An Interview with John Wilkes Booth

By Craig: It has been nearly a century and a half since the disgruntled stage actor John Wilkes Booth assassinated President Abraham Lincoln at Ford's Theatre in Washington D.C. Recently I had the opportunity to sit down with Mr. Booth and catch up on where he has been and what he has been doing since that terrible night long ago. Here is the interview in its entirety which I conducted on my back porch last Friday evening.

Craig: So here we are some 150 years after the shot that rocked a nation to its foundation. Tell me, Mr. Booth do you regret anything about what occurred on the night of April 14th 1865?

Booth: Firstly, let me commend you on this coffee that you have served up. I must say sir that it is exquisite! Reminds me of my sister Asia's concoction that I use to thoroughly enjoy.

Craig: Well thank you Mr. Booth, but I really cannot take the credit for the taste. That, sir, belongs to the Maxwell House coffee brand supplied by Kraft Food Groups, along with my Keurig one-cup coffee brewer.

Booth: A Keurig what?

Craig: (Laughing) Never mind Mr. Booth, a product of the 21st century, something well after your time.

Booth: (Twirling his moustache) I detect a bit of Yankee sarcasm in your voice sir. But I shall let it pass this time.

Craig: I did not mean to be offensive sir and I apologize if I have offended you, but let's get back to the question. Any regrets?

Booth: Indeed. If you had to spend the last century and a half on the run you would have regrets also.

Craig: I see, but you do not have any regrets about pulling the trigger and killing Mr. Lincoln?

Booth: I did it for my country and for no other reason. The only regret that I have is the pain and the shame that I have inflicted on my dear mother!

Craig: Did you not think of this before you entered Mr. Lincoln's box that night?

Booth: (Thinking) It was a rash, mad act brought on by desperation and a powerful desire to make a difference for a cause that I cherished wholeheartedly.

Craig: I see. So you never thought about the anguish that you might cause your aging mother and family? You acted on a pure selfish desire to gain instant fame and eternal glory is that correct?

Booth: Selfish? Hardly Sir! And I resent the implication! I told you that I killed Lincoln for my country which was and still is the South! (Booth raises his fist in the air and makes a sweeping downward motion with his arm as if he were cutting the air with a dagger)

Craig: (Changing the subject) You have spilled some of your coffee Mr. Booth. Would you like another cup?

Booth: (suddenly realizing that his outburst of emotion has soiled his dark colored suit) Oh...yes...I could use another cup, and could you add a little brandy to it?

Craig: Of course Mr. Booth. Let's make it an Irish coffee shall we?

Booth: Yes...Yes...That will be fine.

I returned a few minutes later with Mr. Booth's request and found him sitting cross legged with his index finger on his cheek as if he were in a photographers studio posing for a shot. He looked pensive but his expression brightened when I handed him his beverage. He took a sip, closed his eyes, and thrust his head back in dramatic fashion.

Booth: Exquisite!

Craig: Okay, let's start again. If you could turn back the clock and find yourself in Ford's theatre on the evening of April 14, 1865 would you still assassinate President Lincoln?

Booth: (reflecting thoughtfully) Well, since you have asked the question in a straightforward way I will answer it bluntly. Yes! He was the cause of all our miseries! The cause of our misfortune and the tyrant deserved to enter eternal damnation in the manner that he did! I have no regrets other than what I have already revealed to you.

Craig: I appreciate your straightforward answer Mr. Booth. Let me ask you something else.

Booth: Yes. Please do! It has been many years since I was the subject of an interview.

Craig: Great. So what have you been doing all these years...I mean, it has been a long time since Boston Corbett gunned you down at Garrett's farm.

Booth: (Contemplating the question) What do you think that I have been doing? I've been hanging out with Davy. We have traveled through damn near every wooded region in the south looking for succor and a place to rest. We have camped out in fields, swamps, on the sides of mountains, in caves, old abandoned houses, and any other place where we can lay our weary heads! It is very tiring, and I cannot understand why we are destined to  roam about like this for eternity! Also, I am sick and tired of hearing Davy complain about his broken neck!

Craig: (laughing) I understand. I'll bet it is somewhat frustrating.

Booth: (A stern look crosses his face) You laugh! You mock me Sir!

Craig: No, No! You have interpreted me wrong Mr. Booth. I am merely laughing at your description of Davy's neck.

Booth: (Appeased) Oh...I see, well ok then, I shall let it pass this time!

Craig: Another question for you.

Booth: Certainly!

Craig: How does it feel to go down in history with the likes of Brutus and Lee Harvey Oswald?

Booth: Ah yes! Brutus! But I am more famous than he! (wagging his finger at me) But Oswald? No, he was just a patsy. No sir! Do not compare me with the likes of them! I am like King Richard at Bosworth field! Or perhaps Hamlet avenging the death of my father!

(Booth stands up and downs the remainder of his drink before striking his best pose as Hamlet and pretending to dual with a sword)

Booth: Ah! Claudius I have you now!

Craig: Okay Mr. Booth. Your point is well taken!

Booth: (sitting back down in his chair and regaining his composure) Sorry. Please continue with the interview.

Craig: Gladly. What do you think about the state of your country today? When I say "your country" I am referring to the southern United States which you told me earlier is still your country.

Booth: I am appalled, sir, by the direction that this country has drifted in the last fifteen decades. Not just in the South, but in the North as well! Back in the day it was I John Wilkes Booth who was the idol of the times! A dignified, patriotic and stalwart youth who personified all that manhood was meant to be! Now who are the idols of their day? These miserable miscreants! Who is this arrogant, impudent, impostor of manhood that drives around in one of those horseless carriages, and goes by the preposterous name of Justin Biebo or some other such nonsense!

Craig: (Laughing) I'll have to admit Mr. Booth that although you really didn't answer my question you hit a home run there! On to the next question.

Booth: Yes. of course!

Craig: Lets us get back to the 19th century. Were you disappointed when the leaders of the Confederate government did not embrace you after shooting Mr. Lincoln?

Booth: I am not so sure that they did not embrace me! By God there was a lot going on in those final days!

Craig: Well, some of the top cabinet members including Jefferson Davis believed that the shooting of Lincoln actually hurt the Southern cause. Do you believe this?

Booth: (Standing and raising his fist in the air) Sic Semper Tyrannis!

Craig: Okay, well, I guess you answered that question.

Booth: (Sitting down)  Indeed Sir! Indeed!

Craig: By the way, where is Davy?

Booth: (Looking puzzled) Why where do you think he is? He is out in the woods! By God he has been out there with me since he got his neck stretched!

Craig: (Standing up, and gazing into the woods where he spots a man wearing a coat and light colored pants. His neck is cocked at an awkward angle. He waves.) Hello Mr. Herold!

Davy: Uh...Hi!

Booth: A simple minded youth he is!

Craig: A youth? He is almost 170 years old?

Booth: Not in our world sir!

Craig: One last question Mr. Booth.

Booth: Shoot!

Craig: Did you ever believe in your wildest imagination that people would still be talking about you 150 years after your death?

Booth: (A sinister chuckle) Death? Ah ha! Dead in the flesh! But never in the minds of men!

Craig: Or women Mr. Booth, this is the 21st century!

Booth: Of course I knew that people would still be talking about me I am John Wilkes Booth!! (With this, Booth rises and stumbles down the porch steps holding the back of his head) Damn that Corbett was a good shot! Curse him!

Craig: So long Mr. Booth!

Booth: (Turning around to acknowledge me) By the way, if Conger or Stanton comes looking for me my name is not Booth!

Craig: (Confused)Well, than who shall I say dropped by?

Booth: (Cupping his hand to his mouth and whispering) Boyd! Tell them Boyd stopped by for a chat. (cocking an eyebrow) Wait, no! The name is St. Helen! Yes, that is it... tell them St. Helen is in town. (He laughs and waves his hat at me) So long Yankee!

Booth skips into the forest and gathers up Davy who is bombarding him with questions which because of the distance I cannot understand. The last I see of them is a spectral glance of Davy's coat as he darts around a large maple tree.

Breathing Tax: America's Next Monster to be Unleashed

By Craig: So I have been quite neglectful in updating this Blog. I noticed that it has been over a month since I have posted so I figure that It would be a good time to write about a topic that has been swirling along in my mind for quite some time. A number of years ago I wrote a short story called Breathing Tax. Basically it was about a guy who lived in a futuristic society that managed to control the amount of Nitrogen/Oxygen that was in the air. A certain company with the help of the government was able to tax the citizenry on the amount of air that they consumed. The homes that people lived in were equipped with a system that delivered the correct Nitrogen/Oxygen ratio through a ventilation system. Going outside required a mask unless one was fortunate to live in one of the huge resorts that were set up to accommodate the wealthy inhabitants. The average citizen went to work in a warehouse type facility that created the tools and products that kept themselves in servitude to the oligarchs that ran the world.

The story that I wrote back in 1991 has never made it to the computer or back then a word processor. It is scratched in longhand on lined yellow paper where it has been neglected in a box or drawer for the past quarter of a century. Recently I have decided to update this story in the hopes of perhaps getting it published. Who knows! Maybe somebody reading this blog is a publisher interested in the idea. Anyway, after careful reflection I cannot help but ponder on the changes that our society has undergone in the last 25 years. The internet has made it possible for people to find out just about anything they want on their neighbors. There is little privacy in this techno-world where everything is recorded and identities become linked to keypads and hard drives. The post 9-11 world has been a witness to countless excuses to insidiously and furtively whisk away peoples liberties and freedoms. It is a slow process that people hardly notice but when it is all said and done they become nothing more than automated cogs subservient to the capitalist-oligarch machine that has created laws that make it virtually impossible for anyone to start up a personal business without a huge amount of capital to get started. Young people are forced into going into debt after taking out gargantuan sized high interest student loans and entering a job market that (pardon my French) sucks! Often times these loans are never paid off. Our government (The United States) is a travesty that thrives on taxing the citizen to death. It is how they keep middle America under control. Private agencies like the IRS and the Federal Reserve which are run by greedy corporate scumbags are given a carte blanche when it comes to controlling the unwary masses who are blinded by their own partisan politics which are nothing more than fronts created by the oligarch run media outlets. If one is to survive being caught in the web of this Hegelian dialectic one must be careful to sift through the nonsense for truth!

And then there is the Tax...the breathing tax...when will it come to pass? Perhaps even now there is some unscrupulous American dirt bag with a light bulb going off in his head and a malicious grin that is getting ready...

Dinosaur World: Iguanodon

By Craig: A couple of weeks ago my soon to be 10 year old son and I drove from Tampa Florida in a blinding rain to Plant City. It was only about a 25 mile drive and considering that I drove nearly 600 the day before it seemed like a hop, skip and a jump. My son was excited as I had not seen him in over a month. We had been to Dinosaur World before. In fact, we celebrated my sons 5th birthday there back in 08. As if the Gods knew we had arrived, the rain suddenly stopped and we made our way into the newly constructed visitor center. There, we found, much to my sons interest fossils of every kind. There were trilobites that were hundreds of millions of years old along with other plant and sea life from those ancient times. Although there was plenty to see at the visitors center and gift shop, we bought our tickets and walked out into the overcast morning to be greeted by a bunch of towering Sauropods. We made our way along one of the many paths that looped around the park and were greeted by numerous other Mesozoic beasts. On one of the paths I was intrigued to see what seemed to be a herd of grazing dinosaurs. I was, however, confused by the name on the plate in front of the display "Iguanodon." This brought me back to my childhood where I can remember one of my favorite dinosaur models from the Marx play set that I shared with my brother. These grazing Iguanodon's appeared totally different than the Iguanodon of that time period. I was well familiar with the story of Iguanodon.

Iguanodon by Zdenek Burian (mid 20th century)

 

Hawkins Crystal Palace Iguanodon (1854)

 

    In the early 1820s an English doctor named Gideon Mantell found some interesting fossil teeth which he later compared to the much smaller teeth of an iguana. He quickly noticed the similarities and so the creature was named Iguanodon meaning "iguana tooth." Other fossils were found until Mantell could make a rough sketch of what he believed the creature to look like. Mantell's Iguanodon was a quadruped with a length of about 60 feet. It was a herbivore that lived in antediluvian times which learned men of the day believed occurred before the flood of Noah.

                                             Mantell's early 1830s sketch of Iguanodon

    In 1841 Richard Owen first coined the name "Dinosaur" meaning "terrible lizard." Iguanodon was one of the first three species classified in Owens Dinosauria. Owens, however, took issue with the size of Mantell's Iguanodon and cut the length of the beast in half to a more modest number of 30 feet. Owen became the most respected authority of dinosaurs in Europe by the mid 19th century. In 1853 an artist named Benjamin W. Hawkins was approached to see if he could create life size models of the Iguanodon and Megalosaurus for the Crystal Palace building which was going to reopen in London in 1854. Hawkins' Iguanodon was based on Owen and Mantell's interpretation of what the creature looked like. Today it is a ludicrous looking creature, a squat quadruped with a horn above its nose looking more like an overgrown Rhinoceros than anything else. To bring in the new year of 1854 a dinner was held inside of the Iguanodon model with Richard Owen seated at the head of the table.

Richard Owens proposes a toast inside the Iguanodon model

    In the years that followed the Crystal Palace exhibition Iguanodon went through a series of changes. In 1878 a coal mine in Bernissart Belgium yielded one of the greatest dinosaur finds of the 19th century. Dozens of Iguanodon skeletons were found, some of them almost complete.  Louis Dollo, a young curator of the Natural history Museum in Brussels took charge of cataloging the find. He found that not only was Iguanodon not prone and lizard like, but possessed a more bird-like structure with large hind legs and shorter front ones. Dollo also correctly asserted that the horn-like bone which Owen and Mantell had placed above Iguanodon's nose was in reality a massive thumb claw that probably would have given Iguanodon a highly effective weapon of defense against predators. Dollo's bipedal, giraffe like Iguanodon that grazed on the high branches of trees stood as the model for nearly a century before it was found that he had erred slightly with the position of its tail. A modern model of Iguanodon shows that it probably grazed on all fours and ran on its longer and much stronger hind legs. It's head looking almost nothing like a modern iguana!

      As I stood there with my son staring at the new Iguanodon models on display I could almost imagine the two of us traveling back to the Cretaceous. However, the Iguanodon that greets us as we exit our time machine is not the one modeled on the modern interpretation. In fact, it is indeed the Iguanodon of my play set. It is Dollo's beast! It greets us with a nod of his head and laughs at us as it masticates a large fern.

"I am here to say goodbye to you Craig." It says after swallowing its fare.

"What do you mean?" I respond.

"Well, I am a mere interpretation of somebody else's fancy you see. The creature that you behold ceases to exist after today. From now on you will only know me in my modern form."

I was thunderstruck by what I was hearing. It couldn't be...When I think of Iguanodon I think of my Marx's white toy Iguanodon that I got from Santa Clause for Christmas when I was five! Dollo's beast!

"You mustn't say that!" I screamed. I looked at my son who could not understand what all the commotion was about.

"You must accept reality my friend. I am an antiquated reject only fit to be discarded to the backroom of a dusty library shelf. Goodbye my friend. You were my last believer!"

Suddenly without another word the massive beast solidifies into a plastic model. I edge closer and look on it's tail. It reads "Iguanodon" and then "Taiwan." My illusion is destroyed and I am suddenly transported back to my own time. Our visit to the Cretaceous being of a very short duration.

                                 Modern interpretation of the Iguanodon (Dinosaur World)

                                                              Marx's toy Iguanodon
Yes indeed, Iguanodon has perhaps been the one dinosaur that has undergone the most changes since Mantell first identified it nearly two centuries ago. There are, to be sure, similar tales when attempts were made to piece together whole bodies from fragmentary fossil evidence. The late 19th century paleontologist Edward Drinker Cope most famously is known for placing the head of the aquatic Elasmosaurus on the wrong end of its body. When the mistake was first brought to his attention by his rival Othniel Charles Marsh he vehemently fought the accusations! Even today pieces are still being put together so that we can get a more accurate and better understanding of our planets ancient past.







    
   
   

Tea Tax Anyone? I'd Gladly Pay The Queen Her Few Pence!

By Craig: I live in a bubble...I go to work, come home, go running or ride my bike, eat supper, read a book, and go to sleep. I don't watch the news. I don't have a TV...At least one that is working. I like my bubble. I had someone ask me today my opinion of the government shutdown here in the United States of America. I kind of looked at them with a blank stare and replied: "The government shut down?" Seriously though...who cares? Except perhaps the thousands of people who found themselves unemployed because a bunch of numskulls in congress can't do their job. Since the corporate mafia has taken over the United States the two impotent political parties cannot compromise because they are beholden to their corporate sponsors. Member of congress might as well wear corporate logos on their high dollar Italian suits to let everyone know who they are in bed with.

I am certainly no political science expert but from what I see, and have seen in the last few decades leads me to believe that the system that the United States is using as its governing body is not working. So why don't we scrap it. Who needs a Constitution? Great Britain doesn't have one and they get along just fine. Everyone over there has health care and the tax rate is comparable to what it is over here in the Corporate States of America. In fact, if one adds up all taxes which include federal income taxes, state income taxes, county taxes, sales taxes, and many, many other hidden taxes we idiots in the United States actually pay more and don't get a damn thing for it. We actually pay for our corporations security overseas by using the military. Why don't they pay for their own damn security? I don't know...I'm just asking a question...sort of writing in a stream of consciousness now...more of a rant than anything else. What do I know of such things...I'm just a runner.

Freedom you say? What freedom? This country seems to be heading down the road to perdition. You hardly ever hear of a gunman going into a school or a movie theatre over in Europe and blowing away scores of people. Why is it so prevalent here? Do you feel safe? Or do you find yourself constantly looking over your shoulder? When you go into a restaurant do you take notice of the exits? When you go to a sporting event or a movie do you scan the crowd around you to see if there might be a disreputable character lurking about. I took my son to a Tampa Rays baseball game a few years back and we got fairly good seats along the third base line. The whole game a security guard stood at parade rest along the foul line with his back to the field staring into the stands. In fact there was a whole row of them strategically placed so that they could gaze into the stands. He seemed to be constantly staring at me and it was a little unnerving to say the least. Is this freedom? I hardly think so. It seems like fear to me. I constantly hear, It's the Democrats!!!! It's the Republicans!!! It's the Liberals!!! It's the Conservatives!!! It's Obama!!! It's Bush!!! BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH!!!
The government is nothing but a seven headed hydra that lashes out at everything in its path to feed the corporate gods that it is serving. The constitution is a vapid, outdated, and antiquated document that needs to be discarded. The same goes for the precious Bill of Rights which are there in name only as a historical document that once served a purpose. Today these Rights that are suppose to be held so sacred no longer exist because other federal laws, state laws and county laws supersede or negate them. So, put it in a museum somewhere, or better yet sell the original to a corporate sponsor so that they can charge people to look at it. That is where it will eventually end up anyway.

I was in the U.S. Marines for six years. Would I serve now knowing what I know? Absolutely not. Why would I serve a country that is run by  BIG drug company cartels, BIG oil, BIG banking, BIG government, BIG BIGGERS, BIG BIDDLES and BIG BOOBS! And oh Ya, a country that has sold out to China. Ok forget it I'm done ranting! What is my remedy you might ask? I don't have one. I'm just an average guy that is overwhelmed by the Bigness (Is that even a word?) around him. The Bigness causes confusion, and the confusion is too widespread to get it under control. Let's be existential and keep running around the mulberry bush. Wait I have an idea! Eureka! Let's bring back the monarchy! Didn't we rebel against King George III and parliament because of a tax on stamps and tea! Yes, that's it!! I'd rather pay the Queen her few pence tax on tea than pay these corporate monsters half my salary wouldn't you? Then it is settled. I am a monarchist!!!! Damn Thomas Paine! Bring out Edmund Burke! Conciliation I say!! I'll take Cornwallis over Washington any day!! We surrender!! The United States is a big greedy cannibalistic mouth reeking of halitosis that is trying to devour itself. Long live the Queen!
It serves the person right that asked me my view on the government shutdown. Let's all just go for a run. Now I will crawl back inside my bubble.

The Food Chain

By Craig: About two months ago my 9 year old sons hermit crab died. We now had a 10 gallon aquarium without an inhabitant so I asked my son what he wanted to do with it. He suggested getting another hermit crab, but I told him that if we waited until dark and then turned the lights on to illuminate our driveway we would see plenty of toads. Would he like to have a toad for a pet? He thought it was a capital idea and so we waited until dusk. Finally the time arrived and I flipped the light switch on. My son was in the driveway like a flash and almost immediately spotted a healthy looking American Toad jumping nonchalantly near the garage door.

"There is one!" my son shouted. He pounced upon it but because he was brought up in the burbs he was afraid to touch it. So, knowing what would happen when I picked it up I snatched it, and of course it pissed all over my hand. We placed it in our aquarium and being ignorant about what it actually considered dinner we fed it some ReptoMin floating food sticks which an equally ignorant teenager at Pets Mart had recommended that we feed it. A few days after finding the toad my son came running into my library.

"He's gone! The toad is gone!"

I scrambled from my chair and found myself looking at an empty aquarium. I asked my son if he had left the top off, but he denied it. Anyway, even if he had left the top of the aquarium off I could not imagine the toad jumping that high and getting out. Still, I had to ask myself the question "was there a toad jumping around the house somewhere?"  I convinced myself that my son had left the top off of the aquarium and that the toad somehow managed to get out. My son didn't seem too overly concerned about it as he returned to watching Pirates of the Caribbean. I too returned to what I was doing and thought no more about it until the next day when I heard my son yell "dad he's back!!"
Once again I rushed into the bedroom where the aquarium sat on my son's dresser. Sure enough, there he was sitting in the wood chips as if to say "what's the problem folks!" I was now completely mystified but I soon figured out the toads mysterious Houdini-like disappearing act when I noticed a hollowed out area in the wood chips. The mystery was solved! He had buried himself. I also noticed that that he was getting real fat and wondered if it was because of the floating food sticks. This, I soon learned was not the reason for his obesity. It was the quantity of fleas inside of the aquarium that became snacks for the toad that my son and I soon nicknamed "Fat Ass."

Since my son lives with his mother in Florida for most of the year the responsibility of taking care of "Fat Ass" has, of course, fallen on me. Since I was the primary caregiver of "Fat Ass" it was my responsibility to make sure that he was properly looked after, unless, of course I would release him back to his wild state. However, I tried this, and felt bad, knowing that he would become a meal for some predator like a king snake or an owl. So, what did I do? Naturally I turned to Google and one of the first things that I learned was that toads only eat things that move. So much for my floating food sticks! I found some grubs and some isopods under a rock in the backyard and put them in front of "Fat Ass." It was an instant success! The first isopod never knew what hit it. One second it was unceremoniously and innocently crawling on a wood chip in front of "Fat Ass" and the next it was inside of the toads stomach. I wondered about the purpose of the isopod as it related to the food chain. To me, it seems that its only purpose was to crawl around under rocks and become a snack for the million other creatures that fed on it. It's only defense mechanism that I could see was rolling up into a tight little ball. It was like it was saying "look at me! I'm no snack I'm just a little pebble!"  Crickets were next on "Fat Ass" Smorgasbord. He seemed to relish these crunchy delights like a child eating an ice cream cone. After watching "Fat Ass" in action it got me wondering about the food chain. In this small aquarium "Fat Ass" was the top predator. He had nothing to fear from the crickets, isopods, slugs or fleas that happened to invade his element. However, if I were to let "Fat Ass" back into the wild he would need to watch his back. A king snake might just be lurking in the tall grass waiting for a not so tasty toad treat! Or perhaps a great horned owl sitting stoically on a branch might swoop down on its unsuspecting victim. Then again, a few weeks ago while I was walking out to the mailbox I noticed a flattened toad that had obviously been the victim of another kind of predator, an F-150 tire. A trail of small sugar ants led up to the distorted remains in a gleeful procession. I watched this ceremony with some interest, and decided on performing a little experiment. I stomped my foot on the head of the procession closest to the sun baked carcass. This had the effect that I assumed it would. A few of the ants had been crushed by the giant intrusion that befell them from the sky causing the neat and ordered procession to become a chaotic frenzy. For a minute or so there was mass confusion among the little army as they dashed this way and that, but eventually order was restored, and the food line regained its orderly line. The reinforcements merely climbing over or around their fallen comrades as if nothing had happened. I almost imagined the steel jacketed soldiers performing a seven gun salute to the fallen when they returned to their hill.

"Ha!" I said. "If it wasn't for me running over this poor unfortunate critter you fellows would not be dining on this delicacy at the moment!"

I left the ants to their not too hard earned meal and returned to the house glad that I was not an ant, or a toad, or a cricket for that matter.
As of this writing I went out to look at the remains of the splattered toad in my driveway and was astounded to see that not a bit of evidence remains except for a slight discoloring on the white cement. I imagine that with the next rain this too will disappear and the only memory of that toads brief existence on this planet remains in the memory of the one who accidentally caused its demise. What had happened to the skeletal structure of the toad? Had this been carried off by the savage elements of nature as well? To what use or purpose? Nature is still a big mystery.

Thomas Hobbes: Of Man... and the Headless Man

By Craig: Nature can be cruel. The great English philosopher Thomas Hobbes said it succinctly when he wrote that the condition of man is a condition of war of every one against every one. Everyone, Hobbes wrote, is governed by his own reason. In such a condition as this there can be "no security to any man, how strong or wise soever he be."

Carefully examine the photo above which, at first glance, is a seemingly unobtrusive scene. Indeed, it merely shows a rural street set within the backdrop of a wooded rustic setting. A freshly mowed lawn and a nicely kept brick house tell the viewer that here live people of means, or at least earn a decent living and care about the condition of their habitat. However, a second glance at the photo may raise an eyebrow, or perhaps a caution flag that something is just not right with it. There is a blemish in the photograph which takes the shape of a humpbacked, hulking, headless man. He stands in the center of the photograph, his bright red shirt in stark contrast to any other colour. He is the headless man. A creature forgotten and discarded by his friends and family as if he were a bubonic plague. His journey through life has been a harsh, brutal Hobbesian one. He is the face...if he had one...of desperate and pulverized humanity. Cursed at, made fun of, kicked, prodded, a lifetime of ridicule due to the humble state of his simple being. He is one of those unfortunates who are born without the necessary tools and skills that are needed to survive on his own in a society based on Darwinian principles. This is the headless man's last walk...it is the apogee of his existence...the dark cloud that has followed him from birth has now settled on him once and for all. He has finally surrendered to time...as inevitably we all must. He is a simple specimen of humanity who has never questioned the reason for his existence, or for that matter any subject that relates to the cosmic question of "why" something is. His life is a superficial one, like most, who live vicariously through the false lives of the fiction that is fed to them on a daily basis. It is not his fault, and like countless others who reside in this vapid sphere he is the mere product and sum of his experiences and interactions.

The headless man in the red shirt finally finds his head and lifts it high staring into the sky with a struggling grimace. His facial features contorted, he gazes into the infinite and wonders why he is having trouble with his breaths. He is simple...as far as he is concerned he has always been here...he doesn't remember his birth...only that he is here, and that he will always be here. Nothing can happen to him because "he" is "he." He merely reacts to events around him, and seeks the hedonistic pleasures that it is only natural by nature to seek. There are no consequences because like a dog the future is an abstract concept to him...there is only NOW.
The headless man had waged war against his fellow man as they had waged war against him. He has competed with them for space, food, shelter and anything else that the body requires to retain life. His struggle is at it's end...he has flown the white flag of surrender and now beseeches humanity to come to his assistance. His instinct is to continue...what else can he do? The cosmic clock is ticking!
Now, once again examine the photograph...what do you see now? I'll tell you what I see...I see a moment caught in time...a reflection of a man's life...a reflection that grinds at the core of existence and the truly short duration  of our consubstantial nature. We will one day...all of us...find our defining moment when all must come to an end.

Mummies of the World

Mummies of the World

By Jay           

It’s about time I wrote something else on this blog.  I don’t know how many people actually take the time out to read these entries, but the brothers can’t be blamed for trying. 

            This is something that has been kicking around in my head for a while now, and I figure now is better than next week or even next month though I should have written it in January, 2012 when it was still fresh in my mind.

            Last year, in downtown Charlotte, they had the Mummies of the World exhibit, and my wife (fiancé then) and I were eager to go and see what all the fuss was about.  We were fortunate to get tickets for Christmas, and so we went a few weeks later.  Unfortunately, we went on a Saturday when everyone else was there.  I detest crowds, especially when you’re crammed in and people are waiting for you to move, which was exactly what was happening the moment we arrived.  I felt like I was part of this big squirming worm as we waited in line to get in.  When I go to museums, I don’t like the feeling of people on all sides of me.  Who does?  I want to take the time to enjoy the exhibits without feeling the pressure of stepping aside.  Ah, well!...

            Finally, we reached a point where our tickets were stamped, and we were corralled into an area and pressed together with the rest of the mass who were there to view the mummies.  A young woman, probably just out of college, greeted everyone and gave us a brief background on what we were going to see.  She also stressed viewing the mummies with respect, and reminded us that we were in the presence of those who had once been alive.  I wondered if there was anyone among us who was so desensitized to death as to believe that what he was going to see was not a dead body.  And then I wondered something else…

            What was I doing there?

            I was holding the hand of my fiancé as if we were about to go on a peaceful stroll through a beautiful garden.  But in a moment we were going to be viewing dead bodies  --  shells which once contained living, breathing souls just like all the eager, well-fed people in the room waiting to view them.  The official exhibition catalog opens with what is defined as Mummy Ethics.  This states:

 

“All of the mummies and artifacts presented in the “Mummies of the World” exhibition have been held and established in well-respected European museum and university collections for a century or more and have a traceable provenance.  They were acquired at a time when collection of archeological objects and human specimens were a common practice.

Our goal in our exhibit presentation is to advance the relevance of anthropology in ancient global cultures, and to provide visitors with an educational and scientific window into the cultures, history and lives of the people who came before us.

We present “Mummies of the World” recognizing that ethical guidelines of global museum partnerships demand that human remains are treated with respect and dignity, taking into account the interests and beliefs of the social, ethical and religious groups from which the human remains originate.”

 

            This was essentially a euphemistic way of saying, “Hey, people!  It’s okay to go in and gawk at a bunch of desiccated corpses!  Don’t feel guilty!  Enjoy yourselves!”  Okay, this is a poor paraphrase, but you get the picture.

            I wondered how many of those who actually viewed the mummies visited for “educational” reasons.  How many of us were there to peek into the “scientific window” so that we could learn about “the cultures, history and lives of the people who came before us”?  I don’t deny there is a lot to learn from studying the dead.  It is very important for anthropology, archaeology, biology, and a host of other scientific disciplines.  But what could Joe Public actually get out of this besides satiating his morbid curiosity? 

            The exhibit was small but very interesting.  One of the exhibits that I remember was that of a mummified cat that had been found in Schwerin, Germany.  I remember gazing at it and thinking of my own cat at home.  I gazed at its savage looking teeth, once used to rip, tear and shred some poor and unfortunate mouse or bird back in the 1800’s. 

            Another particularly macabre looking mummy was an exhibit called “The Detmold Child.”  He was encased in a glass case and appeared to be in either a sitting or crouching position.  His eyes were shut and lips were closed.  The entire lower part of his face had puffed out and settled into his shoulders, so that he seemed to be without a neck when viewing him from the front.  He also had a full head of brown hair.  If I only had that much hair on my bald scalp after 6500 years!

            I looked over to see a middle aged couple gazing at an exhibit called “The Tattoo woman.”  Apparently, this mummy had been found in Chile and was dated to the 14^th century.  From the side, you could almost mistake her for a young woman with long hair who was sitting down with her knees pulled up to her chest.  A direct view showed a ghastly, bony corpse with the imprint of her (presumably) burial cloth patterned into the mummified flesh of her face.  The couple was gazing at the morbid figure with blank and unreadable expressions as if they were viewing a print of a still life, their arms around each other’s waists. 

            But the most disturbing mummies were left for the end.  I guess the directors of the exhibit still believe in the old motto SAVE THE BEST FOR LAST.  These mummies were called “The Vac Mummies” and consisted of husband, wife, and their infant child.  Apparently, the Orlovits family had been found in a crypt in Hungary in 1994.  Michael Orlovits, the father, appeared the least mummified.  He was laid out in a replica of the military uniform in which he had been buried.  His face, which was nearly skeletal, held an almost painful expression -- almost as if he were attempting to retain the remaining flesh which still clung tenaciously to the bone.  Veronica Orlovits, Michael’s wife, appeared more composed and comfortable with her situation.  She was laid out in her best white Sunday dress and bonnet.  Her arms and hands were folded over her stomach in such a way as to suggest complete repose.  Even her face, which was more preserved than her husband’s, simply gave her the appearance of one who had been sleeping for a very long time.  It was only her mouth, which was slightly upturned that seemed to suggest disgust with her condition and a distaste for the natural condition of death and the process of decay.  The infant, Johannes Orlovits, was situated in the middle of his parents.  He was wearing a child’s gown and bonnet, and like his mother, his tiny hands were resting peacefully upon his chest.  His gray face appeared to be made out of clay rather than mummified flesh, and the black empty holes where his eyes had been gave him a singularly resigned expression – as if he had not even attempted to comprehend the bewilderment and confusion of his single year on planet Earth.

            When we left the exhibit, we had to leave through the gift store where there was everything from paperweights to pens to children’s games.  Of course, I went to the books where I purchased Mummies of the World: The Official Exhibition Catalog as well as a much larger and more detailed volume called simply, Mummies of the World (This is where the “educational” value of the exhibit was richly detailed!).  If only the mummies knew how profitable their corpses would become. 

            This brings me back to my main point.  Why did I go?  I still don’t have an answer for that.  Was it because my brother, Craig, gave me the tickets for a Christmas gift?  I probably would have gone anyway.  Then why?  Was it simply just the morbid curiosity of seeing dead people?  Am I nothing more than a shallow minded, nosy looky loo?  I don't know!  I think I’ll go with the Mummy Ethics.  That sounds good to me!