Blundell. That name's almost as indicative of a fat kid as Gravy Jones.

That's a picture of my cat Gravy. She was offended when Pierce on Community suggested Gravy Jones was the name of a fat girl. Wook at how dwainty she wis! Oh she's so coot!

Who is Professor? Is that Miles nickname for Randolph or is Miles somehow in communication with some Professor somewhere who hasn't been introduced yet. Maybe Miles is like Firestorm and he has a Professor living inside of his head! No, that's ridiculous and Pynchon never introduces anything ridiculous into his novels! Ha ha! That's funny if you've read any Thomas Pynchon!

I actually think it was this particular moment where crockery was mentioned that I picked up The Hobbit to re-read. Which I finished in two days proving that I can read a lot faster than I think I can and forces me to ask, "What's taking you so long reading all these Pynchon novels?!" I'm afraid to answer that question because the answer might be "Because you're a big dumb idiot, jerk."

Chapter 1: Section 1: Page 4: Line 24

From the far end of the gondola now came a prolonged crash, followed by an intemperate muttering that caused Randolph, as always, to frown and reach for his stomach.

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Finally, some slapstick! I can't wait to meet this hilarious individual who is falling all over everything. I'm making assumptions about the cause of the crash but I think that's okay because the use of the word "prolonged" makes me think somebody just stepped into a bucket and then stumbled into a cabinet full of China which then teetered precariously as the guy with the bucket tried to steady it but then the vase on top toppled over onto his head causing him to stumble backwards over the mop and fall into a trough of tacks. Also, Randolph doesn't panic when he hears the crash so I'm fairly certain its not some critical apparatus that maintains the airship's elevation breaking down. Randolph, instead, just frowns and gets a stomach ache.

Reaching for his stomach is important! That means Randolph is used to this sort of thing and it's giving him ulcers! Also the frowning! Like Randolph is used to this and understands it will never stop happening. Oh, and the phrase "as always" proves this is a consistent happening aboard Randolph's ship.

Is that a close enough reading of this sentence for some of you Internet people or do I have to ferret out some secret subtext relating to the stomach reaching habits of prudish Victorians?!

Oh no! I just thought of something! Maybe Randolph's stomach is infested with tumors and he's frowning at the realization (sparked by yet another misfortune befalling his ship) that he'll be dead soon! Man, I hope that's not it! I prefer slapstick to cancer. 

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 But considering the ease with which this high-spirited crew were apt to find pretexts for skylarking—resulting more than once in the sort of "close call" which causes aeronauts to freeze with horror—Randolph usually allowed his second-in-command to err on the side of vehemence.

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"Close calls with death are common enough on futuristic people mover balloons that I'll often let my chief of security incorporate close calls with death into his warnings about using the word 'ain't'," says the worst captain of any ship ever. Erring on the side of passionate intensity (I'm using a synonym for my lesser astute, or "dumber," readers as well as for an allusion to that poem way too many people quote way too often as critical commentary on Lindsay Noseworth) might be a clever way to describe a security commander who sometimes accidentally spits all over the person they're dressing down for activities that actually put the crew in danger but it's a terrible way to describe hanging a crew member by their feet over the side of a ship thousands of feet in the air for sloppy grammar.

For the really old people or the people who used to read the comic book Groo, you might understand the following reference:

The word "skylarking" is my "Niagara Falls." But instead of turning slowly, I need to immediately listen to "That's Really Super, Supergirl."

I wish I could discuss the "high-spirited crew" but we've only met three so far and I'm supposed to be sticking to just the things mentioned in the specific sentence I'm concentrating on. I admit I don't do this well; I learned that fact over 25 years ago when I got a middling grade from a teacher who expected this kind of deep dive into the specific words used in single sentences divorced from the context of the overall plot. Also, sometimes the sentences don't seem to have a lot of subtext. Also also, I probably will wind up missing 90% of the subtext because I haven't read this book before so I'm literally reading the sentences divorced from the context of the overall plot!

Here's some information we can glean from this sentence: by 1893 in this version of our world, there's already a well-established culture of ballooning with its own lingo ("aeronauts" being a good example) and community (passing along stories about dangerous mishaps that caused these aeronauts to freeze with horror). But we've only gotten one example of this culture in this young crew. Are all the crews young because it lowers the overall weight on the ship? Or is this how people get started? Apprenticing quite young so that, by the time they're able to go out on their own balloon, they're still pretty young?

Don't expect any answers to those questions any time soon unless I start doing more than two sentences per day! Or, you know, just go read the book yourself already! According to Reddit, I'm going to die before I finish this project. Bunch of pessimists, I tell you what.