This link was sent to me by Erin... via iPhone. That's right, you can send me links even when you aren't sitting in front of your computer like a dork. Learn from Erin's example.
History has presented us with numerous cases, from different parts of the world, where a corpse has been ritually "killed" a second time. Because... people are dumb?
Some of these cases are understandable, like Vlad the Imapler, "who was beheaded following his assassination." You don't want to make a mistake and have that guy coming after you because you didn't kill him properly. Or Gerard Butler, who was beheaded and crucified after he died at the end of that movie. They were pretty grumpy with him, boy howdy, and desecrating a corpse can be a good method of working out those issues.
Some of them, however, are just ridiculous. "John Wycliffe (1328–1384), was burned as a heretic 45 years after he died." Why? This was the 14th century, nobody lived past 18! Nobody! Why would you get mad enough at some guy who was talking smack about Jesus to your grandfather to dig up and burn his corpse? There weren't any other live heretics running around to burn? Or at least more recently deceased heretics? I am so glad that I have Twitter to distract me from doing stupid crap like this.
There's also the dramatic example of Oliver Cromwell, whose corpse was exhumed, then hanged, drawn and quartered, and tossed into a pit sans head. His head was later given a burial in 1960. Lesson learned: don't try to kill your monarch. This also leads us to one of the best out-of-context sentences on the Wik: "See also Oliver Cromwell's head." He's so historically relevant, his dismembered body part has its own Wikipedia article!
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Monday, October 26, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Entry: Tsutomu Yamaguchi
So, how's your Monday been going? Get stuck in traffic? Forget your lunch at home?
"Yamaguchi, an engineer in Hiroshima on a business trip for Mitsubishi Heavy Industries on August 6, 1945 was just stepping off a tram when the atomic bomb Little Boy was dropped over the city just 3 kilometers away. The resulting explosion destroyed his eardrums, blinded him temporarily, and left him with serious burns over the left side of the top half of his body. He was wrapped in bandages for his skin wounds, and he went completely bald. Like many of the survivors of the atomic explosions, Yamaguchi suffered from effects caused by the explosions for much of his life. His wife was also poisoned by the nuclear fallout. Yamaguchi spent a fitful night in an air raid shelter before returning to his hometown of Nagasaki the following day. Yamaguchi was once again 3 kilometers away explaining to his supervisor how close he came to death just a few days before when the second bomb, Fat Man, was dropped."
Not only did he survive two nuclear explosions-- in fact, Yamaguchi is still alive-- but he wrote a book about his experience and is an activist for nuclear disarmament. Instead of, you know, in a padded room somewhere still trying to deal with the psychological implications of being in two nuclear explosions in three days. That's the truly amazing part, to me.
"Yamaguchi, an engineer in Hiroshima on a business trip for Mitsubishi Heavy Industries on August 6, 1945 was just stepping off a tram when the atomic bomb Little Boy was dropped over the city just 3 kilometers away. The resulting explosion destroyed his eardrums, blinded him temporarily, and left him with serious burns over the left side of the top half of his body. He was wrapped in bandages for his skin wounds, and he went completely bald. Like many of the survivors of the atomic explosions, Yamaguchi suffered from effects caused by the explosions for much of his life. His wife was also poisoned by the nuclear fallout. Yamaguchi spent a fitful night in an air raid shelter before returning to his hometown of Nagasaki the following day. Yamaguchi was once again 3 kilometers away explaining to his supervisor how close he came to death just a few days before when the second bomb, Fat Man, was dropped."
Not only did he survive two nuclear explosions-- in fact, Yamaguchi is still alive-- but he wrote a book about his experience and is an activist for nuclear disarmament. Instead of, you know, in a padded room somewhere still trying to deal with the psychological implications of being in two nuclear explosions in three days. That's the truly amazing part, to me.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Entry: Staffordshire Hoard
Alert reader John sent me a link to this article. Thanks again, John!
This past July, amateur treasure hunter Terry Herbert uncovered the largest hoard of Anglo-Saxon gold found to date, estimated to be worth over 1 million GBP! Which is over $1.5 million in real money!
Says John:
"The article itself is cool, but one line really grabbed me:
'The hoard was reported to the local officer of the Portable Antiquities Scheme, and on 24 September 2009 was declared treasure by the South Staffordshire coroner.'
The coroner?! What the what?!? Why not the undertaker? Or the baker? Seriously. Those kooky Brits."
It does give one pause. Maybe they figured that he rifles through the dead's possessions enough that he was one most likely to be able to discern the crap from the good stuff?
Another thing to ponder: They found over 1500 pieces of armor and weaponry in about 20 square meters, with "no traces of any graves, buildings, or other structures have been found." How did they all end up there? A big giant battle, followed by a big giant pile of dead bodies that nobody bothered to clean up? A big giant barracks where everyone decided to become pacifist hippies one day and left all their swag behind? A big giant something else?
This past July, amateur treasure hunter Terry Herbert uncovered the largest hoard of Anglo-Saxon gold found to date, estimated to be worth over 1 million GBP! Which is over $1.5 million in real money!
Says John:
"The article itself is cool, but one line really grabbed me:
'The hoard was reported to the local officer of the Portable Antiquities Scheme, and on 24 September 2009 was declared treasure by the South Staffordshire coroner.'
The coroner?! What the what?!? Why not the undertaker? Or the baker? Seriously. Those kooky Brits."
It does give one pause. Maybe they figured that he rifles through the dead's possessions enough that he was one most likely to be able to discern the crap from the good stuff?
Another thing to ponder: They found over 1500 pieces of armor and weaponry in about 20 square meters, with "no traces of any graves, buildings, or other structures have been found." How did they all end up there? A big giant battle, followed by a big giant pile of dead bodies that nobody bothered to clean up? A big giant barracks where everyone decided to become pacifist hippies one day and left all their swag behind? A big giant something else?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Entry: C.B. Fry
This article was sent to me forever ago by Neil. Thanks Neil, and I apologize for sucking at doing things in a timely fashion.
So, I know nothing about sports, and I know even less about sports that are not popular in my country. But this cricket player, C.B. Fry, was one cool cat.
First, allow me to take a moment and marvel at the sentences in this article that are written in my native tongue, but convey little or no information to me:
"A highly effective right-handed batsman, Fry captained both Sussex and England, and scored over 30,000 first-class runs at an average of over 50 (a particularly high figure for an era when scores were generally lower than today)."
CRAZINESS!
"In his early career Fry was an enthusiastic and successful fast bowler. This was unusual amongst gentleman amateurs and he regularly opened the bowling for University sides and the Gentlemen. The late 1890's saw a re emergence of the throwing controversy. Several professional bowlers including Arthur Mold and Ernie Jones were no balled and forced to retire. Fry's bowling action was criticised by opponents and team mates alike and it was only a matter of time before he too was no balled (by Jim Phillips), despite his status as a gentleman."
HE SURE DID! That throwing controversy will get you every damn time.
On top of cricket, he played football, rugby, tied for the world long jump record, and "was able, from a stationary position on the floor, to leap backwards onto a mantelpiece." Whichever servant got stuck cleaning footprints off the mantel must have loved that particular party trick.
Outside of sport, Fry was an Oxford alum, wrote several books (a good number of which are, unsurprisingly, about cricket), was an adviser to the Indian delegation at the League of Nations (for those of you even more history illiterate than I, the League of Nations was the even more useless precursor to the UN), started two magazines, ran for some kind of crazy British political office, had a career in radio, and was a teacher at a prep school.
And, not only was he a well-rounded intellectual and accomplished athlete, but he was also... um... colorful. Fry was given to telling wild stories, like being offered the throne of Albania, went for naked runs on Brighton Beach, and tried to develop an interest for cricket in Nazi Germany. Presumably he changed his mind on the last bit after the Germans started bombing the hell out of his homeland.
Enthusiasm for the sporting culture of fascist regimes aside, a rather interesting fellow.
So, I know nothing about sports, and I know even less about sports that are not popular in my country. But this cricket player, C.B. Fry, was one cool cat.
First, allow me to take a moment and marvel at the sentences in this article that are written in my native tongue, but convey little or no information to me:
"A highly effective right-handed batsman, Fry captained both Sussex and England, and scored over 30,000 first-class runs at an average of over 50 (a particularly high figure for an era when scores were generally lower than today)."
CRAZINESS!
"In his early career Fry was an enthusiastic and successful fast bowler. This was unusual amongst gentleman amateurs and he regularly opened the bowling for University sides and the Gentlemen. The late 1890's saw a re emergence of the throwing controversy. Several professional bowlers including Arthur Mold and Ernie Jones were no balled and forced to retire. Fry's bowling action was criticised by opponents and team mates alike and it was only a matter of time before he too was no balled (by Jim Phillips), despite his status as a gentleman."
HE SURE DID! That throwing controversy will get you every damn time.
On top of cricket, he played football, rugby, tied for the world long jump record, and "was able, from a stationary position on the floor, to leap backwards onto a mantelpiece." Whichever servant got stuck cleaning footprints off the mantel must have loved that particular party trick.
Outside of sport, Fry was an Oxford alum, wrote several books (a good number of which are, unsurprisingly, about cricket), was an adviser to the Indian delegation at the League of Nations (for those of you even more history illiterate than I, the League of Nations was the even more useless precursor to the UN), started two magazines, ran for some kind of crazy British political office, had a career in radio, and was a teacher at a prep school.
And, not only was he a well-rounded intellectual and accomplished athlete, but he was also... um... colorful. Fry was given to telling wild stories, like being offered the throne of Albania, went for naked runs on Brighton Beach, and tried to develop an interest for cricket in Nazi Germany. Presumably he changed his mind on the last bit after the Germans started bombing the hell out of his homeland.
Enthusiasm for the sporting culture of fascist regimes aside, a rather interesting fellow.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Entry: ...oh my.
My friend Pooka, of Art History, LOL, texted me with a request to write about Today's Featured Article. I figured if he sent me a text, it was pretty important. So I sat down to write about it, and...
...oh my. Pooka, you dirty bird! Tsk tsk!
I try to keep this blog family friendly, but this is a too neat to pass up. So be warned, the post contains naughty language and discussions of extramarital dalliances. If you are under 18, reader, ask your parents if you can continue reading this post. And, um, while you're at it, why don't you recommend that they start reading my blog? In fact, ask permission from all your friends. And link me on your Myspace page.
There now, back to business.
In cities throughout the British Isles, there are streets that were originally named Gropecunt Lane. I know!
The information in the article is, frankly, not very surprising. "Gropecunt, the earliest known use of which is in about 1230, appears to have been derived as a straightforward compound of the words grope and cunt...Although the name was once common throughout England, changes in attitude resulted in its being replaced by more innocuous versions such as Grape Lane." The interesting thing is that the article never definitively states that it was the name of the red light districts of medieval England, even though it does bring up that
"Organised prostitution was well established in London by the middle of the 12th century... the practice was often tolerated by the authorities, and there are many historical examples of it being dealt with by regulation rather than by censure: in 1393 the authorities in London allowed prostitutes to work only in Cocks Lane..." (Teehee!)
And
"It was normal practice for medieval street names to reflect their function, or the economic activity taking place within them (especially the commodities available for sale), hence the frequency of names such as The Shambles, Silver Street, Fish Street, and Swinegate (pork butchers) in cities with a medieval history."
However, we can only assume that, in a culture with regulated prostitution and streets named for economic activity, Gropecunt Lane might have been where the whores hung out. Maybe.
I can just imagine what the conversation might have been like:
Londoner of Yore: Welcome to our towne, wanderer! Pray, shall I give thee a tour?
Traveler: Aye, 'twould be most helpful!
LoY: Sirrah, here be Butcher Street, 'tis where ye may buy a side of beef. And this is Cooper Gate, where barrels be sold. And this is Gropecunt Lane!
Traveler: Ah, 'tis where a man might pay a shilling for some time with a strumpet!
LoY: Nay, the devil take your sinful tongue! 'Twas named for the parson Nigel Gropecunt, and is where we go to pray and mend the bindings on our Bibles!
Traveler: ...'kay.
Seems likely.
...oh my. Pooka, you dirty bird! Tsk tsk!
I try to keep this blog family friendly, but this is a too neat to pass up. So be warned, the post contains naughty language and discussions of extramarital dalliances. If you are under 18, reader, ask your parents if you can continue reading this post. And, um, while you're at it, why don't you recommend that they start reading my blog? In fact, ask permission from all your friends. And link me on your Myspace page.
There now, back to business.
In cities throughout the British Isles, there are streets that were originally named Gropecunt Lane. I know!
The information in the article is, frankly, not very surprising. "Gropecunt, the earliest known use of which is in about 1230, appears to have been derived as a straightforward compound of the words grope and cunt...Although the name was once common throughout England, changes in attitude resulted in its being replaced by more innocuous versions such as Grape Lane." The interesting thing is that the article never definitively states that it was the name of the red light districts of medieval England, even though it does bring up that
"Organised prostitution was well established in London by the middle of the 12th century... the practice was often tolerated by the authorities, and there are many historical examples of it being dealt with by regulation rather than by censure: in 1393 the authorities in London allowed prostitutes to work only in Cocks Lane..." (Teehee!)
And
"It was normal practice for medieval street names to reflect their function, or the economic activity taking place within them (especially the commodities available for sale), hence the frequency of names such as The Shambles, Silver Street, Fish Street, and Swinegate (pork butchers) in cities with a medieval history."
However, we can only assume that, in a culture with regulated prostitution and streets named for economic activity, Gropecunt Lane might have been where the whores hung out. Maybe.
I can just imagine what the conversation might have been like:
Londoner of Yore: Welcome to our towne, wanderer! Pray, shall I give thee a tour?
Traveler: Aye, 'twould be most helpful!
LoY: Sirrah, here be Butcher Street, 'tis where ye may buy a side of beef. And this is Cooper Gate, where barrels be sold. And this is Gropecunt Lane!
Traveler: Ah, 'tis where a man might pay a shilling for some time with a strumpet!
LoY: Nay, the devil take your sinful tongue! 'Twas named for the parson Nigel Gropecunt, and is where we go to pray and mend the bindings on our Bibles!
Traveler: ...'kay.
Seems likely.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Entry: Boston Molasses Disaster
This is tragic and in no way totally awesome.
The blurb at the top of the article pretty much says it all: "The Boston Molasses Disaster, also known as the Great Molasses Flood and the Great Boston Molasses Tragedy, occurred on January 15, 1919, in the North End neighborhood of Boston, Massachusetts in the United States. A large molasses tank burst, and a wave of molasses rushed through the streets at an estimated 35 mph (56 km/h), killing 21 and injuring 150."
I've long held the opinion that any food, given that it is in enough quantity, eventually becomes really disgusting. You know: bulk jars of maraschino cherries, buckets of salad, Michael Moore's lunch (HIYOOOOO!)... I assumed that when I see a food item in such a vast quantity, my mind simultaneously interprets it as something I can eat (because it's a food item), and something that I can't eat (because there's so much of it), and the result is repulsion. But now, I see it's a survival response.
The 35 mph speed is interesting, too. My original response was "35 mph? Pfft.", but then I realized that it was with regards to a substance that is a cliche hallmark for slowness. Plus this was 1919, when nothing when 35 mph, ever. And considering that the company that owned the molasses factory "ultimately paid out $600,000 in out-of-court settlements (at least $6.6 million in 2005 dollars)"... relatively speaking, the wave of molasses must have caused a sonic boom.
Also, I don't know what the status of syrup production is in Boston today, but to be on the safe side, I encourage my Massachucetts readers to wear flotation devices at all times. You can't be too careful, kids.
The blurb at the top of the article pretty much says it all: "The Boston Molasses Disaster, also known as the Great Molasses Flood and the Great Boston Molasses Tragedy, occurred on January 15, 1919, in the North End neighborhood of Boston, Massachusetts in the United States. A large molasses tank burst, and a wave of molasses rushed through the streets at an estimated 35 mph (56 km/h), killing 21 and injuring 150."
I've long held the opinion that any food, given that it is in enough quantity, eventually becomes really disgusting. You know: bulk jars of maraschino cherries, buckets of salad, Michael Moore's lunch (HIYOOOOO!)... I assumed that when I see a food item in such a vast quantity, my mind simultaneously interprets it as something I can eat (because it's a food item), and something that I can't eat (because there's so much of it), and the result is repulsion. But now, I see it's a survival response.
The 35 mph speed is interesting, too. My original response was "35 mph? Pfft.", but then I realized that it was with regards to a substance that is a cliche hallmark for slowness. Plus this was 1919, when nothing when 35 mph, ever. And considering that the company that owned the molasses factory "ultimately paid out $600,000 in out-of-court settlements (at least $6.6 million in 2005 dollars)"... relatively speaking, the wave of molasses must have caused a sonic boom.
Also, I don't know what the status of syrup production is in Boston today, but to be on the safe side, I encourage my Massachucetts readers to wear flotation devices at all times. You can't be too careful, kids.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Entry: Dyatlov Pass Incident
I know, I'm remiss in my postings. You know that thing where you aren't on your computer, and engage in situations that don't happen on the Internet? The name escapes me... anyway, I was dealing with that.
Today's article was sent to me by Ms. Tatertot. In 1959, ten Soviet men and women went on a recreational skiing hike. Nine of them died, under very mysterious and creepy circumstances.
From the article:
"The mysterious circumstances and subsequent investigations of the hikers' deaths have inspired much speculation. Investigations of the deaths suggest that the hikers tore open their tent from within, departing barefoot in heavy snow; while the corpses show no signs of struggle, two victims had fractured skulls, two had broken ribs, and one was missing her tongue. According to sources, the victims' clothing contained high levels of radiation - though this was likely added at a later date, since no reference is made to it in contemporary documentation and only in later documents. Soviet investigators determined only that 'a compelling unknown force' had caused the deaths, barring entry to the area for years thereafter. The causes of the accident remain unclear."
The rest of the article is similarly hair-raising, and since I'm now terrified of irradiated communist ski-zombies, I'm going to go hide under my bedcovers.
Today's article was sent to me by Ms. Tatertot. In 1959, ten Soviet men and women went on a recreational skiing hike. Nine of them died, under very mysterious and creepy circumstances.
From the article:
"The mysterious circumstances and subsequent investigations of the hikers' deaths have inspired much speculation. Investigations of the deaths suggest that the hikers tore open their tent from within, departing barefoot in heavy snow; while the corpses show no signs of struggle, two victims had fractured skulls, two had broken ribs, and one was missing her tongue. According to sources, the victims' clothing contained high levels of radiation - though this was likely added at a later date, since no reference is made to it in contemporary documentation and only in later documents. Soviet investigators determined only that 'a compelling unknown force' had caused the deaths, barring entry to the area for years thereafter. The causes of the accident remain unclear."
The rest of the article is similarly hair-raising, and since I'm now terrified of irradiated communist ski-zombies, I'm going to go hide under my bedcovers.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Entry: Dancing Plague of 1518
Ah, here's one of those weird historical nuggets that you expect from a blog entitled "Things I've Learned from Wikipedia."
Submitted for your approval: the year is 1518. The place: Strasborg, France. A woman begins dancing uncontrollably in the street, continuing for days without rest. Within a month, she has been joined by 400 of her closest friends and family. Local officials attempt to cure the epidemic by opening guildhalls and hiring musicians, in hopes that that encouraging the dancers will allow them to stop. But unbeknownst to these medieval townsfolk, they are just about to foxtrot themselves into... the Twilight Zone.
Seriously though, a lot of people died.
The article includes several theories as to what caused the Dancing Plague. Mass psychogenic illness seems to be the most probable explanation, but there is another theory:
"Historian Nikhil Murthy of Emory University believes that the epidemic can largely be attributed to the accidental synthesis of MDMA. Although MDMA was not formally synthesized in a laboratory until 1912 by Anton Köllisch, an accidental mixture could easily have been concocted by subjecting Safrole, a commonly available plant in the area, with a basic substance."
DARK AGES RAVE! WHOOOOOOOOOOO! The next time I go to a Renaissance Faire, I'm bringing glowsticks and candy necklaces!
Submitted for your approval: the year is 1518. The place: Strasborg, France. A woman begins dancing uncontrollably in the street, continuing for days without rest. Within a month, she has been joined by 400 of her closest friends and family. Local officials attempt to cure the epidemic by opening guildhalls and hiring musicians, in hopes that that encouraging the dancers will allow them to stop. But unbeknownst to these medieval townsfolk, they are just about to foxtrot themselves into... the Twilight Zone.
Seriously though, a lot of people died.
The article includes several theories as to what caused the Dancing Plague. Mass psychogenic illness seems to be the most probable explanation, but there is another theory:
"Historian Nikhil Murthy of Emory University believes that the epidemic can largely be attributed to the accidental synthesis of MDMA. Although MDMA was not formally synthesized in a laboratory until 1912 by Anton Köllisch, an accidental mixture could easily have been concocted by subjecting Safrole, a commonly available plant in the area, with a basic substance."
DARK AGES RAVE! WHOOOOOOOOOOO! The next time I go to a Renaissance Faire, I'm bringing glowsticks and candy necklaces!
Friday, April 24, 2009
Entry: the Lambeth Walk
"The Lambeth Walk", a song from the 1937 musical Me and My Girl, led to the creation of a popular dance of the time in England, which was performed "in a jaunty, strutting style." So far about as interesting as the Macarena will be in fifty years (in fact, I'm flinching right now from referencing the Macarena [seriously, what the hell is my problem?]), except for the fact that a few years later, the British Ministry of Information released a short film featuring "The Lambeth Walk" and some other folks known for walking around in a jaunty, strutting style:
It's a proto-remix!
The Wiki article describes it as a propaganda film, which I think is a pretty loaded term (although I can't think of a more accurate one to describe media released by the government to reflect a certain political view, despite that view being pretty cut-and-dry), but I'm generally in favor of propaganda that makes Nazis look foolish. Score one for Minitrue!
Just for the sake of comparison, here's the number from the 1987 Broadway revival:
It's a proto-remix!
The Wiki article describes it as a propaganda film, which I think is a pretty loaded term (although I can't think of a more accurate one to describe media released by the government to reflect a certain political view, despite that view being pretty cut-and-dry), but I'm generally in favor of propaganda that makes Nazis look foolish. Score one for Minitrue!
Just for the sake of comparison, here's the number from the 1987 Broadway revival:
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Entry: War Pigs
Last night's Daily Show was a repeat, but it did feature a bit on how funding is going to be cut for laser-mounted jet fighters. Tragic, but as it turns out, our ancestors had a [technically] long-range weapon that was six million times more badass and can be had for a fraction of the price: a herd of pigs set on fire. The finest in anti-war-elephant combat.
"Aelian reports that Antipater's siege of Megara during the Wars of the Diadochi was broken when the Megarians poured oil on a herd of pigs, set them alight, and drove them towards the enemy's massed war elephants. The elephants bolted in terror from the flaming squealing pigs often killing great numbers of the army the elephant was part of."
Despite that final run-on sentence, that's quite the mental image.
Now I know that some of you want to reply "Mmm, bacon." Guys, that's disgusting. Those pigs were covered in tar sometimes.
"Aelian reports that Antipater's siege of Megara during the Wars of the Diadochi was broken when the Megarians poured oil on a herd of pigs, set them alight, and drove them towards the enemy's massed war elephants. The elephants bolted in terror from the flaming squealing pigs often killing great numbers of the army the elephant was part of."
Despite that final run-on sentence, that's quite the mental image.
Now I know that some of you want to reply "Mmm, bacon." Guys, that's disgusting. Those pigs were covered in tar sometimes.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Entry: Jeffrey Hudson
Between this guy and Jack Churchill, I think I need to start a new category of entries specific to crazy-ass people doing crazy-ass things. Or some categorization of a similar nature. I'm going to quote the first paragraph of the article; I can't imagine how I could possibly embellish.
"Jeffrey Hudson (1619 – circa 1682) was an English dwarf at the court of Queen Henrietta Maria. He was famous as the "Queen's dwarf" and "Lord Minimus", and was considered one of the "wonders of the age" because of his extreme but well-proportioned smallness. He fought with the Royalists in the English Civil War and fled with the Queen to France but was expelled from her court when he killed a man in a duel. He was captured by Barbary pirates and spent 25 years as a slave in North Africa before being ransomed back to England."
To quote Ryan North: "Daaaaamn!"
According to the article, he joined the court of Queen Henrietta Maria when he was presented to her in a pie in a banquet. I thought that was pretty awesome-- "Oh man, he so had the edge over the dwarves who were just faxing in their cover letter and resume!"-- until I read on and discovered that he was in fact given to the Queen as a gift from the Duke and Duchess of Buckingham, who could apparently give their subjects as housewarming presents in those days. Um. Yay democracy?
"Jeffrey Hudson (1619 – circa 1682) was an English dwarf at the court of Queen Henrietta Maria. He was famous as the "Queen's dwarf" and "Lord Minimus", and was considered one of the "wonders of the age" because of his extreme but well-proportioned smallness. He fought with the Royalists in the English Civil War and fled with the Queen to France but was expelled from her court when he killed a man in a duel. He was captured by Barbary pirates and spent 25 years as a slave in North Africa before being ransomed back to England."
To quote Ryan North: "Daaaaamn!"
According to the article, he joined the court of Queen Henrietta Maria when he was presented to her in a pie in a banquet. I thought that was pretty awesome-- "Oh man, he so had the edge over the dwarves who were just faxing in their cover letter and resume!"-- until I read on and discovered that he was in fact given to the Queen as a gift from the Duke and Duchess of Buckingham, who could apparently give their subjects as housewarming presents in those days. Um. Yay democracy?
Monday, April 6, 2009
Entry: Mother Hero
Gender equality is very important to me. Since my last entry was about vasectomies, this time I will attempt to make the women in the audience feel sympathy pains in their bathing-suit areas. It's only fair.
In the Soviet Union, if a woman successfully raised 10 or more children who all survived until at least the tenth child's first birthday, she was awarded the title of Mother Hero. The exception for the children's life expectancy was if they died due to honorable circumstances. Additionally, one man was given the award for being a foster father to twelve boys. Seeing as a lot of Russians died in World War 2, they really needed to shore up the numbers.
Recipients got perks from the government and a snazzy badge-- a gold star on a silver background, as opposed to something more explicitly related to the accomplishment, such as a cartoon uterus with a frowny face. And, unfortunately for the Яolcats, I don't think litters counted.
Can you imagine how over-protective Soviet mothers must have been of their offspring after child #6 or so? "Dammit, Ivan, chew your borscht! I didn't get stretch marks in the pattern of the streets of Leningrad for you to choke to death!" You can't even chew borscht! Wild!
Oh, and: requisite Octo-mom joke! Heh. That woman's a clown car.
In the Soviet Union, if a woman successfully raised 10 or more children who all survived until at least the tenth child's first birthday, she was awarded the title of Mother Hero. The exception for the children's life expectancy was if they died due to honorable circumstances. Additionally, one man was given the award for being a foster father to twelve boys. Seeing as a lot of Russians died in World War 2, they really needed to shore up the numbers.
Recipients got perks from the government and a snazzy badge-- a gold star on a silver background, as opposed to something more explicitly related to the accomplishment, such as a cartoon uterus with a frowny face. And, unfortunately for the Яolcats, I don't think litters counted.
Can you imagine how over-protective Soviet mothers must have been of their offspring after child #6 or so? "Dammit, Ivan, chew your borscht! I didn't get stretch marks in the pattern of the streets of Leningrad for you to choke to death!" You can't even chew borscht! Wild!
Oh, and: requisite Octo-mom joke! Heh. That woman's a clown car.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Entry: Jack Churchill
If someone were to ask, "If there were an extended Churchill family reunion that traversed the boundaries of time and space to bring many generations of the clan together, which Churchill would be the most badass?" You would probably answer, "Well, Winston Churchill, because he was the PM of Britain during World War II and we honor that legacy by comparing newborn babies' faces to his."
And I would say, "NO."
I submit that the most badass Churchill was, in fact, this guy, "Fighting" Jack Churchill. Same general time period as the other one, probably not a close relative, Churchill is probably best known for having fought during World War II armed with a bow and arrow and a claymore. BAD ASS! In fact, he is the only known British soldier to have felled an enemy with a longbow during WWII. AWESOME! And then the Nazis caught him and put him in a concentration camp-- and he escaped. WHOA! And then he was captured again, and he escaped again! ADDITIONAL INTERJECTION!
I might sound flippant here, but believe me, I'm only making fun of how impressed I am by this crazy story. (Oh sure, the article has been flagged for "unverified claims," but I can't imagine that further research would divulge anything more interesting, unless there's a newsreel out there with him punching Hitler in the face or something.) There needs to be a movie, and it needs to star Jason Statham.
And I would say, "NO."
I submit that the most badass Churchill was, in fact, this guy, "Fighting" Jack Churchill. Same general time period as the other one, probably not a close relative, Churchill is probably best known for having fought during World War II armed with a bow and arrow and a claymore. BAD ASS! In fact, he is the only known British soldier to have felled an enemy with a longbow during WWII. AWESOME! And then the Nazis caught him and put him in a concentration camp-- and he escaped. WHOA! And then he was captured again, and he escaped again! ADDITIONAL INTERJECTION!
I might sound flippant here, but believe me, I'm only making fun of how impressed I am by this crazy story. (Oh sure, the article has been flagged for "unverified claims," but I can't imagine that further research would divulge anything more interesting, unless there's a newsreel out there with him punching Hitler in the face or something.) There needs to be a movie, and it needs to star Jason Statham.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Entry: Palimpsest
I learned what a palimpsest was in a Women's Studies class in college (I have no idea what it had to do with Women's Studies. Um. I vaguely remember a connection with Slavoj Žižek? If anyone wants to enlighten me on the connection between palimpsests and the works of Žižek, you will earn serious brownie points).
Stupidly put: when a monk wanted to translate the Bible or something into the vulgate but didn't have a blank parchment, he'd find a used parchment, scrape his grocery list or what have you off, and use it anew. And when you can see the old writing behind the new, that's a palimpsest! Apparently, the term is also used in architecture, and I will let the Wik' speak for itself:
"Architects imply palimpsest as a ghost —- an image of what once was. In the built environment, this occurs more than we might think. Whenever spaces are shuffled, rebuilt, or remodeled, shadows remain. Tarred rooflines remain on the sides of a building long after the neighboring structure has been demolished; removed stairs leave a mark where the painted wall surface stopped. Dust lines remain from a relocated appliance. Ancient ruins speak volumes of their former wholeness. Palimpsests can inform us, archaeologically, of the realities of the built past."
Awfully poetic for a Wiki article, don't you think?
You might be wondering why a slacker like me who usually updates twice a week is making two posts in a day, and one is about something she already knows about. The reason is quite simple: one of my favorite authors, Catherynne M. Valente, has a new book out today, and guess what the title is!
...Palimpsest. It's-- the title is Palimpsest. No, no, that was a good guess too.
Anyway: I heard her give a sneak preview reading at SalonCon a few months ago, and I'm very excited for this book. Her novels are incredible post-modern fairytales: I recently read The Orphan's Tales: in the City of Coin and Spice, and it was transcendent. I very rarely get so caught up in a book, but I was sitting at my desk at work, reading and trying so hard not to cry, because if someone had asked me why I was so upset, I would have blubbered something incoherent about soul-leaves and been advised to take the afternoon off and gone to see a doctor.
But I heartily encourage you to give Palimpsest a try-- there's more information about it on the amazon.com page. But don't take my word for it-- Warren Ellis liked it. And he's way cooler than I'll ever be.
Stupidly put: when a monk wanted to translate the Bible or something into the vulgate but didn't have a blank parchment, he'd find a used parchment, scrape his grocery list or what have you off, and use it anew. And when you can see the old writing behind the new, that's a palimpsest! Apparently, the term is also used in architecture, and I will let the Wik' speak for itself:
"Architects imply palimpsest as a ghost —- an image of what once was. In the built environment, this occurs more than we might think. Whenever spaces are shuffled, rebuilt, or remodeled, shadows remain. Tarred rooflines remain on the sides of a building long after the neighboring structure has been demolished; removed stairs leave a mark where the painted wall surface stopped. Dust lines remain from a relocated appliance. Ancient ruins speak volumes of their former wholeness. Palimpsests can inform us, archaeologically, of the realities of the built past."
Awfully poetic for a Wiki article, don't you think?
You might be wondering why a slacker like me who usually updates twice a week is making two posts in a day, and one is about something she already knows about. The reason is quite simple: one of my favorite authors, Catherynne M. Valente, has a new book out today, and guess what the title is!
...Palimpsest. It's-- the title is Palimpsest. No, no, that was a good guess too.
Anyway: I heard her give a sneak preview reading at SalonCon a few months ago, and I'm very excited for this book. Her novels are incredible post-modern fairytales: I recently read The Orphan's Tales: in the City of Coin and Spice, and it was transcendent. I very rarely get so caught up in a book, but I was sitting at my desk at work, reading and trying so hard not to cry, because if someone had asked me why I was so upset, I would have blubbered something incoherent about soul-leaves and been advised to take the afternoon off and gone to see a doctor.
But I heartily encourage you to give Palimpsest a try-- there's more information about it on the amazon.com page. But don't take my word for it-- Warren Ellis liked it. And he's way cooler than I'll ever be.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Entry: Sedlec Ossuary
I'd heard from some non-Wiki source (probably Ripley's Believe It or Not) about the Sedlec Ossuary, a chapel in the Czech Republic decorated with human bones. But what I learned about from the Wik' was the accompanying documentary. Good Lord.
It was filmed in 1970 by Jan Švankmajer (hell yeah I got the diacritic in there), macabre animator and influence for directors such as Tim Burton and Terry Gilliam, who had been commissioned to do so by the Czech government. And film he did. To quote the article: "The result was a 10 minute long frantic-cut nightmare of skeletal images overdubbed with an actual tour-guide's neutral voice narration. This version was initially banned by the Czech Communist authorities for alleged subversion, and the soundtrack was replaced by a brief spoken introduction and a jazz arrangement by Zdeněk Liška of the poem 'Comment dessiner le portrait d'un oiseau' ('How to Draw the Portrait of a Bird') by Jacques Prévert."
I can see how it would be interpreted as subversive, but honestly, is there any way to film a chandelier made of human skulls and make it seem like a testament to your country's glorious culture and rich history? And how would a jazz arrangement change any of that?
And because I love you so much, here's a link to the film in its entirety. Warning: it's pretty disturbing. If you are on drugs, were on drugs, about to do drugs, or are contemplating doing drugs in the future, I would recommend not watching it.
It was filmed in 1970 by Jan Švankmajer (hell yeah I got the diacritic in there), macabre animator and influence for directors such as Tim Burton and Terry Gilliam, who had been commissioned to do so by the Czech government. And film he did. To quote the article: "The result was a 10 minute long frantic-cut nightmare of skeletal images overdubbed with an actual tour-guide's neutral voice narration. This version was initially banned by the Czech Communist authorities for alleged subversion, and the soundtrack was replaced by a brief spoken introduction and a jazz arrangement by Zdeněk Liška of the poem 'Comment dessiner le portrait d'un oiseau' ('How to Draw the Portrait of a Bird') by Jacques Prévert."
I can see how it would be interpreted as subversive, but honestly, is there any way to film a chandelier made of human skulls and make it seem like a testament to your country's glorious culture and rich history? And how would a jazz arrangement change any of that?
And because I love you so much, here's a link to the film in its entirety. Warning: it's pretty disturbing. If you are on drugs, were on drugs, about to do drugs, or are contemplating doing drugs in the future, I would recommend not watching it.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Entry: Proust Questionnaire
If you're a highbrow snobby type like me (or if you've ever been bored and channel surfing on a weekend afternoon), you've probably seen Inside the Actor's Studio with James Lipton on Bravo. Or maybe you've seen Will Ferrell parodying Lipton on SNL. If you haven't done any of the above, perhaps you have the vivacity of imagination required to summon up an admittedly pretentious show where a middle-aged man with a goatee and glassy stare interviews various actors about their craft.
Are we all on the same page? Good.
One of the best-known aspects of this show is the ten short questions that Lipton asks his guests. This is commonly known as the Proust Questionnaire, named for the author Marcel Proust (aka the Guy that Steve Carrel's character was talking about in Little Miss Sunshine). The questionnaire is often misattributed to Proust; the truth is that they were a turn of the century fad, published as diary-like books known as confession albums. Proust was simply a fan of them; two manuscripts of these lists filled out by him have been found (and one was sold at auction for over 100,000 euros). The list of questions and his answers can be found in the article.
It's nice to see a writer of such great renown humanized (his favorite fictional hero is Hamlet); he liked to do little egocentric memes from time to time, just like the rest of us. On the other hand, how far would he have gone if allowed to indulge? Just imagine what his Livejournal might have looked like.
Are we all on the same page? Good.
One of the best-known aspects of this show is the ten short questions that Lipton asks his guests. This is commonly known as the Proust Questionnaire, named for the author Marcel Proust (aka the Guy that Steve Carrel's character was talking about in Little Miss Sunshine). The questionnaire is often misattributed to Proust; the truth is that they were a turn of the century fad, published as diary-like books known as confession albums. Proust was simply a fan of them; two manuscripts of these lists filled out by him have been found (and one was sold at auction for over 100,000 euros). The list of questions and his answers can be found in the article.
It's nice to see a writer of such great renown humanized (his favorite fictional hero is Hamlet); he liked to do little egocentric memes from time to time, just like the rest of us. On the other hand, how far would he have gone if allowed to indulge? Just imagine what his Livejournal might have looked like.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Entry: Pinkerton National Detective Agency
I've rearranged TILfW for the new year, but I used to have a blurb in the side column about how one of these days you'll be on Jeopardy and remember something you've read in this blog.
And tonight it came true. One of the questions was "What is Burma Shave?", and none of the contestants knew it. Nobody even buzzed in. Of course, I was yelling "BURMA SHAVE! BURMA SHAVE!" at the tv, so I would have been wrong too because I didn't phrase my response as a question. But still! And it was Double Jeopardy, too. Reading Things I've Learned from Wikipedia can earn you money.*
Anyway.
So maybe you're a Deadwood fan, or a history buff, or just steampunk-as-Jove, but you might have heard of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, usually shortened to "the Pinkertons." If you haven't: they were a well-known private detective agency in the 19th century, well known for foiling a plot to assassinate Lincoln (a plot, not the plot) and being hired to bring various Wild West Outlaws to justice.
Getting on to What I Learned:
1) On the more controversial side, they were hired in the late 19th and early 20th century to infiltrate unions, rough up (and/or murder) organizers, and protect scabs.
2) The Pinkerton National Detective Agency is still operating, though they have been taken over by another security agency.
3) Today, the Pinkertons are organized by the Services Employees International Union.
You know, if you ever need a good example of irony.
* Results not typical.
And tonight it came true. One of the questions was "What is Burma Shave?", and none of the contestants knew it. Nobody even buzzed in. Of course, I was yelling "BURMA SHAVE! BURMA SHAVE!" at the tv, so I would have been wrong too because I didn't phrase my response as a question. But still! And it was Double Jeopardy, too. Reading Things I've Learned from Wikipedia can earn you money.*
Anyway.
So maybe you're a Deadwood fan, or a history buff, or just steampunk-as-Jove, but you might have heard of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, usually shortened to "the Pinkertons." If you haven't: they were a well-known private detective agency in the 19th century, well known for foiling a plot to assassinate Lincoln (a plot, not the plot) and being hired to bring various Wild West Outlaws to justice.
Getting on to What I Learned:
1) On the more controversial side, they were hired in the late 19th and early 20th century to infiltrate unions, rough up (and/or murder) organizers, and protect scabs.
2) The Pinkerton National Detective Agency is still operating, though they have been taken over by another security agency.
3) Today, the Pinkertons are organized by the Services Employees International Union.
You know, if you ever need a good example of irony.
* Results not typical.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Entry: Rabbits in Australia
I'm cheating a little bit with this entry; usually I post about things I've learned via random browsing, looking up one thing and discovering something completely different of interest, and the occasional link from friends. This time I heard something mentioned in passing on the latest episode of Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles, didn't believe it, and looked it up on Wiki. And am still somewhat surprised.
Now, I knew that Australia had many problems with invasive species, one of them being the European rabbit. And I knew that the Australians had tried to take care of the problem by building a very long fence that helped three little girls find their way home and thwarted Kenneth Brannagh in being a dick.
But what I did not know was that the Australian government resorted to biological warfare. In 1950, wild rabbits were infected with myxomatosis, which causes tumors and allows for secondary bacterial infections. This caused the wild rabbit population to drop from 600 million to 100 million. However, we all know what rabbits do well, and the Australian rabbit population recovered doubled by 1991.
Now, I know that invasive species have a devastating effect on the environment in which they are introduced, but I can't help but feel a bit sorry for the rabbits. I blame my soft-heartedness on having seen the film version of Watership Down when I was a child, and been scarred for life. Although come to think of it, a sequel to WD that takes place in Australia during the 1950s would be neat. Picture it: rabbits in biohazard suits!
...okay, I'll stop now.
Now, I knew that Australia had many problems with invasive species, one of them being the European rabbit. And I knew that the Australians had tried to take care of the problem by building a very long fence that helped three little girls find their way home and thwarted Kenneth Brannagh in being a dick.
But what I did not know was that the Australian government resorted to biological warfare. In 1950, wild rabbits were infected with myxomatosis, which causes tumors and allows for secondary bacterial infections. This caused the wild rabbit population to drop from 600 million to 100 million. However, we all know what rabbits do well, and the Australian rabbit population recovered doubled by 1991.
Now, I know that invasive species have a devastating effect on the environment in which they are introduced, but I can't help but feel a bit sorry for the rabbits. I blame my soft-heartedness on having seen the film version of Watership Down when I was a child, and been scarred for life. Although come to think of it, a sequel to WD that takes place in Australia during the 1950s would be neat. Picture it: rabbits in biohazard suits!
...okay, I'll stop now.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Entry: Hooverball
I was linked to this article by Kirk. Thanks, Kirk!
Hooverball is a game, played with a medicine ball, developed for former President Herbert Hoover by his personal physician.
"Now why," I can hear you asking, "didn't Hoover go to pilates class like everyone else?" Because when you're the leader of the free world, you get your very own sport, God dammit! In fact, all the presidents have had their own sports. And believe me, there is nothing quite as exhilarating as eXtreme Taftgliding.
The game itself, as I understand it, is something like a cross between volleyball and catch. You have two teams separated by an 8-foot net, and a 6-pound medicine ball is thrown back and forth. You have to stand still after catching the ball, and you can't throw from front court to front court. Because any attempts to spike a 6-pound medicine ball will result in pain. Winning point is scored by the first team that creates policies that fail to combat massive economic downturn.
Hooverball is a game, played with a medicine ball, developed for former President Herbert Hoover by his personal physician.
"Now why," I can hear you asking, "didn't Hoover go to pilates class like everyone else?" Because when you're the leader of the free world, you get your very own sport, God dammit! In fact, all the presidents have had their own sports. And believe me, there is nothing quite as exhilarating as eXtreme Taftgliding.
The game itself, as I understand it, is something like a cross between volleyball and catch. You have two teams separated by an 8-foot net, and a 6-pound medicine ball is thrown back and forth. You have to stand still after catching the ball, and you can't throw from front court to front court. Because any attempts to spike a 6-pound medicine ball will result in pain. Winning point is scored by the first team that creates policies that fail to combat massive economic downturn.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving
According to the article on Thanksgiving, the first recorded Thanksgiving in the United States was held by Spanish explorers in 1565 in what is now St. Augustine, Florida. That's right down the highway from where I live! I'm sure you couldn't care less!
Why are you reading my blog? Go eat some turkey!
Why are you reading my blog? Go eat some turkey!
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