Dr. Caligari's cabinet is now so crammed that he had to stow stuff in the Cupboard. Time may wound all heels but once in a while you need a cup of tea.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Monday, February 24, 2014
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Happy Birthday George (Part III)
Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. - George Washington
Young George Washington was born on February 11, 1731 (or so he thought.)
Unfortunately for him, England had been stubbornly holding onto the Julian calendar - they wanted none of that Papist Gregorian calendar crap. But England finally wanted to get with the times, so in 1752, Parliament adopted the Gregorian calendar. Many prominent colonists supported the new system; including Benjamin Franklin and George Washington. Washington updated his own birthday from the old February 11th to the Gregorian February 22.
But wait, there's more - the calendar switch of 1752 included another significant change. Under the Julian system, the year began on March 25. That means a colonist who went to bed on March 24, 1700, would wake up on March 25, 1701. The new Gregorian rules set the start of the year to January 1st. This created some confusion, since anyone who was born between January 1st and March 25th in the old system would have the wrong birth year in the new one - thus George's new birthday was February 22, 1732.
So you have to wish the Father of Our Country birthday greetings for the third time this month.
Much heavy drinking ensued.
Young George Washington was born on February 11, 1731 (or so he thought.)
Unfortunately for him, England had been stubbornly holding onto the Julian calendar - they wanted none of that Papist Gregorian calendar crap. But England finally wanted to get with the times, so in 1752, Parliament adopted the Gregorian calendar. Many prominent colonists supported the new system; including Benjamin Franklin and George Washington. Washington updated his own birthday from the old February 11th to the Gregorian February 22.
But wait, there's more - the calendar switch of 1752 included another significant change. Under the Julian system, the year began on March 25. That means a colonist who went to bed on March 24, 1700, would wake up on March 25, 1701. The new Gregorian rules set the start of the year to January 1st. This created some confusion, since anyone who was born between January 1st and March 25th in the old system would have the wrong birth year in the new one - thus George's new birthday was February 22, 1732.
So you have to wish the Father of Our Country birthday greetings for the third time this month.
Much heavy drinking ensued.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Next time your kids don't clean up their room
Remind them Tsar Alexander II freed the serfs on February 19, 1861
It will be a meaningless statement to them but you'll feel better.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Monday, February 17, 2014
Hope you have the day off
It's Generic Executive Office Holder of the Government Day.
Celebrate anyone of them in style - William Howard Taft for example. Let's celebrate the fact that he was a big man. Once, he got stuck in the White House bath tub and required six aides to pull him free. The tub was replaced with a new one large enough to hold four men (but let's not dwell too long on the image of four naked men in a White House bath tub.)
Or Chester A.Arthur, the 21st president of United States, was known for his impeccable attire, earning him the nickname "Elegant Arthur." Also, he owned 80 pairs of pants.
Or the fact that Calvin Coolidge liked to have his head rubbed with petroleum jelly while eating his breakfast in bed.
Or my personal favorite, Warren G. Harding.
Besides being the only President probably murdered by his wife because of his philandering ways (he actually did have sex will someone in a White House broom closet), Warren was such a lousy poker player that he once lost a complete set of china that had been in the White House dating back to President Benjamin Harrison's years.
So let's hear it for all the generic Presidents.
Celebrate anyone of them in style - William Howard Taft for example. Let's celebrate the fact that he was a big man. Once, he got stuck in the White House bath tub and required six aides to pull him free. The tub was replaced with a new one large enough to hold four men (but let's not dwell too long on the image of four naked men in a White House bath tub.)
Or Chester A.Arthur, the 21st president of United States, was known for his impeccable attire, earning him the nickname "Elegant Arthur." Also, he owned 80 pairs of pants.
Or the fact that Calvin Coolidge liked to have his head rubbed with petroleum jelly while eating his breakfast in bed.
Or my personal favorite, Warren G. Harding.
Besides being the only President probably murdered by his wife because of his philandering ways (he actually did have sex will someone in a White House broom closet), Warren was such a lousy poker player that he once lost a complete set of china that had been in the White House dating back to President Benjamin Harrison's years.
So let's hear it for all the generic Presidents.
Friday, February 14, 2014
A little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt.
While you're opening your Valentine Day Cards and eating your special candy, opine on this -
When Rome was first founded, wild and bloodthirsty wolves roamed the woods around the city. They often attacked and mauled and even devoured Roman citizens—which, incidentally, is why the city took more than a day to build.
With characteristic ingenuity, the Romans begged the god Lupercus to keep the wolves away. Lupercus was the god of the wolves, so he was expected to have some influence on their behavior.
He didn't.
Wolves kept attacking and Romans kept dying.
This led the Romans to the obvious conclusion that Lupercus was either angry or away on business. It was a serious problem either way. Now, to this point in their history, the Romans had addressed all of their problems with one of two solutions: the first was to pray to their gods. Okay, they'd tried that. It didn't always work.
The second solution was to get drunk out of their minds and have an orgy.
So, in an effort to get their slacker god's attention, they had a huge party in his honor. They called it Lupercalia. It was an early April holiday celebrated on February 15 because, in spite of their classical educations, the Romans were as bad at reckoning months as they were at building roads—it was impossible to leave the city, for example, because all their roads led right back to Rome.
Because it was a spring holiday, and because Lupercus either didn't know or didn't care how many Romans were devoured by wolves, and because the Romans weren't wearing anything under their togas, Lupercalia gradually became a kind of swingers' holiday.
On Lupercalia Eve, Roman girls would write their names on slips of paper that were placed into a big jar. The next day, every eligible young man in Rome withdrew a slip of paper from the jar, and the girl whose name he had withdrawn became his lover for the year. Also on the eve of the Roman feast, naked youths would run through Rome, anointed with the blood of sacrificed dogs and goats, waving thongs cut from the goats. If a young woman was struck by the thong, fertility was assured. Much grab-ass ensued.
Marc Anthony, naked and gore drenched, after a crazed run through the Roman Forum on the feast of Lupercalia, offered Julius Caesar the imperial crown of Rome. Caesar demurred and told Marc Anthony to go home, take a shower and get dressed.
As an interesting aside, they would often sew their lovers' names on their sleeves, from which we get the expression, who the hell taught you how to sew? Also, this must have been one hell of a party.
Romans were still attacked and killed by wolves, but no one really gave a damn now that they were all getting laid.
The festival endured.
Hundreds of years went by.
In the early years of Christianity, the Roman Emperor Claudius II was having problems with his army. Many of his soldiers were married men, and they couldn't be convinced that marching off to god forsaken barbarian backwaters to kill disgusting savages was more important than staying home and having sex with their wives.
Claudius ordered his soldiers not to get married. To be absolutely safe, he ordered priests not to marry soldiers. Not many soldiers wanted to marry priests, so this wasn't a big problem (some of the soldiers would have been happy to marry other soldier but that's another story.)
Now, there was one old priest who thought the emperor's policy was unfair. It wasn't so much that he wanted to marry any soldiers—he enjoyed playing the field—but he felt that he ought to be able to perform the holy rite of matrimony for soldiers who wanted to marry women (and be tipped accordingly - remember this is the Catholic Church - nothing happened unless you remember to tip your priest.) He began conducting secret Christian marriages.
The old priest was quickly arrested and imprisoned. On Lupercalia Eve of 270 AD—that's February 14, remember—he was decapitated.
That priest's name was, of course, Marius.
Arrested, imprisoned, and beheaded right alongside him, however, was another priest who'd been performing secret marriages—a handsome young priest named Valentine.
We don't know much about ole Valentine, but there are a lot of apocryphal stories. There's one about how, while he was in prison, Valentine fell in love with the blind daughter of his jailer and eventually taught her to see. There's another one about Claudius being so moved by Valentine's eloquent defense speech that he offered to call off the execution if the priest would abandon Christianity. But there's also a story about an old lady putting her dog in the microwave ... and you don't see me going off on that tangent. As time went on, people forgot about old Marius, who hadn't been very photogenic. People remembered the handsome Valentine, and eventually he was canonized.
There was a new saint in town—St. Valentine.
And, like most saints, he'd been dead for years. But for all the fuss over what he did while he was alive, he has been absolutely spectacular in death.
His relics are on display today at St Francis's Church in Glasgow, Scotland. They can also be seen at the Whitefriar Street Church in Dublin, Ireland. They're also at the Church of Saint Praxedes in Rome and the Collegiate church of Saint Jean-Baptiste and Saint Jean l'Evangéliste in Roquemaure, France, as well as eight other churches, two cathedrals, and all over Ebay. The Raelians could learn a thing or two from this dead saint.
If you do the math and were to gather all of St. Valentine's remains from all these churches, you'd have enough raw material for three new bishops, two deacons, and a linebacker. Giving eyesight to the blind is impressive, but as saints go it's the equivalent of a card trick. Multiplying your remains after you're dead, though. . . there's a miracle.
But, as the French say, let us return to our sheep.
(And let's not ask what the French intend to do with their sheep.)
One day the Christian Church took control of the calendar, which the Romans had reduced to one long series of overlapping holidays. The Christians moved Lupercalia back a day and renamed it St. Valentine's Day. No one objected to this change, since Lupercus still hadn't saved a single freaking soul from the wolves and the Romans still weren't wearing anything under their tunics.
And so St. Valentine's Day came to be celebrated as a harbinger of spring, a glorious tribute to the romantic splendor of Christian marriage, and a time for some good old-fashioned pagan fornication.
More centuries passed.
Christianity became more widespread, the calendar was finally perfected, and the holiday evolved into what it is today: a glorious midwinter celebration of passion, romance, and toe-curling sex. In some countries it's also celebrated by married couples.
(It should be noted that St. Valentine was removed from the Christian Calendar in 1969 because the church could not abide one of its sacred holidays being so flagrantly commercialized.)
Valentine's Day Cards
Let's go back for a moment to another apocryphal story about Marius' good friend Valentine.
On the day he was finally led to his execution, the jailer's daughter - the blind girl he'd taught to see--couldn't bear to say goodbye. Valentine understood, naturally—he had the patience of a saint—so he said goodbye in a letter. He signed it, "From your Valentine."
"The phrase," one source informs us, "has been used on his day ever since."
But that's not true. I should have known it wasn't true, since the source happened to be the guy sitting next to me in a bar where I did all my research.
The first true Valentine Card—and by that I mean the first such card signed by anyone whose name wasn't actually Valentine - was sent in 1415 by Charles, the Duke of Orleans, to his wife.
The Duke had been captured at the battle of Agincourt and was locked up in the Tower of London, and probably wasn't trying to be romantic so much as clever. Signing a love-letter "Your Valentine" didn't mean "your adoring spouse" or "your loving boo-boo." It meant, "your husband, still in jail, probably about to have his head chopped off."
Two-hundred-and-fifty years later, Samuel Pepys, who was probably familiar with the whole Duke of Orleans thing, wrote romantic poems to his wife on Valentine's Day and signed them "Your Valentine." Since he was neither in jail nor about to have his head chopped off, this was probably the first real Valentine.
Today, of course, billions of Valentines are exchanged each year, many of them from people not in jail or facing decapitation. Also by the time you finish reading this, more than 3/4 of a millions sex act will have occurred worldwide (ever minute humans engage in 83,333 sex acts.)
With characteristic ingenuity, the Romans begged the god Lupercus to keep the wolves away. Lupercus was the god of the wolves, so he was expected to have some influence on their behavior.
He didn't.
Wolves kept attacking and Romans kept dying.
This led the Romans to the obvious conclusion that Lupercus was either angry or away on business. It was a serious problem either way. Now, to this point in their history, the Romans had addressed all of their problems with one of two solutions: the first was to pray to their gods. Okay, they'd tried that. It didn't always work.
The second solution was to get drunk out of their minds and have an orgy.
So, in an effort to get their slacker god's attention, they had a huge party in his honor. They called it Lupercalia. It was an early April holiday celebrated on February 15 because, in spite of their classical educations, the Romans were as bad at reckoning months as they were at building roads—it was impossible to leave the city, for example, because all their roads led right back to Rome.
Because it was a spring holiday, and because Lupercus either didn't know or didn't care how many Romans were devoured by wolves, and because the Romans weren't wearing anything under their togas, Lupercalia gradually became a kind of swingers' holiday.
On Lupercalia Eve, Roman girls would write their names on slips of paper that were placed into a big jar. The next day, every eligible young man in Rome withdrew a slip of paper from the jar, and the girl whose name he had withdrawn became his lover for the year. Also on the eve of the Roman feast, naked youths would run through Rome, anointed with the blood of sacrificed dogs and goats, waving thongs cut from the goats. If a young woman was struck by the thong, fertility was assured. Much grab-ass ensued.
Marc Anthony, naked and gore drenched, after a crazed run through the Roman Forum on the feast of Lupercalia, offered Julius Caesar the imperial crown of Rome. Caesar demurred and told Marc Anthony to go home, take a shower and get dressed.
As an interesting aside, they would often sew their lovers' names on their sleeves, from which we get the expression, who the hell taught you how to sew? Also, this must have been one hell of a party.
Romans were still attacked and killed by wolves, but no one really gave a damn now that they were all getting laid.
The festival endured.
Hundreds of years went by.
In the early years of Christianity, the Roman Emperor Claudius II was having problems with his army. Many of his soldiers were married men, and they couldn't be convinced that marching off to god forsaken barbarian backwaters to kill disgusting savages was more important than staying home and having sex with their wives.
Claudius ordered his soldiers not to get married. To be absolutely safe, he ordered priests not to marry soldiers. Not many soldiers wanted to marry priests, so this wasn't a big problem (some of the soldiers would have been happy to marry other soldier but that's another story.)
Now, there was one old priest who thought the emperor's policy was unfair. It wasn't so much that he wanted to marry any soldiers—he enjoyed playing the field—but he felt that he ought to be able to perform the holy rite of matrimony for soldiers who wanted to marry women (and be tipped accordingly - remember this is the Catholic Church - nothing happened unless you remember to tip your priest.) He began conducting secret Christian marriages.
The old priest was quickly arrested and imprisoned. On Lupercalia Eve of 270 AD—that's February 14, remember—he was decapitated.
That priest's name was, of course, Marius.
Arrested, imprisoned, and beheaded right alongside him, however, was another priest who'd been performing secret marriages—a handsome young priest named Valentine.
We don't know much about ole Valentine, but there are a lot of apocryphal stories. There's one about how, while he was in prison, Valentine fell in love with the blind daughter of his jailer and eventually taught her to see. There's another one about Claudius being so moved by Valentine's eloquent defense speech that he offered to call off the execution if the priest would abandon Christianity. But there's also a story about an old lady putting her dog in the microwave ... and you don't see me going off on that tangent. As time went on, people forgot about old Marius, who hadn't been very photogenic. People remembered the handsome Valentine, and eventually he was canonized.
There was a new saint in town—St. Valentine.
And, like most saints, he'd been dead for years. But for all the fuss over what he did while he was alive, he has been absolutely spectacular in death.
His relics are on display today at St Francis's Church in Glasgow, Scotland. They can also be seen at the Whitefriar Street Church in Dublin, Ireland. They're also at the Church of Saint Praxedes in Rome and the Collegiate church of Saint Jean-Baptiste and Saint Jean l'Evangéliste in Roquemaure, France, as well as eight other churches, two cathedrals, and all over Ebay. The Raelians could learn a thing or two from this dead saint.
If you do the math and were to gather all of St. Valentine's remains from all these churches, you'd have enough raw material for three new bishops, two deacons, and a linebacker. Giving eyesight to the blind is impressive, but as saints go it's the equivalent of a card trick. Multiplying your remains after you're dead, though. . . there's a miracle.
But, as the French say, let us return to our sheep.
(And let's not ask what the French intend to do with their sheep.)
One day the Christian Church took control of the calendar, which the Romans had reduced to one long series of overlapping holidays. The Christians moved Lupercalia back a day and renamed it St. Valentine's Day. No one objected to this change, since Lupercus still hadn't saved a single freaking soul from the wolves and the Romans still weren't wearing anything under their tunics.
And so St. Valentine's Day came to be celebrated as a harbinger of spring, a glorious tribute to the romantic splendor of Christian marriage, and a time for some good old-fashioned pagan fornication.
More centuries passed.
Christianity became more widespread, the calendar was finally perfected, and the holiday evolved into what it is today: a glorious midwinter celebration of passion, romance, and toe-curling sex. In some countries it's also celebrated by married couples.
(It should be noted that St. Valentine was removed from the Christian Calendar in 1969 because the church could not abide one of its sacred holidays being so flagrantly commercialized.)
Valentine's Day Cards
Let's go back for a moment to another apocryphal story about Marius' good friend Valentine.
On the day he was finally led to his execution, the jailer's daughter - the blind girl he'd taught to see--couldn't bear to say goodbye. Valentine understood, naturally—he had the patience of a saint—so he said goodbye in a letter. He signed it, "From your Valentine."
"The phrase," one source informs us, "has been used on his day ever since."
But that's not true. I should have known it wasn't true, since the source happened to be the guy sitting next to me in a bar where I did all my research.
The first true Valentine Card—and by that I mean the first such card signed by anyone whose name wasn't actually Valentine - was sent in 1415 by Charles, the Duke of Orleans, to his wife.
The Duke had been captured at the battle of Agincourt and was locked up in the Tower of London, and probably wasn't trying to be romantic so much as clever. Signing a love-letter "Your Valentine" didn't mean "your adoring spouse" or "your loving boo-boo." It meant, "your husband, still in jail, probably about to have his head chopped off."
Two-hundred-and-fifty years later, Samuel Pepys, who was probably familiar with the whole Duke of Orleans thing, wrote romantic poems to his wife on Valentine's Day and signed them "Your Valentine." Since he was neither in jail nor about to have his head chopped off, this was probably the first real Valentine.
Today, of course, billions of Valentines are exchanged each year, many of them from people not in jail or facing decapitation. Also by the time you finish reading this, more than 3/4 of a millions sex act will have occurred worldwide (ever minute humans engage in 83,333 sex acts.)
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Think of the money I've wasted
Canadian authorities are trying to fight rising HIV rates by installing inexpensive Crack pipe vending machines in high risk areas
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Monday, February 10, 2014
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Friday, February 7, 2014
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Sunday, February 2, 2014
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