Ghost of a flea

Writing instrument

An insouciant Flea-reader asked recently if I had a writing instrument of choice. One of the best gifts I have ever received was a Mont Blanc Meisterstück. I have never worked out how to make a fine line with it and it remains shamefully decorative rather than functional. My workaday pen is a 0.8 mm black waterpaint ink pen from Muji in Oxford Street, London. I stock up on them whenever I am in England.

If I ever get round to writing up a "one hundred things about the Flea" list I must be sure to remember this fact: my hand-writing has been mistaken for Arabic. Twice. It is just as well they invented the typewriter.

Prissy Kinkart

The Bond Girl name generator reveals another truth of my being.

Samorost

That last entry raised my blood pressure. Time to relax by preventing my spaceship from crashing into that tree-stump.

Unwilling bride

Here is something I want banned.

Romanian Roma princess Ana Maria, 12, cries as she tries to escape her lavish wedding to a 15-year-old Roma boy in Sibiu, 250km northeast of Bucharest, September 27, 2003. The unwilling bride, whose marital age is common among Romania's traditional Roma who are estimated between 500,000 and three million, was convinced to return to the ceremony by her family.

I link to the photo because I think it is important people see what I am talking about otherwise I would have the photo banned along with the ritual. I could do without the Reuters description of a distraught twelve year-old who, in all likelihood, is about to be raped at the behest of her family and tradition as a "Roma princess". Words like "princess" and "traditional" are crude attempts to paper-over a revolting celebration which would have its participants arrested were it taking place in Canada. I can only wonder how this child was "convinced to return" to the ceremony and its aftermath and wonder what sort of human being could stand by with a camera and do nothing to stop it.

Burn the books

Some parents living in the South Texas Independent School District wish to remove Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and Robert Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land from the curriculum.

After failing at the high school level, the parents took their grievances to the superintendent, who backed the committee’s decision. Next, the complaint went to the board of trustees. At its August meeting, the board chose to table the item. It is expected to address it tonight — which, ironically, is right in the middle of Banned Books Week.

“It is not only the right of parents, but their responsibility to be involved in what their kids are reading,” said Beverley Becker, associate director of the American Library Association’s Office for Intellectual Freedom, which sponsors awareness of banned and challenged books. “But there’s a line that they cross when they ask that in addition to their kid, that nobody else have access to that book. When they go that next step that nobody else can have access, that’s when we come to a problem.”

I am, generally speaking, suspicious of attempts to restrict access to literature. It has been years since I read Brave New World but as I remember the most these parents might achieve is prevent their children from being bored to death (cut to the Flea ducking verbal slings and arrows from Flea-readers for that one). I could never make it past chapter one of Stranger in a Strange Land - I have tried several times over the years - and perhaps there is some prurient material which would have maintained my interest in grade 10 if only I had soldiered on through the introduction. I did just finish The Cat Who Walks Through Walls due to the results of a certain test and an unexpurgated version of that includes some sex scenes which I imagine would raise some eye-brows in Ontario schoolboards. It is possible the same is true for Stranger and I would not want to misjudge these concerned parents not having reviewed the material myself. I had not realized, for example, Jane Austen's writing was full of violence... with extreme prejudice!

There is an irony in parental attempts to ban books for their sexual content whose themes concern social control and peculiarities of morality and sex. Ray Bradbury wrote on the irony attempts to ban his book about banning books.

The point is obvious. There is more than one way to burn a book. And the world is full of people running about with lit matches. Every minority, be it Baptist / Unitarian, Irish / Italian / Octogenarian / Zen Buddhist, Zionist/Seventh-day Adventist, Women's Lib/Republican, Mattachine/FourSquareGospel feel it has the will, the right, the duty to douse the kerosene, light the fuse. Every dimwit editor who sees himself as the source of all dreary blanc-mange plain porridge unleavened literature, licks his guillotine and eyes the neck of any author who dares to speak above a whisper or write above a nursery rhyme.

Fire-Captain Beatty, in my novel Fahrenheit 451, described how the books were burned first by the minorities, each ripping a page or a paragraph from the book, then that, until the day came when the books were empty and the minds shut and the library closed forever.

The Flea offers this link to a "banned" My Gaydar ad in belated celebration of Banned Books Week. My favourite part is the jiggling invitation, indifferent refusal and confused shrug of shoulders shared between friends. If only they had read Heinlein they might not share the mistake some women make in missing truths about their bestest male friends.

Shaken not stirred

Astute Flea-readers know of the my gentleman adventurer duties by night and blogger duties by later night. The life the Flea is not all Australian popstars in wet T-shirts, however, as there is the constant need to keep up appearances. It is critical to ensure luxury brand choices match up with the debonnaire cocktail party conversation. Bollingers is the obvious champagne choice, for example.

Dr. No: “A medium dry martini, lemon peel, shaken, not stirred.”
Bond: “Vodka?”
Dr. No: “Of course.”

Perhaps someone will be able to tell me if James Bond had a vodka preference. Granted all those Smirnoff product placements in the films, I find it difficult to believe Commander Bond would injest Smirnoff Citrus Twist or any other flavoured vodka. Finlandia seems even less likely. Do the novels offer a clue? Despite the Absolut theme on this week's sidebar the Flea's choice is Stolichnaya. Bolli. Stoli. It even sounds right.

Shake it!

And then... This James Bond resource looks promising though I would still take Bollinger over Taittinger (and not a word about the over-rated Veuve Clicquot).

"When M. poured him three fingers from the frosted carafe Bond took a pinch of black pepper and dropped it on the surface of the vodka. The pepper slowly settled to the bottom of the glass leaving a few grains on the surface which Bond dabbed up with the tip of a finger. Then he tossed the cold liquor well to the back of his throat and put his glass, with the dregs of the pepper at the bottom, back on the table."

Batman: Dead End

Attention Dark Knight fans and Flea-readers everywhere. Run, don't walk (in a finger-clicky way) to IFILM and watch Batman: Dead End. The Ain't it Cool News guys were on to this months ago and were fandom saints for not revealing any spoilers to this short film. Do not... do not... let anyone tell you about it before you get a chance to see it yourself.

Let's make it an open discussion on the film in the comments to this post so hold off on reading comments until you have seen it!

And yes, that is a Superman T-shirt the director is wearing in the interview which follows. There is no accounting for it.

No freedom without sacrifice

The trailer for The Return of the King is supposed to go on-line at the New Line site today. It is not there yet...

And then... This appears to be a 9.0 mb full-screen Quicktime version.

And then... Ok, not full-screen but there it is. Totally freaked out now due to glimpses of Minas Morgul and a certain cave-dwelling critter. Aragorn's St. Crispin's Day speech gives me chills.

I see in your eyes the same fear
that would take the heart of me.
A day may come when the courage of men fails,
when we forsake our friends
and break all bonds of fellowship.
But it is not this day.
This day we fight!

And then... And the answer is...

Shadows Over Baker Street

Sketches of Strain reports on Shadows Over Baker Street, an "uniformly excellent" excellent collection which must enter the Flea archives.

Here's a real treat for fans of Sherlock Holmes, H. P. Lovecraft, and everyone in between: 20 original stories by writers of horror and fantasy. Neil Gaiman is here, along with Barbara Hambly, Richard Lupoff, Brian Stableford, Poppy Z. Brite, and many more. The premise is engaging: What if the world of Holmes, the world's most logical and rational detective, intersected with the world of Lovecraft, where logic and rationality have little meaning?

"What if", indeed. How many times have I asked the same question of my own life of logic and reason intersecting with a world which where these have little meaning? Especially that time I saw a certain purple-tentacled thing in the bathtub... but no, it is too horrible... too eldritch to even speak of this glimpse into nameless worlds of cyclopean horror which shudder just to the other side of what humanity laughingly thinks of as reality.

One of my prized possessions is Scream for Jeeves by D. H. Cannon. It is, as the name suggests, a collection of Lovecraft-themed stories starring Bertie Wooster and a useful guide to good etiquette in dealing with preterite horrors.

And then... The collection is now within my grasp... if only I can work out these diagrams I should soon have a working device and Miss Stone shall be restored to health!

Wet T-shirt Kylie

Someone has mailed seven-hundred letters of an annoying nature to Kylie Minogue. These were post-marked from somewhere in the west of England so potential Flea-reader theories as to my own mental health can be safely ruled out. Well, on this issue at least. I hope they catch the cad and deal with him harshly.

I point to this clip of a wet T-shirt look for Kylie out of journalist interest. It is a bit distressing until it becomes clear what appears to be an ill-conceived prank is part on a photo-shoot. Sensitive readers should avert their eyes.

Potato

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

Ganesh

Appealing elephant-headed god Ganesh is moving with the times but some devotees - outraged over long-distance rates? - are not (via the Cracker Barrel Philosopher).

MALAYSIAN shops selling imported statues of the Hindu god Ganesh talking on a mobile phone have been warned to remove them immediately, reports said Thursday.

"Those selling them will be warned, while those caught a second time will be slapped with a summons," home ministry spokesman Mohamad Shah Ismail was quoted as saying by the Sun.

Ancient chemical and biological warfare

A classical folklorist has catalogued a variety of instances of chemical and biological warfare in antiquity including "venomous jellyfish, poison frogs, dung mixed with putrified blood, the toxic insides of insects, sea urchins and stingray spines" (via ***Dave):

Toxic honey, water poisoned with drugs, scorpion bombs, chocking gases, conflagrations and incendiary weapons similar to modern napalm were widely used in historical battles. Among victims and perpetrators of biochemical warfare were prominent figures such as Hannibal, Julius Caesar and Alexander the Great.

Ginza

Special thanks to the Flea's Inukshuk Expert for this chic farewell image to Breakfast at the Flea™. They say it is the most important meal of the day. My vote goes to blunch.

Zombie pinups

The Flea's zombie-media coverage continues with this pinup site.

Underworld

The Matrix has so much to answer for. Five minutes into Underworld and I wondered if I could sit through yet another rip-off of a film that was Hong Kong pastiche in the first place. I am glad I stayed. Kate Beckinsale in latex: what is not to like?

I expressed skepticism at a White Wolf lawsuit for copyright infringement given this would be yet another rip-off of a game-system that is all genre pastiche in the first place. A specific use of the term "abomination", however, looks to me to be grounds for action.

And then... Samizdata posts on "the perils of seeing everything through your ideology" in relation to a peculiar review of the film.

I am werewolf, hear me roar… No, I am sure I remember that name of that daft Helen Reddy song all wrong, but that does seem to be the message of a review of Underworld in the Sierra Times by the colourfully named RadioFree Rocky D... this movie is just a pinko feminist tract.

To which I say... nonsense.

Barron Canyon

The Campblog writes on Lake Algonquin in riposte to my Lake Iroquois post.

The Flea's post also reminds me of Barron Canyon, a beautiful area of Ontario's Algonquin Park, which I paddled through once in the early '90s. The high walls of the canyon were formed as ancient waters drained from Lake Algonquin into the Champlain Sea.

Mike links to a great map of the Canyon. An adventure in the life of the Flea as a Young Man was a trip into the Algonquin Park starting at Squirrel Rapids at the east end of the Barron Canyon and ending five days and a number of portages, including a 1800m portage, later on the north side of Grand Lake at Achray Station. It is an established route. We took it backwards so as not to get stuck with other travellers the whole trip but in the event did not see anybody until we left Carcajou Bay on the last leg. Nobody, that is, except the racoon who ate most of our food the first night. He stuck around until morning to get a look at our faces as we emerged from the tent. We had all done a lot of camping and knew enough to keep the food away so as to discourage rummaging bears. The rucksack was a good 10m off the ground and we were at a loss to figure out how the racoon got at it. This left us with the food we could catch, a meagre supply of cigarettes and half a packet of lemon crystals to be split three ways on our last night in the Park.

The trip was unbelievable. Carcajou Bay is the site of Tom Thomson's famous The Jack Pine. It turned out every tree in sight shared its majestic wind-swept look. That last night was also the first time I heard wolves howling.

Fascist Homes & Gardens

Homes & Gardens of November 1938 showed off Hitler's fashionable home. Homes & Gardens of 2003 would rather kill the story than apologize (via plasticbag). The memory-hole will not work this time as there are already mirror sites preserving this fashion crime.

It is frankly sickening that Homes & Gardens should display concern for its copyrighted material rather than contrition for its endorsement of a monster. This is a great story for the blogosphere. If anyone in the London dialing area would like to run with it here is the magazine's contact page. Please keep me posted. I wonder how they would respond to requests for November 1938 back issues?

BACK ISSUES PO Box 666, London E15 1DW,
(020) 8532 3628 (24-hour service)
www.mags-uk.com/ipc

PO Box 666, indeed. Hitler's home continues to attract attention from rubber-neckers of history. It is a small vengeance to learn he would not have been happy about it.

Adolf Hitler once said he would prefer his Alpine home, the "Berghof," to go up in flames after his death rather than have tourists flock to see where he had breakfast.

Outrage

Damian Penny writes on a despicable example of the moral bankruptcy of Canada's political caste.

Right in the midst of the Bill Sampson controversy, after a Canadian citizen was tortured and sentenced to death in Saudi Arabia, dozens of MPs, Senators and other government VIPs gorged themselves on Saudi hospitality at a big reception last night - and they were bending over backwards to avoid offending their generous hosts.

So far so typical of the expediency and cowardice which has proved typical of Canadian foreign policy. This is where my blood-pressure went critical.

And worst of all, shame on newly-appointed Liberal Senator Mac Harb for mocking - yes, mocking - his countryman's allegations of torture:

"Here is someone who has been charged with a murder and who has been very successful in making himself, of being, a victim. I think we have to look at both sides of the issue," Mr. Harb said at a reception hosted by Saudi Ambassador Mohammed Al-Hussaini to honour the oil kingdom's national day.

Harb is a recent appointee to the Senate, standing to make over four-million dollars with his $114,000 annual seat-warming fee. Of course, Liberal Senator Mac Harb is a world-class wing-nut. Harb on human cloning:

“There is no doubt in my mind there is somebody on the planet Earth, walking, who is a clone.” Not just one, mind you, but two or three spawned by some “DNA manufacturing device.”

Senator Harb now claims he wants to travel to "Saudi" Arabia to conduct his own personal investigation if only he can find "like minded" individuals to go with him. It is an unedifying prospect as Harb suggests his confusion lies with Bill Sampson's reluctance to trust the investigation of torture to the very government which carried it out. Harb can be reached through his Ottawa office.

Banana Nut Müslix

This last Breakfast at the Flea™ special was going to be Banana Nut Müslix. All that banana-nut goodness was lost to me when I discovered the milk I bought at the Super Spender last night had gone off. Vexed again! I may have to go out for brunch instead. Just as well. My Grandad had a useful category he called "rabbit food". This referred to green, leafy edibles but I am quite sure it extends to müslix. I believe it also fits the "foreign muck" category which included the entire menu at McDonald's.

Dr. Who

Dr. Who is returning to the BBC. Yay! Not for another two years. Boo!

The show's creators say the series is in the early stages of development and details of who will play the Time Lord will not be available for some time.

Fishy

I do not suggest this Fishy game unless you have time to waste.

And then... I just played the game through to its satisfying conclusion. I am reminded of the Truth Laid Bear blogosphere ecosystem... It takes about 20,000 points worth of fish before you can make your bid to become the InstaFish.

Grand narrative

Kids these days grow up watching The Simpsons. The humour works on a number of levels and may be an education in itself for irony, parody and satire as well as slapstick. I often wonder how these people are going to make sense of the world as they get older and every film, tv show and novel is going to have an eerie familiarity as everything will have been seen before in an animated reference from early childhood. The series is a map of the culture we live in which makes up a comprehensive system.

Aristotle. Hegel. The Simpsons.

This might be a troubling development.

Ultimates

One unexpected bonus of this blogging business is having people to talk comics with. I had stopped buying them years ago but thanks to the blogosphere those worlds are mine to have fun in again.

Yesterday I picked up the The Ultimates Vol. 1 which collects the first six issues of what is the best illustrated, best written and most timely comic series I have ever read. The opening of the first issue is stunning:

This effective setting immediately brings the reader in, and gives us a sense of the stakes as well. Rather than simply a costumed menace, Millar has chosen to tell the story of Cap's mission against a Nazi hydrogen bomb, and the more realistic approach really helps the story.

I think "gritty" is the word. The costumes, plots and settings are all as realistic as possible given the superhero contexts of the stories. There are some astonishing one-liners which had me laughing out-loud to the vexation of my fellow commuters. This is a post-September 11 reflection on heroism which is much appreciated in light of what has been going on at DC. I have the first issue of the subsequent series Ultimate Six but not the remainder of the first series... no spoilers please!

Fun with fusion

I am going to assume this is a joke until Steven den Beste tells me otherwise.

The apparatus is nothing less than the sine qua non of modern science: a nuclear fusion reactor, based on the plans of Utah's own Philo Farnsworth, the inventor of television. The reactor sat on a table with an attached vacuum pump wheezing away. A television monitor showed what was inside: a glowing ball of gas surrounded by a metal helix. The ball is, literally, a small sun, where an electric field forces deuteron ions (a form of hydrogen) to gather, bang together and occasionally fuse, spitting out a neutron each time fusion occurs.

"Here I am with this thing here," Wallace mused, looking at his surroundings. "Who'da thought?"

And then... I have cited John Logie Baird as one of the great figures of the 20th century. We may have to arrange an arm-wrestle with Philo Taylor Farnsworth.

Party Hard

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

Vivacious::Transmission

I am not sure what it says about the robotic form-filling administrative side of my job that means I would answer a Surreal Aptitude Test by reflex and expect it to reveal the truth of my aptitudes. Maybe these Vietnam war propaganda leaflets from 1945 to 1975, historical anarchist documents and British imperialistic anthems can be synthesized into the answers I seek.

Sesame-seed bagel

My Thursday teaching schedule means my Breakfast at the Flea™ needs have to be met on the run. The Second Cup coffee franchise on campus has ok sesame bagels which, when double-toasted and topped with herb and garlic cream-cheese, keep the Flea fuelled for teachy goodness. Snackworthy as they are, however, they are not proper bagels. With apologies to the good people of New York and their bagels of renown only Montreal bagels are the real deal. I am enough of a purist to believe my choice of sesame over poppy-seed would damn me to non-hardcore bagel afficianado status even if it weren't for missing Montreal. A poppy-seed stuck between the teeth impairs a lecture as surely as an open fly so I muddle through with the less troubling sesame-seed option. Garlic, cinnamon-raisin and other variations in the theme of bagel are beyond the pale.

And then... It might be time for a local "bagel off"...

Bond girl formula

The Flea is chagrined to have missed a scientific advance reported in February. Brace yourself for Diana Rigg in a bathing suit...

Mathematicians have worked out the scientific formula for the perfect Bond girl.

Science may purport to mitigate the mystery that is the Bond Girl. What technology lacks in romance it makes up for in fun with news of Scots robot soldiers. Bond might find them handy.

ROBOT soldiers manufactured to kill enemy troops have been designed for the Pentagon by a tiny Glasgow computer company which is set to make millions from the deal.

Alien vs Predator

The Flea still cannot quite believe they are really going to make an Alien vs Predator movie. Reports of an October filming date and Amalgamated Dynamics contract to build the "creature effects" suggests my wish may yet come true.

AD plans on making the two xenomorphs look fresh and slightly different in the new movie than from their previous appearances. An enhanced motion control system should allow for faster response time, more fluid movement and look more realistic than earlier versions could achieve. That's not to say that the FX team will be using animatronic devices for all the Aliens and Predators we'll see; they'll also use the oldest and best kind of means to make a monster: by putting someone in a foam suit.

Lost Souls sequel

Flea-goddess Poppy Z. Brite has caved in to popular demand and written a sequel to Lost Souls. Scroll down to her September 23 entry for details.

This makes me think if I should stop pestering Tanya Huff for more vampire novels. I am saving number five as I do not expect another any time soon... You might think I would be more grateful after the stunning chapter one Flea cameo in Long Hot Summoning.

Perhaps this test will ease my angst.

You are Ann.


Poppy Z. Brite Quiz - Which Lost Souls Character Are You?
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Nearly

The Flea shudders to learn of this latest retreat from, like, you know, teaching students anything. Even mathematical truths are not safe from a system which deems answers to be "creditworthy" or "not creditworthy" instead of correct or incorrect.

Pupils across Lincolnshire may soon be able to sit exams without fear of failing, when new government guidelines come into effect. The guidelines, for marking key national curriculum exams, recommend that the current F grade, for 'fail', should be replaced with an N grade, for 'nearly'.

Steak and veg

A Bradford University study reveals nice fishes were abandoned in favour of steak and veg as soon as humanly possible (via Fred Kiesche). Fish and chips would have to wait until chips became available alongside the conquest of the Incas...

"In Britain it happened very quickly, in a generation or two," team leader Michael Richards told Reuters. "We had expected to find a gradual switchover, but this was a virtual dietary revolution."

Richards' team studied dietary change during the Neolithic period between 5,200 and 4,500 years ago, using carbon isotopes to assess how the rate of change coincided with the emergence of a domesticated lifestyle from one based purely on opportunistic hunting.

Axe head

A five thousand year old axe-head has been found near Stonehenge. Land near the historic site is being turned over from ploughed farming to pastureland affording the opportunity for a three week field walk to turn up artifacts. An image of the axe-head which accompanies a 24HourMuseum article suggests a specialist eye helps to distinguish such an artifact from other fieldstones. Even so, it is remarkable how much of interest remains to be discovered so close to such a well-examined context.

"The axe head is a very interesting find," explained Andy Crockett, Wessex Archaeology Project Manager, "because it relates to a period in our past when farmers first started to chop down trees to start growing crops and keeping livestock."

Maple syrup

The Flea's sojourn in the north of England meant hanging out with a friend from Alberta, another Canadian in the British university research ghetto, was a welcome chance to relax without having to explain every joke or Beachcombers reference. Reminiscences would often turn to lost Canadian delicacies such as donuts (hard to find in England) or real coffee (forget it). I was struck with a craving for maple syrup along the lines of what we would make every spring at my family's place in the country. My pal did not share my maple syrup yearning. Aside from pancakes or waffles, he did not see the point of the stuff. I was dumbstruck. How could he be Canadian and not like maple syrup?

I'm from Alberta. How many maple trees do you think we have out there?

From that moment on the truth of a symbol's role in establishing the colonialist, hegemonic cultural imperialism of my Ontario home has been clear to me. Better make that a McGriddle for breakfast today.

Dark Dungeons

A tract warns of the perils of Mazes and Mons... ahh... Dungeons and Dragons. The spirit of Satan is at work! Now, pull my finger.

Which spell did you cast, Debbie?

He just bought me $200.00 worth of new D&D figures and manuals. It was great!

And then... ***Dave has a Dark Dungeons news round-up.

Library Hotel

I had no idea the Dewey Decimal System is trademarked though given it is a dynamic, frequently up-dated publication it seems obvious it should be in retrospect. ***Dave writes on a reported lawsuit for trademark infringement against the Library Hotel in New York City. The Library Hotel "concept" page suggests the Flea should stay on the third floor with a suspicion the ethereal redheads are to be found on the eighth.

Most library users know the general structure of Melvil Dewey's decimal classification. First published in 1876, the Dewey Decimal Classification (DDC) divides knowledge into ten main classes, with further subdivisions. More than 200,000 libraries in 135 countries use the DDC to organize their book collections. Its simple and logical framework is based on the principle of decimal fractions as class marks, which are expandable to make further subdivisions.

The Library Hotel in New York City is the first hotel ever to offer its guest over 6,000 volumes organized throughout the hotel by the DDC. Each of the 10 guestrooms floors honors one of the 10 categories of the DDC and each of the 60 rooms is uniquely adorned with a collection of books and art exploring a distinctive topic within the category or floor it belongs to.

I have no idea what to make of the merits of the lawsuit. And the interior design theme did not make sense to me until I read this review. Truly, the hotel choice of the Flea.

Most hotel rooms in New York City are very small. This hotel's guestrooms are no exception, but instead of using light minimalist furnishings and the birch-veneered cubes and shelving so popular in boutique-hotel-makeovers, the hotelier went in the exact opposite direction. Dark wood - and lots of it - great lighting options, and quality furniture scaled to the room sizes make these spaces both elegant and appealing. (The twelve-foot ceiling height and large framed mirrors help to make the rooms feel more spacious than they are as well.) The individualization comes from the room's Dewey Decimal theme: The artwork and reading selections are chosen according to the topic number.

City Games

Thanks to "the internet" details of Kylie Minogue's forthcoming album are now available.

HER record company is probably furious, but details of Kylie Minogue's hotly anticipated album have been leaked on the Internet. One fan site has the full track listing, and the album's title - City Games. According to the Limbo site, there will be 12 tracks on the album, which will be released on either November 17 or 24.

LiMBO claims to feature "all the Kylie you will ever need!" This strikes me to be a noble aim but somewhat improbable given the Flea's exhaustive, and strictly journalistic, Kylie needs. The reported track-list does not include a song called "Flea" so I shall have to console myself with the knowledge a certain Kylie-single-which-shall-not-be-named was number one in UK juke boxes in 2002 and with the anticipation of her 2004 calendar. This revelation, however, is mildly disturbing:

Unfortunately for Kylie she still has a bit more work to do if she wants to be Danilo's top celebrity calendar seller. That position is currently held by none other than Cliff Richard!

Roman iron

Well, yes, of course the local weapons industry is a success but aside from the aqueduct, sanitation, roads, irrigation, medicine, wine, public baths and making it safe to walk the streets at night what have the Romans ever done for Britain?

Archaeologists excavating the site of a huge iron factory on Exmoor believe it might have been used to help produce weapons for the Roman army.

Aveline's Hole

The Guardian reports on new reliable dating of an ancient gravesite in what is now Britain along with the earliest known instance of osteoarthritis.

A narrow cave in a gorge in Somerset has been identified as the oldest cemetery in Britain, used by generations of people from one area in the Mendips just after the last ice age, 10,000 years ago.

The dates range from 10,200 to 10,400 years ago. It is a mind-boggling span. About ten percent of the time we have existed as modern humans... My father's people are from Somerset and, given a propensity for staying put, I would not be surprised to discover myself to be a reasonably direct lineal descendent of the people buried there (though we are all, of course, related to one another no matter how distantly). I have not been to Aveline's Hole but enjoy trips into caves so I shall add it to my list of places to visit. I have been to the nearby Wookey Hole carnival-meets-geology experience and Cheddar Gorge is like something out of Tolkien.

Hecate

The Quizilla oracle thinks I am Hecate. Worryingly, it also thinks the "Mistress Ruler of all mankind, all-dreadful one, bursting out of the Earth" would be good person to have as friend. It is true I certainly would not want her spreading office gossip about me (via Classical Values).

Hecate


?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
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Double double

Today's Breakfast at the Flea™ is coffee double-double. Now, I understand there are certain hard-core coffee drinkers out there who think coffee is, by definition, black. I am not sure I can defend my preference any more than I can defend my whiskey preference for Irish brands over those Islay single malts. One is hard-core and one is not. At least I am not ordering my coffee with "one cream, one milk and one sugar" which a colleague of the Flea does to the confusion of coffee-shop clerks everywhere.

Punisher

Someone tricksy has been taking pictures of the car the Punisher drives in the forthcoming movie.

Drowned landscapes

Just north of Flea Towers is a bluff most famous for Casa Loma, an historic home and useful movie backdrop. My favourite part of the bluff, however, is not the line of historic homes running along the top (there is also the Spadina House museum) but the Baldwin Stair which is a useful short-cut from Casa Loma to the Toronto Archives and the Flea's main route for afternoon cycling expeditions. There is a plaque at the base of the Stair which most people pass by...

You are standing at the shore-line of ancient Lake Iroquois.

This is a couple miles inland and a long way uphill from the shore of contemporary Lake Ontario. Lake Iroquois was the result of glacial run-off as the last ice-age ended and before the St. Lawrence seaway became free from the ice. I looked down Spadina Avenue toward the lake and imagined everything I could see underwater while somewhere to the north an ice-cliff a mile high slowly melted. That was the scene about twelve thousand years ago and may be once again if our current inter-glacial period comes to an end (thus the Flea's concerns about global-colding).

Another drowned world is now coming to light:

Herds of reindeer and horses migrated across its plains, huge forests covered much of the countryside and men and women made their homes by rivers and lakes. Then came the deluge, and this ancient Arcadia - which stretched across the North Sea, and covered the Channel - was inundated. All signs of human and animal activity were covered by several hundred feet of water. Only the occasional stone tool, bone harpoon and mammoth tusk, trawled from the sea bed by fishing boats, has provided reminders of this lost world's existence.

But this is not all as another mystery remains much closer to home. It turns out Toronto has been hiding more than its ancient shoreline from me. A glacial river is still flowing beneath my feet.

Standing vigil

This image of the Jefferson Memorial hints at how surreal the effects of the huricane must have been for people in its path. By the time Isabel reached Toronto we had some rain and high winds but it did not feel like much more than a storm on Lake Ontario. One of the peculiar lessons of the recent black-out was the capacity for the slightest details of life to be changed in a moment. I think for me the oddest was the realization pay-phones were not going to fill the gap as cell phones went off-line. Most pay-phones are computerized these days...

Of all the images of the hurricane this one of soldiers guarding the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington National Cemetary effected me the most. The men on duty were given permission to leave their post in the face of the hurricane. It was not an option.

"They told us that. But that's not what's going to happen," said Sgt. Christopher Holmes, standing vigil on overnight duty. "That's never an option for us. It went in one ear and right out the other."

Harder, better, faster, stronger

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

Cigars for everybody

Yes, cigars, for today the Ghost of a flea is... a blogfather! The Flea rattles its ghostly chains in glee!

This is funny moment for the Flea. There is blogosphere pride and a feeling of participating in this on-line revolution we are making for ourselves. But there is also a personal feeling of humility that anything I have to say would be useful or interesting to the author of Pinwheels and Orange Peels, a Captain in the USAF. Take this, for example:

When I was at field training (basic training for ROTC cadets) every time a military jet flew over my flight the TI would yell "What's that sound?" and we would have to yell back "The sound of freedom!" And we meant it.

Yes.

Yes.

I am brought up short here because of something I want to express. The feeling is so clear to me that it is difficult to find the words which could express it directly enough.

To everyone serving in the armed forces of the United States: you are heroes to me. Nothing I believe, nothing I do or say, nothing I teach, nothing I research or write about, nobody I love, none of the places I have called home, none of my aspirations... none of it... none of it is possible and none of it is safe without the sword and the arm of the most generous, most daring people in history. Thank you. Thank you for defending us all. Thank you for bringing freedom to people who gave birth to the suffering of September 11, 2001. There is nothing I can do to repay you properly. I can only pay you respect and express my gratitude. Thank you all. Thank you, Captain.

To have the United States at our side was to me the greatest joy. Now at this very moment I knew the United States was in the war, up to the neck and into the death. So we had won after all ...
- Winston Churchill

Freedom toast

Breakfast at the Flea Week™ is an excuse to show pictures of Audrey Hepburn. Isn't she luverly? Today's breakfast Flea-favourite is French toast. I only learned recently of the existence of the Monte Christo sandwich which is, I imagine, to French toast as Jennifer Love Hewitt is to Audrey Hepburn. I like the look of it. I want to try it. But I feel guilty even thinking about it.

Life, love and the pursuit of happiness

The Immaterial Girl's website has a scary new-look front-page devoted to promoting The English Roses.

Reading to my kids at night seemed like the ideal time to teach them a thing or two about life, love and the pursuit of happiness. The world's seal of approval could never mean as much to me as my daughter's. If she fidgeted, fell asleep or reached for another book while I read my "works in progress" to her, I knew I was not finished with my work.

And that is why each and every entry at the Flea is play-tested by reading it to my Cthulhu statue, Matrix Sentinel model or Subcomandante Marcos doll (with Ramona). I am fascinated at how the "liberty" in life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness has been PC airbrushed into "love". Liberty, it seems, is a four-letter word for the smart-set of London café society.

It is in the spirit of life, Flea and the pursuit of happiness that I present Madonna's complete performance at the VMA including the notorious kiss(es). I don't care what they say. I don't care what she says. Madonna still dominates the stage.

You may all mock me now.

And then... That goes double for Stevie Nicks.

Nicks was appalled by Madonna's publicity stunt kiss with Spears at the recent MTV Awards. "I thought it was the most obnoxious moment in television history," she said. "Madonna will be fine. Madonna is Madonna. She does what she wants. She will get over this. But will Britney get over it? I don't know."

And then... Ok, get this. Madonna was not only cross-promoting her new album, children's books and Gap-ad team-up with Missy Elliott by her "controversial" Britney kiss (people tend to ignore the Christina kiss for want of surprise). It turns out she features in a track on Britney Spears' forthcoming album. This is a marketing tour de force.

And then... If the San Fransisco Chronicle thinks The English Roses is "overblown" and "empty" there might be a problem.

Read attentively, it yields an extremely personal, almost confessional glimpse into the author's raw feelings. Unfortunately, those feelings bespeak a persecution complex so narcissistic that she ought rather have paid readers $100 an hour than charged them 50 cents a page.

Grand Moff Tarkin

Flea-readers who still care what George Lucas is going to do plot-wise in Episode III should avert their eyes...

...because this is the young Grand Moff Tarkin.

I'm sure by now you've seen the leaked image of Episode 3's Grand Moff Tarkin. It's at TFN, but probably not for long. I included a comparison shot for you to take a look at. Pretty cool looking indeed.... and a bit creepy.

1472

A recent trip to Cleveland by the intrepid author of Mondo Sismondo turned up a bottle of thirty year old bourbon to be shared with a most contented Flea. This was the cleanest, smoothest bourbon I have ever tasted. The flavours had caramelized into a toffee bar with a kick.

A wealthier Flea would love to try a five-hundred and thirty-one year old wine.

With its bright shades of golden-amber and its aromas of vanilla, hazelnut or camphor, the 1472 vintage of white Alsace wine has been ageing for over 500 years now in the cellars of the Strasbourg Hospice in eastern France.

That's no moon!

That's a space sta... no, wait. It is a moon. Man, that is one ugly moon.

Amazon civilization

Conjecture about a large-scale, complex pre-Columbian Amazonian civilization has intrigued me for some time (no, not these Amazons). Now there appears to be proof:

Deep in the Amazon forest of Brazil, archaeologists have found a network of 1,000-year-old towns and villages that refutes two long-held notions: that the pre-Columbian tropical rain forest was a pristine environment that had not been altered by humans, and that the rain forest could not support a complex, sophisticated society.

And then... IPS News has more:

The study, directed by archaeologist Michael Heckenberger, of the University of Florida, debunks the notions that the Amazon was a virgin forest when the Europeans reached the Americas in the 15th century and that barren soils had made massive human settlements impossible.

The discoveries indicate the existence of ”large villages, surrounded by ditches and palisades, forming a defensive structures” during the 14th and 15th centuries and the early 16th century, Brazilian ethnologist Carlos Fausto, a member of the research team, told Tierramérica.

Naked Arnold

The Flea is troubled to learn about this refusal by gubernatorial candidate Arnold Schwarzenegger to disavow former Austrian president, and Nazi intelligence officer in Germany’s Army Group E, Kurt Waldheim. Also, Arnold naked.

I suppose part of me wants to like Schwarzenegger because I have enjoyed his films so much. There is even the fantasy of a constitutional amendment allowing for a future President Schwarzenegger. But active political support for a man who had been wanted for war crimes is not the same thing as the guilt-by-association smeers levelled at Schwarzenegger about his father. The sensible parts of the blogosphere have covered Cruz Bustamante's connections to MEChA. Rightly so. I do not see how we can give Arnold a pass on his support for Waldheim.

The Sunday Seven

The Flea was the featured blog for The Sunday Seven at Sketches of Strain this week. Thanks for the kind words David.

And for Flea-readers who may have missed it... listen to this.

Ascending Peculiarity

The following is a repost from the sadly defunct Sketches of Strain. The introduction, questions and conclusion belong to the author of that long lost blog and form part of an ongoing series of interviews he would publish of a Sunday.

***

The Ghost of a Flea is one of the most visually striking blogs out there. The moment you lay eyes on it, you know that you have entered the realm of a remarkable creative intelligence. Proprietor Nicholas Packwood speaks eloquently and intelligently on topics ranging from the sacred to the profane and back again. Earthly musings about comic books can suddenly give way to a meditation on ancient Sumarian art.

Sigh. Smart is sooooooooooooooo sexy. So, get your silver-topped walking stick, a watch chain, and a Deerstalker hat and come with me as we try to learn more about this enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped in a puzzle that calls himself The Ghost of a Flea.

1. What does the name of your blog mean and why did you choose it?

Ghost of a flea is named after one of my favourite paintings at the Tate Britain. William Blake's mystical, visionary Protestantism is consistent with my ideas of how the world works and the priorities we can set for ourselves. We also share a love of London. I am moved to tears every time I read Jerusalem.

And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?

The Ghost of a Flea is one of many "visionary heads" who appeared to Blake, in this case to explain that fleas are possessed by the souls of greedy men who need to keep their blood-drinking down to size. I was reminded of the painting when it turned up on the cover of book by Patrick Harper called "Daemonic Reality" which tries to make sense of faeries, UFO sightings and Hermetic philosophy through Blake's concept of the Imagination. The name seemed appropriate to the mix of spirituality, anthropology and politics I wanted to blog about. Somehow the Flea has morphed into a Batman-like alter-ego for my academic day job... I think Blake would have approved.

2. What does a man need to be well-dressed, in your opinion?

A man needs to express something fundamental about himself in his dress. Inevitably, he also needs to hide something about himself. In short, "A man has got to know his limitations," as Dirty Harry once observed. The trick is in knowing what to express and what to hide. A simple rule of thumb is that the whole outfit is going to be judged by the shoes no matter what else you wear. By their footwear shall ye know them.

3. If you could relocate to the world of any book at all, where would
you go?

This is a tough one. Something Elizabethan is extraordinarily tempting as I would love to meet Dr. John Dee. But the answer is the Culture of Iain M. Banks' science-fiction novels. "Use of Weapons" is probably the best. I am sure they could use me as a Contact agent given my anthropology background and obnoxious do-gooderism. The Culture is something like the techno-libertarian paradise I believe humans are creating for ourselves in any event. That said, I am glad to have been born around the time of the moon landing and in time for anti-biotics, reasonable dentistry and the first Star Wars series.

4. What do you teach? What do you enjoy the most about teaching? Is
there anything you hate about it?

My teaching load is spread across four departments at two universities at the moment. Most of my students are undergraduate anthropology and communication studies majors where about half the latter are taking combined degrees in marketing or public relations. I also teach anthropology and archaeology courses to mature students. I love to hold forth on stuff which interests me so the six hours of lectures I am giving each Tuesday this term are extraordinarily therapeutic given my personality. My best teachers opened up new ways of perceiving the world including the spiritual and ethical obligations we have to each other and ourselves. One of them described teaching as an unbroken line of relationships stretching back to campfires under the stars of the last ice age. In that sense I think of teaching as a vocation and a way of repaying a debt as much as a way of making a living. The administrative demands of the job can sometimes wear when they take up time which could be better spent on research.

5. What is the most exciting thing about being a blogger to you? How
do you work? (Music? Coffee? Alcohol?)

I see my blog as a contemporary version of the confessional writing I would have been doing in a different medium had I been born a Quaker in the 17th century instead of the 20th. It is a one-man carny show and revivalist tent combining an anthropology lecture and occasional sermon with Kylie Minogue wiggling away in the background. That said, my blogging is a direct reaction to the events of 9/11 and its ongoing aftermath. There is not much I can directly contribute to the effort but blogs, and my own blogging, at least let me circumvent the stranglehold of received establishment opinion which dominates every form of Canadian broadcast and print media. I find I am much less argumentative with people in person when I have the opportunity to work through vexations in the peculiarly public way blogging allows. Then there are the friendships I have struck up with people I could hardly have expected to meet much less get to know otherwise. It would not be exaggerating by much to say being able to blog and engage with the blogosphere have kept me sane and whole through troubled times. I expect this is the experience of many, many people.

My writing is usually fuelled by a pot of coffee and, when at home, by dvd music or Yahoo! Launch streaming-video.

6. Won't you please share with us your most undignified recent memory
of yourself? It's no use pretending you don't have one.

Umm. Answering this question? Well... this relates to the next question. I was toward the end of a long line at a 50% Labour Day sale at a local thrift store when I realized the load of books I had scored could have used one of the shopping baskets I had sniffed at on the way in. Fortunately the answer to the conundrum came into reach as we shuffled along. I befriended the next person in line when we both rummaged through a bin of rucksacks and assorted bags to buy something we could use to carry our stuff the rest of the way to the cash register. We got some dirty looks from people who may have thought continuing to shop while in line was cheating somehow.

7. What are your vices? Be candid. Please. (*bats eyes*)

I love German chocolate, Belgian beer and French brandy all of which are off the menu at the moment for reasons which may be obvious. My worst vice is compulsive book collecting leading to a condition my mother describes as "book blight". I read something like five books a week so the collecting part enables another habit I like to think of as improving in some sense. Someone very dear to me once observed there could be no such thing as owning too many books, only not not enough book-shelves.

And there you have it folks! Straight from the Flea's proboscus. Thank you, Mr. Packwood, for coming by and taking the time to let us peer into your thoughts. You know you are welcome here any time. Take care.

DF

September 21, 2003 08:10 AM

Robin of Sherwood

The Campblog writes about Robin of Sherwood.

ROS is, in my opinion, some of the best television ever made, and one of my favourite all-time series. And, in answer to the inevitable Michael or Jason question, I like em both.

For Flea-readers who missed Robin of Sherwood, the central role was played by two actors. Michael Praed and Jason Connery (yes, that Connery) under the literary conceit of the "Hooded Man" as an heroic figure whose mantel is assumed by different men at different times. A Best Friend of the Flea has been obsessive about the series for more than ten years and, in an ironic reflection on Mike Campbell's post, has Rocky Horror call-and-response fun watching the show on a scene-by-scene basis. Praed's "acting thighs" get special mention as do the sing-along opportunities of the Clannad soundtrack.

Bah-hoo! Bah-hoo!
Ba-dooby-da!
Bah-da!

Judi Trott's Lady Marion may be the ultimate Flea-pick for my own peculiar obsessions. She would have been an excellent exemplar for Pre-Raphaelite Week at the Flea but somehow slipped my mind. Even so, the Sheriff is my favourite character:

Gisburne: And when will the ceremony take place, my lord?
Sheriff: When I'm drunk enough to go through with it!

Sheriff: It's a wedding Gisburne, not a celebration.

And then... More Robin of Sherwood lore is now available at the Campblog.

And then... This calls for a Robin of Sherwood drinking game.

Some kid yells "Father, father! Soldiers! Soldiers!" take 6 sips.

Matrix Heineken

Matrix martial arts Xiao Xiao stick-figure stylee feature in this Heineken China ad.

Zombie watch

The Flea has been troubled since the American homeland went to Alert Level Zombie (via A Small Victory). Yes, Canada is traditionally at lower risk for zombie-contagion (excepting Canadians on vacation or taking work overseas) but it pays to be prepared. I am relieved to learn the Federal Vampire and Zombie Agency is on the job but am once again dumb-founded by Liberal defence and counter-zombie agency cuts of the '90s which have left Canada dangerously exposed to the walking dead.

80s tarot

I thought my Rockport tax-lawyer shoes signalled the official death of my youth. Now I wonder if the shoes were only a grim harbinger of this '80s tarot. Take the Four of Cups, for example:

THE CARD: Cy Curnin of The Fixx is elegantly self-absorbed, and cannot see the offerings of the Four of Cups.

Using a combination of sleep deprivation and stimulants (ok, grad school) the Flea's memory had blissfully repressed the existence of Cy Curnin, Alison Moyet and Captain Sensible (though Morrissey is an excellent choice for the Hermit). Now I am possessed of an insane lust for a best of The Fixx album.

Perhaps this Playtarot will know what to do. This Playmobil Spook Patrol game is fun too.

Wing music

I have worked hard and I hope you have all found I am improving.

The Sister of the Flea forwarded a link to delightful, distressing renditions of hits of today and yesteryear.

Hi, I am Wing! I immigrated to New Zealand with my family about ten years ago from Hong Kong. I have been learning singing in New Zealand and I do performances in Rest Homes and Hospitals and occasionally promotional concerts as I go along.

Charmed

Kylie Minogue has been spotted wearing a charm necklace (Sun editors file the piece after thigh society, large nostril and copycat chic articles):

KYLIE’S cute little necklace is sure to charm you. The Chanel trinket costs almost £2,000 and has been spotted being worn by Jade Jagger and Cat Deeley too.

Chanel's Symboles fine jewellry collection of charms does not have an obvious price listing so let us assume the Sun estimate is about right.

The Charms line whimsically mixes Gabrielle Chanel's favourite symbols in 18 karat white or yellow gold, with or without diamonds: N°5, the C, the clover-pierced heart, the camellia-pierced heart, the door of N°18 place Vendôme, the star, the comet, the stag.

Ok, here is a quiz for Flea-readers everywhere. Why do people wear charm bracelets and such? People carry symbols of all kinds on their person either as a gesture of commitment or a talisman but the meaning of charm bracelets with their particular collections of symbols has eluded me. A Canadian charm collection would almost certainly include a shamrock rather than a camellia-pierced heart so presumably there are ethnic or national traditions in play here.

I like the idea of a charm for N°18 place Vendôme, the address of Chanel between the Ritz and l'hotel d'Evreux.

Dirty Jack Kidd

That be me pirate name!

And that's it for Talk Like a Pirate Day for the Flea (until next year).

This be too stupid to be true

Avast! What manner of fool would make a musical about that scurvy dog Castro?

G is for Ghost of a Flea

That's good enough for me!

Ogni homo me guarda come fosse una testa de cazi

What manner of sausage would ye eat from this plate? Only your finest Donderblitzen!!! Arrr! Arrr!!!

An Oxford museum has paid 240,000 pounds for a Renaissance plate which shows a male head made up entirely of phalluses.

Thar she blows!

Now wait a moment... that's no whale! It be hurricane Isabel! (via ESR)

Money

Now is the time at the Flea when we shake a leg.

Fish wars

Well run me up with the main-sail and call me a Flea! This battle of the fishes bodes ill for the sea!

Today, on automobiles all over America, the Fish Wars are raging. On a typical day an early morning commute can turn into a near-religious holy war as Jesus Fish cuts off Darwin Fish, Darwin Fish evolves to make the exit ahead of Jesus Fish, Jesus Fish invokes divine intervention to prevent Darwin Fish from finding the last parking spot. It's a never ending battle and Americans are joining the fray and choosing sides at unprecendented rates.

Sumerian Mona Lisa

What's that ye say? They're still raising heck over a little lootin' and tootin'? I can hardly make sense of it! But ye say they've found some beauty of old...

The Lady of Warka, one the two most precious relics looted from the Iraqi National Museum in the chaos that followed the April 9 fall of Baghdad, has been recovered by U.S. soldiers and Iraqi police, the head of Iraq's Antiquities Department said on Thursday.

The 3,200-year-old artifact, which is a representation of female face, was found buried in an orchard on the outskirts of Baghdad after the Antiquities Department was tipped off by people who had reported seeing it there.

Now there's a beauty! But I find myself wondering what kind of a mother would name her daughter after a brew. It's a pirate's life for Warka! Arrr! Arrr!!!

Not so vanilla

Vanilla ice cream? Maybe. Maybe not!

Vanilla Coke? I don't like the ken of that!

Vanilla Pepsi? Now I spy your true vanilla taste!

And then... Avast, me hearties! ***Dave claims Vanilla Pepsi sucks worse than a yawl boat's barnacles!

Bombardier EMBRIO

This be no ocean going vessel. The Flea took a look 'skancewise to see the working of it. Arrrrrr!!! This be the new Fleamobile!

Talk like ye pirates of old day

Arrrrrrr! It be talk like a pirate day! It come but once a year!

Take this here quiz!

Arrrr! So, thar ye be, sittin' all a-lonesome on the poop deck. Wenches don't notice ye, mates smite ye with thar belayin' pins ... not even a parrot to call ye "Bob." What's a pirate to do? Are ye the talk o' th'dock? Cock o' th'walk? Do the mates want to be like ye and the beauties want to be with ye - or vicey-versey? Well, thar, me Bucko, this simple little quiz will tell ye - and everyone else - just what kind o' Pirate ye be.

Quark

The truth of my being is once again exposed by Quizilla. Also, my second favourite DS9 character after Garak.

Quark -- You are subtle and mysterious and people
know very little about you. You like hanging
out with small groups of friends (usually 3)
who you are very close to. You are usually
friends with other quarks like yourself.


What kind of subatomic particle are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

(via Sasha Castel)

Greeks borrowed Egyptian numbers

One of the fun things about my early civilizations course at the University of Toronto is the opportunity to convey just how clever people have been when confronted with a range of engineering, logistics and administrative challenges no matter what their local opportunities. Nineteenth-century "diffusionist" models did not give locals the credit, preferring instead to do as the ancient Greeks did and point to Egypt as the wellspring of all human science and culture. Contemporary equivalents of race-based Victorian scholarship romanticize Egypt as an African civilization aped by primitive Europeans or as beneficiaries of alien assistance who then traipsed everywhere from Easter Island to ancient Mexico putting up stone monuments.

Loony stuff, in other words. But this proposed debt of the Greeks to Egyptian mathematics looks like a reasonable supposition to me.

An analysis by Dr Stephen Chrisomalis of McGill University in Montreal, Canada, showed striking similarities between Greek alphabetic numerals and Egyptian demotic numerals, used in Egypt from the late 8th Century BC until around AD 450.

I am the monkey

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

Escher

Mmm. Nauseating. Super-fun with animated Escher loops (via InContext).

Angle-Grinder Man

Another superhero stalks the night (via Samizdata). This one feels like the work of b3ta to me.

Clad in a blue leotard and wielding a saw, a man claiming to be the UK's first wheel clamp vigilante is offering his services to motorists.

Pinwheels and Orange Peels

News. Cars. Life. Whatever.

The author, a self-described "lowly Captain" in the USAF, has been "re-blued". The latest news is a report from the IAA-Frankfurt Auto Show. And this just in: I want a Mini Cooper.

Monster School

The Flea rattles its ghostly chains with a sigh of relief at Cookie Monster's safe return from Monster School.

"Mama, where did Cookie Monster go?"

"Okay, Mama."

Appalachian Amazon

A lost Amazon of Appalachia once carried the sand which covered North America in a sea of dunes (no, not this Amazon).

Thick remnants of the 190 million-year-old sand sea are found today in the scenic, buff-colored Navajo Sandstone cliffs of Utah, New Mexico, Arizona and Colorado. By studying durable minerals in the sandstone called zircons, Yale University geologist Jeffrey Rahl and his colleagues have found a chemical signature that reveals their surprisingly distant Appalachian origin.

John Keegan

John Hawkins' latest poll asked for favourite editorial columnists. My number one and two choices match the results. My only choice who did not make the list was John Keegan, former Sandhurst military historian and defence editor of the Telegraph. Keegan's The Face of Battle is a classic but Warpaths is my favourite. Years of history in a Canadian high-school utterly failed to convey the scale of conflicts on this continent and until I read Keegan I had never before understood the importance of the riverine system linking Montreal south through Lake Champlain down the Hudson to New York. The book should be mandatory reading in Canadian high-schools. I cannot speak to American high-school history but Warpaths would probably be an asset there too.

War is repugnant to the people of the United States; yet it is war that has made their nation and it is through their power to wage war that they dominate the world. Americans are proficient at war in the same way that they are proficient at work. It is a task, sometimes a duty. Americans have worked at war since the seventeenth century, to protect themselves from the Indians, to win their independence from George III, to make themselves one country, to win the whole of the their continent, to extinguish autocracy and dictatorship in the world outside.

It is not their favoured form of work. Left to themselves, Americans build, cultivate, bridge, dam, canalise, invent, teach, manufacture, think, write, lock themselves in struggle with the eternal challenges that man has chosen to confront, and with an intensity not known elsewhere on the globe. Bidden to make war their work, Americans shoulder the burden with intimidating purpose.

There is, I have said, an American mystery, the nature of which I only begin to perceive. If I were obliged to define it, I would say it is the ethos - masculine, pervasive, unrelenting - of work as an end in itself. War is a form of work, and America makes war, however reluctantly, however unwillingly, in a particularly workmanlike way. I do not love war; but I love America.

Blogged nations

The Flea welcomes visitors from seventy-five countries as of 16 Sep 2003 - 18:29. Greetings to everybody visiting from Guadeloupe, Fiji, Panama, United Arab Emirates, Tuvalu, Columbia, Brunei Darussalam, Spain, Trinidad and Tobago, Turkey, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Slovak Republic, Paraguay, Cyprus, Indonesia, Qatar, Luxembourg, Vanuatu, Ireland, Cocos (Keeling) Islands, Pakistan, Croatia, Romania, Yugoslavia, South Korea, South Africa, India, Greece, Austria, Switzerland, Lithuania, Malaysia, Saudi Arabia, Estonia, Hungary, Thailand, Czech Republic, Russian Federation, Portugal, Argentina, Denmark, Poland, Philippines, Iceland, Brazil, Germany, Sweden, New Zealand, Israel, Norway, Mexico, Italy, Hong Kong, Belgium, Singapore, Finland, France, Taiwan, Netherlands, Australia, United Kingdom, Japan, United States and Canada. Truly, Kylie's bottom unites us all.

I would like to make a special welcome to everybody arriving from United States military servers. These consistently rank in the top-ten traffic-wise (including all those high-traffic and hard-to-place .com and .net addresses). That also goes for whoever it is out there still using "old-style arpanet". Skynet is with us.

Funny, I do not track anybody coming in from a United Nations server so far this month...

Irshad Manji

Irshad Manji is a super-perky presence at the more worthy end of the spectrum of Canadian cable broadcasters. She tends to cultural and lifestyle reporting in the urban hipster vein. Her spiky hair, funky glasses and even-handed approach to issues makes her own opinions clear while taking care to respect those of others (which is more than can be said of my ire for the film festival). I fully expect to see her in a prominent anchor-type role at the CBC or leading column at the Globe and Mail in the next few years.

That is assuming we Lilliputians of the blogosphere fail to bring down the CBC giant and, naturally, that we all live to see the day. Manji's new book, The Trouble With Islam could be an inspiration to us all:

Ms. Manji said her book denounces terrorism, the poor treatment of women and ''Jew-bashing'' while promoting tolerance and human rights. In it, she urges an Islamic reformation that begins in the West. ''I didn't write this book to be deliberately inflammatory,'' said Ms. Manji, a self-described activist, leftist, Muslim and feminist. ''It's about the things that were troubling to me as a kid and the things that are troubling young Muslims today.''

This National Post article directs readers to the book's website and draws attention to two comments.

One e-mail calls the author a ''pro-Zionism parasite ... trying too hard to back-stab your fellow brothers and sisters.'' Another warns: ''You will sooner or later pay for your pack of lies.''

I hope Manji receives a better reception from other people who describe themselves variously as leftists, activists, Muslims and feminists. It is a bizarro-world politics where the National Post scoops the so-called "alternative" press or the bastions of Canada's establishment Liberal media in promoting Manji's work. Canadians are smug points to a parallel phenomenon of support for Coalition forces among young Iraqi women. More than a few of the blogs supporting Blog Iran! might be described as conservative, right-libertarian or just plain right wing. The view from the Flea is a world where the forces of radical democracy, women's emancipation and freedom of conscience and religion are being advanced on the right. It is time for a war on the triple-thesis of perversity, futility and jeopardy!

Which is sort of too bad because "Perversity! Futility! Jeopardy!" would make a great battle-cry.

And then... This Globe and Mail article quotes Manji placing her writing within the tradition of ijtihad:

"I'm not asking Muslims to do something outside of our tradition," she insists. "Just the opposite: I'm trying to help revive ijtihad, Islam's lost tradition of independent thinking. And this opportunity to rediscover ijtihad is especially available to Muslims in the West, because it's here that we already enjoy precious freedoms to challenge and be challenged, without fear of state reprisal. What I'm trying to do is promote tolerance. To get there, I and a critical mass of my fellow Muslims need to confront the intolerance that's percolating in our own ranks."

Imagine, if you will, a self-described feminist, activist, leftist Christian woman receiving death-threats from "fundamentalist" "Christians" in response to her writing. Imagine further that these hypothetical writings opposed discrimination and hatred directed toward women, gay men and religious minorities and it was precisely for advocating these positions that she risked death. The Left would be up in arms and quite right too. And yet there is no change of subject to which some will not resort in order to avoid condemning those who would threaten Manji for advancing her opinions. I can only conclude that many of those who criticize Manji likely agree with the people who would harm her.

So listen to this. If you do not like independent women, shrug your shoulders to hear of gay men being beheaded and think it is fine to threaten people with death for holding religious views different than your own then you should be ashamed of yourself. You are not welcome on my blog and I will not publish your opinions in my comments section.

The article continues:

Despite the undeniable risks, Manji is intrepid, if not fearless. "It may sound corny to a non-immigrant," she said over coffee one morning last week, "but we immigrants totally understand that what we have here in the West is precious. And I don't mean material goods -- I mean freedom. There is something I've got here as a Muslim woman that I probably couldn't expect in too many other places. I've been using it since I was a kid and damn it, I'm not going to stop now. I have a very thick skin, a pretty big brain and, I will be the first to admit, an even bigger mouth. I don't pretend to have all the answers. But thank God, yours and mine, that in this part of the world it is not only a right to ask questions -- it is right to ask questions."

And then... Classical Values has more including a link to an interview Manji gave to Macleans.

There is a sterling opportunity now to begin eating away at the oppression that dictators -- but also Islamic dictators -- have imposed on people in this part of the world. I asked so-called anti-war activists in the lead-up to the Iraqi invasion, "If not military action, then what?" Nobody had an answer for me. Instead, they had epithets and they had slogans. Sorry, that's not thinking. How do brutalized people manage to overthrow their own dictator if not with outside help?

Film festival

The Toronto Film Festival just blew through town reminding me once again of my loathing for the Toronto Film Festival. And to be more specific, Toronto Film Festival goers.

The skies stayed clear, the journalists behaved, and the stars came, were seen, and got the heck out. With 339 films from 55 countries unspooling over 10 days, the 28th Toronto International Film Festival is now a wrap.

This year's festival included 63 world and 104 North American premieres, and showcased an impressive range of serious drama, provocative documentaries and of course, stars, stars, stars.

Of course a yearning for "stars, stars, stars" is lame, lame, lame. I have met people who - I am not making this up - get dressed up and totter off to the Four Seasons hotel bar in the hope of spotting some Hollywood B-list celebrity drowning their sorrows in the stultifying boredom of Toronto's low-budget, tax-subsidized film industry. The industry itself provides an income for more than a few friends of the Flea so I am not complaining too much on that score. It is the idea anyone would want to bother some bedraggled actor and in the process underline, high-light and otherwise show off their complete lack of anything else to do.

Take me, for example. Few compete with the Flea for internet-related time-wasting activity yet I manage to avoid bedazzlement by the ostensibly meaningful lives of celebrities (Kylie and Madonna excepted, of course). The Sister of the Flea and I were leaving a downtown bookstore a couple months ago and walked by a short guy. That was Dustin Hoffman, she remarked. Oh, I replied. We carried on to our coffee-related destination without commenting further. I cannot see how else we were supposed to react. It certainly did not rate a mention at the Flea. I bring it up now only to point to the total banality of the event and in the small hope our non-harassment let him get on with getting his own coffee. The Sister of a Flea has a much more glamorous occupation than I do and is consequently even less prone to star-struck reactions than I am. Basically, if I am going to name drop it will not be because I walked by someone on the street let alone pathetically lined up to see someone supposedly more fabulous than me as they are ushered into an invitation only event.

The Festival brings out the worst of this behaviour in people. Let us imagine for a moment I was desperate to see the latest in the oeuvre of a specific Uzbeki director and my wall-mounted plasma-screen home movie environment was inadequate to the certain something provided by an honest to goodness cinema screening. Maybe, just maybe, I could imagine fighting my way through the ticket-buying process and lines of hangers-on to take advantage of the cinematic resource provided by the event. But this is not the face presented to me by most Festival goers.

Au contraire. For the most part, people are scrambling to get in to first-run Hollywood films which are scheduled for general release anywhere from the next few weeks up to the next couple months as the studios make their own Oscar season scramble. The desperation. The expense. The crapola movies. All of this is presented to me as if it was an accomplishment, an insider lifestyle-thing, instead of lickspittleism, poor judgement and bad taste.

And then... Note to self: posting is snarky before 5 a.m. Consider more sleep.

Imperial purple

A British amateur chemist has worked out how the ancient Romans dyed the togas of emperors this deep colour thanks to a bacterium found in cockles from the supermarket Tesco.

The article includes something close to do-it-at-home instructions if you can get your soon to be purple hands on a supply of the appropriate molluscs.

Darth Vader Made Me Cry

So writes Defective Yeti in a disturbing tale of the Lord of the Sith (via Cup of Chicha).

When I was seven years old I received the best Christmas present ever: a copy of The Star Wars Storybook. On the inside front cover my parents had written "To Matthew - Merry Christmas in 1978. From Mother and Daddy with lots of love."

I was fairly certain that this was a gift beyond improvement. But a few months later I saw in the paper that Darth Vader -- the Darth Vader! -- would be coming to a nearby department store. I begged my mom to take me. She agreed, and we visited the mall on a Saturday afternoon so I could get Vader's John Hancock.

I remember seeing a guy in a Vader suit at a department store promotion around the same time. It was in the toy department of Eatons in Toronto or possibly Harrods in London. No way was I going to try for an autograph after the Mickey Mouse incident though. Unlike that pedantic blowhard C3P0, at least he did not try to warn me against the perils of smoking.

More disturbing still, Cup of Chicha links to Johnny Cash singing the theme song to Three's Company. The speakers are unplugged on this machine so I am going to have to wait until I get to my first lecture and inflict it on an unsuspecting class.

Spamelot

Eric Idle is reportedly preparing a Broadway musical adaptation of Monty Python and the Holy Grail slated for 2005.

"I like the title Spamelot a lot," Idle said in a press release, "but I was thinking it might be smart to ask audiences on my upcoming U.S. tour if they liked it as much as I do. After all, they are the ones who will be paying Broadway prices to see the show. So there's a good chance the title may change."