Why King Tut has an Identity Crisis

You might imagine that life as the king of a massive ancient civilization would be pretty cool (maybe even awesome? I would argue for awesome), but I think poor King Tut, the massively famous "Boy King" of 18th Dynasty Egypt, had quite a few personal problems to deal with.

First off, his dad was a crazed religious zealot who as pharaoh tried to force all Egyptians to abandon their pantheon of Gods and just worship a minor sun deity, Aten (Amun is the big-name Egyptian sun God; why Akhenaten -Tut's dad- felt the need to pick a third-string sun god to obsess over, I really am not sure). Now, as I'm sure you can imagine, this created a lot of political problems (people don't like being told that they have to change their religious beliefs) for Akhenaten. So when Akhenaten died and Tut took over, he left quite a mess for the 9 year old king to clean up (and a lot of people angry and a weakened monarchy). Anyways, to make problems worse for little Tut, his dad originally named him after his favorite sun god, Aten (seriously...Akhenaten names everything after Aten: his children, every town and city he runs into, etc...) So, before he even hit puberty, Tutankhaten had to change his name to Tutankhamen. Incidentally, the "Tutankh-" part of the name mean "Living Image of -", so I think this makes for a particularly awkward name change.

While on the topic of awkward and identity crises, I'd like to talk about Tut's wife, Ankesenamun (unsurprisingly, she also has several names). First off, she is probably the third daughter of Akhenaten. Also probably at some point his wife (the Egyptians were into consanguineous marriage, so it was common for brothers and sisters to marry). She may have had a daughter with Akhenaten (ew ew ew), but this hasn't been proven yet. When dad/hubby passed away, she was probably married off to Smenkhkare who had a super brief reign before Tut took over. Then she was married to Tut, who was her half-brother (it just gets more convoluted) and had two kids with him. Their family must have been absurdly hard to keep track of.

Modern Egyptologists/historians/geneticists have been keeping themselves busy trying to use science to figure out the twisted family relations of the Egyptian throne. Using DNA testing (I don't really want to think about people extracting DNA from ancient mummies), they determined conclusively that Amenhotep III was the grandfather of Tutankhamen. They also decided that Akhenaten (one of Amenhotep's sons) was definitely Tut's father. As for Tut's mom, she was not one of Akhenaten's recognized wives, but was definitely also a child of Amenhotep (ie Akhenaten's sister). If all this isn't enough for an identity crisis, I don't know what is. How on earth did they manage succession in ancient Egypt? Is it your first son, who might also technically be your brother, or your wife, who could be your mom's first son? Heck, half the time the wife/sister/co-regent just became Queen, so you can't rule them out either.

I Was Not Warned

Moving away from art and history today, I want to deliver a public service announcement to all who read this blog. MRIs are terrifying. First, they ask you six thousand times if you have any metal in your body (are you a veteran who might have encountered shrapnel? Are you a construction worker who grinds metal on the job? Do I seem like either of those things (the obvious answer here is no, for the record). They they take you into a room (series of rooms) with every imaginable warning label on the door (at this point, I was starting to wonder what I had gotten myself into). The nurse asked if I had ever had an MRI before. Nope, definitely not. Having admitted I was a newbie to the whole magnetic scanning thing, I was sort of hoping for some instructions, or warning or that sort of thing. Nope, not so much as a by-your-leave. (That happens to be one of my favorite old phrases.) Anyways, so for all the the future peoplw ho will note be warned about MRIs, I am here for you.

After they get you into the room with the giant machine (picture below), they ask you some more if you have any metal anywhere in your body (Plates in your head? Artificial joints?) then they hand you some earplugs (you will really, really need these), and lay you down on a table, which slides into the machine tube. I should note that at this point, the machine is already making a constant beeping noise. here's the Machine of Death/Magnetic Imaging:

So, once inside the really small machine tube (I am not a large person and I felt really squished in there...what do...larger...people do? How can they fit? They asked me beforehand if I was claustrophobic and now I realized why. You are stuck inside this noisy tube and you're not allowed to move at all. Once the test started, the sound level went from "annoying beep" to "outright mechanical roar". According to some very reliable sources (Wikipedia), MRI machines can produce up to 120 dB(a), which is the noise equivalent of a jet engine. Except this jet engine was right next to my head, doing God knows what (well, I know it was scanning me, but I of course have no real idea how these machines work). About five minutes into the test, I realized that I do, in fact, have metal in my body (a little bar behind my bottom teeth from having braces as a kid). With this realization, and the umpteen questions I had been asked about metal, I immediately went into Panic Mode. I probably don't have to mention that Panic Mode is not a good thing when you are confined into a small tube and not allowed to move. On one hand, I didn't want my panic breathing to mess up the scan/test, but on the other head, I really didn't want my head to explode.

Now, while I'm busying myself panicking about whether or not my head was going to explode or my teeth were going to be ripped out of my head by ultra-strong magnets, the machine changed noises. It did this every five minutes or so. One minute it going "ZwahZwahZwah", and the next minute its changed tones. All of the noises the machine made were alarming. This one was particularly crazed. So all of a sudden the machine starts making this insane nuclear meltdown warning klaxon siren sound. I can't move, I can't see anything, I have no idea if this is a perfectly normal noise, and I can't just ask the nurse. Where did the nurse go? Was she watching? Had she left for a bathroom break? If this noise was bad, and she had left me by myself, was my head going to explode? Why was I not warned in any way? A little, "don't be alarmed by the noises" would have been nice. or even, "it's loud in there, just so you know, that's normal." I'm not asking for much, just some sort of warning so I know that I'm not about to die inside this gigantic machine.

So now you know. You have been warned by me, if no one else. For the record, my head did not explode and I'm pretty sure that I'm not dead (who knows, maybe I'll suddenly fall down at 5pm). Well, I'll keep you updated, or if I don't just figure that if there's a blog post tomorrow, I'm fine.

Toaster Pastries...Quite an Art

I understand that not everyone has the culinary tastes of a 12 year old, like me. That being said, I am entitled to my opinions, and my opinions say that toaster pastries (especially Pillsbury's Toaster Strudels) are delicious. They also make Toaster Scrambles, which are also delicious, but less awesome because a) they don't heat up as evenly in the toaster, its its either cold or burnt and b) there's no icing. This icing might possibly be the best part of Toaster Strudels.

However, I firmly believe that the icing but be done in a certain way. If you glob it all in the center, then you diminish the deliciousness of the pastry overall because you have a bunch of bites without any icing at all (which is just sad). No! I insist that the best way -the only true way- the east a toaster pastry is to strive for the most even and complete icing coverage possible. Now, because I am so gracious (and because I have sent years perfecting this), I will tell you exactly how to achieve the Perfect Toaster Strudel.

Step 1. Cut the smallest possible hole in the icing packet. If you cut the hole too big, then the icing just globs out, and that is no good.
Step 2. Begin in one corner of the pastry and ice diagonally across (see picture below if you are confused).
Step 3. Now ice the pastry lengthwise, then width-wise (creating cross-hatchings).
Step 4. With any remaining icing, ice diagonally in the direction you haven't done yet.
Step 5. If you still have icing left over (you probably won't), go ahead an eat it. Yum.

The pastry on the right: a true work of art. Perfect icing coverage. Perfect Toaster Strudel.
The pastry on the left: not my best work. I cut the hole in the icing packet too big, and thus did not have enough frosting to complete all of the steps. Such a tragedy. Still delicious, though.

And They Say That TV Rots Your Brain...

As loyal readers might remember, I really like historical TV shows. My adoration of HBO's The Tudors can be read here. Luckily, The Tudors was so successful that it now has other channels scrambling to do something like it (yay!). I am super excited to see Showtime's The Borgias (creative titling, guys). This show premieres Sunday, April 3rd at 9pm and looks seriously good. The show will focus on the Borgia family (who could have guessed?), who are some pretty nasty characters from the 15th century (ooooh man, the 15th century. I can't wait until TV channels take it even farther back in time. (Charlemagne, people! The Crusades! Eleanor of Aquitaine! This is good stuff, get on it!)

In case you don't know, the Borgias are an interesting bunch. Papa Borgia  is played on the show by Jeremy Irons, who among other things, voiced Scar in the Lion King- and played Severus Snape in the parody film Harry Potter and the Secret Chamberpot of Azerbaijan. I haven't seen that particular classic, so I can't judge it though. Anyways, Showtime is billing The Borgias as "the first crime family", which is sort of silly (I mean, seriously, the Romans had it on these guys centuries/millenia ago). Anyways, to sum things up, Papa Borgia made himself Pope through a bunch of nasty political maneuvering and a variety of less-than-moral actions (like bribery, assassination, etc). He has five kids (which is a bit of a problem in itself for a pope, isn't it?) and uses them all mercilessly. He fully intends to make his family into a papal dynasty (so wrong).

Here is the link for the Showtime website, with all sort of details and character bios and such:
http://www.sho.com/site/borgias/home.sho

I really hope that this show ends up being as good as The Tudors. (I also hope it lasts more seasons!) Don't disappoint me Showtime. Don't disappoint me Jeremy Irons (seriously, I respect you for playing Scar, don't do me wrong).

New Artwork/ Quote of the Week 3.27.2011

This is going to be way more modern than my usual picks. Like not even 10th century modern- 21st century! Woah. What's crazy is that I even like this artist (shh, don't tell anyone, that would ruin my credibility). Sometimes I know the painting/work of art I want to pick or the week, and sometimes I really only know the artist that I want to showcase. This week it was the artist, Neo Rauch. Rauch was born in East Germany in 1960 and is the principle artist of the New Leipzig School of art. His painting are kind of cartoony and use bright colors. I really like them. When asked what some of his paintings are supposed to mean, Rauch responding that he didn't really have anything in mind when he was painting them, so he thought they really could mean anything to anyone. (Ha! Not all art has to mean something! Take that art historians!)Various art critics argue that Rauch draws on his life experiences (orphaned at age 4, lived through the Cold War, saw the reunification of Germany, etc.) for the social commentary seen in his works. Here is my favorite Neo Rauch painting (and it might be my favorite simply because the figures have hockey sticks. I don't know why that have hockey sticks, but I like it):

Hatz, Neo Rauch. 2002 Oil on Canvas.

And now, the long-awaited quote of the week:

"The end of history is, alas, also the end of the dustbins of history. There are no longer any dustbins for disposing of old ideologies, old regimes, old values. Where are we going to throw Marxism, which actually invented the dustbins of history? (Yet there is some justice here since the very people who invented them have fallen in.) Conclusion: if there are no more dustbins of history, this is because History itself has become a dustbin. It has become its own dustbin, just as the planet itself is becoming its own dustbin."

-Jean Baudrillard, Sociologist and Philosopher. The Illusion of the End (1992), "The Event Strike", p. 26

I figured this guy must be British, because who else in the world says "dustbins"? However, he is French. Perhaps he learned English from an English person? Or maybe this quote was originally in French and a British person translated it into English and that is the reasoning for "dustbins".

Oh My, Don't Your Hips Look...Wide

THIS POST HAS MOVED TO THE NEW SITE! FIND IT HERE:
http://liberlexica.wordpress.com/2011/09/24/oh-my-dont-your-hips-look-wide/
People wear a lot of strange things for fashion. While I'd like to think looking really weird for "fashion" is merely a construct of 20th and 21st century haute fashion, that of course couldn't be further from the truth. While some weird things were caused merely by a shortage of technology (or maybe forethought?), like how shoes up until recently were the same for both feet (there was no "left" and "right", just "shoe 1" and "shoe 1 again for shoe 2"), some things are just designed to look a little different.

I am thinking particularly about panniers, which is like a mini hoop skirt apparatus designed just to make your hips stick out. The front and back stay flat, which supposedly is to show off the swanky fabric of your dress. Panniers were popular in the 18th century. Once they become popular in the Georgian era and in the years leading up to the French Revolution, rich and fashionable women competed to see who could have the biggest panniers.

Eventually they got rather out of hand, and the panniers were so big that women couldn't fit through doors. In some places, doors had to be widened to allow these fashionable ladies through. To solve the problem, some creative designers gave the panniers hinges, which allowed the panniers to be temporarily lifted in case fashionable ladies were in places without fashionably wide doors. The most extreme panniers (common enough in French court dress a la Marie Antoinette) were several feet long- on either side! Can you image being seven feet wide???

Marie Antoinette in court dress, 1779.

No wonder people thought she was crazy.

 There is a scholarly article floating around out there that argues panniers empowered women of this period because it made them such a large and imposing sight standing next to men. I don't know how much I buy this, but mostly because of the lack of evidence of late 18th-century famous empowered women...who wore giant hip bustles I could be missing something though.

One final note: the word "pannier" comes from "panier", which are the baskets/carrying bags that go on either side of a pack animal. How is it that looking like a taffeta pack animal was cool? Some fashionable panniers even had hidden compartments for ladies to store things they didn't want to carry around. So...they kind of were like pack animals. Very fashionable pack animals.

Second Installment in the Saga of Little-Known Countries

Those poor, lonely countries who we know so little about! I will try to bring to light these little-known nations, so that more people will know about them. Today's post will serve as the second installment in the ongoing saga to bring these countries out of obscurity. Last month we dealt with FYROM, but this week we move to Africa (well technically near Africa,  not in Africa) with the little-known country of Comoros. Have you heard of Comoros? It holds the title of being the third-smallest African nation by area. Still not ringing any bells? Well, the Union of Comoros is an archipelago off the coast of Africa, sort of northwest of Madagascar (now, I know you've heard of that one) in the Indian Ocean. Comoros also has the distinction of being the only nation to be a member of the African Union, Francaphonie, the Organisation of the Islamic Conference, the Arab League, and the Indian Ocean Commission all at the same time (lots of places are members of those groups individually, though its the only one to a member of all of them).

Life on the four (or three- they have a slight disagreement with France over one of them) islands that make up Comoros are a little bit rough. For instance, half of the population of 691,000 people are below the international poverty line (that's $1.25 US dollars a day for people keeping track). Also, they've had some troubling government takeovers since they gained their independence from France in the 1970s. Additionally (confusingly), one of their four islands refuses to secede from France? I'm not completely sure how Comoros can claim the island of Mayotte- it is technically "administered" by France, and the people on the island continually vote against independence from France. Another pretty major issue is the fact that the highest point in the country is Mount Karthala, an active volcano. The last time it erupted was a mere 6 years ago, in 2005.

Despite a 14.6% unemployment rate, a GDP smaller than the yearly salary of a Wall Street banker, and a pitiful education system, Comoros does have some bright spots. For instance, it is a fully recognized member of the UN (I guess except for that whole minor issue with France over Mayotte), and they passed the Kyoto Protocol (take that America?). Also, despite being one of the smallest countries in the world, Comoros is the leading producer worldwide of ylang-ylang (which is an aromatic tree, popular for use in perfumes) and a big producer of vanilla (I like vanilla). In fact, 10th century Arabic poets wrote songs about how lovely the breezes on the island smelled.

All the Most Fashionable People Have Hermits

Okay, so this post may or may not have started off being about monks. But I'll save you all the boredom of another post about monks (for now), and will instead write about hermits (who are, after all, a type of monk). Hermits live off by themselves, participating in an eremetic lifestyle (no luxuries and such). The tradition stems from a bunch of 4th century desert saints, who -as you can probably guess- went out into the desert, lived alone, and denied themselves all creature comforts. But since I promised you this wouldn't be about monks, I'll get straight to the interesting part.

In the 18th century, British aristocracy had too much time and money on their hands, and liked to do strange things. Among the strange things they enjoyed were to construct elaborate gardens in the "natural style" (carefully planned to make them look just like nature intended). Why the fields, hills, ponds, and such that were there before their meddling weren't natural enough, I do not know. They also built "follies" on their ground. Follies were things like fanciful Greek temples and minuscule cottages. Exceptionally posh members of society even employed hermits to live on their grounds, to be seen by other posh visitors when they take their strolls through the carefully planned woods.

I don't know about you, but the idea that people employed hermits is a little strange to me. Think about it:
"Oh good gracious Lady Gertrude, would you care for a stroll through the forest. We must take the airs on a fine day like this." "Why, Lord Herbert, what a lovely idea. I do wish to encounter the hermit. He must be fantastically lonely out there on his own." "Don't fret your little head, my pet. The hermit Ted is covered in filth, you don't want to meet him." "Oh my my Lord Herbert, why must he be so uncivilized?! We should take him under our wing." "Well my dear, he already is under our wing, or at least our employ." (you also have to imagine Lord Herbert's mustache bristling. I'm sure he has a mustache. All 18th century British nobles had excellent mustaches.)

If I were an 18th century British aristocrat, I would probably vote against having a hermit in my employ. Of course, I'd probably be too busy arranging dinner seating charts and doing my embroidery to be concerned with household matters and hermits, but I think its slightly creepy to employ a homeless person to basically squat on your land.

Dr. Livingstone, I Presume?

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http://liberlexica.wordpress.com/2011/09/28/dr-livingstone-i-presume/
 Today's person is a nutcase. I came across him while reading the book, King Leopold's Ghost, by Adam Hochschild (which I highly recommend).   He was born John Rowlands in Denbigh, Wales in the year 1841 (ahh, a good year). Sadly, neither his mom, Elizabeth Parry, nor anyone else in his family wanted to take care of him. As a result, he was sent to St. Asaph's Union Workhouse (which reminds me or the Warner Brothers film Anastasia. That could not have been any fun).

Eventually he escaped this life by catching a ship to America, where he decided to completely change his life story. He changed his name to something you might recognize, Henry Morton Stanley (after his employer, who was named Henry Stanley) and started telling people he was an American. He made up lots of stories about himself that don't check out at all.

Fun fact: Henry Morton Stanley (who we have established is Welsh by birth, and American by delusion) is one of the very few people who ended up seeing combat on both sides of the Civil War. He started out fighting for the Confederates and got caught and sent to prison by the Union soldiers. He was given the opportunity to get out of prison my agreeing to fight for the Union army, which he did. However, after not so much time in the service of the Union army, he deserted.

Through a series of events, he came to be a journalist and explorer (sometimes I wish I could go back a few centuries and be an explorer/academic/person of the times, but then I think about it and realize that if we went back in time, I would likely be involved in something like the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire). Anyways, Henry Stanley Morton became a journalist, which gave him the opportunity to go abroad and send salacious stories back to the US newspapers.

Since he was really good at embellishing stories (which made him really popular with his newspaper editor back in New York) and already in Africa for some exploration, Stanley was in the right place at the right time when David Livingstone (British explorer in Africa) went missing somewhere in the African Continent. Hoping to snap up the first scoop, Stanley's editor put him on the job in 1871.

As the story goes (reminder: Stanley wrote the story), Henry Morton Stanley saved the embattled Dr. Livingstone (hence his most famous quote that makes the title of this post) and brought him back to civilization. He wrote a book about his incredibly difficult and heroic adventure which was very, very popular. (Livingstone didn't really get a chance to chime in with his own side of the story because he died shortly after his "rescue"... this has a strange way of happening a lot with anyone who might disagree with Stanley's stories. Conspiracy?)

"Dr. Livingstone, I presume?" Illustration for 1876 French Edition

After his now-famous journey, Stanley headed a number of other expeditions into Africa. For instance, he was responsible for the being the first (non-African) person to find the mouth of the Congo river and to traverse completely across Central Africa. Although his stories were widely read in the United States, not everyone liked him. He came under fire by some people for his blatant disregard for the African people he encounters (he likes to shoot them...a lot). 

I think its probably difficult to come up with a good take-away message about Henry Morton Stanley. He was a pretty bad guy: he lied about pretty much everything, was responsible for a ton of deaths, and was an overall pretty rotten character. Yet, he was a fairly important historical figure with a solid impact on the way history went (he helped King Leopold II to get ahold of the Congo, which was definitely not good for Congolese people). And to make it worse, he was really successful as a journalist and explorer (both pretty sweet jobs). To conclude this post, I'll add a picture that I think says a lot about crazy Henry Morton Stanley:

Nerd-Alert! Nerd Alert Code Red!

I like computers and video games. I also really love the Middle Ages (you probably couldn't tell though...). I'm a big fan of fast facts and footnotes. I would say that I'm a secret nerd, but I'm pretty sure anyone who knows me would argue that its not-so-secret.

With that out there, I want to announce the release of a brand new computer game that comes out today (I have a countdown to the exact moment it drops). I don't mean to be all commercial-y, I'm just crazy excited. Also, don't just me when I write which game. It's the Sims Medieval. The Sims, which is already a good computer game, meets my absolute favorite time period. Yay! Its like the designers and developers know exactly what I'm thinking! (time for those nerd alert sirens again) Yeah, I know there are a number of Medieval-type games on the market, but they're all war and strategy, which is not my thing.

I'm so excited about this game that I've reached new heights of nerdy waiting for it to come out (since it was announced last year). I have a countdown, I've been reading both official and unofficial blogs about it. I even stalked demos of gameplay on youtube. And at some point today (3pm EST exactly, that is), I will be able to download the game. So. Excited. Just thought I'd share my excitement. If you don't see any posts tomorrow, you'll know that I'm busy in nerdy heaven playing my new game. Actually, no need to worry about tomorrow's post: I started reading a new book today and discovered a fascinating historical figure with a seriously twisted life story. You'll see tomorrow who I'm talking about (and he's not even medieval)!

Why Germans Should be Banned From Philosophical Writing

Sorry for blogging late today guys. I spent my morning trying to read Truth and Method, by Hans Georg (not George, Georg) Gadamer, which you may have guessed inspired this post.

I'm cool with Germans, and this is really nothing against Germans as a people, so no one get offended. I just have one teeny tiny little complaint to register: Germans are without a doubt the worst philosophical writers.

Before someone goes and freaks out, I don't for a second deny the brilliance of Kant, Hegel, Marx, Gadamer, etcetera, etcetera. However, they should not be allowed to write, and anyone who has ever tried to read German philosophical works is likely to agree with me. Even in English, translated works of German philosophy are impossible (and I promise reading them in German doesn't make it any easier).

Perhaps my problem is that I'm not on the same smart-level as these big name Germans (this is definitely a strong possibility). However, I'm not on the same smart level as any number of American, English, and French scholars, but I somehow manage to understand them. There is something particular to Germans that makes them such a challenge. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that's its something to do with their writing style. Germans really, really like to make sentences with 3,826,517 clauses that take up entire paragraphs- and sometimes even multiple pages! I can't be the only one to see a problem with this. I don't know about you, but I like short, simple sentences with some sort of straightforward point. Reading various German philosophers, I often get to the end of a sentence and wonder what on earth I just read. (I go "Huh? Wait...what does that mean? Does it mean anything at all?")

Another essential problem with their writing style is the words themselves. German philosophers like to use really long, complicated words I've never heard of (so even if I could follow their clauses, they're basically speaking an unintelligible genius-language anyways). On the other hand, sometimes German philosophers will use nice, normal, easy words in entirely new ways, which is a pretty fast way to feel dumb. For instance, Gadamer writes about life-being. Alright, "life", I know what that means, and "being", I'm pretty solid on that, too. But "life-being"? Where is he going with that? Not a clue (and I promise the text of the book doesn't clear it up at all).

So future German philosophers: please, I beg you, please consider your readers before you write. Or produce your philosophical work on audio book. Just a suggestion.

New Quote/ Artwork of the Week 3.20.2011

There was no blog yesterday. What? Why? Well, there wasn't. Sorry about that. There is one today, however, because the blog needs a new Quote and Artwork of the Week.

For this week's art, I wanted to use La Mort de Marat (which is French for The Death of Marat), but I couldn't remember what it was called, so I typed "french painter suicide" into Google (I realize now that Marat didn't commit suicide, he was assassinated). Anyways, having typed this into Google, I discovered way more suicidal French artists than I was aware of. Seriously though, French artists, lay off the wine or something. You're in France! You're an artist! Be happier about it. Anyways, I did eventually find it (not before almost giving up and going with a Van Gogh painting) and discovered that Marat was assassinated by Charlotte Corday in 1793.

The Death of Marat, Jacques-Louis David, 1793. Oil on Canvas. Musees Royaux des Beaux-Arts, Brussels.

I suppose the painting does need a little explanation. Jean-Paul Marat was a French Revolutionary writer and speaker, and the aristocrats blamed him for the September Massacres (which is why Charlotte Corday killed him- "I killed one man to save 100,000"). On the other hand, artist Jacques-Louis David idolized Marat because of his public speaking abilities (David had a big tumor on his face as a result of a fencing accident, so it was difficult for him to talk). Now, why Marat is in the bathtub is a good story. Marat took a lot of cool baths because his skin was very itchy. It was a symptom of a skin disease he contracted when he fled to the sewers of Paris to hide out from his enemies. Pretty crazy, huh? The sewers are definitely not the place I'd go if I was hiding, but hey, whatever floats your boat.

Now for a new Quote of the Week. I'm not really in the mood for anything inspirational (why are there so many inspirational quotes on the internet? People keep entire websites of happy, inspiring quotes by anyone and everyone, but you try to find something negative and poof! there's nothing. I did eventually find something, though. Also, I like the word "knave".

History, n. an account mostly false, of events mostly unimportant, which are brought about by rulers, mostly knaves, and soldiers, mostly fools.
 -Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary

Party Foul, Life Penalty

Some things about sports are mysterious, and some things in sports make a lot of sense. For instance, the idea that when you do something wrong, you get a penalty (or foul, whatever), makes a ton of sense. In fact, I think that life should have its own clear-cut penalty system. Now, in order to make it work in the real world, you would need to have one standard system of fouls and penalties- but what sport to borrow it from?

Now, for my opinion, I know exactly which sport I would take my penalty system from. Not basketball, that is for sure. Free shots for you when others screw up? I don't think so. I guess you could make a football penalty system work, but I think it would be a bit unmanageable (too many different penalties for different things, etc). Does baseball even have penalties? The best and most workable sports penalty system by far is from ice hockey.

Think about it: there's a pretty limited set of things that will land you a penalty in hockey, and all the penalty punishments are the same. In hockey, if you do something against the rules, its either a major or a minor. A minor will get you 2 minutes of sit-out time in the penalty box, and majors will get you 5 minutes in the penalty box. It's a brilliant plan! If you screw up big-time, you've got a major, otherwise your life foul is a minor.

Honestly, sometimes people deserve a life foul- but how to enforce it? This is where hockey comes in handy again. Ice hockey refs are the best refs around. Where football refs tend to be portly (and frequently wrong), ice hockey referees are crazy agile and are (I hate to admit it) right about their calls more often than they are wrong (and certainly more often than football refs are). Therefore, hockey refs would be better prepared to referee real life than any other sports refs (don't even suggest basketball, those refs are useless). And since video review is allowed in hockey, if you don't like your life penalty call, you can just ask for a  video review!

Life penalties would be a good thing. For me, for you, for the world. Simple, straightforward, and well-earned by all.

Author's note: To the people doing street construction outside my window at 1am, you get as many 5 minute major penalties as it takes for me to fall asleep without your ruckus.

The Easy Way to Make Friends in the Spring

I have a real penchant for pointing out the obvious, particularly when it comes to the weather. You know, like when its raining, I like to tell people how its raining. Then I like to tell them how long rain is in the forecast, what percentage it is being predicted, etc. Same goes for clouds. Yes, I know that pointing out that it is cloudy seems really pointless: "Oh hello!" "...Yes, the weather truly is neither here nor there today, isn't it?" "Hrm, well no, its not that I don't like cloudy weather...I guess I just don't have an opinion about clouds." "Oh...you have to leave? Okay then. Enjoy the....clouds?"

But no one minds my idiotic weather talk when it is sunny. On days like today, you can broach the topic of weather, say: "It's a wonderful, sunny day today!" and people will totally eat it up. They'll smile, chat with you, basically be your friend, just because you both like the sun. (PS, I swear this is not how I make all my friends...Oh hey Oriane! Great weather today huh? Warm feels great after this winter. See you later!)

The nice thing about the weather as a conversational topic is that its really easy to keep on top of (in other words, its really obvious). For instance, if you didn't notice the weather, you can just look out the window, or check weather.com, or you know, go outside (totally not necessary though). People also like to talk about sports, but that is way harder to keep track of- everybody likes a different sport, and each sport has tons of teams, and every time a team plays, their stats change. So its a constant effort to keep on top of all sports. Plus people don't like to agree when it comes to sports, so even if you have the right factual information, you might not make any friends with sports chatter.

I'd like to warn that making friends on the mutual adoration of sunshine works best in the Spring. By the Summer, you will probably wonder why you ever liked the sun, as it slowly tries to fry everything in sight (this goes for most normal climates. Of course, if you live in a place like Washington, love of the sun can be successfully brought up anytime you want because it is such a rare sight in Washington).

Student's Ode to the Internet

This morning, I was reminded again of how much I love the internet (reading other posts, you may have noticed my love of internet-related technology). So, I thought I would do what people in love do: write an ode.

Unfortunately, I don't really know how to write an ode. What is the structure? Must it rhyme (I'm really terrible at rhyming)? But, I do remember my 5th grade Language Arts unit on poetry, so I think I can handle the situation. Instead of writing a traditional ode, I'm going to play to my strong suit and write a series of haikus.

'Net, how I love thee

Swifter than a winter breeze

Well... not dial-up

The joy of wi-fi

Online anywhere I want.

Look, Ma! No more cords!

Making research quick,

Databases and archives

All while I'm at home.

Wikipedia.

Is there anything better?

Hrm, maybe Google?

It brings us Blackboard.

Who am I kidding? That sucks.

No one likes Blackboard.

PDFs and Docs,

Shared instantly by email.

Gotta save them trees.

Where would we all be,

Without the wonderful web?

In the library.

Really Unfortunately Named Person of the Day: Æthelred the Unready

Poor Æthelred- he is unfortunately named for two reasons. First, that whole letter A and E together thing is really hard to do (I may or may not have to copy/paste it in every time I type his name). The letter thingy is common among early kings of England (it also freaks out all automatic spellcheckers, just saying). What kind of nickname do you give someone named Æthelred? "Reddy"? But then you'd be forced to call him Reddy the Unready, which would be weird.

The second unfortunate part of his name is pretty clear: who really wants to be reminded constantly that they're unready? Especially when you're the King of England? If I was the king and people were always calling me unready, there would be a lot of beheadings. Also, "unready"? Was Æthelred some sort of high-maintainence diva who was always running late?

Well, that isn't exactly how he got the name "unready". That is a slightly more complicated story beginning at the end of the 10th century. Æthelred was the second son of King Edgar of England. He was, however, the first son of Ælfthryth, Queen of England (told you the A-E letter combo was popular. Also, how do you pronounce that name?). Æthelred's illegitimate older brother (Edward) took the throne after much contention following Edgar's death. Not long after Edward took the throne, he suffered a "mysterious" death while visiting the castle of Queen Ælfthryth. With Edward out of the way, Æthelred took the throne in 978 at the age of 10 (you can see at this point why he might seem "unready").

Throughout his reign, Æthelred had a lot of problems with Danish Viking raiders. He even fled to Normandy in 1013, relinquishing the throne (ninny). Luckily for him, he got the throne back after the Sweyn (the Danish guy who took the English throne) died only a year later.

Linguists, being the spoilsports (or cool, awesome people, whatever) that they are, decided that this translation of Old English is wrong, and that all of the historical record is wrong. According to them, our homeboy Æthelred isn't "unready", he is "without noble council". Lame. I think that in this case, we should ignore the linguists and go with what he is called historically: Æthelred the Unready.

What do Aishwarya Rai and Pope Clement VIII have in Common?

In case you didn't know, Aishwarya Rai  is a former Miss World winner, and a currently Bollywood superstar. Last year, Oprah proclaimed her the most beautiful woman on the planet. Here is a picture from her reign as Miss World 1994:

Here is a more recent photo of her:

And if you don't believe me from the pictures that she is gorgeous, she just recently landed her third international Vogue cover. Not a big deal or anything. Now, what can the stunning Aishwarya Rai possibly have in common with Clement VIII, a pope who ruled from 1592-1605?

Answer: they both wore really awesome tiaras/crowns. Aiwarya of course because she was Miss World 1994, and Clement VIII because popes get to wear these really sweet papal tiaras (also called triple crowns). Here is Pope Clement VIII depicted in a mosaic with his awesome crown/tiara:

Although popes today can pick any papal tiara they want to wear for their coronations and other special occasions (there are 22 currently in existence today), Clement VIII got a new (and rather snazzy) one donated to him from his former see. That being said, he didn't have many to choose from, because Clement VII, who presided a few decades earlier, melted down all of the tiaras to raise money for an army against Holy Roman Emperor Charles V.

Part of what makes the papal tiara so cool/silly looking is the whole "triple crown" part of it. Why three crowns- it has to be symbolic, right? Well... not exactly. The story goes that popes started adding crowns to their regalia some time in the 9th century and became really common some time in the mid-1100s. Apparently, a second crown was added to the getup by Pope Boniface VIII around 1300 to symbolically show that popes had more authority than any secular king (this apparently was the result of a scuffle between Boniface VIII and Phillip the Fair, King of France). The third crown was added in the mid-14th century after Holy Roman Emperors decided to go for a double crown (so normal kings with one crown < Holy Roman Emperors with a double crown < Popes with triple crowns).

So now you know, the connection between Aishwarya Rai and Pope Clement VIII is that they both were really sweet crowns/tiaras. I'll admit that its a strange connection (and Matt would like to point out that the connection would work for any monarch), but I would hazard a guess that its more of a connection than you thought they would have at first glance.

Who hoc fecit? Gislebertus hoc fecit! Artwork/ Quote of the Week 3.13.2011

I'm keeping with last week's medieval theme for the artwork this week, but I'm changing up the medium. This week, I'm bringing you the awe-inspiring tympanum of the Cathedral of St. Lazare in Autun, France (1120-1135).

The picture really doesn't do justice to its size- in person it is truly impressive. As you walk up to the steps to the entrance of the church, the great stone scene looms over you. And back when the church was built- this wasn't even the main door! This church was built to replace the too-small cathedral next door, and for a while both churches were in use (the new, bigger church hadn't been designated as cathedral yet). During this time, people going from one church to the other (like, say, penitents), would enter the new church via its closer side door, not the "front" entrance with the snazzy tympanum.

According to an inscription right below the feet of carved Jesus (In case you can't tell, the scene is of the Last Judgment, with the Weighing of the Souls going on in there), "Gislebertus hoc fecit". For those of you who don't do Latin, that means roughly that "Gislebertus made this". Which seems straightforward enough,  but it raises two options.
1) Gislebertus was the master sculptor working on the project and had a bit of an ego thing going (big inscription of his name right in the middle of the tympanum).
2) Gislebertus is a rich noble-type guy who funded the building of the church, and thus got to have his name inscribed in a position of honor. The only problem with this idea is that there isn't a record of a wealthy, noble Gislebertus living in the area anywhere near this time.

As for the quote of the week, we'll take it back over a millenium to ancient Rome. This week's quote comes from Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-42BC), who until recently, was called "Tully" (instead of Cicero). I'm not sure why he made the name change- I rather think that Tully makes him seem like a nice guy, while Cicero sounds very formal.

"History is the witness that testifies to the passing of time; it illuminates reality, vitalizes memory, provides guidance in daily life and brings us tidings of antiquity."
-Cicero, Pro Publio Sestio

If you wonder, "Should I like Cicero/Tully?", the answer is probably yes. George Washington liked him; Thomas Jefferson liked him; and those are some pretty big names to be going to bat for you. Antony had him killed, but hey, you can't please everybody. Moral of the story: he's a pretty big deal.

Marginally Important People Born in the 14th Century

History likes to record really important people, but there are loads of totally-deserving marginally important people out there who accomplished possibly-interesting things. And so I will write about them. Today's post will cover two marginally important ladies who were born in the 14th century (despite the really short average life expectancies, they both survived into the 15th century).

This first person was likely the first woman to write a book in the English language, but you probably haven't heard of her. Her name, Julian of Norwich, actually comes from the church she spent most of her time at (the Church of St. Julian in Norwich, if you hadn't already figured that out). She was an anchoress (or hermit, but anchoress does sound nicer, doesn't it?) at St. Julian, and was fairly well known during her life (1342-1416) for her mystic visions and theology.

 St. Julian of Norwich (1342-1416)

Her theology differed quite a bit from the prevailing thought of the time. You might remember that around this time, the Black Plague was ravaging Europe, and a series of violent peasant revolts made people think that life as they knew it was ending. Popular theology said that humanity was being punished by God, but Julian firmly believed that God loved everyone and was looking out for them (I'm not sure exactly what she made of the Black Plague, but I'm sure she had an explanation). She also figured that God should be a mother and a father (leading more modern scholarship to say she was a proto-feminist). Unsurprisingly, her views on God's motherliness were rather controversial, but luckily no one really came after her for it.

Her theology comes after a series of visions she had while she was in her thirties, in which God spoke to her. She later recorded these visions and her interpretations of their meanings in The Long Text and Sixteen Revelations of Divine Love. Thinking about it, Julian is a little bit like Teresa of Avila, she just lived two hundred years earlier. Interestingly (probably because she is English), Julian is venerated as a saint by the Catholic Church, the Anglican Church, and the Lutheran Church.

Our next lady of the day comes from roughly the same time period and is quasi-famous for roughly the same things. Her name is Margery Kempe, and she is known for writing the Book of Margery Kempe, which might be the first autobiographical work in the English language. Unlike Julian, Kempe was married and had somewhere along the lines of 14 kids. However, during one of her pregnancies, she had a vision where God insisted she try to give up temptation and lead a better life. She decided to dedicate her life to a spiritual calling and began to go on pilgrimages (this is way more complicated than it sounds, because marriage in the Middle Ages is a tricky thing. If you're a nun or a woman of God, then legally, you should be technically married to the Lord- the law actually says that! However, divorces are rarely allowed back then either, and marriages are almost completely impossible to get out of, so it was less easy for Kempe to go off and become a religious woman than you might think. Instead, she had to negotiate a celibacy arrangement with her husband-no cheating on God is allowed- in order to take vows to go on pilgrimages).

Margery Kempe (1373- c1478)

Unlike Julian, Kempe caught quite a bit of flack for her writings and actions. Some dismissed her as a madwoman, but modern scholarship seems to exonerate her from these claims (I don't really know how they decided that). Either way, she is venerated by the Anglican Church (I'm starting to wonder how many people they venerate, and what exactly comes as a benefit of being venerated).

What Not to Name Your Children

Everyone has a name, everyone needs a name, and it is usually your parent's job to come up with something. Unless you've decided to go for a mid-life moniker change or are going through a rebellious stage in your teens, you usually have no say in what your name is.

Thinking of names for a child is challenging (probably- I am making assumptions here because I've only ever had to come up with names for pets, personally. But I imagine it is difficult because there are so many names to choose from). Unfortunately, some parents are better than others at the whole naming thing. While it is perfectly normal/traditional to give your child a name that's in the family (ex. Kings Henry I-VIII, Dale Earnhardt Jr., etc.), it can definitely be taken too far. How far is too far? Giving your child your name, regardless of their gender. That is too far. Will and Jada Pinkett Smith went for the double and named their kids Willow and Jaden. Guys, don't you think people will notice? Isn't it just a touch vain to name your kids your name? Another perpetrator of this bad habit is George Foreman, who named all of his five sons George Edward Foreman. To make it worse, he also names one of his daughters Freeda George and another Georgetta. Could you not think of something else? Those kids are stuck with that name for the rest of their lives!

And don't think that just because you're from ye olden days, that you're exempted from scorn. I'm looking at you, Alexandre Dumas! He named one of his daughters Marie-Alexandrine. As far as I'm aware, that's not even a normal feminine version of the masculine Alexandre (um, Alexandra?). Also his first son (illegitimate) was named Alexander Dumas and became a successful author and playwright (which was so confusing that people have to call the second Alexander fils., or son. See what trouble you caused, Dumas?!) Seriously, how are your kids ever supposed to step out of your famous-person shadow if you saddle them with a name that already carries the weight of your own life?

Note that none of these example are royalty. I suppose I see the need to name your kid something familial if they will some day grow up to rule as monarch over a nation. The Smiths? Not ruling a nation any time soon, so they have no excuse.

A Better Method for World Domination

Over the last several thousand years or so, men have fought each other for supremacy and world domination. They get all mad at some rival king/ruler, wage war, lots of people die, and often the conflict continues on. I think that they've got the wrong idea- you know whose got it right? Eleanor of Aquitaine, who schemed her way to the top through marriage and her children (I'm not really advocating this as a life plan, but it definitely is a better way to go about things than war).

Eleanor was born in 1122, and inherited the title of Duchess of Aquitaine from her father at the age of 15. That same year (1137 for those of you keeping track), she married Louis VII and became Queen of the Franks (the EoA success method: 1 point). After the disaster of the Second Crusade (which she insisted on participating in), she decided she wanted to move on to bigger things and convinced Louis to annul the marriage.

So at this point, she is restored to her title and has two daughters that are legitimate princesses. In 1152, only two months after her annulment, Eleanor got engaged again. This time she married Henry II, Duke of the Normans, who by the way, was 12 years younger than her. After a while, Henry become King of England, which made Eleanor Queen of England (EoA method: 2 points). Queen twice by your thirties? Nice.

In the 1170s, things got a little tense for Eleanor. She encouraged her son, also named Henry, to lead a revolt against the king (Henry), and her husband had her imprisoned. She was freed in 1189, when Henry died and Eleanor's son Richard the Lionheart succeeded the throne. While Richard went off to the Crusades, Eleanor served as Queen Regent (she should get a point for that).

In the end, Eleanor outlived all of her children (she had 10), except for King John of England and Eleanor, Queen of Castille. Overall, not bad work for 82 years: Queen twice (in different countries no less!) and all of her kids were royalty. Although not exactly the shy and retiring lady of the Middle Ages, she certainly got work done, and for that you have to give her credit.There are lots of ways to go about attaining world domination, but I think the Eleanor of Aquitaine method has flair and panache.

 Note: That picture is of her tomb effigy in Fontevraud, which lays next to the effigy of her son Richard the Lionheart. You can see from her ravishing good looks why she is also known as "Helen of the Middle Ages".

In My Vision of the Future

Everyone's vision of the future is different. If you lived in ancient Rome circa 316AD, I'm fairly sure your vision of the future involved Rome being this great big empire (so basically, things just staying the same forever). In say, the 1950s, people thought that in the future, everything would be automatic (and rounded- think the Jetsons. These are the people that brought us the microwave). Cold War and Vietnam-era people thought that the future held some apocalyptic world war that few would survive from (there are some really great movies from this period- watch "A Boy and His Dog", 1974). What is the current vision of the future (hey- all of your online accounts will link together and the internet will have the smartest ads ever!)- I'm not entirely sure. However, I can tell you what my ideal vision of the future would be.

In the ideal Liber Lexica future, batteries for electronics will last longer (is it asking too much for a laptop to run all day, or my phone battery to last maybe overnight?), and since I'm making this future up, I'm going to request that electronics themselves just last longer. Because, honestly, you shouldn't have to replace your phone and  computer every couple of years, but you have to, because they completely fall apart.

In this magical future, there is also a huge, speedy, on-time network of transportation that is completely convenient, no matter where you are. I don't care how you make it happen, future, but I'd really like to travel more and it's a pain. Speed trains everywhere? Fine by me. Portals that instantly zap you to your destination (like the Floo Network or apparition!)? Even better. Hrm, thinking about it, I'd be cool if the future was just like Harry Potter's world of wizardry, minus the doom and destruction of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Right- so my vision of the future has super fast, CHEAP worldwide travel.

Also, maybe the future will hold this massive push for education, especially in the arts and humanities, so they will needs tons of new professors. Right when I get out of grad school. Hey, can't hurt- it is my futuristic vision after all.

Things I really don't want to see in the future:
1) 3D, 4D, 5D movies. Its really not that cool, film industry. It just hurts your eyes and makes you vaguely dizzy, and who really wants that? Plus, I'm convinced it is just a way to make movie tickets even more expensive than they already are. Since the world is already in 3D, I don't really need my movies (which are just escapism anyways, really) to be in 3D.

2) Computers inside my head. Occasionally sci-fi movies and books decide that in the future, our brains will connect to computers and our eyes will be like screens. That is so not happening in my version on the future. Brains are brains, and computers are computers. Maybe if you need to develop the technology to help people medically, that's fine. But no one needs to check facebook in their head or send twitter updates of their thoughts instantly as they flicker through their neurons. Plus, I might also be secretly afraid that if people had computers implanted in their brains, someone could hack them or infect them with a software virus and we'd all be in some serious trouble then. Picture it.... terrifying, no?

Regardless, the future is pretty much a total mystery (to me at least), so who knows what it will hold. Hopefully TVs and cars stick around at least as long as I do, because I would be sad to see them go. But it will be strange to see what future generations come up with. (My parents went through college without Wikipedia or the internet! what on earth will the youngins of tomorrow make fun of us for??)

American Gothic

Gothic style: pointed arches, flying buttresses, rosette windows... metal studs and a fascination with the color black? You see, I've never understood modern American "Goth" style- not the neo-Gothic look that some churches go for, but the kind of Gothic that you see lurking around in high schools. It simply doesn't make any sense. The name of your style should match your style, at least then people what accurately know what you are channeling.

Where exactly do modern Goths (MG from here on out) get their inspiration from? I have trouble envisioning any stylistic connection between them and the Medieval Gothic style. Pointed arches? Nope. Flying buttresses? Also nope. Rosette windows? Still nope. Now don't tell me that its not a fair comparison because those are architectural elements and MG is mostly a style of dress; fashion can take architectural inspiration (haven't you ever watched Project Runway?).

So if theire not getting their inspiration from Gothic architecture, perhaps MGs are channeling something earlier, like the Visigoths or the Ostrogoths. However, I'm not really thinking that is true. For instance, Ostro- and Visigoths are more into natural fibers (like wool and fur) in natural colors (like brown), and I don't think they did much in the way of spikes and chains (I could be wrong- 14th century Scottish Highlanders wore leather armor with steel studs, but then again, they're MG not Modern Highlanders).

The most confusing thing of all are MG shoes. Big, heavy black boots, generally on the taller side, with lots of laces. Definitely not Medieval. In fact, its either a nod towards 80s glam rock or 90s Doc Martens. Sorry guys.

So, what are MGs channeling if it isn't the Gothic style? Well, having done some pretty in-depth googling, I think that some of them are going for more of an extreme Victorian look (the VMGs are mostly ladies, and have a thing for lace, fitted jackets, parisols, etc.) I may just be confusing VMG with Steampunk, which is something else...I think. Other than that, I don't know what the MGs are channeling stylistically. Maybe the 90s? Then again, maybe that's because MG first came around in the 90s? Oh I don't know.

You Want to Tell Me This Isn't Art?

I'm not-so-secretly in love with the BBC tv show Top Gear, which is is about cars. On the show, three really funny middle-aged British men bicker about which absurdly expensive supercar is the best, insult hybrids and electric cars, have drag races (and every other type of race you can think of- including one that involved public transportation), and destroy old cars. As a result of my obsession with this show, I now know way more about cars than I ever wanted to know- and I know way more cars than I ever realized existed. The show is great, and I suggest you watch it, but not really because of the cars; instead, watch it because its completely hysterical (ex. motorhome racing with real race car drivers, ribald humor and British lackadaisical censorship (meaning they get away with a lot more than they would on any regular channel), and general ridiculousness/hilarity.

Anyways, in Series 9 (I think they're in Series 16 or something now), Episode 2, the three presenters are given the challenge of picking the most stylish coupe (which I think is British for a sporty 2-seater car). As a further challenge, they were sent to the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, and had to prove to a panel of art historians/curators why each of their cars was the best piece of art. For the most part their answers were very silly, and the art historians mostly thought the presenters were a waste of their time (which I thought was a bit harsh. I mean, as if your modern art is all that much better than a nice car? Yeah guys, get over yourselves). The one they finally picked was the Alfa Romeo Brera (which is far from the best looking car, as far as I'm concerned, but perhaps that was their point- coupes aren't very pretty?) This is a Brera:

However, as far a really gorgeous cars go, in my opinion, the prettiest car in production is currently the Lamborghini Gallardo LP 550-2 Valentino Balboni:

Ignore the fact that it is orange. But do note the gold and white stripe. Hold on while I show you another view:

Please, tell me that is not a thing of beauty. Yes, it is a car, and yes, it is absolutely gorgeous. If you disagree, there is something wrong with your eyes. Or you hate orange. Or maybe you dislike Italians, since this car is an Italian work of art?

Anyways, down to the business of whether or not a car can be art. On the show, they used the definition that art is something that has no other function of beauty, but I completely disagree with this definition. First, art can be functional (think of all sorts of Medieval religious objects, or ancient pottery), and second, it does not have to be beautiful (it could be grotesque, for example). Take fashion for example: high fashion (haute couture)  is designed, produced, and marketed as art. Really nice cars, like the Lamborghini, are also thoughtfully designed with aesthetics in mind. Seriously, look at that car and tell me that that car isn't meant to be a thing of beauty.

The "what is art" debate is nothing new. Keep in mind the 1917 work by Marcel Duchamp entitled "Fountain", which is a urinal turned on its side and signed, "R. Mutt". Art? As another example, "folk art" can encompass things like painted plates and quilts. If that all counts, certainly the Lamborghini counts.

Cheeky Manuscripts and More Brillliant Technology: New Artwork/ Quote of the Week 3.6.2011

As I promised last week, we're going back to the Middle Ages for this week's Artwork of the Week. Now, some of you might be able to tell that I have a great weakness for manuscripts (even greater than my affinity for monks). The one trouble is that Medieval manuscripts are (un)surprisingly hard to get ahold of. Sometimes you can find an image or two online, but what you get is usually poor quality or a detail (ie not of the whole page but of one tiny sections). Well that is pretty useless, isn't it? I recently discovered (and 100% support) that some organizations holding manuscripts are moving towards putting digital versions online. In particular, I would like to give props to the British Library for its "Turning the Pages" program. As it turns out, they have this week's artwork as one of their online manuscripts. (Feel free to ogle online by clicking here- but read the rest of the post first to figure out which manuscript to look at!)

So, after all that build-up, I'm happy to announce that this week's Artwork of the Week is the Luttrell Psalter! It was written between 1320 and 1340 for Sir Geoffrey Luttrell, who you will see astride his horse in the picture below (Folio 202 verso):

Apparently in Latin, Geoffrey Luttrell is spelled "Galfridus Louterell" (read the line of text above the image). Anyways, the Luttrell Psalter is full of fascinating images of everyday life in the Middle Ages (seriously, check out the other pages in the online version). There's all sorts of charming scenes, like men hitting each other over the head with pottery and oxen plowing fields. Additionally, there are two jousting knights thought to be Richard the Lionheart and Saladin. And did you catch the fish with a face on this page? Oh, and side note: in case you're not familiar with various forms of religious texts or can't read Latin (or both), a psalter is a book of Psalms.

How the book itself came to be in the British Library is an interesting story also. It was sold at auction in 1929 with an asking price of £31,500, which was way outside the British Library's budget. Instead it was purchased by the American John Pierpont Morgan (USA! USA!) ...for the British Library. This is slightly strange, because he has his own extensive collection of Medieval manuscripts and could have bought and kept it for himself. But instead he spent his money and gave it away to the British Library. Which is cool, sort of.

Don't go thinking I forgot a quote for this week- I just got all excited about the artwork.

"If past history was all there was to the game, the richest people would be librarians."
-Warren Buffet

Yes, I think it is an amusing quote. Well, because he is one of the world's richest people...also what does he know about librarians?

Fun Things to do on Airplanes

Plane rides are long. And if you don't have something entertaining to do, they are also very boring. So, in the spirit of helpfulness, I'm going to give a list of fun things to do on airplanes if you happen to forget a book or whatever to keep you occupied.

• Pretend you're a secret agent. Generally, when you get on an airplane, you know approximately zero of the hundred-and-something people on the plane. Which means they don't know you either, so you can't pretend to be whatever you want! I generally go for secret agent. I would pretend to be a super important jet-setting person (you know the type- the person who you absolutely do not recognize, but definitely feel like they're a big deal, where ever they happen to be from); however, I'm usually not very successful playing that person because my travel wardrobe consists of jeans, sneakers, and a tshirt. Not exactly the outfit to give off that vibe. It is very comfy thought. And secret agents (I imagine) like comfy. And of course, because they're undercover, they can wear whatever they want. If you're pretending to be a secret agent, just attempt to give off that mysterious aura. On the other hand, you shouldn't really take this one too far, because people might think you're a creeper.
• Quietly be reading/doing something absurd. If you happen to have a book, magazine, or computer on hand, this one is easier.I bought a Cosmopolitan magazine in Germany once (apparently fashion magazines in Deutschland don't have any sort of censorship?) and tried to read it on the plane, but I kept getting weird looks from the person sitting next to me. How I should have played it off was to point at a picture of a fashionable/barely dressed model and been like, "Isn't that an artfully placed handbag?" If you don't have a magazine, you could start writing your memoirs (or go big and start your first romance or science fiction novel). Laptop not even necessary- just ask the stewardess (airline hostess?) for some extra napkins to write on. Then again, people might also think you're crazy. On second thought, bonus points if they think you're crazy!
• Make up scenarios about your plane-mates. That old guy in 25A? Definitely a former secret agent, probably in Russia, or I guess it was the USSR back in his day. The woman in sweats in 34C? She's flying to meet her internet lover in person for the first time (actually, that happened on my last flight, and the lady talked nonstop about it the entire time). The stranger the story, the better. This will entertain you for the whole flight because you'll have to think of reasons why whatever it is they're doing fits into their scenario (of course the secret agent is reading the newspaper- there is secret code in there for him to say his next mission!)

When all else fails and you have nothing to do on the airplane, then sleep. The air on planes has less oxygen than normal air (because its circulating around the airplane, being breathed and all), so it actually triggers your brain to be sleepy. Take advantage of this and catch zzzs for as long as possible. (Sleeping makes the time pass faster!) Happy traveling!

Spring Break Edition: Way Down in Kokomo

Spring break is a much-cherished high school and college tradition. For some, it is a week surrounded on either side by insane weeks of midterms and essays, for others it is a chance to relax. For most, it is a time for travel. While many undergraduates are heading south to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, or to the classic Mexican destinations, I will not be heading in that direction. However, there is nothing stopping me from breaking out the warm weather music (namely the Beach Boys and the Monkeys- don't judge).

There's a 1988 Beach Boys song that goes "Bermuda, Bahamas, cooome on pretty mama. Key Largo, Montego, baaaby why don't we go... Jamaica off the Florida Keys, there's a place called Kokomo...that's where we wanna go, way down in Kokomo."

Sounds like a nice vacation spot, right? Well, I went to go find out where exactly it is, and get this- there is no Kokomo in the Caribbean! There's one in Indiana and one in Hawaii, but none in the Caribbean (except for the private island bought by Sandals Resorts after the song was made). Sneaky Beach Boys.

In other news, the song apparently was written for the Tom Cruise movie, Cocktail, and almost won a Grammy (they lost to Phil Collins...sorry, but he should always win for movie soundtracks- he did the music for Tarzan and Brother Bear). Even more of a side note: Phil Colllins voiced two characters in the movie Balto- a classic.

Bottom line: you can't go way down to Kokomo, but don't let it put a damper on your spring break- all of the other places mentioned in the song are real!

Hirsutism: It is What it Sounds Like

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If you've watched a History Channel special on bearded ladies or werewolves (it's okay if you haven't, not everyone watches as much TV as I do), you've probably heard of hirsutism. If you think that the word sounds suspiciously like "hair suit", you'd be exactly right! Hirsutism is a genetic issue that affects a relatively tiny proportion of the population. It affects more women than men, but let's face it- they're hairy anyways, so we're less likely to notice.

Aside form 19th century circus acts, people with hirsutism tend to keep their condition on the down low. Probably because being so covered in hair garners a lot of attention. There is, however, one family that got quite a lot of attention in 16th century Europe, Petrus and Tognina Gonzales. Petrus, who was born in the Canary Islands, was taken as a child and presented to the French King Henry II. The prevailing medical opinion of the time was that he was either a werewolf or part dog.

The king took Petrus in and had him educated (more to see if it was possible than anything else). By the time he was an adult, Petrus was very successful in court circles and quite the asset to Henry. He got married in 1573 to a Parisian woman and they ended up having four children (all of the kids got dad's hirsutism). As a family, they traveled around Europe together, visiting different royal courts and important people. Around this time, a painting was done of Tognina, Petrus' cute (but hairy) young daughter.

Unfortunately, not much more is known about the family, or what happened to them throughout history. Maybe if you meet a particularly hairy European person with the last name of Gonzales, you can ask if they have a great-great-grandfather named Petrus.

I Found my Future Home!

Choosing a home is a big decision, and for many it can be very difficult choice. However, I know exactly which one I want. And here it is in all its gloriousness:

Isn't it pretty? Being English and old, it even has a name: Highclere Castle. Yes, castle. Although there has been a house on the site since the mid 17th century, the current house was built in 1839 by Sir Charles Berry, who you may or may not know built the British Houses of Parliament. It was built in the "High Elizabethan style", meaning that even though it is old, it harkens back architecturally to the Tudors. The Earl at the time of the rebuilding had a thing for the Gothic style, so various parts of the house reflect this. I wish I could do that with my house- you know, just have them add in Gothic arches simply because I like them. But then again, if this were my castle, I would have them because I like them. (Mine! They'd be all mine!) Besides the Gothic-fantasy entrance, this is probably one of my favorite architectural parts of the house:

Making this house even cooler, it has its own ancient Egyptian exhibit. Why, you ask? Oh, only because one of the earls who lived in the house was buddies with Howard Carter, the man who excavated the tomb of Tutankhamen. Could this house be any more perfect? I don't think so.

Now, making this my house may be a bit of a challenge, because it is in England and everything, so I'd have to find a job there and such. Oh yeah, and its the hereditary property of the Earl of Carnarvon, so I'd have to convince the current Earl to give it to me. This might be a slight issue. Alternately, I have read that the Earl's son (aka the future 9th Earl of Carnarvon and therefore future owner of the most gorgeous house in existence) is turning 19 soon. Just saying (just kidding, Matt).

That's Right, I'm Going to Pick on Foreign Films

Watching a good old American movie, you can always take comfort that things will turn out all right. For the most part, the guy will get the girl, good will vanquish evil, and so on and so forth. No matter how bad things get for the characters during the movie, I know that it will come right in the end.

Now, if there's a foreign film market that has to take that concept to the extreme, its Bollywood. Three hours long and filled with song and dance, I LOVE Bollywood movies. Main character move across the world? No problem, she'll still get her man. Series of horrible misunderstandings or seemingly insurmountable difficulties? Never you fear, somehow Bollywood characters will overcome everything and love will triumph. What's not to like with that?

Then, on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, we have British films. They usually start out depressing, then progress slowly and painfully, only to have an unhappy ending. Tell me- what is the point of that?! If you are going to torture me with endless disappointments and torments for the characters, at least give them their happy ending! But no, things only ever go from bad to worse. Then, just maybe, you think things might start looking up- bam!- suddenly its worse than ever. Why can't the guy get the girl? Why can't the characters achieve whatever their dreams were? Come on England, why do you have to be like that? And its not just the UK, although they win the award for most depressing foreign films (Germany, I'm looking at you). Spain wins for most psychologically messed up movies (um, Pan's Labyrinth and the Orphanage).

Maybe it's wrong to pick on foreign films, but seriously, would it kill the British to make a movie with a happy ending? I know they can do comedy, at least in TVshows (Top Gear, the Fast Show, Monty Python). Maybe I should write to the Queen...or Parliament: "Save the Happy Ending!" "What do we want?" "Happy endings!" When do we want them?" "Now! Or in the next movie I watch...either works!"