I've been watching old movies again. The Hideous Sun Demon confirmed my belief that the sun is our enemy. But what a great surprise I had while watching Appointment with Danger, in which Alan Ladd played a hard-boiled postal inspector investigating the murder of another postal inspector. In the opening scene, two very familiar-looking thugs lug the dead inspector to an ally. They were the very young Jack Webb & Harry Morgan, who would later portray the iconic pair Sergeant Friday & Officer Bill Gannon in Dragnet! Wow! And what was really cool was what baddies they were is this film:
UPDATE: Ranald has pointed out that bronzed baby shoes are not as heavy as this clip implies. However, I'm willing to allow them poetic license. The bronzed shoes are a load on the poor hood's heart.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Vacation Recap: March 15
More great Villa Rosa rolls and coffee in the morning, then it's off to the Colosseum! Wow, it was already crowded. We got the audio-guide, but we suffered geographical confusion when we tried to find the listening spots. So many people were taking photos of other people, that I quit trying to avoid getting in the way. We went to the souvenir shop, and I got a book called Rome Reconstructed which had layered pages showing sites as they were then/now. It helped me figure out stuff the audio-guide told me that I didn't understand.
Next we went to the Forum, which was roomier and quieter. I took out my book, but once again suffered geographical confusion. The arch that I attributed to Tiberius actually belonged to Septimus Severus. Then we found a shrine to Julius Caesar, and, since it was the Ides of March, it was filled with offerings.
We took a tour of an ancient church, the Oratory of the 40 Martyrs. Tours were in Italian or English, so our group had Russians and others for whom English was not the mother tongue. In fact, I believe we were the only Americans. I took a photo of the old-fashioned crosses with the yellow peacock.
Next we went to the Forum, which was roomier and quieter. I took out my book, but once again suffered geographical confusion. The arch that I attributed to Tiberius actually belonged to Septimus Severus. Then we found a shrine to Julius Caesar, and, since it was the Ides of March, it was filled with offerings.
We took a tour of an ancient church, the Oratory of the 40 Martyrs. Tours were in Italian or English, so our group had Russians and others for whom English was not the mother tongue. In fact, I believe we were the only Americans. I took a photo of the old-fashioned crosses with the yellow peacock.
We had some lunch and gelati at Valoran's Forum S.R.L. right near the Forum on Largo Corrado Ricci. Sue had 2 flavors :bacio and kiss (chocolate with hazelnuts); I had banana. Then Sue saw a couple of women standing near us as though waiting to sit down, so we got up for them. But the women weren't together. One ignored us; the other started telling us that she didn't know where her place to sit down in life was. We fled. I tried to use the debit card I'd gotten specifically for the trip. However the mnemonic I'd invented for remembering the password was not good enough. So Sue had to float me a loan, while I charged everything I could on my MC.
For dinner we went to La Buca di Rippetta Trattoria at Via di Ripetta 36. We got to the Piazza del Popolo and found our street. We looked to our right and saw numbers in the hundreds. Damn! We were going to have to walk a long way for our dinner. But suddenly there was our restaurant on the left. The left side addresses were double-digit; the right side were triple-digit. I've never run across such a diabolical numbering system in my life! We had a fish-based meaL; small servings of salmon tartare, squid in red sauce, sliced octopus over something else, and linguini with tuna and tomatoes. As usual, we had the house red wine. All was very good.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Vacation Recap: March 14
We had decided that Monday would be a wonderful day for a trip to Pompeii. At breakfast, Sister Christina urged us to hurry or we'd miss the train. (She would stop by every table at breakfast, find out what the visitors's plans were, and give her own tips.) So we had only one of Villa Rosa's excellent rolls and some coffee.
We took the train to Naples then took the Circumvesuviana line to Pompeii Scavi. Once again, Sue's Italian helped us navigate the byzantine mass transit system.
At the entrance to the ruins we considered getting the audio-guide, but a distinguished man approached us and said he was collecting people for a 2-hour tour (shades of Gilligan's Island!), so we decided to go with him. His name was Gennaro, and he gave us an excellent tour. Here are some of the high points: we started at the basilica, which was a public building in the forum.
We saw a tavern with stone counters. The holes held wine in one, water in the next. Yes, they watered down their wine, but who knows how strong it was. The wine may have been like wine syrup.
We saw a brothel. Prostitution was a legitimate, tax-paying business in the ancient world.
Apparently the prostitutes preferred firm mattresses.
There was a storeroom with a chain-link fence front where you could see all sorts of artifacts they discovered. They also displayed some plaster casts of victims.
People threw coins into containers near each victim's plaster cast.* They were treated like saints.
This mosaic in an entryway says "Beware of Dog."
Sadly, there are many stray dogs around Pompeii. They beg for food from visitors. Sue said that she read somewhere that the local poor had abandonned their dogs when they left for vacation in August. (But if they are poor, how can they afford a vacation?) Be that as it may, there is a group that tries to find the dogs good homes.
We ended the tour at the town's Big Theater. Of course it has perfect aucostics.
After Gennaro left us we did some further exploration including the Villa of the Mysteries, which I had particularly wanted to see. Then we explored the adjacent modern town of Pompei. It was pretty touristy. Its economy leaned toward oranges and lemons.
These lemons are as big as a baby's head!
We returned to Rome and had dinner at Novona Notte. A maniacally cheerful waiter greeted us at the door. As he seated us he told the man at the table next to ours, "Here's a (female) friend for you. [in Italian]" So this elderly man began chatting up Sue, who was eager to practice her Italian. "Dmitry" said he was a lawyer in Rome on business. He gave us food recommendations and was snapping his fingers at the waiters to get us another fork or a sample of lemoncello, etc. As the evening progressed, his story changed. Now he was a canonical lawyer working for the Vatican and he lived in Rome. He knew the Pope personally. In the meantime an American couple sat down at the table on our other side, and we chatted with them. They were from Salt Lake City. Dmitry wanted to join in our conversation. He didn't know where Salt Lake City was, so they explained that it was near Las Vegas. That excited him. "Slot machine!" He asked the wife if she worked at a casino; no, she was a gynecolgist and delivered babies. Was the husband a doctor too? No. But before the guy could say anything more, Dmitry pointed at him, "Slot machine!" and made the pulling-the-lever gesture. Then he made the gesture of pulling-the-baby-out. He was so tickled with this combination, that he repeated it several times, to the embarrassment of the husband and amusement of the wife. To make a long story short, at the end of the evening he asked Sue if she were coming (with him), and she said no. We did have a good salad and spaghetti with olive oil and pepper.
*Gennaro told us that Vesuvius made a lot of noise before its eruption, so most of the Pompeiians fled and were saved. Some must have stayed or returned to get their stuff.
We took the train to Naples then took the Circumvesuviana line to Pompeii Scavi. Once again, Sue's Italian helped us navigate the byzantine mass transit system.
At the entrance to the ruins we considered getting the audio-guide, but a distinguished man approached us and said he was collecting people for a 2-hour tour (shades of Gilligan's Island!), so we decided to go with him. His name was Gennaro, and he gave us an excellent tour. Here are some of the high points: we started at the basilica, which was a public building in the forum.
We saw a tavern with stone counters. The holes held wine in one, water in the next. Yes, they watered down their wine, but who knows how strong it was. The wine may have been like wine syrup.
We saw a brothel. Prostitution was a legitimate, tax-paying business in the ancient world.
Apparently the prostitutes preferred firm mattresses.
There was a storeroom with a chain-link fence front where you could see all sorts of artifacts they discovered. They also displayed some plaster casts of victims.
People threw coins into containers near each victim's plaster cast.* They were treated like saints.
This mosaic in an entryway says "Beware of Dog."
Sadly, there are many stray dogs around Pompeii. They beg for food from visitors. Sue said that she read somewhere that the local poor had abandonned their dogs when they left for vacation in August. (But if they are poor, how can they afford a vacation?) Be that as it may, there is a group that tries to find the dogs good homes.
We ended the tour at the town's Big Theater. Of course it has perfect aucostics.
After Gennaro left us we did some further exploration including the Villa of the Mysteries, which I had particularly wanted to see. Then we explored the adjacent modern town of Pompei. It was pretty touristy. Its economy leaned toward oranges and lemons.
These lemons are as big as a baby's head!
We returned to Rome and had dinner at Novona Notte. A maniacally cheerful waiter greeted us at the door. As he seated us he told the man at the table next to ours, "Here's a (female) friend for you. [in Italian]" So this elderly man began chatting up Sue, who was eager to practice her Italian. "Dmitry" said he was a lawyer in Rome on business. He gave us food recommendations and was snapping his fingers at the waiters to get us another fork or a sample of lemoncello, etc. As the evening progressed, his story changed. Now he was a canonical lawyer working for the Vatican and he lived in Rome. He knew the Pope personally. In the meantime an American couple sat down at the table on our other side, and we chatted with them. They were from Salt Lake City. Dmitry wanted to join in our conversation. He didn't know where Salt Lake City was, so they explained that it was near Las Vegas. That excited him. "Slot machine!" He asked the wife if she worked at a casino; no, she was a gynecolgist and delivered babies. Was the husband a doctor too? No. But before the guy could say anything more, Dmitry pointed at him, "Slot machine!" and made the pulling-the-lever gesture. Then he made the gesture of pulling-the-baby-out. He was so tickled with this combination, that he repeated it several times, to the embarrassment of the husband and amusement of the wife. To make a long story short, at the end of the evening he asked Sue if she were coming (with him), and she said no. We did have a good salad and spaghetti with olive oil and pepper.
*Gennaro told us that Vesuvius made a lot of noise before its eruption, so most of the Pompeiians fled and were saved. Some must have stayed or returned to get their stuff.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Vacation Recap: March 12-13
Sue and I fly Alitalia nonstop to Rome. They serve good food. For dinner I had chicken with vegetables, green bean salad with ham, cheese-filled pasta, fruit salad, and red wine. Sue had the vegetarian option.
I believe that the seats are more cramped than they were in 1995...or could it be that I am bigger, older, and grumpier? In any case, I slept poorly. It's early morning when we land.
In Rome, Sue took charge of figuring out public transportation, which propelled her quickly into speaking Itallian. She got us to the metro stop Pyramide, from which we dragged our bags to our convent. We arrived at our room at the Villa Rosa Convent, run by Domincan nuns, about 11:30 local time. Sister Christina, who presides over this convent hotel, is originally from Ireland. First site: the Protestant Cemetery.
Of course we visited Keats's grave and got to see several kitties among the monuments. It was drizzley and dreary but warmer than Boston.
Then we walked a very long way to try out a pizza place touted in a recent New York Times article. Unfortunately, the place was not serving any of the unusual flavors (like salt cod) mentioned in the article. We each had a slice. It was good, but not otherwise noteworthy.
Rain fell heavily. We veered into the Museo Nationale Roma, which had a grumpy staff but great stuff. At one point Sue almost collapsed into a mosaic she was looking at. She realized that she was tired.
After the Museo, we wandered around looking for a cafe where we could sit down (the Museo had no cafe), but all the seats were taken in the places we passed. Finally we returned to the Termini (train station), where we found one seat at a coffee bar. Sue insisted that I sit, which I did. She had coffee; I fizzy water. If you order coffee in Italy, you get espresso, so I had to be careful not to get too buzzed.
At 7:30 we had dinner at Bucatino Taverna Testaccio. At all restaurants, including this one, we ordered the house red wine; it was always good. We had a salad made of stalks of things (Sue thought it might include fennel) topped with anchovy sauce. I liked it. We also had an artichoke cooked in olive oil, spaghetti with clam sauce, chocolate cake with a molten center, and "delizia pistachio," which was like a very dense ice cream. Sue again practiced her Italian with the waiter. Bucatino was one of the lower-priced places. The deocor was shabby; a picture hanging on a wall near me seemed to have water damage. But I enjoyed all the food.
More photos available at: https://picasaweb.google.com/bryant.colleen08/ItlayOverSpringBreak2011#
I believe that the seats are more cramped than they were in 1995...or could it be that I am bigger, older, and grumpier? In any case, I slept poorly. It's early morning when we land.
In Rome, Sue took charge of figuring out public transportation, which propelled her quickly into speaking Itallian. She got us to the metro stop Pyramide, from which we dragged our bags to our convent. We arrived at our room at the Villa Rosa Convent, run by Domincan nuns, about 11:30 local time. Sister Christina, who presides over this convent hotel, is originally from Ireland. First site: the Protestant Cemetery.
Of course we visited Keats's grave and got to see several kitties among the monuments. It was drizzley and dreary but warmer than Boston.
Then we walked a very long way to try out a pizza place touted in a recent New York Times article. Unfortunately, the place was not serving any of the unusual flavors (like salt cod) mentioned in the article. We each had a slice. It was good, but not otherwise noteworthy.
Rain fell heavily. We veered into the Museo Nationale Roma, which had a grumpy staff but great stuff. At one point Sue almost collapsed into a mosaic she was looking at. She realized that she was tired.
After the Museo, we wandered around looking for a cafe where we could sit down (the Museo had no cafe), but all the seats were taken in the places we passed. Finally we returned to the Termini (train station), where we found one seat at a coffee bar. Sue insisted that I sit, which I did. She had coffee; I fizzy water. If you order coffee in Italy, you get espresso, so I had to be careful not to get too buzzed.
At 7:30 we had dinner at Bucatino Taverna Testaccio. At all restaurants, including this one, we ordered the house red wine; it was always good. We had a salad made of stalks of things (Sue thought it might include fennel) topped with anchovy sauce. I liked it. We also had an artichoke cooked in olive oil, spaghetti with clam sauce, chocolate cake with a molten center, and "delizia pistachio," which was like a very dense ice cream. Sue again practiced her Italian with the waiter. Bucatino was one of the lower-priced places. The deocor was shabby; a picture hanging on a wall near me seemed to have water damage. But I enjoyed all the food.
More photos available at: https://picasaweb.google.com/bryant.colleen08/ItlayOverSpringBreak2011#
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Sunday, March 06, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Clever Captions Will Win Valuable Prizes!
Create comical captions for either of these photos and win big! Deadline for entries is March 20!
I wonder why humans stick their other ends in here?
(The winner!)
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Is He Mad?
JB put a lime on a cubicle divider and left it there for the longest time. When asked why he did not throw it out, he said it was a experiment to prove the hypothesis that the lime wouldn't rot and that some clementines would look pretty next to it.
Sounds fishy. Does he think limes are immortal? Are the clementines supposed to be brides of the lime?
Sounds fishy. Does he think limes are immortal? Are the clementines supposed to be brides of the lime?
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
This and That
I've been watching all sorts of stuff made before I was born. Destination Moon was based on a novel by Robert Heinlein, my first favorite sci-fi writer. Heinlein's stories aimed to educate. He was always finding ways to slip in science facts. DM used its comic relief, an ignorant engineer who had to replace a sick crew memeber at the last moment, as an excuse to explain things. Joe Sweeney is always wailing variations on "What's happening?" in his heavy Bronx accent, so his crewmates can explain about weightlessness, outer space, and Newton's Laws of Motion. Also, the guy who builds the rocket is a private businessman who has to raise funds for the project, so he shows the following cartoon to his rich prospects:
Very Educational. (Though it implies that gravity is made by giant magnets.)
The other interesting thing I've been viewing is Tales of Tomorrow, a TV show that ran from 1951-1953. The DVDs include the advertisements, which were made in the same studio. Live TV! A couple of times I heard coughs or loud things drop while the end credits were rolling. Perhaps they got sloppier as the night wore on. Some good actors were in that series. Burgess Meredith played the lead in the best one I saw: The Great Silence. Most of the episodes were sponsored by Kreisler.
Very Educational. (Though it implies that gravity is made by giant magnets.)
The other interesting thing I've been viewing is Tales of Tomorrow, a TV show that ran from 1951-1953. The DVDs include the advertisements, which were made in the same studio. Live TV! A couple of times I heard coughs or loud things drop while the end credits were rolling. Perhaps they got sloppier as the night wore on. Some good actors were in that series. Burgess Meredith played the lead in the best one I saw: The Great Silence. Most of the episodes were sponsored by Kreisler.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Belated Birthday Cake
Friday afternoon my office mates put together a birthday party for me, Sue, and Mikel. This lovely million-layer cake is from Finale.
Vida entertained everybody with her hand tricks.
I point toward the cake, but I look into the future.
Vida entertained everybody with her hand tricks.
I point toward the cake, but I look into the future.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Modern Maturity
Today, as I turn 56, I'd like to say a few words about getting old. Many Boomers have taken on the laudable project of making their contemporaries feel OK about getting old. We get plenty of health advice and are told that we can have a sex life after 40 or even 50. All this is good.
But, as in any large movement, there are unrealistic extremes. Menopause needn't be feared, and perhaps it has been over-pathologized, but it can be troublesome for some of us. Some women seem to believe that anything menopausal should be endured, otherwise we are ruining the celebration of our later years. At one point my hot flashes were so intense that my glasses fogged up. That made it rather difficult to sleep; I went with medication.
In a recent interview Jane Fonda said, "I don't feel comfortable about having had plastic surgery. But I got tired of catching my reflection and seeing that I looked so tired when that wasn't at all how I felt."* I wish that, instead of this defensive tone, she had simply said, "I had the surgery because I wanted it. What's that to you?" The interviewer's questions weren't recorded, but criticism is implied. One of my favorite health gurus, Christiane Northrup, advises women who have decided to get cosmetic surgery to keep it secret because, "You'd be amazed at the number of judgments your friends may have concerning cosmetic surgery,..Some of your friends won't think you're very spiritually evolved, for instance, if you want to remove the bags under your eyes. Frankly, how you look is none of their business."** To Fonda's credit, she has admitted, in the past, to discomfort with becoming an old broad.
When I read that interview I immediately remembered a friend from the 90s, a man, who was always bragging about how age was "just a number" to him, blah, blah, blah. Then one day told me he was getting the eye-bag operation because his eyes made him look tired, while in reality he was energetic as all get out. His eyes lied. (I want to emphasize that he gave me this explanation unsolicited. If I looked disgusted, it was because I knew he wanted to date women 20 years his junior. Age was more than "just a number" in that respect.) So Fonda's "excuse" was not new. Then he hinted that he needed somebody to look after him for a few days after going under the knife, but I didn't oblige. His lecturing had got my goat, so I let that old goat arrange for his own care.
One of the undisputed advantages of aging is that, if you've been paying attention, you may be a lot smarter and than you were as a young pup. If you've also learned from experience, you might even become a more complicated, interesting person. So why do some people praise "young attitudes" in older people? Young attitudes are only appropriate for young people; in old people they are pathetic!
In conclusion, I'd like to encourage everybody to think positively about aging. But realize that when you've been young in an age of youth-worship, going over the hill can be traumatic. If some age-related rot is bothering you, don't be ashamed to change it, if you can. And don't annoy me with fake justifications!
*More, December 2010/January 2011, page 24.
**Christiane Northrup, The Wisdom of Menopause, page 384
But, as in any large movement, there are unrealistic extremes. Menopause needn't be feared, and perhaps it has been over-pathologized, but it can be troublesome for some of us. Some women seem to believe that anything menopausal should be endured, otherwise we are ruining the celebration of our later years. At one point my hot flashes were so intense that my glasses fogged up. That made it rather difficult to sleep; I went with medication.
In a recent interview Jane Fonda said, "I don't feel comfortable about having had plastic surgery. But I got tired of catching my reflection and seeing that I looked so tired when that wasn't at all how I felt."* I wish that, instead of this defensive tone, she had simply said, "I had the surgery because I wanted it. What's that to you?" The interviewer's questions weren't recorded, but criticism is implied. One of my favorite health gurus, Christiane Northrup, advises women who have decided to get cosmetic surgery to keep it secret because, "You'd be amazed at the number of judgments your friends may have concerning cosmetic surgery,..Some of your friends won't think you're very spiritually evolved, for instance, if you want to remove the bags under your eyes. Frankly, how you look is none of their business."** To Fonda's credit, she has admitted, in the past, to discomfort with becoming an old broad.
When I read that interview I immediately remembered a friend from the 90s, a man, who was always bragging about how age was "just a number" to him, blah, blah, blah. Then one day told me he was getting the eye-bag operation because his eyes made him look tired, while in reality he was energetic as all get out. His eyes lied. (I want to emphasize that he gave me this explanation unsolicited. If I looked disgusted, it was because I knew he wanted to date women 20 years his junior. Age was more than "just a number" in that respect.) So Fonda's "excuse" was not new. Then he hinted that he needed somebody to look after him for a few days after going under the knife, but I didn't oblige. His lecturing had got my goat, so I let that old goat arrange for his own care.
One of the undisputed advantages of aging is that, if you've been paying attention, you may be a lot smarter and than you were as a young pup. If you've also learned from experience, you might even become a more complicated, interesting person. So why do some people praise "young attitudes" in older people? Young attitudes are only appropriate for young people; in old people they are pathetic!
In conclusion, I'd like to encourage everybody to think positively about aging. But realize that when you've been young in an age of youth-worship, going over the hill can be traumatic. If some age-related rot is bothering you, don't be ashamed to change it, if you can. And don't annoy me with fake justifications!
*More, December 2010/January 2011, page 24.
**Christiane Northrup, The Wisdom of Menopause, page 384
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Composing and Comprising
In high school, I learned that there were some French people who wanted to keep English words out of their language. In response, I vowed to eliminate all French borrowings from my speech. I can't remember what this involved; maybe I avoided rendez-vous or bouquet. I hadn't heard of croissants back then.
Nowadays, I have a much less ambitious linguistic project: using comprise correctly. By occasionally sneaking a comprise into casual conversation--"You, know, my household comprises just me and two cats!"--I hope to put off the day when compose and comprise become synonymous. Someday every words will mean everything. I'm doing my small part to hold off linguistic chaos.
Nowadays, I have a much less ambitious linguistic project: using comprise correctly. By occasionally sneaking a comprise into casual conversation--"You, know, my household comprises just me and two cats!"--I hope to put off the day when compose and comprise become synonymous. Someday every words will mean everything. I'm doing my small part to hold off linguistic chaos.
The Oxford Dictionary of American Usage and Style
comprise. A.
And compose.
Correct use of these words is simple, but increasingly rare. The parts compose the whole; the whole comprises the parts. The whole is composed of the parts; the parts are comprised in the whole. Comprise, the more troublesome word in this pair, means “to contain; to consist of”—e.g.: “Summit Hall Farm comprises several hundred acres on the exterior portion of the original settlement of the Gaither family” (Wash. Times).
B.
Erroneous Use of is comprised of.
The phrase is comprised of is always wrong and should be replaced by some other, more accurate phrase—e.g.: “The Rhode Island Wind Ensemble is comprised of [read has] 50 professional and amateur musicians, ranging in age from 15 to 82” (Providence J.-Bull.).
C.
Comprise for are comprised in or constitute.
If the whole comprises the parts, the reverse can't be true—e.g.: “Of the 50 stocks that comprise [read make up] the index, 40 had gains, 8 had losses and 2 were unchanged” (Fla. Today).
D.
Comprise for are.
This is an odd error based on a misunderstanding of the meaning of comprise. E.g.: “They comprise [read are] three of the top four names in the batting order of the 30 most influential sports people in B.C. for 1997” (Vancouver Sun).
And compose.
Correct use of these words is simple, but increasingly rare. The parts compose the whole; the whole comprises the parts. The whole is composed of the parts; the parts are comprised in the whole. Comprise, the more troublesome word in this pair, means “to contain; to consist of”—e.g.: “Summit Hall Farm comprises several hundred acres on the exterior portion of the original settlement of the Gaither family” (Wash. Times).
B.
Erroneous Use of is comprised of.
The phrase is comprised of is always wrong and should be replaced by some other, more accurate phrase—e.g.: “The Rhode Island Wind Ensemble is comprised of [read has] 50 professional and amateur musicians, ranging in age from 15 to 82” (Providence J.-Bull.).
C.
Comprise for are comprised in or constitute.
If the whole comprises the parts, the reverse can't be true—e.g.: “Of the 50 stocks that comprise [read make up] the index, 40 had gains, 8 had losses and 2 were unchanged” (Fla. Today).
D.
Comprise for are.
This is an odd error based on a misunderstanding of the meaning of comprise. E.g.: “They comprise [read are] three of the top four names in the batting order of the 30 most influential sports people in B.C. for 1997” (Vancouver Sun).
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Romeo's Thumbs and the Future of Felines
Romeo is a polydactyl cat. He has one extra toe on each front paw. These cats are common on the East Coast, so are sometimes called Boston Thumb Cats. Hemingway favored this kind of cat, so it is sometimes called a Hemingway Cat. (Thanks to Julie & Dave for this info.)
One of the many six-toed cats at the Ernest Hemingway House in Key West, Florida.
The extra thumbs are not necessarily a disadvantage; they can give the kitty extra dexterity. I believe the polydactyl cat's extra dexterity (and Hemingway's favor) will allow it to eventually take over the feline kingdom. In a thousand years, cats will have paws capable of making tools. Then, I have no doubt, the kitties will build a sophisticated material culture.
Ultra-civilized felines of the future.
Artist's conception.
Artist's conception.
Sunday, January 09, 2011
And the Winners are...
I received several name suggestions for my new kitties: Sampson & Delilah, Buster & Calliope, Sid & Nancy, Jupiter & Kona, Giorgio & Trixie, Harriett & Peter. Those who took the poll cast 4 votes for Romeo & Juliet and 1 vote for Bobo & Curlicue.
So this is what I have decided to do: their official names will remain Romeo & Juliet, but at home I will cal them Big Guy and Kitty.
So this is what I have decided to do: their official names will remain Romeo & Juliet, but at home I will cal them Big Guy and Kitty.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
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