28 March - Cat/Daff Season Opens



Spring rolls on in its stately progression, very beautiful in its way - first, we have

28 March - Calamares Ahumados Herrera



Old friend

My latest idea in delicacy marketing - smoked squid tentacles. Not sure about the packaging yet, but I'm thinking about about a wasabi/pea foam dip as an accompaniment. Investors welcome.

28 March - More Dancing Pickelhaubes



Above, a scene from

27 March - The Beggar's Opera



Wonderful news from old friend

27 March - More Recent Acquisitions



I'm unforgivably tardy in acknowledging the generous contribution of the fellows over at the nearby

The Leibsters have also given us a bottle of vintage home-made Slovakian hrushkavitz - pear brandy with an actual pear in the bottle. Enver/Egon, the Institute's doorman/orchard warden, left it on the porch for us - the bottle leaked a bit, and one of the fellows summoned the fire departments HAZMAT unit as a precaution. Friend of the Museum Jeffrey Price describes hrushkavitz:

... They [Slovenian farmers] set out bottles in a pear orchard, propped on poles with a fertilized pear blossom stuck into the bottle. In due time, the blossom grows into a pear inside the bottle. So far, so good. But then they fill the bottle with murderous double-distilled pear rakija. Never having seen a bottle of hrushkavitz finished off, I don't know what happens to the pear afterwards. It vaguely worries me.

I'd hate to waste the pear after we drink the hrushkavitz, but can't figure out how to get at it without the danger of broken glass.

20 March - Recent Acquisitions, Vexillology Dept.



The Museum's still picking up new artifacts and stuff, despite the parlous state of the economy - I'll be posting snaps of some of the objects here. First, our Staff Vexillologist,

20 March - The Kaiser's Lackey



We watched the excellent 1951 German film

20 March - Karen



Karen, near Shepherdstown, West Virginia, 1981.

Goodbye, Karen.

15 March - Recent Acquisition at the Hornbostel Institute



Noted handgonner and

There was tremendous excitement at the Leib Hornbostel Institute last night, when the Plant Equipment Operator (that's me! Well, acting, anyway) arrived home to find our new-to-us bird frightening matchlock carbine on the front door stoop.

Although only 62 caliber, it is a massive device, probably designed to be wielded by 1.5 persons, one of them with amazingly strong wrists. The stock is made of some very dark, irresponsibly-harvested tropical hardwood with roughly the same weight per cubic foot as cast iron.

The operating procedures manual makes it clear that it was meant to be mostly fired with blank charges, to frighten away birds from the orchards or vineyards being guarded.

The Institute Directorate, in Klagenfurt, makes it clear that if the firearm is ever used with a projectile or projectiles, the projectiles must be made of bismuth. Among the instances cited when one would need a projectile are visitation by a rabid wolf, the on-going abduction of a small child by a lammergeier (before the bird has gained too much altitude, of course), and being importuned by a vinyl siding salesperson.

Bismuth does not naturally occur in the Evans Parkway Park region, but we have already begun experiments in the basement of the Institute, seeking some way of extracting it from the generic equivalent of Pepto-Bismol. Pretty messy stuff, that, I can tell you already.

Perhaps some of your readers have already solved this problem?

PS - The Senior Editor has already authorized funds for the acquisition of one pood of so-so quality black gunpowder, enough for about 10,000 blank rounds. She hates being aroused at 4 AM by exuberant birds. She has never hear 25 grains of black powder going off in the front yard, I must observe. This policy may change.

PS - A Cornell staff pyrotechnician has agreed to assist me with the development of a 9 volt push-button matchlock carbine igniter, to insure reliable performance during public ceremonies. If his system works, I wonder if it could be modified to function with a Charleville musket? I'll let you know how the project is going, if you're interested.

15 March - Lincolniana



When

14 March - America Left Behind Once Again


Lucio Tonina/SITOS

A New York Times

The machine Mr. Torghele and his engineers produced is outfitted with little windows so the customer can watch the pizza being made. As in the Charlie Chaplin film "Modern Times" (in miniature and without Chaplin) wheels turn and gears grind. The customer presses a button to choose one of four varieties — margherita (plain cheese and tomato sauce), bacon, ham or fresh greens. A plastic container dumps flour into a drum resembling a tiny washing machine; a squirt of water follows, and the drum goes into a spin cycle, forming a blob of dough that is then pressed flat to form a 12-inch disk.

Tomato paste is squirted onto the dough and cheese is added before it is lifted into a small infrared oven. The baked pizza then slips onto a cardboard tray and out into the customer’s waiting hands. Mr. Torghele says the pizza will cost as little $4.50, depending on the variety.

... Initially, he [Sr. Torghele] thought the United States would be his primary market, but he learned that market would be hard to penetrate. Instead, when his machine goes into regular production this summer, he will be focusing on Italy and its neighbors.

14 March - Coverage of the Wallowing Season Opener



What with the pressure of other duties, and then the worry of Nutmeg's disappearance, I'm only now getting around to reporting on last weekend's festive spring wallowing season opener. Above, Gus preps the South Wallow.

The cats were a little tentative in their wallowing at first - the wallows were still a bit chilly, after all, but they quickly got into it...




... And everyone seemed to have a nice time. Nutmeg, Natasha and Leroy relax in the North Wallow.




Of course, the Museum's Video Unit shot the inevitable wallowing video...




... And then we all had a little sit down on the porch.

14 March - The Cat Came Back


Cat Nutmeg

Here's a harrowing tale: on Wednesday morning, a neighbor, Jill, saw

6 March - Sita Sings the Blues



I'm delighted to report that Nina Paley's

The Glass Man came in a variety of forms. He might be a urinal, an oil lamp or other glass receptacle, or else he might himself be trapped within a glass bottle.

Possibly the first case of a man believing his whole body to be made of glass was the French king, Charles VI, who allegedly refused to allow people to touch him, and wore reinforced clothing to protect himself.

A later case was recorded by the physician to Philip II of Spain, Alfonso Ponce de Santa Cruz (c.1614). The man in question, possibly a contemporary French prince, was also described by the chief physician to Henri IV, André du Laurens. At the instigation of his physician, this Glass Man languished on a straw bed to avoid being broken, until a conveniently-arranged fire quickly restored his wits.

... Consequently he refused to sit down, and recoiled from company lest he might break his "crackling hinderparts". A fear that he might be used by a glazier to make the lights in a latticed window prevented him from leaving the house. Another man with glass buttocks is found in a fictitious mental asylum by the Spanish writer Polo de Medina. The man is a dandy, inordinately concerned with his appearance. One day, attending to nature’s needs, he had smashed his buttocks and was left badly scarred. Unable to face the world with these imperfections, he had admitted himself to the asylum.

... a glass-maker from the Parisian suburb of Saint Germain, who constantly applied a small cushion to his buttocks, even when standing. He was cured of this obsession by a severe thrashing from the doctor, who told him that his pain emanated from buttocks of flesh.