People, people who need used sofas ...

Breakfasting on the loggia the other morning, something happened to catch my monocled eye as it searched the serving tray for the elderflower preserves. What's that in the newspaper? An auction? Okay, you've got Old Ken's attention; I'll set aside the linen napkin and pull away from my poached egg a la Duc d'Orange. But who, pray tell, is the proprietress of this auction? Barbra Streisand? THE Barbra Streisand? Well, now you have my heart pounding like the hooves of a whipped filly on the homestretch at Ascot.



"Oh Pasha," I cooed to the sumptuous Persian sprawled on my lap, "what a coup it would be to scoop up some Babs-riffic morsels for our den." Too true, Pasha purred in sympathy, too true.



Moments later I was still trying to brush Pasha's downy mane from my tweed blazer as we zigged and zagged across Santa Monica Boulevard to that monument of good times, great parties and effortless poolside entertaining, the Beverly Hilton Hotel.



Swooping in like a falcon on a plump bustard, I parked the Digbometer in its usual spot, tossing the keys to Rochester with a flick of the wrist.



Gazing up upon the patroness of the lair I was about to enter, my excitement almost got the best of me. Be still my beating heart!



Nothing could have prepared me, though, for the riches awaiting inside. I could almost hear an angelic choir singing as I ran a finger along the glorious fur Babs had worn in Funny Girl and as I fingered the opening bars to "The Way We Were" on the baby grand.



Oh wait, Pasha, that was an angelic choir, led by chief cherubim Babs herself. Truly we -- the kind of people who need some old broken chairs, paintings on velvet and used coffee mugs -- we are the luckiest people in the world.

Experimental Idol

Continuing in my occasional series on fairly random things that just deserve greater attention, I offer the following gem from Thomas Sprat's 1667 "History of the Royal Society of London". So, Sprat is in the middle of defending the innovations of the "new science" of experimentation as practiced among London's philosophers and he comes up with this beauty by way (I guess?) of explanation:

"There are two principal Ways of preserving the Names of those, that are pass’d: The one, by Pictures; the other, by Children: The Pictures may be so made that they may far neerly resemble the Original, then Children do their Parents: and yet all Mankind choose rather to keep themselves alive by Children, then by the other. It is best for the Philosophers of this Age to imitate the Antients as their Children; to have their blood deriv’d down to them; but to add a new Complexion, and Life of their own: While those, that indeavour to come neer them in every Line, and Feature, may rather be call’d their dead Pictures, or Statues, then their Genuine Off-Spring." (51)

This opening bit - - that pictures are a leading means of preserving the memory of the departed - - is a familiar trope of Renaissance image-hagiography. Leon Battista Alberti, for example, opens his second book of "De Pictura" (1434-6) with a famous passage in praise of painting in which he identifies its ability to make absent people present as one of the art's most important powers. Yet, Sprat turns this conceit around. Instead of utilizing the fidelity, truthfulness-to-nature or other typical talk attributed to painting as models for philosophy, Sprat reads these alleged properties as exactly the wrong kind of behavior.



Philosophy should not be imitative or even (using a central tenet of the artistic theory promulgated by Sir Joshua Reynolds almost exactly one hundred years after Sprat) emulative. It should be erotic, procreative and, following the gesture to "a new Complexion", exogamous.



The implication of these statements certainly seems to be that those philosophers who "indeavour to come neer [the Ancients] in every Line, and Feature" are committing idolatry. By worshiping Aristotle, Galen and other Classical authorities as exemplars who demand endless, meticulous replication, those philosophers become "their dead Pictures, or Statues": idolators in their thought. And if the passage doesn't quite allow us to say that such slavish devotion to tradition is also incestuous, they certainly are sterile bastards. Nice!

Momus' Door

In one of his dialogues, the Greek satirist Lucian narrates an exchange between Lycinus (who occupies the Socratic position) and a confident patsy, Hermotimus. The topic of their conversation is how to choose a school of philosophy.

A number of options are consulted: should you be democratic about it and just espouse the most popular views? Perhaps the style and the personal charisma of the philosophical teachers themselves should be taken as proof of philosophical excellence?

As Lycinus systematically exposes the untenability of these various views, he recounts a fable to Hermotimus. It is as follows:

"There was once a trial of skill ... between Minerva, Neptune, and Vulcan, which should produce the most complete work. Neptune made a bull, Minerva a horse, and Vulcan a man. When they came to Momus, whom they had chosen umpire, after a careful examination of every performance, he found greatest fault with Vulcan ... , for not making a door in his man’s breast, to open and let us know what he willed, and thought, and whether he spoke the truth of not."

Momus's folly, Lyncinus explains, lies in a kind of category error: he tries to submit to visual analysis what can only really be judged by other criteria. Willed intentions have no visibility in or on the organs of the body, but need to be assessed by reason. "Momus," so Lyncinus says teasingly to Hermotinus, "was so dull he could not see into these things; but you, with more than the lynx’s sharpness, can see into the breast of every man, and not only can tell what he wills, and what he thinks, but whether he is better or worse than any body else."



What Momus really wanted was a lie detector!

(I can't give a good reason for why I'm sharing this. Time to go outside.)

Cruisin', the Old Ken way

So, once again Old Ken has fallen off the bloggin' wagon. As a way back in, I offer you this gem, which just arrived in my mailbox this morning:

"Dear Professor Digby:

"We are Sixth Star Entertainment & Marketing, the leading provider of 'Edu-tainment' Programs to the cruise industry. We staff top cruise lines with engaging Destination and Special Interest Speakers. Guest Speakers are invited on board to speak on a variety of topics and enjoy a low-cost vacation for you and a guest. Opportunities are available worldwide and it's a great way to share your knowledge and visit exotic ports of call.



"Guest speakers are considered part of the enrichment staff on board ship, and have all the regular passenger privileges, such as pool use, daytime activities, nightly entertainment, use of spa services and more. As a guest speaker, you will enjoy fantastic gourmet meals in the dining room and might even be asked to host a table and based on your knowledge, be asked to escort a shore excursion. Guest Lecturers are charged $65 per night and receive their own passenger cabin on board. They are welcomed to bring one companion to travel with them in the same cabin at no additional charge.

"As part of our lecture program, you would be requested to deliver a number of 45-minute presentations based upon the length of the voyage and each lecture will be followed by a 15 minute question/answer period. A Destination Speaker's responsibility is to give a series of original presentations illustrating the history, culture, and/or geography of the countries on the cruise itinerary. A Special Interest Speaker would discuss topics such as art, astronomy, music, maritime history, sports or other subjects. Typically, PowerPoint or other visual aids accompany the lectures.



Subjects of Interest
* European History (Eastern, Western, Northern)
* Mediterranean History
* Latin & Central American History
* Caribbean History / Culture / Traditions
* Flora & Fauna
* Forensic Science [please see picture above]
* Geography
* Art History
* Oceanography
* Marine Science
* Music History

"If you are interested in this program, have speaking experience and excellent presentation skills, and love to socialize with people who have a thirst for continuing education and enrichment, then we want to learn more about you.

"We encourage you to visit our website, www.sixthstar.com to learn more about Sixth Star and to complete an on line application. Once your application is received a member of our Outreach Team will contact you.

"We look forward to receiving your application. Please don't hesitate to contact us, should you have any questions.

"Sincerely,

Dorine Nielsen
Manager of Entertainment Programs"

SWEET!

Mount Lukens Hike

Up the 2 from Echo Park is lovely Glendale where you can find the Deukmejian Wilderness Preserve. Named for a former California governor, this preserve includes the 5,000 foot plus peak of Mount Lukens.



Although I don't have any pictures of the mountain, above is a sample of images taken from the summit looking west. Los Angeles looks like a tiny spring of trees in the middle distance and the bright glare of sunlight in the far distance is the Pacific.



We set out from the parking lot a little after 11; it was pretty hot - - over 80 degrees - - and hiked this loop trail for about two and a half hours to the summit where we found snow underfoot!



The wind was gusting incredibly at the top, which made for some slightly precarious hiking, but great for photographs as the famous LA smog is much abated here. This view is looking north into the San Gabriel mountains; beyond lies the Mojave Desert. Pretty cool!

Views from the Angeles National Forest

We've gone for walks several times in the Angeles National Forest. Yesterday, though, we took the Sundown trail up to the top of a waterfall, which is just beyond view here.



It was an incredibly foggy day ...



but as this juxtaposition suggests, the blue sky was at times visible beyond the mountains and through the veil of mist.



At other times, the mist would return.



Here is a view down the waterfall. What was awesome was that we discovered a way around the waterfall and down to its base, thus allowing us to make a complete loop. Very fun!

Work and Life in So-Cal

Should you want to see some pictures of what Pasadena looks like from an office loggia looking north toward the San Gabriel mountains ...




or if you want to see some pictures of our new house in Echo Park, have a gander. We have the little "guest house" in back ...




... and this is the front lawn, in between us and the "big house."



Here's a view of the back of our house.



And here's a picture of our street. Fun! (But not really a blog. My bad!)

Becoming Stavros!

Being born is reputed to be a painful business for all parties involved. Well, sometimes, you have to be born again, perhaps for religious, bureaucratic, or other reasons. Take the case of Old Ken's friend here—a chap who is getting married this summer in a Greek orthodox service and thus had to be baptised and effectively born again in that tradition. He had to become Stavros.



What exactly is required for such a transformation? First, you want to get the lay of the land, or in this case, a sense of the sea.



Then, it's on to the chapel for some recitations of the religious creed, some incense and so on.



But, what's this? A bathrobe? Surely not!



Actually, yes. The priest takes the initiate and their god-parent down to the shore where more incantations can be delivered.



Because this priest is not the kind to scrimp on the ceremonies, this will offer you quite an opportunity to take in the scenery—in this case of the island of Salamina.



Now once the recitations and blessings (all in ecclestical Greek of course!) are complete, it's time for some disrobing and annointing. The oil here by Jo Malone of London.



Combine that dripping down your head into your eyes with the saltiness and rockiness of the beach and you've got yourself a good time. You also now have: Stavros!

"How do you Cook Crow?"

For some reason, I woke up this morning with the question once asked by a classmate in my freshman-year Earth Science course burning in my addled brain. At the end of the lesson in this sleepy high school class, the teacher had casually asked if there were any questions. And this guy next to me queried in what I could only understand to be real seriousness: "How do you cook crow?"

Well, with the wonders of the internet at my disposal, I thought I would put the same question into a search engine and see what I got. Here is the result:

"This was printed in one of my husband's Bird Club newsletters. Apparently, it is a true story.

"The inscription on the metal bands used by the US Department of the Interior to tag migratory birds has been changed. The bands used to bear the address of the Washington Biological Survey, abbreviated: 'Wash. Biol. Surv.' until the agency received the following letter from an Arkansas camper:

"Dear Sirs: While camping last week I shot one of your birds. I think it was a crow. I followed the cooking instructions on the leg tag and I want to tell you it was horrible.

"The bands are now marked Fish and Wildlife Service."

Wow!



More fun from along the same lines is "How to cook a coot," which follows the familiar "how to cook skunk" recipe pretty closely:

"Take one coot. Pluck and clean the bird. Put a brick in the cavity. Season well with salt, pepper, and garlic. Place in a large casserole dish. Add 3 cups water to dish. Bake, covered, 12 hours. Add 1 bottle white wine. Return to oven for a further 12 hours. Add 4 chopped onions and one more bottle of white wine. Bake another 12 hours. Continue adding 1 bottle of white wine every 12 hours until the brick is soft. Then discard the coot and eat the brick."

Kamatero, or Where Some People Will be Getting Married in Greece

To get there, you will need to take a boat. "Welcome aboard!" shouts the captain huskily. "Have a cigarette," he enjoins. "No, thank you," you whisper.



Once aboard, you will be able to enjoy scenic views of untrammeled Mediterranean grandeur ...



... and the Pireaus, Greece's famous port.



From the deck, you can enjoy the colorful variety of automobiles sharing the short fifteen-minute journey to Salamis. The entertainment, visible in the extreme left-hand corner of the photograph above, is supplied by roving ministerels ...



... please dogs for surprisingly modest fees.



Speaking of pooches, the house is guarded by these fearsome beasts.



Inside, you will see an aesthetic of graceful decay ruling over all.



And from the house, we pass into the Ewok village. Imagine this all cleaned up and decked out in festive lights, populated with guests in their Sunday best and the pig roast right in the center of things. Wedding-rific!



You'll pass then into a mystical woodland bower ...



... and emerge into a meadow.



Run (or walk) through said meadow!



And there, finally, you'll arrive at the little wedding chapel. A sense of the scale can be extracted by comparison with the small person just in front of the double doors. The wedding will be held outside the chapel on this terrace. And then get ready to do the Macarena, mister!