tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57382839574894777902024-03-19T01:47:35.645-07:00ken atchity door to doorUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2919125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-78999540439138118462024-03-18T00:00:00.001-07:002024-03-18T00:00:00.156-07:00#LOL <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiw-qVyh_FPhEEhvRlnPo8h3RyQHJPK_baSto55rD7bSKXDFxkslTe_uQqfulUw-jYEeMRTDrHT31u6y9rPCT9UCqKVY9P5jk4V7n-B7GRy8M6iEDl0BrvGISGKj3cBqtLMY3w9W63Q1xwVZmhnJPNBpB0bwZ86Y-Ir3VY7FuGN1yxCoO_IQxfc7TSKro/s889/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="889" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiw-qVyh_FPhEEhvRlnPo8h3RyQHJPK_baSto55rD7bSKXDFxkslTe_uQqfulUw-jYEeMRTDrHT31u6y9rPCT9UCqKVY9P5jk4V7n-B7GRy8M6iEDl0BrvGISGKj3cBqtLMY3w9W63Q1xwVZmhnJPNBpB0bwZ86Y-Ir3VY7FuGN1yxCoO_IQxfc7TSKro/w518-h640/5.jpg" width="518" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3fR3BKwT1G7_yIX_TbpLI01s-l7IKAtIQ7xlAmXFtmBdo_w-vX_Wsaf6hIkQU-u85bdQkc74qx42mOKUNqeZm7ZfZ1aGOvjb8TRR56oP8r6vci05HKM9rhSgnwb4o63sbCs5mt9xizl_6kz481Xjdegec_aWpmyrmU_3JziSsX-RG8Sd_VKXGw8Uxg0/s960/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3fR3BKwT1G7_yIX_TbpLI01s-l7IKAtIQ7xlAmXFtmBdo_w-vX_Wsaf6hIkQU-u85bdQkc74qx42mOKUNqeZm7ZfZ1aGOvjb8TRR56oP8r6vci05HKM9rhSgnwb4o63sbCs5mt9xizl_6kz481Xjdegec_aWpmyrmU_3JziSsX-RG8Sd_VKXGw8Uxg0/w480-h640/4.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvlDZd8cpTy3roET4t-QOfz00pjJPhlqv5VvIZ47k7M5S-QC-M2vaxyABy2HdkK2CuyBlkFyc6QlTB1zuSOFvy_VX-PaP_kVW1PzCt4ZHdeXVaIQXXiudYsZHjEt0pC5VZA4ts4yj6Z2owEaMwdp8Ut8Qj6l1MaCFTuJW-rFQiXoe29KK0fVFMMK1d2XA/s561/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="561" data-original-width="450" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvlDZd8cpTy3roET4t-QOfz00pjJPhlqv5VvIZ47k7M5S-QC-M2vaxyABy2HdkK2CuyBlkFyc6QlTB1zuSOFvy_VX-PaP_kVW1PzCt4ZHdeXVaIQXXiudYsZHjEt0pC5VZA4ts4yj6Z2owEaMwdp8Ut8Qj6l1MaCFTuJW-rFQiXoe29KK0fVFMMK1d2XA/w514-h640/3.jpg" width="514" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHw4YKzy7C3KZGOnXGgfzTM1ta76hqwoXj46dxwJqOv1FYH0tHEpu8eARNQAVfKCZ7AIT0MJlNTOhVv601ED_bf_j1ScrRCP-2Ad8u1f6k30rnHu2JuwdEOSi1WDBm6cPxsSzzDQ82F8X7k4clwIsib8VgpaeU-AKjUuOj46Vqj2It6pOhfPjH5Rzuo6c/s513/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="450" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHw4YKzy7C3KZGOnXGgfzTM1ta76hqwoXj46dxwJqOv1FYH0tHEpu8eARNQAVfKCZ7AIT0MJlNTOhVv601ED_bf_j1ScrRCP-2Ad8u1f6k30rnHu2JuwdEOSi1WDBm6cPxsSzzDQ82F8X7k4clwIsib8VgpaeU-AKjUuOj46Vqj2It6pOhfPjH5Rzuo6c/w562-h640/2.jpg" width="562" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBXfCP9py7_0BPP_8laf7YTB3fbvTHOu4sUTKcoVLHpnMK4MlyK4OHaEzs8Ye9ujWxjv16rW7INHEZ7VXglGz6Mf4SQLTovY5dMii4adOmYXV0Dh5UVim86Rm4TFzD75EkXbyn6o8wk64CmuKTAkl0cbqRUt0MEh4A7UsnB1NzKpgBVExzwnLsYGSa6pc/s644/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="644" data-original-width="624" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBXfCP9py7_0BPP_8laf7YTB3fbvTHOu4sUTKcoVLHpnMK4MlyK4OHaEzs8Ye9ujWxjv16rW7INHEZ7VXglGz6Mf4SQLTovY5dMii4adOmYXV0Dh5UVim86Rm4TFzD75EkXbyn6o8wk64CmuKTAkl0cbqRUt0MEh4A7UsnB1NzKpgBVExzwnLsYGSa6pc/w620-h640/1.jpg" width="620" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-23441300082888214142024-03-18T00:00:00.000-07:002024-03-18T00:00:00.155-07:00Womens History Month<p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;">Bette Davis with Hattie McDaniel. Davis was the only white member of McDaniel’s troupe of performers to perform for black servicemen during WWII. McDaniel was the Chairman of the Negro Division of the Hollywood Victory Committee. She formed the troupe.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7CX6cH_Pe3fEbOsfP6TeHj3J_-QXJqUNKp2x0MK9zcL48qMGMyAOLBafQWZyf0LsXoVItT6764a81QYzfbRDUqPo5-vxpp8w__QKeV3SEEnLMMPqOsLhs3hRdYuDuObCPtkdedlyr4Dxw4s46Y8WCWMQuhl3IaTbGGmJ9B3r-NUwsNB_eSMf0cTYJK4/s872/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="713" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7CX6cH_Pe3fEbOsfP6TeHj3J_-QXJqUNKp2x0MK9zcL48qMGMyAOLBafQWZyf0LsXoVItT6764a81QYzfbRDUqPo5-vxpp8w__QKeV3SEEnLMMPqOsLhs3hRdYuDuObCPtkdedlyr4Dxw4s46Y8WCWMQuhl3IaTbGGmJ9B3r-NUwsNB_eSMf0cTYJK4/w524-h640/1.jpg" width="524" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPX56GQ_1wN6PwDHCzeOrRtDnUhGrgVyyGve1fv5n4ahDS7jO0irDp2krYZt2f9Wptkeku2U72K6C_gfriVzFtzt1lNwuth0WSbF6ufyAiWKFFrzDMQjLrMJf3sHA2SEQoRfyEndiBe11Doeuk1GfONQefkb8AJ5DJdq-L7abOKOKZ8R4oK2ZcZvVEM5k/s748/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="748" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPX56GQ_1wN6PwDHCzeOrRtDnUhGrgVyyGve1fv5n4ahDS7jO0irDp2krYZt2f9Wptkeku2U72K6C_gfriVzFtzt1lNwuth0WSbF6ufyAiWKFFrzDMQjLrMJf3sHA2SEQoRfyEndiBe11Doeuk1GfONQefkb8AJ5DJdq-L7abOKOKZ8R4oK2ZcZvVEM5k/w640-h428/2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-25035530947353342292024-03-16T00:00:00.000-07:002024-03-16T00:00:00.163-07:00Can you feel the Kenergy!<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/wmG0983hPUs?si=BrAwYwLpalTjhlmn" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-43508212778575385422024-03-14T00:00:00.000-07:002024-03-14T00:00:00.248-07:00Womens History Month: Woman Warrior<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihV9dknTwnWFa6PlUAqnQRkl_C1XI9eUMgQfdFEIXyzP_T9-bC7Z0B3r8iMUWlV9U1FfIbFP-3vv3UgmaTc_A0GphKPDj1uz-l93GdZc_omxqOdfBs69nZHLF8U_6SyXQ1pHJlKHiijT08S0jmgmF-V9AawQj5YweKPrZ65vY_oo8_qYefxmMLtA4It-k/s2048/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihV9dknTwnWFa6PlUAqnQRkl_C1XI9eUMgQfdFEIXyzP_T9-bC7Z0B3r8iMUWlV9U1FfIbFP-3vv3UgmaTc_A0GphKPDj1uz-l93GdZc_omxqOdfBs69nZHLF8U_6SyXQ1pHJlKHiijT08S0jmgmF-V9AawQj5YweKPrZ65vY_oo8_qYefxmMLtA4It-k/w360-h640/6.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />The history of Onna-Bugeisha (Onna-Musha) traces back to Empress Jingū (169-269), one of the earliest female warriors in Japan. After her husband’s death, she took the throne and led an invasion of Silla (present-day Korea).</span><br /><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />Remarkably, she fought while pregnant, defying societal norms, and ruled Japan for the next 70 years until the age of 100. In 1881, she even became the first woman to appear on a Japanese banknote.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-54231542078989829972024-03-12T00:00:00.000-07:002024-03-12T00:00:00.146-07:00Cherry blossoms in Japan<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7bI34kR2sWhvZQINGjYh9YT_9De6GjGlDLk9fey6mNaOFQH1tfDjoj6de6C4BEl4jHMdcjD88xpNHdah3bY-ph32o7ocLcGrMa5bGF-98TwifBPfBw8mvihfR6gdNtBvXNO0O3lcB_s_18M2GtKmNsTit7oVyd0_PSZ5Djd5SLol916PYCPj_iXvvCa4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="642" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7bI34kR2sWhvZQINGjYh9YT_9De6GjGlDLk9fey6mNaOFQH1tfDjoj6de6C4BEl4jHMdcjD88xpNHdah3bY-ph32o7ocLcGrMa5bGF-98TwifBPfBw8mvihfR6gdNtBvXNO0O3lcB_s_18M2GtKmNsTit7oVyd0_PSZ5Djd5SLol916PYCPj_iXvvCa4=w429-h640" width="429" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-32991506591590041662024-03-10T00:00:00.000-08:002024-03-10T00:00:00.143-08:00Someone collected these tree branches and called them "nature's dance" <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYKgNdPaCt9XBsAtKuM3KiQyZHiAGitnposr4sPzP78Hfh2SrxgWSHgQw3Z5BUosuut6gWSOQGLbdN5IP-Kf8HFs88bzl1W0EQTcLqAlUWSsc6jqsxvCQX5nBBRt6iZsR2D4BX4AOHake6WK1fNjKcwVhk708_C-PCOHanp-k-WCpyFn8Q1VTw5TLvyk/s753/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="753" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYKgNdPaCt9XBsAtKuM3KiQyZHiAGitnposr4sPzP78Hfh2SrxgWSHgQw3Z5BUosuut6gWSOQGLbdN5IP-Kf8HFs88bzl1W0EQTcLqAlUWSsc6jqsxvCQX5nBBRt6iZsR2D4BX4AOHake6WK1fNjKcwVhk708_C-PCOHanp-k-WCpyFn8Q1VTw5TLvyk/w612-h640/6.jpg" width="612" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-3685725669096052024-03-06T12:26:00.000-08:002024-03-06T12:26:11.614-08:00Too Beautiful Not to share [via Nina Reznick]<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='462' height='384' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzIbPyvxt8Y9H-lvbgwa_dWDVd7xkXcllywH_GgpxMdjLN_MevZZbTB0FRppMIm1K9q7FVpnIu80C1etkz6dA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-63266316177781292272024-02-16T00:00:00.000-08:002024-02-16T00:00:00.166-08:00#LOL<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnB83Pt-HUp9FgV7ELgQkpW7RlwM_9ck6GNgJmBxEbVpecV3clPmgrxlZK7q9EMCDlm5gNhObvBNAaKmJYI_uGu3wnMBLyshK_vqs_a7ACDyas5MZk_l0s2PkRy8lzedYc0cm-QqXrmy2CdITMqSx7elYPcBsJonVWiCdKfa_erpqQ_cl2UU9xK-JB1oc/s809/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="809" data-original-width="526" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnB83Pt-HUp9FgV7ELgQkpW7RlwM_9ck6GNgJmBxEbVpecV3clPmgrxlZK7q9EMCDlm5gNhObvBNAaKmJYI_uGu3wnMBLyshK_vqs_a7ACDyas5MZk_l0s2PkRy8lzedYc0cm-QqXrmy2CdITMqSx7elYPcBsJonVWiCdKfa_erpqQ_cl2UU9xK-JB1oc/w416-h640/1.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikj4zhgDWKIVX6-XGlCDo0I6NNVcyImfKOsGxN-qqmY7U2ZCCS7-zEaY1LBX_v7NrwOconeWJiBKZvzlexjVzUopNIUlf_ibxbJdIG6LEiVk4SmIae1z6LL7zrIyHymFnmx79skPWHxSc5zHhlq3aHURu5bgDk_7c5z7vnRaqhSpvCFz0XXodJigqvODQ/s526/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="526" height="626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikj4zhgDWKIVX6-XGlCDo0I6NNVcyImfKOsGxN-qqmY7U2ZCCS7-zEaY1LBX_v7NrwOconeWJiBKZvzlexjVzUopNIUlf_ibxbJdIG6LEiVk4SmIae1z6LL7zrIyHymFnmx79skPWHxSc5zHhlq3aHURu5bgDk_7c5z7vnRaqhSpvCFz0XXodJigqvODQ/w640-h626/2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjMMu6do3dctIvKeh_JHadnFI4BWvhF-ljyr2EAykm24kDFNmOpbwYtlSAYrU_AFD3CcApyMbntD6K-uZ00d87UP3awYIkb1cBhtOEYLAqptGcyhTOs1tkWbsa8Sm9xRy2fc_JMWvX9PwtiAgnpJidlWB57uCnKmIb842PuTMbI3r18r3wLD2wtMwBiy0/s573/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="526" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjMMu6do3dctIvKeh_JHadnFI4BWvhF-ljyr2EAykm24kDFNmOpbwYtlSAYrU_AFD3CcApyMbntD6K-uZ00d87UP3awYIkb1cBhtOEYLAqptGcyhTOs1tkWbsa8Sm9xRy2fc_JMWvX9PwtiAgnpJidlWB57uCnKmIb842PuTMbI3r18r3wLD2wtMwBiy0/w588-h640/1.jpg" width="588" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="701" data-original-width="526" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWPl1jqN1RL33BUoaIC48GjpwlGKCMziGqMv5NrzZy883X8AYntLMm7iiuE7PRSmmm46U1L5rDPAwCZr6HQ2yg-GuLfWOj1cyLy_I0vvRJHYq8gJGHsdy5BZyrhB5HI-nXNTDSF38-S0AU0GJwK2ItAXdBPxSroebbfe4cbH9cU5cTZx_QPnqiOwLa_hU/w480-h640/3.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><br /> <p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-75018245303976719962024-02-14T00:00:00.000-08:002024-02-14T00:00:00.129-08:00How did the Heart Become the Symbol of Love?<p> </p><div class="article-content-outer-sidebar" style="background-color: white; border-bottom-color: rgb(58, 57, 64) !important; border-left-color: rgb(58, 57, 64) !important; border-right-color: rgb(58, 57, 64) !important; border-top: 2px solid; box-sizing: border-box; color: #515057; font-family: sans-serif; margin: 0px 60px 40px; padding-top: 40px;"><div class="brnhmbx-font-3 fs16" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><figure class="wp-block-image size-large" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-242658" height="902" loading="lazy" src="https://static.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/heart-in-hand-via.jpg" style="border-radius: inherit; border: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="613" /></figure><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Once upon a time, a knight was really pissed off. He had just discovered that his wife took a lover, and naturally, sought revenge in a joust to the death with his rival. But even that victory wasn’t enough to quench his rage, so he cut out the heart of his wife’s lover and gave it to his personal chef with specific instructions: cook this into a ragout for my wife. Sure enough, that night she licked her plate clean. And so goes a ye olde legend that is both Patrick Bateman-level crazy, and reaffirms how deeply rooted the heart’s role is as a powerful – and dangerous – symbol of love. But how did it get to the V-Day greeting card aisle, all the way from the era of chivalry – and what did it symbolise before that? When did the heart beat for love?</p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-242817" height="928" loading="lazy" src="https://static.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/DP879753-scaled-930x928.jpg" style="border-radius: inherit; border: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="930" /><figcaption style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.8em; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: center;">Valentine: Puzzle Purse1826<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Anonymous, British or American, 19th century. ©<a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/775441" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b59569; text-decoration-line: none;">The Metropolitan Museum</a></figcaption></figure><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">The earliest heart shaped symbol might have actually represented the seed pod of the silphium plant, which was used as contraception in ancient Libya. It also might also have simply represented the shape of someone’s backside or even a woman’s vulva. The ancient origins are manifold, and pretty much left to historical speculation.</p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large is-resized" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-246891" height="214" loading="lazy" src="https://static.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/unnamed-7.jpg" style="border-radius: inherit; border: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="514" /><figcaption style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.8em; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: center;">The pods of the silphium plantmay have inspired the V-Day heart symbol as we know it today.</figcaption></figure><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">How else “did the heart icon exist before the high Middle Ages?” asks author Marilyn Yalom in <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Amorous Heart: An Unconventional History of Love</em>. A heart shaped symbol was found on Mediterranean coins in the 6th century BCE, as well as on chalices – which means it might’ve been associated with the heart shaped leaves of vines. Meanwhile, in a 14th century Spanish depiction of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, we also see hearts – the right side up – on some of the steeds’ rear ends:</p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-242780" height="799" loading="lazy" src="https://static.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/Wieser_Facundus_Beatus_Blog_Veronika.png" style="border-radius: inherit; border: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="560" /><figcaption style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.8em; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: center;">The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse</figcaption></figure><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">“[The heart] might’ve also been the brand for horses,” says Yalom, “Why not? The double lobes do suggest haunches.” Were they symbols of war? Strength? All the wine they would drink after battle? Who knows. But in the Middle Ages, the real fun begins. This was the age of courtly love. Medieval philosophers looked to Aristotle, who said that sentiment lived not in the brain but the heart, for cues on where to pinpoint thine #feels. In <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Medieval Bodies: Life, Death and Art in the Middle Ages</em>, Josh Hartnell explains that they also inherited the Greek idea that the heart was the first organ your body made, and hence, the one that most anchored your human existence – it was the “house of the human soul.”</p><div class="messy-content" id="messy-2004082992" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-3673940803773136" data-ad-format="fluid" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-slot="9517930395" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; padding: 0px;"></ins></div><figure class="wp-block-image size-large" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-242867" height="1158" loading="lazy" src="https://static.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/6a00d8341c683453ef00e5509aeaeb8834-800wi.jpg" style="border-radius: inherit; border: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="800" /><figcaption style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.8em; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: center;">A medieval book bound in the shape of a heart</figcaption></figure><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">But one of the biggest myths of the medieval heart is that it always had the scalloped shape we’re used to. At first, hearts were depicted like wonky pears, pine cones, or rhombuses, which is partially because back in the ye olde times, it was still pretty blasphemous to dissect the sacred human body. We knew that the heart pumped out blood, but not that all that blood returned on a superhighway of veins and arteries. Which is why it started to get such a track record for being susceptible to emotions – the “bleeding heart,” as it were.</p><div class="messy-middle-of-content" id="messy-997429464" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-3673940803773136" data-ad-format="fluid" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-slot="9517930395" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; padding: 0px;"></ins></div><figure class="wp-block-image size-large" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-242865" height="1285" loading="lazy" src="https://static.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/1da48d9ffd3f1f4edd081041a1fef2d0-930x1285.jpg" style="border-radius: inherit; border: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="930" /><figcaption style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.8em; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: center;">The heart of Christ. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Département des manuscrits, Latin 1369, p. 410.</figcaption></figure><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Until the 14th century, hearts were usually depicted upside down. The first depiction of a heart in romantic context is believed to be in this 13th century French manuscript <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">“Roman de la Poire” </em>or <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Romance of the Pear</em> – proving that, yes folks, the French have always been obsessed with love – and you’ll notice the heart is indeed upside down, looking a bit like a mango.</p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-242756" height="535" loading="lazy" src="https://static.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/Roman-de-la-poire-detail.png" style="border-radius: inherit; border: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="526" /></figure><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">The heart, as either a lumpy fruit shape or its famous scalloped form, became a motif of troubadour poems, marble coffins, and sheet music; it was seen on playing cards, in manuscript doodles, and fashion too – like the “Escoffin,” a kind of heart shaped head gear…</p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-242750" height="1024" loading="lazy" src="https://static.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/00074101.jpg" style="border-radius: inherit; border: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="812" /><figcaption style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.8em; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: center;">Portrait of Isabella of Portugal by Rogier van der Weyden, 1450.</figcaption></figure><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Lest we forget, this was an era that took its dragons and <a href="https://www.messynessychic.com/2019/03/28/the-unexpected-relevance-of-medieval-monsters/" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b59569; text-decoration-line: none;">even weirder medieval monsters</a> very seriously, so the heart was susceptible to some very strange foul play (see: aforementioned heart ragout story). Folks in the middle ages very much believed the “you are what you eat” mantra, and so feasting on a sinful heart was a veritable death sentence. The heart, being the all-absorbant organ that it was, had eyes of its own.</p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-242826" height="854" loading="lazy" src="https://static.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/AN01502737_001_l.jpg" style="border-radius: inherit; border: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="683" /><figcaption style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.8em; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: center;">© The British Museum</figcaption></figure><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">This brings us to the origins of Valentine’s Day. Once upon a time, “courtly love” was a literary obsession with a specific romantic narrative: respectful knight pursues chaste maiden, usually with the help of a troubadour and a lyre. Dragons optional. Lather, rinse, repeat. But the heart also spoke to divine love, from Christianity to Islam, and it’s in straddling these two metaphors that V-Day is born.</p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-242760" height="644" loading="lazy" src="https://static.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/CordierColor-1.jpg" style="border-radius: inherit; border: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="504" /><figcaption style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.8em; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: center;">The chanson <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Belle, Bonne, Sage</em> by Baude Cordier, written in the shape of a heart, in the Chantilly Codex.</figcaption></figure><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Rumour has it the 14th century English author Geoffrey Chaucer (<em style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Canterbury Tales</em>) was quite taken with the story of a martyred Christian from Roman times, Valentine, who married couples in secret. That’s right, there really was a flesh-and-blood Italian behind the kitsch holiday we’ve got today – and you can visit his remains <a href="https://www.messynessychic.com/2018/02/14/you-can-blow-a-kiss-to-the-real-st-valentine/" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b59569; text-decoration-line: none;">here</a>. There’s still a lot we don’t know about Mr. Valentine, but the gist of his story made for perfect holiday fodder.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><br /></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">via <a href="https://www.messynessychic.com/">Messy Messy</a></p></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-90734247176583047302024-02-11T00:00:00.000-08:002024-02-11T00:00:00.140-08:00Hippie Lingo<p> </p><figure class="wp-block-image size-full" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #515057; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 1em 0px;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-464448" data-zoom="zoom-class25" decoding="async" height="960" loading="lazy" src="https://www.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/tumblr_5518ca693936c2f715d76a286a8773b4_3e545d53_1280.jpg" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: zoom-in; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: bottom;" width="720" /></figure>
Found via <a href="https://www.messynessychic.com/">Messy Nessy Chic</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-41829585769118321942024-02-09T00:00:00.000-08:002024-02-09T00:00:00.150-08:00Tree.fm allows you to listen to a random forest<p> </p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #515057; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 1em 0px;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-464434" data-zoom="zoom-class24" decoding="async" height="760" loading="lazy" src="https://www.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-16-at-4.28.15-PM-2048x1674-1-930x760.png" style="border: none !important; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: zoom-in; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: bottom;" width="930" /></figure><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #515057; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;"><a href="https://www.tree.fm/forest/6" rel="noreferrer noopener" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #79a2f2; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Start listening here.</a> Found via <a href="https://www.messynessychic.com/">Messy Nessy Chic</a>.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-21216624291561647822024-02-07T00:00:00.000-08:002024-02-07T00:00:00.136-08:00Behind the sets and props of Netflix's The Crown | Bonhams The Crown Auction<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> Set Decorator Alison Harvey and actors Elizabeth Debicki and Dominic West reveal the process behind making The Crown's environments feel real and believable.</span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"></span><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/i_0QR7d1YSU?si=Nbu3py7yGwN7oIh0" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-84495611133950684912024-02-05T00:00:00.000-08:002024-02-05T00:00:00.141-08:00Winter Magic <h3 style="text-align: left;"> <span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 18.75px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When it snows in Scotland the snow turns the Bannockburn statue of Robert the Bruce into something magical.</span></h3><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 18.75px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYjM5Kr8U0QEMre1AmBfq_EKdFqMKHaQPlq-BorNmlmeaUG2Baifcn7FiCBJwSR4MFiExJC10A6Ebdmq7F0G0ERzu9yeLQhOIthytuz1HXyKjcz0ZnEoGRuFkuiqzwvfcDC63LweslZAjlefGo5MlENQVSo9z2xQzCQBR0xJ8YidoqFE9SYUPG3qCyEk/s634/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="634" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYjM5Kr8U0QEMre1AmBfq_EKdFqMKHaQPlq-BorNmlmeaUG2Baifcn7FiCBJwSR4MFiExJC10A6Ebdmq7F0G0ERzu9yeLQhOIthytuz1HXyKjcz0ZnEoGRuFkuiqzwvfcDC63LweslZAjlefGo5MlENQVSo9z2xQzCQBR0xJ8YidoqFE9SYUPG3qCyEk/w640-h606/1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 18.75px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Image credit: Marisa Braithwaite</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-16055320236298618092024-02-03T00:00:00.000-08:002024-02-03T00:00:00.170-08:00A short story about decisions<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNbvH69BovjmhqYKQGSD8FjjdrhxtRl4Hr8ksv0sUw7mW7tgeE4Uso4eEPcFJWHrBwc8b81Dz_yLmn_Ok3XYc5nb88IuL5Upk-qY-7hfE-hNJ71Ywde8wutq64vM__d9-RPZrKdt1DIpDAbSYOYKKKOyr4dVJClY1ojTq9hCdX9jdMSsiBj3_wFV69hQ/s1264/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1264" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNbvH69BovjmhqYKQGSD8FjjdrhxtRl4Hr8ksv0sUw7mW7tgeE4Uso4eEPcFJWHrBwc8b81Dz_yLmn_Ok3XYc5nb88IuL5Upk-qY-7hfE-hNJ71Ywde8wutq64vM__d9-RPZrKdt1DIpDAbSYOYKKKOyr4dVJClY1ojTq9hCdX9jdMSsiBj3_wFV69hQ/w546-h640/1.jpg" width="546" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-39621835972033233172024-02-01T00:00:00.000-08:002024-02-01T00:00:00.131-08:00When James Joyce decided to revise a manuscript, editors wept.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_5Ud0KDqQwxkhh18KwQdvuCDm4B0GSANTPc3reffleSjNzjp-fxymdFABAQ8bMOzg8q1XYxoSWMigbk9ex5fdbS3zLpydLZbtRSbO0uDrWUxnvIUANHpe7Z4GIt_yx77EG53Ic2x2sxO9OJ0XuPoqNZ95e0hZGy1OsTF6haQHgarBwzVNWjU2HDgOpIw/s1002/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1002" data-original-width="564" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_5Ud0KDqQwxkhh18KwQdvuCDm4B0GSANTPc3reffleSjNzjp-fxymdFABAQ8bMOzg8q1XYxoSWMigbk9ex5fdbS3zLpydLZbtRSbO0uDrWUxnvIUANHpe7Z4GIt_yx77EG53Ic2x2sxO9OJ0XuPoqNZ95e0hZGy1OsTF6haQHgarBwzVNWjU2HDgOpIw/w360-h640/3.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-25276173570271770282024-01-30T00:00:00.000-08:002024-01-30T00:00:00.249-08:00Cajun French Lesson... <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='520' height='466' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzTUCEULMCwoQJ6jDeJssJigofDIC_5TzAn1WMHhxw11CprcGeTeSFZcT6Rvx3iON-l791UJKKx4Jbgc3aYMw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /> <p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-29374463811692592862024-01-28T00:00:00.000-08:002024-01-28T00:00:00.133-08:00The True-Life Horror that Inspired Moby-Dick [via David Angsten}<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Herman_Melville_1860.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" class="size-full wp-image-10454" src="http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/history/files/2013/03/Herman_Melville_1860.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="wp-caption-text">
Herman Melville, circa 1860. </div>
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</tbody></table>
<div class="wp-caption aligncenter" id="attachment_10454" style="width: 259px;">
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In July of 1852, a 32-year-old novelist named Herman Melville had high hopes for his new novel, <i>Moby-Dick; or, The Whale</i>,
despite the book’s mixed reviews and tepid sales. That month he took a
steamer to Nantucket for his first visit to the Massachusetts island,
home port of his novel’s mythic protagonist, Captain Ahab, and his ship,
the <i>Pequod</i>. Like a tourist, Melville met local dignitaries,
dined out and took in the sights of the village he had previously only
imagined<i></i>.<br />
<br />
And on his last day on Nantucket he met the broken-down 60-year-old man who had captained the <i>Essex</i>,
the ship that had been attacked and sunk by a sperm whale in an 1820
incident that had inspired Melville’s novel. Captain George Pollard Jr.
was just 29 years old when the <i>Essex</i> went down, and he survived and returned to Nantucket to captain a second whaling ship, <i>Two Brothers</i>.
But when that ship wrecked on a coral reef two years later, the captain
was marked as unlucky at sea—a “Jonah”—and no owner would trust a ship
to him again. Pollard lived out his remaining years on land, as the
village night watchman.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Moby_Dick_p510_illustration.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="size-medium wp-image-10456 " src="http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/history/files/2013/03/382px-Moby_Dick_p510_illustration1-318x500.jpg" height="640" width="406" /></a></div>
<div class="wp-caption alignright" id="attachment_10456" style="width: 318px;">
<div class="wp-caption-text">
Herman Melville drew inspiration for <i>Moby-Dick</i> from the 1820 whale attack on the <i>Essex</i>. </div>
<div class="wp-caption-text">
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<div class="wp-caption-text">
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Melville had written about Pollard briefly in <i>Moby-Dick</i>, and
only with regard to the whale sinking his ship. During his visit,
Melville later wrote, the two merely “exchanged some words.” But
Melville knew Pollard’s ordeal at sea did not end with the sinking of
the <i>Essex</i>, and he was not about to evoke the horrific memories
that the captain surely carried with him. “To the islanders he was a
nobody,” Melville wrote, “to me, the most impressive man, tho’ wholly
unassuming, even humble—that I ever encountered.”<br />
<br />
Pollard had told the full story to fellow captains over a dinner shortly after his rescue from the <i>Essex</i>
ordeal, and to a missionary named George Bennet. To Bennet, the tale
was like a confession. Certainly, it was grim: 92 days and sleepless
nights at sea in a leaking boat with no food, his surviving crew going
mad beneath the unforgiving sun, eventual cannibalism and the harrowing
fate of two teenage boys, including Pollard’s first cousin, Owen Coffin.
“But I can tell you no more—my head is on fire at the recollection,”
Pollard told the missionary. “I hardly know what I say.”<br />
The trouble for <i>Essex</i> began, as Melville knew, on August 14,
1819, just two days after it left Nantucket on a whaling voyage that
was supposed to last two and a half years. The 87-foot-long ship was hit
by a squall that destroyed its topgallant sail and nearly sank it.
Still, Pollard continued, making it to Cape Horn five weeks later. But
the 20-man crew found the waters off South America nearly fished out, so
they decided to sail for distant whaling grounds in the South Pacific,
far from any shores.<br />
<br />
To restock, the <i>Essex</i> anchored at Charles Island in the
Galapagos, where the crew collected sixty 100-pound tortoises. As a
prank, one of the crew set a fire, which, in the dry season, quickly
spread. Pollard’s men barely escaped, having to run through flames, and a
day after they set sail, they could still see smoke from the burning
island. Pollard was furious, and swore vengeance on whoever set the
fire. Many years later Charles Island was still a blackened wasteland,
and the fire was believed to have caused the extinction of both the
Floreana Tortoise and the Floreana Mockingbird.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:OwenChase.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" class="size-full wp-image-10453" src="http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/history/files/2013/03/368px-OwenChase-1.jpg" height="400" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Essex</i> First Mate Owen Chase, later in life. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_10453" style="width: 368px;">
<div class="wp-caption-text">
<i></i></div>
</div>
<br />
By November of 1820, after months of a prosperous voyage and a thousand miles from the nearest land, whaleboats from the <i>Essex</i>
had harpooned whales that dragged them out toward the horizon in what
the crew called “Nantucket sleigh rides.” Owen Chase, the 23-year-old
first mate, had stayed aboard the <i>Essex</i> to make repairs while
Pollard went whaling. It was Chase who spotted a very big whale—85 feet
in length, he estimated—lying quietly in the distance, its head facing
the ship. Then, after two or three spouts, the giant made straight for
the <i>Essex</i>, “coming down for us at great celerity,” Chase would
recall—at about three knots. The whale smashed head-on into the ship
with “such an appalling and tremendous jar, as nearly threw us all on
our faces.”<br />
<br />
The whale passed underneath the ship and began thrashing in the
water. “I could distinctly see him smite his jaws together, as if
distracted with rage and fury,” Chase recalled. Then the whale
disappeared. The crew was addressing the hole in the ship and getting
the pumps working when one man cried out, “Here he is—he is making for
us again.” Chase spotted the whale, his head half out of water, bearing
down at great speed—this time at six knots, Chase thought. This time it
hit the bow directly under the cathead and disappeared for good.<br />
<br />
The water rushed into the ship so fast, the only thing the crew could
do was lower the boats and try fill them with navigational instruments,
bread, water and supplies before the <i>Essex</i> turned over on its side.<br />
<br />
Pollard saw his ship in distress from a distance, then returned to see the <i>Essex</i> in ruin. Dumbfounded, he asked, “My God, Mr. Chase, what is the matter?”<br />
<br />
“We have been stove by a whale,” his first mate answered.<br />
<br />
Another boat returned, and the men sat in silence, their captain
still pale and speechless. Some, Chase observed, “had no idea of the
extent of their deplorable situation.”<br />
<br />
The men were unwilling to leave the doomed <i>Essex</i> as it
slowly foundered, and Pollard tried to come up with a plan. In all,
there were three boats and 20 men. They calculated that the closest land
was the Marquesas Islands and the Society Islands, and Pollard wanted
to set off for them—but in one of the most ironic decisions in nautical
history, Chase and the crew convinced him that those islands were
peopled with cannibals and that the crew’s best chance for survival
would be to sail south. The distance to land would be far greater, but
they might catch the trade winds or be spotted by another whaling ship.
Only Pollard seemed to understand the implications of steering clear of
the islands. (According to Nathaniel Philbrick, in his book <i>In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex, </i>although rumors of cannibalism persisted, traders had been visiting the islands without incident.)<br />
<br />
Thus they left the <i>Essex</i> aboard their 20-foot boats. They
were challenged almost from the start. Saltwater saturated the bread,
and the men began to dehydrate as they ate their daily rations. The sun
was ravaging. Pollard’s boat was attacked by a killer whale. They
spotted land—Henderson Island—two weeks later, but it was barren. After
another week the men began to run out of supplies. Still, three of them
decided they’d rather take their chances on land than climb back into a
boat. No one could blame them. And besides, it would stretch the
provisions for the men in the boats.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1b/Essex_photo_03_b.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" class="size-full wp-image-10457" src="http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/history/files/2013/03/Essex_photo_03_b.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whaleship <i>Essex</i>, “stove by a whale” in 1821. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_10457" style="width: 320px;">
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<div class="wp-caption-text">
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By mid-December, after weeks at sea, the boats began to take on
water, more whales menaced the men at night, and by January, the paltry
rations began to take their toll. On Chase’s boat, one man went mad,
stood up and demanded a dinner napkin and water, then fell into “most
horrid and frightful convulsions” before perishing the next morning.
“Humanity must shudder at the dreadful recital” of what came next, Chase
wrote. The crew “separated limbs from his body, and cut all the flesh
from the bones; after which, we opened the body, took out the heart, and
then closed it again—sewed it up as decently as we could, and committed
it to the sea.” They then roasted the man’s organs on a flat stone and
ate them.<br />
<br />
Over the coming week, three more sailors died, and their bodies were
cooked and eaten. One boat disappeared, and then Chase’s and Pollard’s
boats lost sight of each other. The rations of human flesh did not last
long, and the more the survivors ate, the hungrier they felt. On both
boats the men became too weak to talk. The four men on Pollard’s boat
reasoned that without more food, they would die. On February 6,
1821—nine weeks after they’d bidden farewell to the <i>Essex</i>—Charles
Ramsdell, a teenager, proposed they draw lots to determine who would be
eaten next. It was the custom of the sea, dating back, at least in
recorded instance, to the first half of the 17th century. The men in
Pollard’s boat accepted Ramsdell’s suggestion, and the lot fell to young
Owen Coffin, the captain’s first cousin.<br />
<br />
Pollard had promised the boy’s mother he’d look out for him. “My lad,
my lad!” the captain now shouted, “if you don’t like your lot, I’ll
shoot the first man that touches you.” Pollard even offered to step in
for the boy, but Coffin would have none of it. “I like it as well as any
other,” he said.<br />
Ramsdell drew the lot that required him to shoot his friend. He
paused a long time. But then Coffin rested his head on the boat’s
gunwale and Ramsdell pulled the trigger.<br />
<br />
“He was soon dispatched,” Pollard would say, “and nothing of him left.”<br />
<br />
By February 18, after 89 days at sea, the last three men on Chase’s
boat spotted a sail in the distance. After a frantic chase, they managed
to catch the English ship <i>Indian</i> and were rescued.<br />
<br />
Three hundred miles away, Pollard’s boat carried only its captain and
Charles Ramsdell. They had only the bones of the last crewmen to
perish, which they smashed on the bottom of the boat so that they could
eat the marrow. As the days passed the two men obsessed over the bones
scattered on the boat’s floor. Almost a week after Chase and his men had
been rescued, a crewman aboard the American ship <i>Dauphin</i>
spotted Pollard’s boat. Wretched and confused, Pollard and Ramsdell did
not rejoice at their rescue, but simply turned to the bottom of their
boat and stuffed bones into their pockets. Safely aboard the <i>Dauphin</i>, the two delirious men were seen “sucking the bones of their dead mess mates, which they were loath to part with.”<br />
<br />
The five <i>Essex</i> survivors were reunited in Valparaiso, where
they recuperated before sailing back for Nantucket. As Philbrick
writes, Pollard had recovered enough to join several captains for
dinner, and he told them the entire story of the <i>Essex</i> wreck
and his three harrowing months at sea. One of the captains present
returned to his room and wrote everything down, calling Pollard’s
account “the most distressing narrative that ever came to my knowledge.”<br />
<br />
Years later, the third boat was discovered on Ducie Island; three
skeletons were aboard. Miraculously, the three men who chose to stay on
Henderson Island survived for nearly four months, mostly on shellfish
and bird eggs, until an Australian ship rescued them.<br />
<br />
Once they arrived in Nantucket, the surviving crewmen of the <i>Essex</i>
were welcomed, largely without judgment. Cannibalism in the most dire
of circumstances, it was reasoned, was a custom of the sea. (In similar
incidents, survivors declined to eat the flesh of the dead but used it
as bait for fish. But Philbrick notes that the men of the <i>Essex</i> were in waters largely devoid of marine life at the surface.)<br />
Captain Pollard, however, was not as easily forgiven, because he had
eaten his cousin. (One scholar later referred to the act as “gastronomic
incest.”) Owen Coffin’s mother could not abide being in the captain’s
presence. Once his days at sea were over, Pollard spent the rest of his
life in Nantucket. Once a year, on the anniversary of the wreck of the <i>Essex</i>, he was said to have locked himself in his room and fasted in honor of his lost crewmen.<br />
<br />
By 1852, Melville and <i>Moby-Dick</i> had begun their own slide
into obscurity. Despite the author’s hopes, his book sold but a few
thousand copies in his lifetime, and Melville, after a few more failed
attempts at novels, settled into a reclusive life and spent 19 years as a
customs inspector in New York City. He drank and suffered the death of
his two sons. Depressed, he abandoned novels for poetry. But George
Pollard’s fate was never far from his mind. In his poem <i>Clarel</i> he writes of<br />
<br />
<i>A night patrolman on the quay</i><br />
<i>Watching the bales till morning hour</i><br />
<i>Through fair and foul. Never he smiled;</i><br />
<i>Call him, and he would come; not sour</i><br />
<i>In spirit, but meek and reconciled:</i><br />
<i>Patient he was, he none withstood;</i><br />
<i>Oft on some secret thing would brood.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Photos: Wikipedia </i><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/history/2013/03/the-true-life-horror-that-inspired-moby-dick/#ixzz2TOyxC0QL" style="color: #003399;">Read More</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/">http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com</a></span><br />
<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-34021901078366062222024-01-26T00:00:00.000-08:002024-01-26T00:00:00.140-08:00These Realistic-Looking Leather Shoes Are Actually Made of Chocolate, Cost More Than Real Shoes<div class="post-detail">
</div>
Featuring perfectly replicated seams, soles and shoelaces, as well as
impressively realistic finish, these life-size chocolate shoes seem
made of genuine brown leather.<br />
<br />
The “Gentleman’s Radiance” chocolate line is the creation of master
chocolatier Motohiro Okai of Rihga Royal
Hotel’s chocolate boutique L’éclat, in Osaka, Japan. Each leather show
measures 26 centimeters (10.2 inches) in length, and is crafted
exclusively from chocolate, including the insole and laces. The shoes
come in three different shades of brown leather – light, dark and
red-brown – and have a realistic shiny finish which Okai achieved
after a painstaking process of trial and error.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MxiS347aWQk/WEsYD1_D0VI/AAAAAAAAh1U/D8USW50KO8s-7iDKPADJ5U3eXBAszNLBQCLcB/s1600/realistic-chocolate-shoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MxiS347aWQk/WEsYD1_D0VI/AAAAAAAAh1U/D8USW50KO8s-7iDKPADJ5U3eXBAszNLBQCLcB/s640/realistic-chocolate-shoes.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span id="more-54749"></span><br />
<br />
Each pair of life-size chocolate shoes comes bundled with shoe care
accessories, including a shiny shoehorn made from chocolate and a jar of
“shoe cream” that actually contains round disks of tempered chocolate.<br />
<br />
<img alt="realistic-chocolate-shoes3" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-54751" src="http://www.odditycentral.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/realistic-chocolate-shoes3.jpg" height="755" width="580" /><br />
<br />
The workmanship and attention to detail that went into creating the
Gentleman’s Radiance chocolate shoes is best reflected by the obscene
price tag of a pair – 29,160 yen (US$258.45). Only nine pairs will be
made available for purchase, and only by reservation.<br />
<br />
<img alt="realistic-chocolate-shoes2" class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-54753" src="http://www.odditycentral.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/realistic-chocolate-shoes2-600x800.jpg" height="800" width="600" /><br />
<br />
If you’re actually considering spending more money on a pair of
chocolate shoes than most people spend for actual footwear, you should
know that reservations for the Gentleman’s Radiance line will be
accepted between January 20 – February 7, with deliveries for 7-14
February, in time of Valentine’s Day.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-8670871760331303612024-01-24T00:00:00.000-08:002024-01-24T00:00:00.237-08:00More OWLS [via Nina Reznick]<br />
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<div class="caption">
<img class=" lazyloaded" data-src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s07_28749265634/main_900.jpg?1486280334" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s07_28749265634/main_900.jpg?1486280334" width="100%" /></div>
<div class="caption">
Portrait of a screech owl. View original photo <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/creativehomemovie/28749265634/">here</a>. </div>
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<img class=" lazyloaded" data-src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s10_AP888310274116/main_900.jpg?1486280335" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s10_AP888310274116/main_900.jpg?1486280335" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="caption">
A Snowy Owl sits in the stubble of a corn field as snow falls near Macy, Indiana, on January 13, 2016. </div>
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<a href="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s14_74215872/main_900.jpg?1486280335" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" class=" lazyloaded" data-src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s14_74215872/main_900.jpg?1486280335" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s14_74215872/main_900.jpg?1486280335" width="100%" /></a></div>
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A brown owl is displayed for sale at an animal market in Jakarta, Indonesia, on May 22, 2007. </div>
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<img class=" lazyloaded" data-src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s15_Snowyowl/main_900.jpg?1486280335" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s15_Snowyowl/main_900.jpg?1486280335" width="100%" /> </div>
<div class="caption">
A snowy owl landing on January 25, 2009.</div>
<div class="caption">
<br /></div>
<div class="caption">
<img class=" lazyloaded" data-src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s19_150574469/main_900.jpg?1486280335" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s19_150574469/main_900.jpg?1486280335" width="100%" /> </div>
<div class="caption">
Elton the spectacled owl sits on a scale at London Zoo as the
zookeepers weigh and measure the animals for their annual weigh-in in
London on August 22, 2012</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-52590350059242505742024-01-22T00:00:00.000-08:002024-01-22T00:00:00.122-08:00LITTLE KNOWN TIDBIT OF NAVAL HISTORY... via Pat Francke<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HRSEs1WEIjA/WN6LOKVYTGI/AAAAAAAAif4/BUBuvBRPYP0S9YW7xRlA3gIMC7psfF5CgCLcB/s1600/ship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HRSEs1WEIjA/WN6LOKVYTGI/AAAAAAAAif4/BUBuvBRPYP0S9YW7xRlA3gIMC7psfF5CgCLcB/s640/ship.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The U.S.S. Constitution (Old Ironsides—even though she was made of oak), as a combat vessel, carried 48,600 gallons of fresh water for her crew of 475 officers and men. This was sufficient to last six months of sustained operations at sea. She carried no evaporators (i.e. fresh water distillers). However, let it be noted that according to her ship's log, "On July 27, 1798, the U.S.S. Constitution sailed from Boston with a full complement of 475 officers and men, 48,600 gallons of fresh water, 7,400 cannon shot, 11,600 pounds of black powder and 79,400 gallons of rum."<br />
<br />
Her mission: "To destroy and harass English shipping."<br />
<br />
Making Jamaica on 6 October, she took on 826 pounds of flour and 68,300 gallons of rum. Then she headed for the Azores , arriving there 12 November.. She provisioned with 550 pounds of beef and 64,300 gallons of Portuguese wine.<br />
<br />
On 18 November, she set sail for England.<br />
<br />
In the ensuing days she defeated five British men-of-war ships, and captured and scuttled 12 English merchant ships, salvaging only the rum aboard each.<br />
<br />
By 26 January, her powder and shot were exhausted.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, although unarmed she made a night raid up the Firth of Clyde in Scotland .. Her landing party captured a whisky distillery and transferred 40,000 gallons of single malt Scotch aboard by dawn. Then she headed home.<br />
<br />
The U. S. S. Constitution arrived in Boston on 20 February 1799, <br />
with no cannon shot, no food, no powder, no rum, no wine, no whisky, and 38,600 gallons of water. <br />
<br />
GO NAVY!<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-7150141842637208432024-01-20T00:00:00.000-08:002024-01-20T00:00:00.125-08:00OWLS [via Nina Reznick]<br />
Not Falcons (nor Patriots), these
superb owls hail from Europe, Asia, North and South America, captured in
photos both recent and more than a century old.<br />
<ul class="photos" data-expand="2000">
<li class="photo expanded" id="img01">
<figure class="img">
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s01_104480888/main_1500.jpg?1486308823" media="(min-width: 1592px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s01_104480888/main_1200.jpg?1486308823" media="(min-width: 1292px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s01_104480888/main_600.jpg?1486308823" media="(max-width: 542px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s01_104480888/main_900.jpg?1486308823" media="(max-width: 692px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s01_104480888/main_600.jpg?1486308823" media="(max-width: 992px)"></source>
<img class="lazyloaded" data-src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s01_104480888/main_900.jpg?1486308823" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s01_104480888/main_900.jpg?1486308823" width="100%" />
</figure>
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<div class="caption">
A white-faced owl photographed at the Photokina fair on September 21, 2010 in Cologne, Germany.
</div>
<div class="credit">
EyesWideOpen / Getty
</div>
</div>
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</li>
<li class="photo expanded" id="img02">
<figure class="img">
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s02_RTSM2Y3/main_1500.jpg?1486326245" media="(min-width: 1592px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s02_RTSM2Y3/main_1200.jpg?1486326245" media="(min-width: 1292px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s02_RTSM2Y3/main_600.jpg?1486326245" media="(max-width: 542px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s02_RTSM2Y3/main_900.jpg?1486326245" media="(max-width: 692px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s02_RTSM2Y3/main_600.jpg?1486326245" media="(max-width: 992px)"></source>
<img class="lazyloaded" data-src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s02_RTSM2Y3/main_900.jpg?1486326245" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s02_RTSM2Y3/main_900.jpg?1486326245" width="100%" />
</figure>
<div class="mobile-caption-wrapper">
<div class="caption">
A burrowing owl stands on the Olympic Golf Course
in Rio de Janeiro during a practice session for the 2016 Summer Olympics
on September 8, 2016.
</div>
<div class="credit">
Andrew Boyers / Reuters
</div>
</div>
</li>
<li class="photo expanded" id="img03">
<figure class="img">
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s03_AP04012803199/main_1500.jpg?1486280334" media="(min-width: 1592px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s03_AP04012803199/main_1200.jpg?1486280334" media="(min-width: 1292px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s03_AP04012803199/main_600.jpg?1486280334" media="(max-width: 542px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s03_AP04012803199/main_900.jpg?1486280334" media="(max-width: 692px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s03_AP04012803199/main_600.jpg?1486280334" media="(max-width: 992px)"></source>
<img class="lazyloaded" data-src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s03_AP04012803199/main_900.jpg?1486280334" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s03_AP04012803199/main_900.jpg?1486280334" width="100%" />
</figure>
<div class="mobile-caption-wrapper">
<div class="caption">
A few snowflakes melt on the face of Cloudy, a
snowy owl, during the cold blustery winter day at the Buffalo Zoo in
Buffalo, New York, on January 28, 2004.
</div>
<div class="credit">
David Duprey / AP
</div>
</div>
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</li>
<li class="photo expanded" id="img04">
<figure class="img">
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s04_Horned/main_1500.jpg?1486280334" media="(min-width: 1592px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s04_Horned/main_1200.jpg?1486280334" media="(min-width: 1292px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s04_Horned/main_600.jpg?1486280334" media="(max-width: 542px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s04_Horned/main_900.jpg?1486280334" media="(max-width: 692px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s04_Horned/main_600.jpg?1486280334" media="(max-width: 992px)"></source>
<img class="lazyloaded" data-src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s04_Horned/main_900.jpg?1486280334" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s04_Horned/main_900.jpg?1486280334" width="100%" />
</figure>
<div class="mobile-caption-wrapper">
<div class="caption">
A female great horned owl on her nest, photographed in 2009.
</div>
<div class="credit">
Dennis Demcheck / U.S.G.S.
</div>
</div>
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</li>
<li class="photo expanded" id="img05">
<figure class="img">
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s05_8705467989/main_1500.jpg?1486280334" media="(min-width: 1592px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s05_8705467989/main_1200.jpg?1486280334" media="(min-width: 1292px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s05_8705467989/main_600.jpg?1486280334" media="(max-width: 542px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s05_8705467989/main_900.jpg?1486280334" media="(max-width: 692px)"></source>
<source data-srcset="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s05_8705467989/main_600.jpg?1486280334" media="(max-width: 992px)"></source>
<img class="lazyloaded" data-src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s05_8705467989/main_900.jpg?1486280334" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2017/02/a-superb-owl-sunday/s05_8705467989/main_900.jpg?1486280334" width="100%" />
</figure></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="mobile-caption-wrapper">
<div class="caption">
An owl in flight. View original photo <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/gsloan/8705467989/">here</a>.
</div>
<div class="credit">
<a class="license-link" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">CC BY</a>
Geoff Sloan
</div>
</div>
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<img src="https://www.theatlantic.com/assets/static/theatlantic/img/sherlock.gif?knowledge=true&revenue=true&paying=false&white=false&cachebuster=1494010491688&time=5869" style="height: 0px; left: -1px; position: absolute; top: -1px; visibility: hidden; width: 0px;" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-37161045364042613382024-01-18T00:00:00.000-08:002024-01-18T00:00:00.130-08:00#LOL<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGT-YS95SRIHDgdNcRqTVolxqqahVGSFePhZ9UwuFhnJhMk1HaFBYnavhywhFPBmpviosOUIZItoE_yoy_ye0CkAzTQs2UslvVUkXZmmKt3fHGajxSZP3nNlEgcayfiB_sBSfBBiabgsvyRuon5_nmi4NIMfAQnY81hrbxi0mSCWG6fcnFQ2co0Lb5OsU/s489/lol2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="489" data-original-width="375" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGT-YS95SRIHDgdNcRqTVolxqqahVGSFePhZ9UwuFhnJhMk1HaFBYnavhywhFPBmpviosOUIZItoE_yoy_ye0CkAzTQs2UslvVUkXZmmKt3fHGajxSZP3nNlEgcayfiB_sBSfBBiabgsvyRuon5_nmi4NIMfAQnY81hrbxi0mSCWG6fcnFQ2co0Lb5OsU/w490-h640/lol2.jpg" width="490" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="526" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDsPiKHlYNn0gnB7Y4H1DvqmuW1PWx3cc42Tp6L3H02q-YehFFLolB80HU6My9Rfqk61NYdjSndfajBFOkw5wqT27DYoA7TbiJ7CzP99YBzgMNTv_vxY_vhWDO6rk_LimlBhpZBusFjUgWiPjHE-vtMpPxBB7N3hDkSW1NltpYbS1hPmz4sWZCeMi5y68/w640-h640/lol4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKkmVfTfQoRNco16itB0rP8nx1MJMtJqd-eoyyrxrwOnKI23IZtkktnNswVWkQj0AVXeT8Z-YvHWHECqCQgpuVk_xQY2K8_L83KTqz60Z6uR2hiNGPQnHcy74sPRDMGHUKQJqN908Mok19UtSQ6EN5V8UCi4Cd1NWwDB7StBGf0RCclHbFLUZefn6so-E/s960/lol5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="693" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKkmVfTfQoRNco16itB0rP8nx1MJMtJqd-eoyyrxrwOnKI23IZtkktnNswVWkQj0AVXeT8Z-YvHWHECqCQgpuVk_xQY2K8_L83KTqz60Z6uR2hiNGPQnHcy74sPRDMGHUKQJqN908Mok19UtSQ6EN5V8UCi4Cd1NWwDB7StBGf0RCclHbFLUZefn6so-E/w462-h640/lol5.jpg" width="462" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhvoPSON0aTrdcQ-wJk5ZmpCmcFsO8I9F4wWiDK5sgSMsaFgT8zy6k2MFTmXBCakcetFfxYXWysZshADccMLFGeuJf5bjDaI676a44syrjIZm9ebhANxknYeKqo2ErMuSrzkwGkTW1Dd1PbCUuSnB_44a59zvBAomCX-Ru8K3K8maqhSNenJo7VuO47E/s960/lol6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhvoPSON0aTrdcQ-wJk5ZmpCmcFsO8I9F4wWiDK5sgSMsaFgT8zy6k2MFTmXBCakcetFfxYXWysZshADccMLFGeuJf5bjDaI676a44syrjIZm9ebhANxknYeKqo2ErMuSrzkwGkTW1Dd1PbCUuSnB_44a59zvBAomCX-Ru8K3K8maqhSNenJo7VuO47E/w512-h640/lol6.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgSbNLO64TDUtvX57u75SeK548h05H9y8pl9coEn2Gfo7Hx6iB3ueJFt6xuDl2bNrS8ZZzhoBZpRQW5-mN6UUtqb77CSTmJaESuf3UbptHR6Fi9G7F7kKczondU1zzaIZy6hKN2sOqgcNXVkWONqXozVblRWe_A6ITHtI8-FkYFLPKdatuUaWf90UI3I/s720/lol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="715" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgSbNLO64TDUtvX57u75SeK548h05H9y8pl9coEn2Gfo7Hx6iB3ueJFt6xuDl2bNrS8ZZzhoBZpRQW5-mN6UUtqb77CSTmJaESuf3UbptHR6Fi9G7F7kKczondU1zzaIZy6hKN2sOqgcNXVkWONqXozVblRWe_A6ITHtI8-FkYFLPKdatuUaWf90UI3I/w636-h640/lol.jpg" width="636" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-6685077983765528552024-01-16T00:00:00.000-08:002024-01-16T00:00:00.435-08:00A charming wooden escalator in the iconic Macy's department store in Manhattan.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqC5-DxvKNc_SCHOebEVqrfGBNahpTZql8rMKp6ZBNeMAeht2i4pH3TkKPkKA7VB_Iw5uxdt-ftHKbou8imXqW-aP7wMmGXjOrLstXxqyvm6T3lwyPYat0INXgUTwgTwIx5h-vFutPrmXrcWyYc9QNiEZ3NGIMsRzPA9QLrnCxsbSno1tgrmp7BvNvMk/s676/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="526" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqC5-DxvKNc_SCHOebEVqrfGBNahpTZql8rMKp6ZBNeMAeht2i4pH3TkKPkKA7VB_Iw5uxdt-ftHKbou8imXqW-aP7wMmGXjOrLstXxqyvm6T3lwyPYat0INXgUTwgTwIx5h-vFutPrmXrcWyYc9QNiEZ3NGIMsRzPA9QLrnCxsbSno1tgrmp7BvNvMk/w498-h640/3.jpg" width="498" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;">This antique people-mover, built by the Otis Elevator Company ,(which pioneered the machinery) between 1920 and 1930, is not your average modern escalator. With a distinctive Art Deco design and a Steampunk/Dieselpunk feel, it's a unique experience that transports you to a bygone era.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;">These wooden escalators can still be found in good working condition at Macy's Herald Square, the world's largest department store.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;">When the store underwent major renovations in 2015, many of its old-world features were upgraded to their modern versions. However, a few wooden escalators stayed put.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;">The nearly century-old escalators were made of sturdy oak and ash, wood that’s traditionally used in hardwood flooring. The mechanical parts have, of course, been upgraded, and modern safety measures have been put in place.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;">As of October 2016, the wooden slatted escalators on the lower floors were replaced with metal stairs, only the top 2 floors remain wooden. All wonder how long they'll last.</span></p><p><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;">Via History Daily Org</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;">Photograph ©2022 by Brian Cohen.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-29204686292639424572024-01-14T00:00:00.000-08:002024-01-14T00:00:00.156-08:00Plaster cast of a Roman child's face, Paris, France, 1878-1920<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2gJdUBLV4rgkuaQxlVk8EGEahZKRUea7xnUFp_BEsV7YErP2wgz94REC4c9vhmGZr1pVz53kWbceQxH1VkyusPL9MlXgbkatJHYik6Ve6-Ox61jVkH0ZhB6Ae8MixaXrZjwe0J1VOn0aeVF-9KqIZ9cMOsEqDCpS2kwuKupAftwvrlUsq1kDIxcKSxU/s644/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="644" data-original-width="613" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2gJdUBLV4rgkuaQxlVk8EGEahZKRUea7xnUFp_BEsV7YErP2wgz94REC4c9vhmGZr1pVz53kWbceQxH1VkyusPL9MlXgbkatJHYik6Ve6-Ox61jVkH0ZhB6Ae8MixaXrZjwe0J1VOn0aeVF-9KqIZ9cMOsEqDCpS2kwuKupAftwvrlUsq1kDIxcKSxU/w610-h640/3.jpg" width="610" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;">Plaster cast of a child's face, from a mould accidently made when the cement seal of the sarcophagus leaked inside and covered the child's face, found in France in 1878, Roman, 1st century AD, cast 1878-1920</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;">The handwritten French label on the reverse of this tiny plaster cast explains its history. In 1878, a stone Roman burial sarcophagus was found in the gardens of a Paris convent. When a tiny Roman child died 1800 years before, cement sealing the sarcophagus leaked inside and formed a mould of the child’s face. This plaster cast was created using that mould sometime between its discovery and 1920. The translation states the child was buried with a perfectly preserved small glass bottle. However, there is no indication of the cause of death.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;">The label indicates the child came from Arènes de Lutèce, a prosperous and important Gallo-Roman town within modern day Paris. The Roman remains of Arènes de Lutèce were rediscovered in the 1860s during excavations for the building of a new tram stop.</span></p><p><a href="https://collection.sciencemuseumgroup.org.uk/objects/co84770/plaster-cast-of-a-roman-childs-face-paris-france-1878-1920-plaster-cast?fbclid=IwAR34d1BKhJXNsOj0qdmzCu9HeF5cZjWErRFy0BZXujU8GCms3241uJsp02E">Via Science Musuem Group</a><br style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px;" /><br /></p><div class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv xzsf02u x1s688f" role="button" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: white; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #050505; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.75px; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">S</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5738283957489477790.post-90347644442334980672024-01-10T12:22:00.000-08:002024-01-10T12:22:19.876-08:00Memories of....Cool Classic Drive-thru Burger Stand<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="453" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/110260174?h=7252879f88" width="640"></iframe></div><p><a href="https://vimeo.com/110260174">Beany's Drive Thru - Long Beach, California - 1952-53</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/winedson">Win Edson</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0