The Affected Provincial

Moving Day

2011-05-17T22:10:00.003-04:00

This will be my last post on this blog: my flagship website, Lordwhimsy.com, has finally undergone a long-overdue redesign. Thanks to my multi-talented friend Laura at Studio B, my blog--er, blogue--is now the heart of the Whimsy website. Rest assured, the much-beloved tutorials and videos are still available.

The blog entries that I have posted here over the past year have been transferred over to the new Whimsy website. I hope you will all join me at my new forum.

This blog is now consigned to the waves. It is officially a forsaken fragment, a derelict ghostship adrift at sea. Horseman, pass by.

May Doings

2011-05-09T13:40:00.006-04:00

Fri. May 20, 7PM: Random Tea Room, Philadelphia
"Lord Whimsy's Wilderness Show-n-Tell"

Author, artist, and gentleman bushwhacker Lord Whimsy will give a casual, conversational presentation about the NJ Pine Barrens, the largest tract of remaining wilderness on the Mid-Atlantic Seaboard. Those interested in learning about the history and ecology of this unique region are encouraged to come. Whimsy will answer all questions while sharing images, sounds, and samples of unusual Pine Barrens species. Whimsy will also help those who are keen on exploring the Pine Barrens to get started on their expeditions. Come out, grab a chair, have some chai, and enjoy the chat.

Fri. May 27: The Coney Island Museum
Cosmorama opening party

I will be serving as host of the grand opening party of the Cosmorama, a 360 degree immersive spectacle in the style of the mighty cycloramas of the 19th Century. The Cosmorama, which depicts the Great Dreamland Fire in amazing detail. The Cosmorama is set to premiere on the 100th anniversary of the destruction of Dreamland, one of Coney Island’s three great parks, which burned to the ground on May 27, 1911.

Performers and curiosities will greet you at every turn! Friends Mike Zohn and Evan Michaelson, of Obscura/Oddities fame, will be our celebrity guests. Come celebrate the centennial of this glorious disaster with us! I am told that admission will be around $20.

My Beardless Days

2011-05-05T23:46:00.001-04:00

Here's an ancient video that I have finally uploaded onto my own YouTube channel. Looking back, the beard was indeed a wise decision.

These Are The Hits, You Silly Savage!

2011-05-05T23:29:00.005-04:00

WFMU has posted the entire album for easy download here.

Glenn O'Brien's New Book

2011-05-05T12:18:00.026-04:00

On the train ride home from Glenn O'Brien's book release party at Bergdorf Goodman, I was reading my signed, newly-acquired copy of Glenn's new tome, How To Be A Man.

While scurrying back to the hedgerows like a good country mouse, I had time to study the book. I was flattered by the design details that Glenn and the designers at Rizzoli had picked up from my own book cover and reworked into a new mold.

I am always perplexed why people get upset when others cherry-pick from their work. I'm an incorrigible thief, myself--all the best people are. The point of making things is to become part of the cultural hum, after all.

So where was I? Oh yes: the train. I was reading along at a brisk pace, when I felt something. It was my head: it wouldn't stop nodding. Not from boredom, but in agreement.

The similarities between Glenn's book and my own end at the cover: unlike my hothouse flower of a book, Glenn's is a timely and essential guide for modern men interested in style. It's contemporary, practical, and full of insightful, titillating opinions. The man gets around, and it shows.

Naturally, I first read Glenn's chapter on dandyism, which I am happy to say is excellent (I am being horribly self-serving, since I am quoted in this chapter). Like the rest of the book, this chapter makes its points without anachronistic shtick (I suppose I should feel some guilt for my own part in unleashing this particular plague) or a creepy over-investment in the subject. Glenn lays out the twentyfirst-century iteration of the dandy's creed in a useful way for those of us who don't live on Fraggle Rock or Old Timey Island. I hope that it becomes a key text on the subject.

I'm glad that someone as qualified as Glenn has written this thorough, modern investigation of men's style, because it certainly wasn't going to come from me: I lack the patience to write so sensibly, and these days I've been paying more attention to mosses and centipedes. I not only lack the patience, but the firepower: my budget cannot keep up with the moneyed, glittering bucks of Fifth Avenue, where I am sartorially outdone approximately every thirty seconds (I timed it while waiting outside Bergdorf's for my agent).

That said, the principles in this book are sound, even if you lack the cash (there are ways around impecuniousness, trust me). The main tenets of good style always apply, regardless of your means. In fact, sometimes good style means to avoid the exquisite and the expensive. I'm pretty sure that Glenn, a veteran of New York's wild and woolly 70s-80s downtown art and music scene, would agree wholeheartedly.

Crickets in the Land of Biff

2011-05-01T21:54:00.035-04:00

Weaved through the impossibly beautiful streets of Chestnut Hill to spend the afternoon on the bucolic grounds of the Philadelphia Cricket Club, where many a damn, damn fine Mimosa met with its doom. Urp.

Although I find anglophilia to be among the most trite and objectionable of all upper middle-class American affectations, I am fascinated with cricket. And in Philly, cricket actually has a real history, with a small but avid following. Generations of well-to-do Philadelphians have played the game. In some families, it has become a tradition.

Cricket, with its handsome accoutrements, restful settings, and soothing rhythms, is a delightfully boring game. Like fishing, it provides the perfect excuse for civilized loitering and brunches that go on for eons. Emily Dickinson might have even been tempted to attend a match, what with all the "centuries of June" on offer.

According to my friend Bernie (who showed up today in a pith helmet and white linen suit, bless him), cricket was especially popular in Philadelphia up until the 1920's, when baseball finally surpassed it. In most parts of the former British Empire, it is a game played by toffs and street urchins alike; here in The States, however, it remains as closely associated with The Upper Crust as polo. Even though today's match was free and open to the public, I nevertheless got the impression that this perception is not entirely discouraged. I'd wager that not very many hockey arenas have Federal-style facades and pretty Flemish bond masonry.

The Philadelphia Cricket Club is the oldest in the United States, founded in 1854. For three decades after its founding, the Philadelphia Cricket Club lacked its own home pitch, and so had to travel the region where other teams and clubs could provide a place to play. Its glorious, screaming club colors--crimson, gold, and black--were borrowed from a famous British team, the Zingari, who also lacked a home pitch. Appropriately, the Zingari colors were inspired by a tribe of wandering gypsies of the same name. I saw several handsome club blazers today, but I really liked the brash swagger of the Philly Club's colors. There's something endearingly Philadelphian about them, as in "Up yours, Biff." Or perhaps, "Up yours--I'm frigging Biff."

Even though I frequently find myself in blue-blooded settings like these (Princeton is thirty minutes up the road), I often--gratefully--feel like a piece of riff-raff who has managed to slip inside the palace for a peek at how the upper one percent lives. I suppose the childish illusion of having gotten away with something is part of the appeal for me: chatting up and charming some filthy rich broad at the bar while ordering a Bloody Mary never loses its kick for some silly reason. (Frankly, I'm reluctant to delve too far into the whys and wherefores of my own impulses: the reasons often point to some unflattering trait, if not several.)

Another likely draw of such rarefied environs is their lasting novelty: they often remain as exotic and alien to me as they were when I first visited them. I can never shake the disorientation, the feeling of having fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole into a world as fictional as a Ralph Lauren ad. There's a narrative being sustained; I often have to stifle a chuckle when I see the denizens of the Land of Biff who are obviously playing into this collective fantasy. Perhaps for those who live in that world, it isn't a fantasy at all--and perhaps consensus itself makes the unreal, real. Perhaps as a mere visitor, I am the unreal one, the passing specter. Fair enough, but for me enclaves like these will always remain tantalizing mirages. I'm the worst sort of escapist, but despite such leanings my plebian mind is incapable of kidding itself from that particular angle.

I know I'm supposed to shake my fist at the entitlement, pretension, and snobbery of such places. As a hopeless prole, I sympathize with such egalitarian sentiments; but to be perfectly honest, I'd hate to live in a world where strange, lovely places like cricket clubs, cathedrals, and conservatories didn't exist. An argument can be made that entitlement, pretension, and snobbery are the means by which these pockets of divergent norms sustain themselves: they set the standards and keep the rules clear. If you can remain detached and ignore some of these ugly forces that maintain such places, you can glide through and have a pleasant time.

(But then, you might actually have morals, you poor devil. Guess you won't be finishing that Mimosa, then?)

I'm glad to live in a region of cultural ferment where I can visit these serene oases of ease and comfort. Regardless of how they came to be, many of these places now offer much-needed respite from the aggressive stupidity and social squalor of this lousy era. To engage in a pastime that doesn't involve codified aggression, ungodly noise, or some form of internal combustion is becoming an increasingly alien concept to Americans.

Of course, I could never pass for a permanent resident of The Land of Biff, nor would I want to. That said, I wouldn't mind one of those blazers.

Pitcher Plant Bloom Bouquet

2011-05-01T21:41:00.002-04:00

At Rarefind Nursery, Sarracenia blooms...

...become unusual bouquets.

Citizen Rangers Wanted

2011-04-23T13:42:00.002-04:00

Spring is here, and that means herps and herbaceous plants! How can you Philadelphia/South Jersey types help defend local wildlife? Here are two suggestions. No degrees or qualifications needed: just boots and a raincoat.

1. Toad Wranglers needed in Roxborough, PA: This week we received an extension for our original permit to detour roads until April 30th. Due to cold weather, toads are continuing to migrate during warm (70's) and rainy weather. We still need volunteer help through the end of the month. Check the weather and call 267-719-3546 or email toaddetour@gmail.com to volunteer.

2. Swamp Trekkers needed in South Jersey: The Swamp Pink (Helonias bullata) is now in bloom! Southern NJ is the last true refuge of this threatened species. South Jersey residents who want to help monitor remaining populations of this rare plant can sign up with the NJ Fish & Wildlife Service. See link for further info and downloadable PDF form.

The New Luxury?

2011-04-18T22:03:00.042-04:00

Last week I attended a lecture at the Philadelphia Museum of Art given by Hamish Bowles, the European Editor at Large for Vogue. His topic was the work of Cristóbal Balenciaga and Roberto Capucci, whose colorful, exuberant work is now on exhibit.

I found Mr. Bowles exceptionally charming and knowledgeable (as well as impeccably dressed), but like many hothouse flowers I've met, it was clear that the rarefied world from which he hails is as alien to my own as, well, this:

I'd venture to guess that on any given day, I have to filter out a lot more ugliness than Hamish does. I'm an American, after all: gas stations, convenience stores, and sweatpants move everything around me. He's the Karl Lagerfeld to my Harvey Pekar. The Oscar Wilde to my Huck Finn. The rose to my potato.

While I enjoy the fact that such a glittering, floating world still exists--or at least appears to, as I'm sure there's plenty of grit behind the scenes--this jetsetting demimonde may become even more hermetic and incestuous in the coming years, perhaps even lapsing back into a kind of patron-based mercantilism. Obviously there's enough concentrated wealth to sustain it in one form or another.

But to a penniless aesthete like myself, the idea of luxury as merchandise feels like a notion that now belongs to another age. If we are to have any luxury at all in the near future, it will be based on experiences: appreciation rather than acquisition. Since no one but the lucky two percent will have any money to spend, the rest of us will instead have to spend our time. To my mind, this is an improvement: I think we could do with less gilded lilies and velvet ropes and more imagination and picnic blankets. Perhaps this will bring about an American wabi-sabi: a refined poorness. A modest, natural elegance born of necessity. Rumpled grace. Informal formality. One can hope.

A couple events kept this idea in the forefront of my mind over the days that followed. The first was the announcement that the Philadelphia Orchestra is filing for bankruptcy. The second happened this Sunday at a symposium in Coney Island, where I heard my friend Aaron Beebe, curator of the Coney Island Museum, propose that the erosion of America's aspirational middle class might polarize tastes again, possibly resulting in the shedding of the cultural cringe that kept recent generations from publicly indulging in "low" and "exploitive" entertainments like brothels, burlesque, vaudeville, and freak shows (the internet and reality television now offer a more private indulgence of these appetites, and perhaps may have primed us for this re-polarization). If this is true, then it follows that comparatively genteel cultural institutions like ballet companies, operas, and orchestras may vanish from all but the wealthiest cities. In fact, this already seems to be happening.

Like Aaron, I too think that this New Gilded Age that is now underway will create a social landscape of extremes: wretched vulgarity and perverse preciosity, with very little in between. Gone will be the middling but stabilizing middlebrow tastes of postwar America that kept more tame cultural institutions solvent. Some will applaud this, hailing it as an invigorating kind of destruction. I'll agree that it will probably make for interesting reading in a century's time, but I'm not sure it will be an altogether pleasant time to live through. To put it mildly.

Baudelaire famously noted that The Dandy flourished during times when the ancien regime was in decline but democratization and mass culture had not yet taken complete control. I wonder if the same holds true during times like our own, when the opposite is happening. (Can tornadoes have silver linings?)

I am also reminded of Voltaire's quip that history is full of the sounds of wooden shoes climbing stairs, and silk slippers descending them.

Just to hedge my bet, I'm stocking up on hardy jackets, wool ties, and hobnail boots. Thrift, of course.

Eastern Spadefoot "Toad"

2011-04-18T14:01:00.003-04:00

Made a video at a friend's farm during that storm on Saturday night. The video looks like an amphibian version of a Beckett play: a small being, floating in a black sea of exisential angst and inertia!

The Eastern Spadefoot (Scaphiopus holbrookii) spends almost all of its life deep underground, coming out only to breed or eat. It remains in a type of hibernation almost all its life in a spiral-shaped burrow, preferring sandy soils.

They only come out once or twice a year, so this spadefoot free-for-all was a privilege to witness.

Lending A Hand

2011-04-16T20:00:00.003-04:00

This Sunday afternoon, I will be joining my friends at the Coney Island Museum's final day of the Congress of Curious Peoples. Below is Sunday's schedule:

**SUNDAY, APRIL 17TH**
SIDESHOWS BY THE SEASHORE, 1PM - 8PM (Last Ticket sold at 7pm), CONTINUOUS ADMISSION - $10 AT THE DOOR
Alumni Weekend You’ve seen them before! And you thought they were gone forever! But they’re back and you’re glad. This is your chance to see your favorite artists at work and at play, doing what they do best. Featuring performances by The Great Fredini, (1990-1995) ;performing sword swallowing, human blockhead, master of magic, and the whoopee cushion pitch; Christine Hellish (1992-1994) fire eater; Princess Pat (2000-2001) madame twisto; Satina (1987-1990) snake charmer; and Eak the Geek (1998-2006) illustrated man and bed of nails.

Colonnade of Curiosities in the Freak Bar, 1PM - 8PM, FREE. This year’s Congress will feature, for the first time, a bevy of odd and attractive objects to entice your wallet! We’ve scoured the earth for strange and unusual vendors and purveyors of goods that you, our audience, would like to buy! Come by and take advantage of this amazing gathering of talented and interesting entrepreneurs. Books by James Taylor (of Shocked and Amazed! fame), Paper items by Lisa Wood, Terraria by Twig, amazing objects by Lucien Shapiro, Huckster Fabrications, the Gemini Company, and more!

CONEY ISLAND MUSEUM, 10AM - 5:30PM - $25 at the door.
10:00 – 12:00: The Fairground and The Museum: Human Anatomy on Display
Lisa Farrington, author of “Creating Their Own image: the History of African-American Women Artists”
Anna Maerker, author of “Model Experts: Wax Anatomies and Enlightenment in Florence and Vienna, 1775-1815”
Mike Sappol, author of “A Traffic of Dead Bodies: Anatomy and Embodied Social Identity in Nineteenth-Century America”
Elizabeth Stephens, “Anatomy as Spectacle: Public Exhibitions of the Body from 1700 to the Present”
Moderated and introduced by John Troyer, author of “Technologies of the Human Corpse” (Forthcoming)

12:00 – 1:00: Lunch

1:00 – 3:00: The 19th Century Dime Museum in the Contemporary Imagination
Will Baker, author of “Multiple Meanings and Values in Johnny Fox’s Freakatorium”
Aaron Beebe, The Coney Island Museum
D. B. Denholtz, editor of “Shocked and Amazed: On & Off the Midway”
Evan Michelson, Obscura Antiques and star of TV’s “Oddities”
Mike Zohn, Obscura Antiques and star of TV’s “Oddities”
Moderated and introduced by Andrea Dennett, author of “Weird and Wonderful: The Dime Museum in America”

3:30 – 5:30: Science and Technology for Public Amusement
Laurel Braitman, author of “Animal Madness” (forthcoming)
Fred Nadis, author of “Wonder Shows: Performing Science, Magic, and Religion in America”
Simon Werrett, author of “Fireworks: Pyrotechnic Arts and Sciences in European History”
Moderated by Lord Whimsy/Allen Crawford, author of “The Affected Provincial’s Companion, Volume One”

This event was made possible by a grant from the New York Council for the Humanities.

All events made possible, in part, by a grant from the Andy Warhol Foundation.

Dean Daas

2011-04-16T01:43:00.008-04:00

After taking in Hamish Bowles' PMA lecture on Balenciaga, I wandered into Schmidt-Dean Gallery tonight in Philly. In a little side room I found a series of new works by Dean Daas. I was blown away: luminous, biomorphic things that are saturated with color, almost like flesh. They're up until April 24th, so pop in if you can.

Random Tea Tin Label Design

2011-04-15T14:48:00.003-04:00

Becky just got these back from the printers. Designed this packaging system for Random Tea Room over the winter. The size of the labels are designed to work for both tin sizes.

Oh, by the way: go visit Random to see my wife's paintings, now on display until May 27th.

Not the Makings, But the Habit

2011-04-14T02:09:00.001-04:00

A Rabbit As King Of The Ghosts

2011-04-13T23:58:00.004-04:00

A gypsy band of rabbits has taken up residence around the house. This fellow was seen enjoying the recent warm spell, dozing on the briefly warm earth. Brings to mind one of my favorite poems by Wallace Stevens. Oh, yes indeedy:

The difficulty to think at the end of day,
When the shapeless shadow covers the sun
And nothing is left except light on your fur;

There was the cat slopping its milk all day,
Fat cat, red tongue, green mind, white milk
And August the most peaceful month.

To be, in the grass, in the peacefullest time,
Without that monument of cat,
The cat forgotten on the moon;

And to feel that the light is a rabbit-light
In which everything is meant for you
And nothing need be explained;

Then there is nothing to think of. It comes of itself;
And east rushes west and west rushes down,
No matter. The grass is full

And full of yourself. The trees around are for you,
The whole of the wideness of night is for you,
A self that touches all edges,

You become a self that fills the four corners of night.
The red cat hides away in the fur-light
And there you are humped high, humped up,

You are humped higher and higher, black as stone;
You sit with your head like a carving in space
And the little green cat is a bug in the grass.

(from Harmonium, 1923)

Philadelphia Colors

2011-04-12T23:01:00.002-04:00

Origama Mama

2011-04-11T23:54:00.029-04:00

The Sakura cherry blossom festival in Philadelphia's Fairmount Park was a mixed bag this year: among the beautiful blossoms, kimonos, and kodo drums were hordes of American otakus in corny Gothic Lolita and anime/manga getups.

But just as I was awash in a sea of regurgitation, this young woman came along with an actual interpretation. Her take on the ancient Japanese craft of origami was the best thing I saw all day, kimonos and blossoms included (alright--maybe not the blossoms, but you get my point). It wasn't Japan Lite. It was unique. Playful. Unexpected. Witty. Imaginative. She took Origami for a walk. Everyone else there just went shopping.

RIP, Recession Hair: 2008-2011

2011-04-08T18:11:00.004-04:00

And so, an era has passed. In a scant ten minutes this afternoon, my hair traveled from the year 553AD to our present day. As enjoyable as it was to become acquainted with the Dark Age version of myself, I can now at last find gainful employment at the local lighthouse. Guess I'll have to take up pipe smoking.

Fare thee well, Recession Hair: I saved quite a bit of money that would have otherwise gone to extravagances like haircuts, hats, and sunscreen. Although I won't miss your bathtub-clogging ways and heat strokes, I will miss your fuzzy embrace when the winter winds return to nip at my neck.

Trailing Arbutus

2011-04-06T15:19:00.001-04:00

Epigaea repens. Once a common Pine Barrens sight along the raised, mossy margins of remote upland footpaths. Pleasant jasmine-like fragrance.

Sticky Wickets, Googlies, and Silly-Mid-Offs

2011-04-05T02:38:00.002-04:00

The Philadelphia International Cricket Festival is an annual sporting charity event staged during the first weekend in May.

Philadelphia is the cradle of American cricket: the first American Cricket Club was founded at Haverford College in 1834. Haverford College is also home to the United States Cricket Museum.

Annually, twelve Cricket Teams comprising over 150 players representing fourteen different nationalities arrive in Philadelphia for four days of cricket. The action culminates on the first Sunday afternoon in May when Division A victors meet their counterparts from Division 1 in the Festival Final. The Final takes place at the Philadelphia Cricket Club in Chestnut Hill, and members of the public are invited. Witness first hand the emerald green lawns and the burgundy-colored ball as it meets with the crack of the willow.

Sunday, May 1st, 2011
Noon till 5pm
Philadelphia Cricket Club
415 W. Willow Grove Avenue,
Chestnut Hill, Pa 19118

No gate fee - Programs are available with a contribution to the Festival charity.
Questions: info@appliedtesting.com

Wikipedia article on cricket

Tristan Murail: Treize Couleurs Du Soleil Couchant

2011-04-03T23:21:00.002-04:00

A good friend of mine introduced me to Spectral Music Theory over the weekend, and presented me with this gem by Tristan Murail. Lovely work. I hope to offer an intelligent comment about it one day.

Wabi-Sabi Woodwork

2011-04-03T22:43:00.004-04:00

Visited Shofuso Japanese House and Garden this week, which is a traditional-style Japanese house and nationally-ranked garden in Philadelphia’s West Fairmount Park. Shofuso was built in Japan in 1953 using traditional techniques and materials and exhibited in the courtyard at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. It was moved to Philadelphia in 1958, to the site of several previous Japanese structures dating to the 1876 Centennial Exposition. In 2007, internationally renowned artist Hiroshi Senju, inspired by our waterfall, donated 20 murals to Shofuso. A viewing garden with koi pond and island, a tea garden, and a courtyard garden comprise the 17th century-style Japanese walled and fenced garden of this historic site and museum.

Note that the grain in the repaired wooden deck is as closely matched as possible.

The paintings on the interior panels, entitled "Falling Colors," were donated by artist Hiroshi Senju.

A model of how the roof is built: bundled layers of Japanese cedar bark pinned with bamboo nails. The roof, once completed, lasts for thirty years.

Will post pictures of the garden once blooming season commences. Even in early spring the garden is gorgeous: the proportions, scale and rhythms are perfect. Never seen a garden more well-structured. At least to my untrained eye, anyway.

Story From North America

2011-04-01T13:58:00.001-04:00

A lesson on appreciating living things and floppy nipples. What's not to like?

The Art of Anatomy

2011-04-01T01:08:00.007-04:00

(William Rush, Model, Sphenoid Bone free-standing, ca. 1808, Wood and paint
38 x 21 x 17 in.)

Last month, my friends Gerry, Joanna, and I saw a wonderful show in the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Arts' Fisher Brooks Gallery. Entitled "Anatomy/Academy," the show deals with the confluence of medical science and the visual arts. The site eloquently states:

Anatomy/Academy will be the first exhibition to focus on how Philadelphia’s dynamic art and science communities, and in particular the curriculum of the Pennsylvania Academy, fostered knowledge of the human body. Rather than dwell in separate realms these communities have often collaborated on and shared discoveries, transformed the attitudes of the public towards mental and physical health, and challenged conceptions about beauty.

Alongside Duchamp's famous "Nude Descending a Staircase" and Thomas Eakins' "Gross Clinic" are a deftly-selected collection of medical diagrams and anatomical models. Especially impressive to me were the giant bone models by William Rush, whose detailed sculptures were made at a startling size. Also noteworthy was an oversized anatomical model of a hand, made of papier mache and delicately labeled.

Very worthwhile show for both Philadelphians and New Yorkers. Hurry, though: this show ends on April 17.

Folk Abstraction

2011-03-31T01:38:00.013-04:00

I would have loved to have seen this incredible collection of 650 quilts in person. It was on display at the Park Avenue Armory this week only, ending today. To have them up so briefly is understandable (we're talking about 200 year-old textiles in some cases), but it's downright cruel just the same: the display looked fantastic. I love the narrow focus and rigor of the collection: the simplicity of the patterns, when taken as a whole, feels modern. The environment that the quilts create has an Alice in Wonderland atmosphere, as if the exhibition was a giant house of cards. I especially love the idea of breathing new life into antique, homespun objects by turning them into a universe of rhyming forms and shapes. Even though I'm sad that I didn't get to see it myself, I do love that it was a fleeting experience; this appeals to the plant nerd in me, I think.

The The American Folk Art Museum website says:

The American Folk Art Museum has dramatically transformed the Park Avenue Armory’s historic 55,000-square-foot Wade Thompson Drill Hall with the installation of 650 red and white American quilts, all of which are on loan from the collection of Joanna S. Rose. It is the largest exhibition of quilts ever held in the city. This magical but ephemeral moment will ultimately be captured in the pages of a fully illustrated catalog copublished by the American Folk Art Museum and written by Elizabeth V. Warren, guest curator of this spectacular presentation.

Spotted: 30th Street Station, Philadelphia

2011-03-30T21:33:00.002-04:00

Remember when I predicted that I'd be king by 2012? Yeah, nailed that one.

Membrane (jotted doggerel)

2011-03-30T03:03:00.004-04:00

A crumpled paper bag
cartwheels
across the town’s frozen lake
and snags itself on
a fang of cinderblock
tossed from the footbridge

by neighborhood kids.
Each cold, leadwhite morning
the bricks
grow in number
bite into the ice ‘til the groggy-eyed Spring
rouses, decides

that stony winter teeth cannot
be trusted near
tender crocus blooms
and so pulls them through deadblack water
away from the graybrowngreen
of strong winds and cool rains.

Snapping Turtle Skull

2011-03-27T01:48:00.002-04:00

Found this beautiful object today while scouting for Pyxidanthera blooms. The largest snapping turtle skull I've ever found--as large as my fist. This turtle was quite large; it must have weighed 70lbs. and must have been over 50 years old. In its prime, it probably could have bitten most of your hand off with very little trouble. Chelydra serpentina are ancient turtles, dating back to the Late Cretaceous. I have a soft spot for this species, even though I handle them with care. Their blind hatefulness is endearing for some reason. I like small animals with spunk.

Small Terrariums

2011-03-27T00:01:00.001-04:00

Made these for Random Tea Room in Philadelphia. Come visit them.

The Emperor Jones

2011-03-25T12:41:00.005-04:00

Iron Age Theatre's production of Eugene O'Neill's descent into madness, The Emperor Jones, is in its final weekend.

For those unfamiliar with this classic early modernist play: An escaped criminal turned tyrant flees from his muderous subjects, who hunt him through the dark, mysterious jungle. But the jungle holds more than the former tyrant bargains for: himself.

I love Iron Age's seat-of-the-pants, DIY sensibility (the bamboo that comprises the scenery was harvested from the director's yard, as were the logs for the giant throne). This is a forcefully acted fever-dream of a play, whose hallucinatory visuals (bamboo shoots become giant crocodile jaws), economy of stagecraft lends a visual wit that allows the imagination to fill in the blanks. This is true independent theatre, performed with heart and verve. See this play before it's gone.

Deborah Zlotsky

2011-03-25T12:39:00.001-04:00

Some of the best abstract work I've seen in some time.

More of her work here.

Sending Out A Warm Signal to the World

2011-03-22T12:50:00.002-04:00

Silke Sieler is a motion graphics designer based in Hamburg, Germany. She is attracted to the abstract forms, movements, and metamophoses of small organisms. I think Ernst Haeckel would have appreciated this.

Two Pink Spring Flowers

2011-03-21T11:38:00.003-04:00

The Cultivated: Prunus mume 'Kobai,' a Japanese apricot. Blooms around the same time as forsythia. A young tree, but already a heavy bloomer. The blooms smell like cinnamon. Grows very quickly once established (3 ft per year), but blooms are delicate and vulnerable to early spring weather. Picked up this little beauty at Rarefind Nursery.

The Wild: Corema conradii, also known as Broom Crowberry. Very rare plant in the northeastern US (ranked an S1 species). Also found in Nova Scotia and Newfoundland. Likes sandy, open, nutrient-poor soil. The stands found in the NJ Pine Barrens constitute the southernmost extent of its range.

What Are They?

2011-03-17T12:22:00.002-04:00

These were found by a friend while we were on a botanizing excursion last week. What could they be: lion cages for a flea circus? Our best guess is that these are shipping containers for queen bees. Upon arrival, a plug of wax in the tube is gnawed away, and the queen takes up residence in her new hive.

Beautiful little objects, aren't they?

Compasses and Calipers

2011-03-16T22:33:00.004-04:00

I'm preparing to chart the shadow of a local monument during the Vernal Equinox. It's research for the new book.

I'll also need a plunger.

The Lenape Stone

2011-03-14T13:39:00.005-04:00

On the top floor of the Mercer Museum in Doylestown, PA, you will find this 4 1/2-inch piece of stone. Upon closer inspection, you will notice markings depicting a woolly mammoth and small figures who seem to be fighting it. This is the infamous Lenape Stone.

The Wikipedia says:

The Lenape Stone is small slate, about 4.5 inches (11.4 cm) long, and is theorised to have been a 'gorget', or ornamental necklace. Supporting this theory are two holes drilled in the stone which would have enabled it to be worn about the neck. Clear engravings decorate both sides. On one side there are numerous depictions of turtles, fish, birds, and snakes. The reverse side shows an elephant-like creature, humanoid figures, what appears to be a forest, some teepees, and other markings. The humanoid figures appear to be in battle with the elephant-like creature, and one even appears to have been trampled by it.

The Lenape Stone is a controversial archaeological artifact, the earliest origins of which can be traced to Bucks County, Pennsylvania in 1872. The drawings on the stone appear to show Native Americans hunting a wooly mammoth, though most evidence suggests that modern humans did not co-exist with mammoths in North America. The circumstances surrounding the stone's discovery have made it impossible, to date, to prove or disprove its authenticity.

The first portion of the stone is reported to have been found by Barnard Hansell, a farmer, in the spring of 1872. In 1881, Hansell sold the fragment to Henry Paxon, a young man with an interest in Native American artifacts. A few months later, Hansell reported finding the second piece of the stone in the same field where he had unearthed the first, nine years before.

Once the pieces were joined, they were examined by members of the Bucks County Historical Society, including archaeologist/historian Henry Chapman Mercer. Despite evidence which cast the stone's origin in doubt, Mercer came to be an ardent proponent of its authenticity, an argument which he put forth in his 1885 book, The Lenape Stone, or the Indian and the Mammoth. Unfortunately, however, even Mercer acknowledged that the stone's unique nature and a lack of physical evidence (such as soil samples) made scientific certainty impossible.

There is much evidence against the authenticity of the Lenape Stone. The stone is unique in the fact that there are no other carvings depicting mammoths that have been found in North America. There were no witnesses to verify the circumstances under which the stone was found (this was true for both pieces of the stone). After it was found, the stone was cleaned multiple times, making geological tests virtually impossible. The carvings do not appear to cross the break in the stone, which may indicate that they were made after the stone was separated. This would show that the stone was in fact a forgery, or that the two pieces of the stone were not related.

The type of gorget the Lenape Stone resembles is known to have been popular no earlier that 1000 BCE--thousands of years after the mammoth was extinct. Additionally, three other artifacts found later on the Hansell farm bore engravings very similar to those on the Lenape Stone. All three were discovered by Barnard Hansell. These artifacts were able to be dated and were found to be from a time period not contemporary with the mammoth.

This isn't the first time that forgery and hoax have been linked to Lenape artifacts: The Holly Oak Gorget and the famous Walum Olum are other examples of forged Lenape artifacts.

Henry Chapman Mercer was convinced that the artifact was real. His book on the Lenape Stone The Lenape Stone; or The Indian and the Mammoth can be browsed here.

If it were a true artifact, it would be the only known depiction of mammoths by Native Americans ever found in North America. But before we dismiss the possibility, we should note that Lenape legends tell of a great battle against the mammoths, or "yakwawi." And so the mystery continues. Thank goodness.

Recipe: Whimsy's Bog Bites

2011-03-13T20:19:00.003-04:00

Better than any trail bar you'll find in a store. Healthier, too.

2 cups old fashion rolled oats
1/2 cup raw sunflower seeds
1 cup sliced almonds
1/2 cup wheat germ
1/4 cup flax seed
1/2 cup honey
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 Tablespoons black strap molassas
1 ounce butter plus extra for pan
2 teaspoon vanilla
1/4-1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

A heaping 1/4 cup of the following, chopped:
golden raisins
dried dates
dried blueberries
dried cranberries
dried cherries

Preheat oven to 350. Spread oats, flax seed, almonds, sunflower seeds and wheat germ on a baking sheet with sides.

Toast in the oven for 15 minutes gently toss occasionally. In the meantime, combine honey, brown sugar, molasses, butter, vanilla and salt in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Cook until brown sugar is completely dissolved.

When toasted, ingredients are done Remove from oven and reduce heat to 300. Combine both mixtures and add chopped dried fruit. Quickly turn out into buttered baking dish and press down evenly distributing the mixture in the dish. This will take a few minutes. You want the bars to be dense so they cut nicely.

Bake for 25 minutes. Allow to completely cool before removing from pan. The bars are easier to cut once they are out of the pan. Cut into bars.

Peter Wyngarde

2011-03-09T23:49:00.000-05:00

The man had impeccably bad taste.

Girl's Night Out

2011-03-08T22:44:00.000-05:00

With thanks to my man Doran.

Judith Schaechter

2011-03-07T14:38:00.002-05:00

My friend Judith is doing a lecture this Thursday at Philly's Art Alliance. The title of the talk is “Blurred Horizons: Fine Art vs. Craft.”

Paul Williams: Micro-Odin

2011-03-07T00:39:00.001-05:00

Jersey Devil: We Meet Again

2011-03-06T13:33:00.002-05:00

On the windowsill at Pinelands Preservation Alliance. I met the rest of this guy last summer. Must have had a rough winter. Well, maybe he'll grow back his arms and legs by spring.

(Rumor has it that JD had made some unofficial appearances in some Philly bars recently, much to the dismay of the PPA folks. But really, is that so surprising? He is a devil, after all.)

Little Worlds

2011-03-06T13:05:00.002-05:00

Jason Austin of Rarefind Nursery shows me the upcoming crop of pitcher plants he and "Bog Man" Bill Smith are breeding. I could look at their carpet of trays for hours: each one of them, as you see here, is a little world of its own.

Rarefind was recently rated number one mail-order nursery by Garden Design Magazine. And check out the article "Reliable Rhododendrons" in the current April/May issue of Horticulture magazine, by Rarefind's Anne Haines and Ron Rabideau.

Rarefind opens its doors for the season on March 19th, which is also the day of their camellia celebration. If you like shade-tolerant evergreen plants with attractive foliage and showy flowers, this is for you.

I'm Riding Them Internets

2011-03-02T14:26:00.003-05:00

Here's that tv ad for the upcoming PIFA festival, featuring me in a painted beard riding my highwheel into a brick wall in hot pursuit of a cute redhead (they don't show the actual crash). These media types are a quick read, aren't they.

New Cabins Rock My World

2011-03-02T13:45:00.003-05:00

A member of the staff at the Quaker campground lives in this modular cabin. Not a fan of the built-on porch, but nevertheless I am quite covetous of this new iteration of a vernacular building type. Look how it is sandwiched amid those tulip poplars. Dang.

Old Weird Philly: Catoxen Cabin

2011-03-02T13:16:00.006-05:00

(Apologies for the flood of posts: I have amassed a large backlog of images lately, so I'm trying to catch up. — Ed.)

This is Catoxen Cabin, which is found in a Quaker summer camp outside of Medford, NJ. It dates back to around 1909. This cabin was the base of operations for the revered Philadelphia ornithologist and botanist Whitmer Stone, whose landmark books on South Jersey birds and plants are currently enjoying their centennial anniversaries (the bird book is slightly older, but we're not being that technical here). His book on Southern NJ plants (available in pdf form here) remains a valuable resource for those native plant lovers interested in seeking out the historical locations of rare native plants (Stone dutifully cites the locations of plant populations in his book).

You can see original photos of Catoxen Cabin here.

Handsomely proportioned cabin, isn't it. The porch was extended by a couple feet some time ago when they replaced the roof, but otherwise it remains in its original form. My good friend Bill, an architectural historian, was amazed to find this cabin in such good condition: it was either forgotten by most local naturalists, or it was assumed that the cabin fell into ruin decades ago (Quakers throw nothing away, thank goodness). Bill suspects than an architect friend of Stone's may have had a hand in designing the cabin. I agree that the proportions seem pretty deft for a layman.

A symposium on the works of Whitmer Stone is being planned for the Sept. 30 - Oct. 2nd weekend. I'm a member of the planning committee (yes I am middle-aged), so I'll be making announcements here as details are firmed up.

New Weird Philly: Northern Liberties

2011-03-02T13:03:00.001-05:00

Found this Utrillo painting between 2nd and 3rd along Fairmount.

Old Weird Philly: Pennsylvania Hospital

2011-03-02T12:50:00.005-05:00

The surgical amphitheatre, a bright rotunda perched on the top of Pennsylvania Hospital. Admission was paid to attend the surgeries performed here, the proceeds of which funded care for the sick and poor.

This space might also be familiar to those who are familiar with the works of Thomas Eakins.

The hospital, started in part by some fellow named Franklin, is an architectural treasure, a beautiful mix of Federal and Georgian styles. Very mature azaleas, boxwoods and magnolias surround it. The foyer stairwell is a marvelous, spidery thing.

The library. In which we find...

An eighteenth-century anatomical model of a pregnant woman's torso.

Street Musicians, Vietnam

2011-03-02T12:15:00.002-05:00

Sayeth the poster of this video: "two blind women one playing beautifully strange electric guitar while the other sings sublimely into a microphone . powered by a battery carried in a bag by the guitar player & blasted out through a megaphone carried by a young man who leads them along while selling some sort of raffle tickets [so i was told] . filmed in saigon / ho chi minh city 2002. i freeze framed it where the camera work got too shaky ... & yes i did give them money."

Old Weird Philly: Elfreth's Alley, Wood St. Steps

2011-03-02T11:46:00.005-05:00

Elfreth's Alley is the oldest residential neighborhood in America. Pretty little Georgian style houses in Flemish bond brick snugly lined along a narrow cobblestone walk.

Even more charming is Bladens Court, an even more narrow alley that runs off Elfreth's Alley and ends in a small courtyard that is otherwise completely hidden.

On a small, isolated fragment of neighborhood that has been marooned for decades by the construction of I-95, we find the Wood Street Steps. The Wood Street Steps were proposed by William Penn himself during the late 17th Century, as a compromise between the landowners along the waterfront and the general public who needed access to the river. Once a common feature of Philadelphia, these are the last of Penn's steps, and thus the last piece of Philadelphia's eighteenth-century waterfront. The narrow Wood Street Steps can be found between 323 and 325 North Front Street.

The Czarina of Hojicha

2011-03-01T23:40:00.002-05:00

Rebecca Goldschmidt, proprietress and owner of one of my perennial Philadelphia haunts, The Random Tea Room. Working on tin labels for the Tea Room at the moment. Mellow atmosphere, friendly knowledgeable staff, and damn fine teas, from pu-erh to mind-blowing chai. Stop by and have a sip if you're in town.

The occasion? The Tea Room's 3rd anniversary, celebrated with tea-infused beer, brewed especially for the occasion.

The Octopus Project

2011-02-28T23:39:00.004-05:00

Austin seems to have an inordinate share of daring, playful souls making The New. Sometimes being too plugged in and being fashionably correct in your tastes can inhibit fresh new directions; there's something to be said for being off on your own, doing your own thing. I'm a big believer in The Comet Method: varying your orbit, so to speak. Come in, soak up energy, then depart. Repeat.

Spring Hath Sprung

2011-02-27T23:25:00.003-05:00

Spring has begun. To those not hip to the plant scene, this proclamation may seem a tad premature. However, plant lovers can feel the rumble as mottled, claw-like spathes of skunk cabbage erupt from the frozen, wet soil in low-lying forests, filling the nostrils with that delightful whiff of rotting sauerkraut.

Don't believe me? Go see for yourselves.

Also: I predict that this is the week that spring peeper treefrogs will make their debut. I have conferred with Bill, the local frog oracle, and he agrees.

Clockwork Creatures

2011-02-22T11:50:00.003-05:00

Visited the Guinness Automaton Collection at the Morris Museum this Sunday. In the storage archives below the museum, we saw hundreds of automatons in all shapes and sizes.

Above is a video of one of the automatons. You can also see it here.

Many thanks to Joanna Ebenstein of Observatory for having us along.

Bill Cunningham: Flaneur Emeritus

2011-02-16T23:39:00.001-05:00

Looking forward to seeing this.

Let's Go Be Bugs (A Valentine)

2011-02-14T17:24:00.005-05:00

Let’s go be bugs
Just you and just me
Scootin’ round the mud
And climbin’ up the tree

Let's steal some aphids
They taste pretty sweet
Make the farmer ants
Stamp their wee black feet

I’ll be your beetle
You can be my flea
Hold your little hand—
Hey, I’ll even hold three!

Rub my chirpy legs
Squeak a pretty song
Make your little heart
Go bongy bong-bong!

Stay with me, baby
‘til my shell turns gray
Pity that our species
Only lives for one day.

Paperwhite Narcissus

2011-02-09T11:58:00.004-05:00

Fare thee well, paperwhite narcissus. Your cheerful blooms and lovely scent sustained us through these, the coldest days of the year.

(Yes--the curtains are atrocious. They were wisely left behind by the previous owners, but I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them. Their prissy frills are funny to me for some reason.)

A New Blogue

2011-02-09T01:25:00.003-05:00

Hey, friends: my wife has set up one of these fancy online journals for our studio. Won't you stop by for a visit? She promises charming images and delicious recipes.

Rarefind Nursery Witch Hazel Festival

2011-02-07T16:26:00.003-05:00

Enjoy flowers in February, and fragrance too! This is the height of the witch hazel bloom season. Andrew Bunting of the Scott Arboretum will do a slide presentation on his favorites and answer questions. Rarefind Nursery carries a very large selection of Witch Hazels, and many will be in bloom and for sale in their covered cold house. Also Pine Knot Farms will be there again selling Hellebores as well as hardy cyclamen.

Rarefind's festival takes place on Saturday, February 12, 2011 at 1:30 pm (the morning session is sold out). The Snow Date is February 19, 2011. Registration fee for this event is $5.00. Light refreshments will be provided.

Remember Heat?

2011-02-05T15:32:00.001-05:00

On a cold, wet day like this, it's good to reflect on that inescapable three-month heatwave we had last summer. So hot, my head sprouted feathers!

To Puxatawny Phil: A Thinly Veiled Threat

2011-02-02T18:26:00.001-05:00

A selection from my collection of doggerel.

Jan Švankmajer: Historia Naturae

2011-02-01T19:40:00.002-05:00

Each Phylum is paired with a musical genre. FYI for you Quay Brothers fans: Jan Švankmajer was their main inspiration. But you already knew that, didn't you, you smart cookie?

Hand-Knit Pocket Square

2011-01-24T14:11:00.004-05:00

A brilliant musicologist friend of mine, in addition to teaching, is in the final paces of writing a book. To unwind and to clear her head before bedtime, she knits--and has become very good at it (very long, slender fingers). During dinner last week, she came up with the generous, ingenious idea of a knit pocket square; a few days later, she worked up this lovely little prototype.

I've tried it in a few simple folds, and the results are very promising (not the suit I'd wear with a knit pocket square of course, but it works well for illustration purposes). Lends itself nicely to a winter wardrobe. Let's hope she gets insomnia this week--I could use one in maroon!

(Downloadable pocket square fold instructions as well as tie knots can be found on this page at lordwhimsy.com.)

Bedtime Fable

2011-01-22T01:25:00.002-05:00

Seems to me that there aren't enough bedtime stories and fables for children on these here internets...so here's one for you and your pups. If you don't like it, fine--but please keep in mind that it was written and offered at no charge. ~W

....

On a cranberry hummock in a swamp, there lay a tiny mud-brown turtle. He spent his days hunting small minnows, swimming among the sunken logs that filled the dark, cool waters. His low, plain shell allowed him to slip through the watery undergrowth with ease; he loved to glide swiftly through the sunny, swaying water grasses, sometimes allowing the gentle current to carry him downstream. When he wasn’t hunting or playing in the water, he could be found basking in the midday sun, falling into a deep, warm sleep. He was almost a content little fellow.

Despite his simple, carefree life, the turtle couldn’t help but feel that something was lacking, although he was never quite able to say with certainty just what it was. This feeling would come and go, but over time it loomed larger and larger in his turtley brain. Then one sunny day, while resting on a tree stump, he looked down into the black water and at last discovered what was lacking: it was he.

It was he!

He gazed with shock and dismay at the drab little animal in the reflection. His leathery head was devoid of all markings, save the wrinkles on his neck. His claws were scratched and worn from his autumn burrowings and summertime frolics. His shell--oh, his shell was the worst of all: it was a mound of dead grasses and mud! What little of the shell that did peek through this pond-crust resembled an upturned wooden bowl. It was almost spectacular in its dullness, if such a thing was possible. The turtle wanted to flee from this insipid little creature; but alas, it followed him everywhere, aping all of his movements, as if mocking him.

The turtle wailed, his scaly little legs paddling in utter despair, his thumby, hot little face buried in a lily pad, sobbing.

At this very moment, a flutter of blue color and metallic chimes surrounded the hapless turtle, spinning him around and around.

“Goodness gracious! Gracious goodness!” cried the turtle in dizzy astonishment.

“Ching! Ching!” cried the feathery cloud, as wings, beaks, and claws swirled about the turtle’s earless head. “Ching! Ching!”

The commotion stopped. The turtle looked around, but saw nothing. He then looked above and behind, and saw a large, splendid-looking blue jay perched on his dreary, dirty little shell.

“Ooh,” the turtle cooed, forgetting himself, “What a fine-looking fellow you are!”

“The rock-worm speaks!” cried the blue jay in surprise.

“Rock-worm? You’re on my back!” scowled the turtle.

“Oh dear—so I am!” said the jay. “I thought you were a muddy stone, what with all the grass and algae on your…”

The turtle gave the jay a cross look. The jay decided not to push the matter.

“The sky seems to make all its creatures so shiny,” muttered the turtle.

Upon hearing this, the vain little jay’s stout white chest swelled. “I try to take care of myself,” he declared.

“Oh jay, I am so plain,” lamented turtle. “My life is so simple and dreary: nothing but mud, grass, and water. How I would love to be as magnificent as you.”

A glint appeared in the jay’s beady eye, and before the turtle could blink, the great bird was aloft, chirring away in the clouds above. The turtle, having assumed that the jay had bored of him, let out a heavy sigh and cast his eyes downward, when he suddenly felt a weight on his shell.

“Ching!”

The jay, perched on turtle’s back, had something red and shiny in its beak. Before the turtle could say anything, the jay was busy embedding the glistening bauble into his muddy shell.

“Have a look!” cried the jay.

The turtle slowly crept to the edge of the hummock, and looked down with delight at his reflection. He wasn’t just muddy brown anymore. Now he was topped with a shiny beacon of fiery red!

“Oh jay, it is so beautiful!” squealed the little turtle, trying to hold back tears of joy. “Can you find more of these?”

“Certainly,” said jay. “I’ll be right back with more. Maybe some blue to complement that fetching red, eh?”

Nearby, a young couple were resting on a riverbank, watching with amusement at the funny little blue jay who kept coming back again and again for bits of candy and bottlecaps.

“More! More!” demanded the turtle, with wide eyes. “I want my entire shell covered!”

“I’m getting a bit tired…” muttered jay.

“Oh please, jay!” pleaded turtle. “Can’t you see how close we are?”

“Well, alright,” said jay, “but I think you’re getting a bit carried away with all this.”

After a few more flights, turtle’s shell was a completed masterpiece. Every single inch of his once lackluster shell was covered in bright colors: a towering dome of greens, yellows, purples, and vibrant pinks glistened in the afternoon sun. The other turtles of the lake soon took notice, and before long were following turtle’s example, piling brightly colored pebbles, leaves, and feathers on their dowdy little shells. They were quite a luxurious sight, to be sure. But around this time, turtle’s tiny belly started purring under his shell. All this excitement made him hungry.

Turtle tried to plop into the water to glide about for food like he always had done, but something had changed. Turtle could not move, let alone swim. One by one, all the turtles in the lake discovered they too were unable to move. The howls of a hundred despondent turtles filled the air. It was a pitiful sound: “Oooooooooohoohoo!”

Turtle felt like a fool. Without realizing it, he had given up playing, hunting, and swimming--the very things that made his little life a happy one—for a useless luxury. For a few fleeting minutes, he was grand, colorful, even special. But now, he was a prisoner. His shell felt heavier and heavier.

By this time, the sky was growing dark. Jay was somewhere in a high treetop, sound asleep. Turtle didn’t know what to do. Then he heard thunder. The rumbling got closer, and flashes of lightning appeared behind the trees as the wind tossed them about. Soon, sheets of rain fell from the sky, and pelted the marooned turtles.

At first the turtles were terrified, but then something miraculous happened: the rain softened the mud on the turtle’s backs, loosening all those heavy pebbles and candies, which plopped one by one into the glossy, pinpricked lake.

Turtle cried out in relief. He was free again!

As the morning light came, jay landed on the hummock where turtle, back from a long swim, was basking contentedly.

“Your pretty shell—it’s gone!” cried jay.

Turtle had been closely studying his shell earlier that morning, and had discovered something. His shell, which he once dismissed as drab, was actually full of delightful patterns: concentric ridges, delicate variations in the browns--even the scratches in his shell lent some character. Turtle smiled to himself.

“Oh no, jay—it’s still there,” he said softy, as he drifted into a deep, warm sleep.

END

That Bottom Button, Marooned by Tradition

2011-01-21T13:50:00.001-05:00

I'm very much with The Grumpy Owl when he says:

Convention says that one should always leave the bottom button undone. I hold to that convention. But I don’t like it very much.

The tradition originated in the court of King Edward VII. He was too fat to button up his bottom button. The flakes and lunatics that surrounded him immediately stopped buttoning theirs. And a tradition was born.

I hold to this idiotic tradition because it’s one of those little details. You know the ones: If you don’t do it, it looks like you have no idea what you’re doing even if you do know what you’re doing and why you’re not doing it. Buttoning that bottom button will make every half-smart dick think they have something on you. And the only thing more insufferable than a half-smart dick is one who thinks he has the upper hand. So fuck it – I leave it undone.

But I yearn for the day when my vest buttons can all be done up. The day when I can stop aping some fat monarch.

To this purpose, I humbly submit that we assign meaning to buttoning the bottom button. That it becomes a protest against all illegitimate authority. We shall call it the anarchist button. Doing it up will symbolize our unwillingness to be bossed around by obese inbreds.

The revolution starts here. Right above my crotch.

But not in public. I’m not crazy.

The Grumpy Owl Blog

The Time Hack

2011-01-17T19:24:00.002-05:00

"The Time Hack is an experiment aimed at exploring whether our perception of time is influenced by our actions.

"The year-long project aims to test whether time itself is flexible and whether our brains measure time differently than the clocks around us.

"Research suggests a person’s perception of how much time has passed between two points and how well memories are recorded onto an individual’s brain are partially dependent on the amount of new experiences that person has during any given day.

"Experts argue that when one engages in a new experience, that person’s perception of time differs from when that individual engages in a mundane or repetitive task.

"The Time Hack aims to explore these two ideas.

"Each day, I engage in a new experience to understand how my perception of time speeds and slows in relation to each event. Can I accurately gauge how long each new experience lasted? Do I remember the details of the new experiences more accurately than repetitive events during the day?

"Through this website, I collect data by pitting recorded times and footage of each experience against time estimates and written accounts of what I believe took place during each event."

Link

Naturalist Wall of the Dead

2011-01-16T20:44:00.005-05:00

Richard Conniff, author of The Species Seekers, asks in his op-ed piece for the NY Times: "We go to great lengths commemorating soldiers who have died fighting wars for their countries. Why not do the same for the naturalists who still sometimes give up everything in the effort to understand life?"

To this end, Conniff has compiled a rudimentary Naturalist Honor Roll of those who died on expeditions. Reading this list is a rather sobering reminder of the hazards that naturalists continue to face.

Conniff concludes his article with this thought:

"But it also occurs to me that they might prefer to be remembered some other way than on a stone monument, or on paper. So here is another idea: On their first trip as part of Conservation International’s Rapid Assessment Program, Gentry and Parker helped bring international attention to an Amazonian region of incredible, and unsuspected, diversity. (Parker found 16 parrot species there and projected that it might be home to 11 percent of all bird species on Earth.) As a result in 1995, Bolivia created the Madidi National Park, protecting 4.5 million acres, an area the size of New Jersey, and all the species within it. Peru soon designated the adjacent slope of the Andes as the Bahuaja-Sonene National Park, protecting an additional 802,750 acres.

"Like many species seekers, Gentry and Parker did not live to see their discoveries bear fruit. But I am pretty sure that this would be their idea of a fitting memorial.

"Honoring the dead is good. We can do it by protecting the living."

Jacobus in the 14th Century on Fairies

2011-01-16T18:35:00.000-05:00

The Frontier Is Everywhere

2011-01-15T18:13:00.000-05:00

Rancocas Creek

2011-01-13T19:12:00.000-05:00

My usual kayak route in winter.

Mahogany

2011-01-11T19:46:00.000-05:00

A band that deserves far more attention.

The Sartorialist

2011-01-09T23:36:00.003-05:00

When I think of Scott Schumann's Sartorialist blog, I can't help but associate it with Baudelaire's The Painter of Modern Life, and the idea of the flâneur, the wandering urban aesthete who takes in the sensed qualities of his time and place.

Scott brings up some really nice observations in this video. Have a look and listen.

Softness and Serenity

2011-01-08T18:26:00.011-05:00

Perhaps it's because I'm a middle-aged crank, but it seems that serenity and softness are now verboten in most quarters of American life--so much so that they have come to arouse boredom and contempt in most people. True serenity and softness are rather thin on the ground: they're occasionally given lip service, but are rarely embraced. What often passes for softness and serenity is really a mawkish, sickly-sweet pantomime of said qualities--which of course further encourages peoples' impatience and hostility.

One is tempted to propose the half-baked theory that perhaps everyday life isn't hard enough to inspire an appetite for such quiet pleasures, but given the present grim realities that many of us face, that notion is destined to die in its proverbial cradle. Perhaps it's closer to the truth that we've become too desensitized, impatient, and lazy to enjoy softness and serenity on their own quiet terms?

Something to mull over and dismiss on a snowy evening.

Louis "Pitou" Boudreault

2011-01-05T00:16:00.003-05:00

Colonial Tofu

2011-01-04T22:08:00.005-05:00

My friend Joel Fry, archaeologist, historian, and curator of Bartram's Garden, invited some of us out to the Bartram house this week. Chef Walter Staib of Old City Tavern is going to be cooking in the kitchen hearth at the Bartram house for his PBS program "A Taste of History". Chef Staib is cooking two entire meals, so there will apparently be plenty of hearty food to go around.

The thing that interests me most is that Chef Staib is also going to be making something that us laypersons would never associate with colonial-era fare: tofu. Apparently William Bartram was sent a recipe for producing tofu, courtesy of none other than Benjamin Franklin. Joel is somewhat skeptical that the Bartrams ever made any tofu from the recipe, but even he concedes that it might be possible.

Joel sent another email that included the text from a now-lost letter sent by Franklin to the Bartrams. Joel writes:

It happens I just pulled together the documentation on the Bartrams and tofu for the chef, so I'll paste in a copy for you to read at your leisure.

This is based on a letter Benjamin Franklin sent John Bartram, January 11, 1770 sending seeds of soybeans, which also included two enclosures describing tofu. Over the years the letter and the enclosures got separated and only recently has the whole story been re-assembled. (The original Franklin letter is currently missing, but it was published with other Bartram letters in 1849 so the text survives.)

......

Benjamin Franklin to John Bartram
London, Jan. 11, 1770.

My ever dear Friend:

I received your kind letter of Nov. 29, with the parcel of seeds, for which I am greatly obliged to you. I cannot make you adequate returns, in kind; but I send you, however some of the true Rhubarb seeds, which you desire. I had it from Mr. Inglish, who lately received a medal of the Society of Arts for propagating it. I send, also, some green dry Pease, highly esteemed here as the best for making pease soup; and also some Chinese Garavances, with Father Navarretta’s account of the universal use of a cheese made of them, in China, which so excited my curiosity, that I caused inquiry to be made of Mr. Flint, who lived many years there, in what manner the cheese was made; and I send you his answer. I have since learnt, that some runnings of salt (I suppose runnet) is put into water, when the meal is in it, to turn to curds.

I think we have Garavances with us; but I know not whether they are the same with these, which actually came from China, and are what the Tau-fu is made of. They are said to be of great increase.

I shall inquire of Mr. Collinson for your Journal. I see that of East Florida is printed with Stork’s Account. My love to good Mrs. Bartram, and your children. With sincere esteem I am ever, my dear friend,
Yours affectionately,

B. Franklin

Encloses letter of James Flint on “Towfu”
Capringe
Jan 3d 1770

.......

Dear Sir

1st Process

The method the Chinese convert Callivances into Towfu. They first steep the Grain in warm water ten or twelve Hours to soften a little, that it may grind easily. It is a stone Mill with a hole in the top to receive a small drain of warm water which passes between the two Stones the time of grinding to carry off the flower from between & keeps draining into a Tub which has a Sieve or Cloth at the top to stop the gross parts from mixing with the flower.

2d Process

Then they stir up the flower & put the Water over the Fire just for it to simmer, keeping stirring till it thickens & then taken out & put into a frame that has a Cloth which will hold the Substance, & press the Water from it, & when the Water is gone off the Frame with the Contents with a Weight on it must be put over the Steam of boiling Water for half an hour to harden or something longer. The pressing & boiling over the Steam brings it into the Form you see it carried about at Canton. This is the process as I always understood.

Now I shall give you my Opinion in what Manner I should proceed in the first Process I would send my Callevances to the mill to be ground, then I would put the Flower into water & stir it well very thin. Then strain the gross parts from the Flour & then you proceed to the 2d. For I look upon the reason they step the Grain & grind it with Water is that it is so hard they could not grind it with their little Stones. I hope you understand it, & wish the Complts of the Season I remain Dr Sr
Your most obedt Servant

J Flint

.........

We don't know if the Bartrams ever tried to make tofu. The impression from Franklin's letter is he was very excited about this new food, but had no real knowledge of it, and certainly had never seen it. Franklin may have also been thinking about his younger vegetarian days. William Bartram's copy of the process for making tofu is in a section of his "Commonplace Book" with many recipes for preserving and pickling foods. It's possible William attempted to make some tofu following the recipe, but if so, it was probably more of a science experiment rather than a culinary revolution. Without any cultural context for the food, 18th c. Philadelphians would have had little idea how to cook, season, store or eat tofu.

Franklin's "Garavances" more usually spelled "Caravances" or "Callavances" here means soybeans. This is one of the earliest, if not the first introductions of soybeans to North America.

Soybeans had probably first got to London in the early 1760s, probably brought by two Englishmen, James Flint and Samuel Bowen. Bowen, a seaman who had spent some time in China, and particularly outside the usual closely controlled trading ports. Flint was a super-cargo and agent for the Royal East India Company in China over several decades, apparently fluent in Chinese.

Flint once had the audacity to actually address the Chinese emperor directly ca. 1760, asking that more ports be open to Europeans. The emperor had him jailed on Macau for three years and then deported back to England.

As additional evidence the Bartrams were interested in soybeans and tofu, William Bartram copied the instructions for making tofu [...] into his "Commonplace Book" probably sometime before 1773 when he left Philadelphia for his explorations in the South.

......

William Bartram MS “Commonplace Book” on page 215, (probably ca. 1770-1773):

How to make Teu-fu, a kind of cheese made in China from a little bean or Callevance

1st,
They first steep the beans in warm water 10 or 12 hours to soften ‘em. Then in a Stone Mill with a hole in top where in runs a small drain of warm water, which passing between the stones at the time of grinding carrys of the flower or paste which keeps draining into a tub which has a fine sieve or Cloth atop to keep the grosser part from mixing with the fine flower.

2d,
Then they stir it up and put it over the fire just for it to simmer, keep stirring it till it thickens; it’s then taken out & put into a frame that will hold the substance, & press the water from it, & when the water is gone off the frame with the contents, with a weight on it must be put over the steam of boiling water for about half an hour, the pressing & boiling over the steam brings it into the form you see it carried about at Canton.

Father Navarette’s account of the Tau-fu.
That is a paste made of kidney beans

They draw the milk out of kidney beans, & turning it to curd, with runnings of salt (Runett) while it is thin or liquid. they make great cakes of it like cheese as large as a sieve & 5 or 6 fingers thick. All the mass is as white as the very snow, & to look to nothing can be finer. It is commonly eaten raw, but generally with herbs, fish &c. It is excellent fry’d with butter. they also dry it & make it with caraway seed

........

So there you are. Even tofu has some historical surprises for us. If anyone tries this recipe, please let me know how you fare.

Playing to Type

2011-01-03T22:36:00.003-05:00

Whenever movies featuring this particular stock character come out, I invariably get emails asking if I had seen them.

Seen them? Bah--I lived them!

Uncle Stephen Throws Down

2010-12-29T14:09:00.000-05:00

Couldn't agree more.

Elf Trapping

2010-12-24T12:17:00.003-05:00

A holiday tip: when trapping elves, it is best to use the right kind of bait. I've found that the elves in my house cannot resist leftover Filipino noodle dishes.

Many happy returns to you and yours on this, the most frigging blessed of holidays.

R. S. Connett

2010-12-16T21:40:00.000-05:00

1773 Silver Swan Automaton, Bowes Museum

2010-12-16T15:36:00.000-05:00

The Legend of Leigh Bowery

2010-12-13T17:22:00.004-05:00

The Legend of Leigh Bowery (84 mins.)

Behind the Passion Vines

2010-12-03T22:05:00.003-05:00

Was meeting some friends for some crepes tonight, and swooped in on Stacy and Scott at Anastasia's Antiques, who were trimming the passionflower vines that cover their front windows. Always cheerful and friendly, those two.

As always, strolling through their rooms is an adventure. Discovered a giant tarantula and Victorian hair wreath that were in excellent condition, as well as a delightfully eerie selection of mannequin heads. The variety of items, which are arranged carefully in their cases, create otherworldly tableaus--and their new tenant sets the whole thing into motion.

A highlight was the huge display case full of antique ventriloquist's puppets. If you're in Philly this December, stop by 6th and Bainbridge, and have a look.

Turkish Delight

2010-12-02T21:35:00.002-05:00

Was recently visiting Random Tea Room and heard this lady wafting over my hojicha. Have a listen. It's divine. She's divine.

“Oddities” Marathon and Party: Dec. 9th

2010-11-23T15:35:00.004-05:00

My friends at Obscura Antiques and Observatory are joining forces to celebrate Oddities, a show now running on Discovery Channel that chronicles the adventures of Obscura's partners, Mike Zohn and Evan Michaelson.

On December 9th at 8pm, Observatory will be a three-episode marathon of the new television series Oddities, with giveaways, special drinks, surprise guests, and after party.

Date: Thursday, December 9
Time: 8:00
Admission: $5
Presented by Morbid Anatomy.

See you there!

A final note: for some reason, Discovery has failed to properly promote Oddities. Please spread the word!

The Latest Move

2010-11-20T11:17:00.001-05:00

Everybody chill out. I got this.

Oddfellows Hoodwinks, Obscura Antiques

2010-11-20T02:09:00.003-05:00

Was in Manhattan having lunch with my agent today. Popped into Obscura tonight to return some books I had borrowed. Spent a few minutes behind the counter to help sell some items (was assisting Mary), found these initiation goggles in the case. Lovely things.

An Evening at Adam's

2010-11-16T12:20:00.003-05:00

My friend Adam Wallacavage's house. He had some friends over to see the new chandeliers he made for Art Basel Miami. It amazes me how he can manage to get these things delivered intact, although it seems that Adam often makes extra components because he knows a couple will break en route.

Japanese Maple Season is Here

2010-11-16T11:05:00.002-05:00

This particular Japanese maple is around the corner from my house, and is one of the finest specimens I've ever seen. If you're able, get out this week to see them. They're spectacular right now (Zone 6b).

The Magnificent Iris Apfel

2010-11-12T12:19:00.001-05:00

Simon Doonan rightly sings her praises in his new Slate article. Always a fun read, that Simon.

Bird Call Identification Blog

2010-11-11T19:38:00.001-05:00

A wonderful resource for bird lovers in the Northeastern US: a library of bird calls.

Braids: Not Just For Pretzels

2010-11-08T18:40:00.003-05:00

My wife has been having fun braiding my hair this week. Those of you thinking of dipping my pigtails in an inkwell had better reconsider. No, really.

An Important Announcement

2010-11-02T21:57:00.004-04:00

Thought this election night was the ideal moment to announce my coup--er, candidacy. (Right now it looks like a Whimsy/Pootie Tang ticket, but you didn't just hear that.)

So go head and vote tonight. Get it out of your system.

Indian Summer Fog

2010-10-28T01:34:00.001-04:00

Oddities Trailer

2010-10-27T19:14:00.004-04:00

Here's the official trailer for Evan and Mike's new Discovery Channel series, Oddities. It premieres November 4th at 9:30pm. Some other friends of ours will be making cameos as well. Very excited for them, but goodness is Obscura going to be busy from now on!

Ignite Philly

2010-10-27T00:08:00.005-04:00

Wanted to express my thanks to the good folk of Ignite Philly for inviting me out to chew some ears about Pine Barrens conservation. The event at Johnny Brenda's was sold out, and I was surprised and flattered by the enthusiastic reception my stiff little spiel received. Gave out information sheets to quite a few people who were interested in learning more about the Pine Barrens. Certainly felt gratifying to introduce people to the place, and give examples to illustrate why it is a unique habitat. I hope we might have recruited some future champions for the Pines tonight.

An Elegant Solution

2010-10-26T14:31:00.001-04:00

Brazenly stolen from Poorlydressed.com

Oddities On The Air

2010-10-25T11:40:00.003-04:00

After keeping it under my hat for the entire summer, I am finally free to announce that my friends Evan and Mike, proprietors of the famous Obscura Antiques & Oddities in Manhattan, are the stars of a new Discovery Channel series called "Oddities," which premieres 9:30pm on Nov. 4th. It airs weekly 9pm Thursdays after the premiere. Sayeth the Post:

"In the first episode, Mike finds a mummified cat in the private collection of "an eccentric artist" (ya think?) but worries it might be putrefying [...] He also informs a customer, who thought he had a collection of musket balls, that they're actually something else entirely [...] The second episode finds Evan encountering a puppeteer who's looking for a prosthetic limb, and a customer who has what appears to be a dead body in the trunk of his car."

Some of our other friends will be making cameos as well. So if you like mummified heads and Soviet submariner hoods, this is something you might want to watch.

Spotted in NYC

2010-10-13T01:50:00.003-04:00

James (aka Mr. Burton) in photographer Rose Callahan's kitchen, Brooklyn.

USS Olympia

2010-10-05T13:09:00.010-04:00

Been spending some time aboard the cruiser USS Olympia lately, helping volunteers and Naval cadets with repairs and sprucing up. I've been spending most of my time climbing on those winch arms ("davits") up by the prow.

The USS Olympia was Commodore George Dewey's flagship during the Battle of Manila Bay in 1898. It is the oldest steel hull battleship still afloat. She is the sole survivor of the US Navy's Spanish-American War fleet. Unfortunately, the hull is in danger of giving out, and about $10M is needed to repair and stabilize the ship. Historic steel-hulled ships should be drydocked for maintenance every twenty years, but Olympia has been in the water continuously since 1945.

At the moment, Olympia's future is uncertain; the Independence Seaport Museum is no longer able to fund the preservation costs for Olympia, and may have to sell the ship for scrap or sink her as an artificial reef. An independent non-profit corporation known as The Cruiser Olympia Historical Society was recently organized with the goal of preserving Olympia, but The US Navy has dropped the Olympia from budget requests year after year.

The USS Olympia will close to visitors on November 22, 2010, due to the poor material condition of the ship and a lack of operating funds.

Those interested in helping to save this unique piece of naval history should contact The Cruiser Olympia Historical Society.

(I know I had promised a more pleasant post this time. Apologies.)

"Who Breaks A Butterfly On The Wheel?"

2010-09-26T13:23:00.199-04:00

What did I do this summer? Well, despite the dry, hot season here in the New Jersey Pine Barrens (pine cones were cracking open on trees in July) and the lack of blooming plants (some orchids failed to put out any blooms), I still managed to find rare plants that I hadn't seen before. Friends far more knowledgeable than myself were kind enough to share some locations of rare species, and to them I give my sincere thanks. Fine gents, the lot of them.

The excessively hot, dry weather placed a great deal of stress on the plants and animals of the Pine Barrens, but they're fairly resilient, and well-adapted to extreme conditions: drought, flood, fire, what have you. However, there are extreme conditions that even they cannot withstand--and while occasional man-made disruptions like fire and logging can actually invigorate wildlife habitat, outright destruction is an entirely different matter.

Unfortunately, it was not all sunshine and flowers this season. I've been taken to some of the more remote parts of Wharton State Forest by conservationist friends, where a disturbing degree of destruction has been been caused by individuals in off-road vehicles. Some of these areas are--or rather, were--home to rare plants like New Jersey Smokegrass, Golden Crest, and animals like Southern Gray Tree Frog and Pine Barrens Tree Frog.

One particularly hard-hit area has come to be called The Scar. What was once a lush vernal pool is now a trash-strewn moonscape with smoldering bonfires--and this during a drought, when the surrounding forest is as dry as a tinderbox. The six-inch layer of clay in the sand that formed this vernal pool, where rainwater collected for bog plants and breeding amphibians, has been obliterated. It will never come back. A ten thousand year-old habitat--a small piece of the living world--destroyed in a weekend by a gang of drunk jackasses in monster trucks.

(A fragment of the vernal pool's clay lens is seen here, right.)

As if to add insult to injury, a number of the ORV revelers responsible for this destruction have remained defiant, even hateful--as if this land was theirs to destroy. As if they were the injured party. As if they were not responsible for the criminal destruction of vulnerable state-protected land. They view the people who actually know what they're talking about--conservationists and biologists--with contempt. Not being the sharpest knives in the drawer, they trot out comically trite, toothless epithets like "treehugger" and "hippie"--terms that were ancient before Reagan took office.

(I wonder if these clowns know that it was the "treehuggers" who made it possible for them to have a playground in the first place: there were plans in the 60's to bulldoze the Pine Barrens and turn it into a giant airport. "Treehuggers" played a large role in preventing that.)

In their online "discussions," they embrace a Lord of the Flies strategy, shouting down their opposition in the hopes that that will win the argument, facts be damned. They fail to see why conservationists are upset because they have no clue what lives out in the Pine Barrens, and they don't care. (In this age of instant information, one really has to go out of their way to be that willfully ignorant--it's almost an achievement.)

To ORV abusers, the Pine Barrens isn't an ecosystem: it's an amusement park where they bring their oversized toys. Understanding the place on its own terms, let alone respecting it, isn't even a consideration.

If a private landowner in the Pinelands tore up his property with trucks or quads, the NJDEP would fine him tens of thousands of dollars. Why these ORV abusers think they can do this on land owned by every taxpayer in the state is anyone's guess. It is illegal, and it is immoral. To destroy habitat like this is a kind of theft: it not only steals from fellow taxpayers, it steals from future generations the privilege of visiting the last few wild places in this overpopulated, overdeveloped state. There will be kids born fifty years from now that would have loved the amazing places we now have in the Pine Barrens, but they'll never know them because some sadistic little twerp just had to try out his new tires on a stand of rare orchids. And another dimwit just had to do donuts in a bog that was home to a colony of treefrogs. And another guy...

(Muhlenbergia torreyana, a rare grass that forms large lavender drifts when in bloom. This was once a large population.)

I do a fair amount of Pine Barrens trekking in my free time, and I've recently found other isolated, sensitive areas in Wharton State Forest that are now being ripped to shreds. Having trashed The Scar and Jemima Mount, ORV abusers are now seeking other areas where they can, as they repeatedly say on the forums, "play in the mud."

"Play in the mud." Even though it's meant to be half-serious, it's still a telling admission. It suggests that on some level these ORV abusers actually think that what they're doing is...cute. Aren't they just adorable? "Does Billy wanna pway in his iddy-biddy widdle twuck?"

To be blunt, I think it's time we call these people on their bullshit. With New Jersey's large population and dwindling open spaces, we can no longer afford to have reckless wannabe hillbillies tearing up what little wilderness remains. There was a time when we could blame this sort of stupidity solely on teenagers, but not anymore. Attitudes once thought juvenile or adolescent have become accepted as normal adult behavior. I don't think it's a stretch to say that the abused areas in Wharton State Forest are symptoms of this rather pathetic mentality.

Have a look at the video above. This is a state park they're chewing up, mind you: land funded and maintained by taxpayer's money. Tough luck for hunters, horseback riders, or anyone else who might like to use that road--but hey, other citizens don't matter, right? Apparently, neither does the disrupted hydrology of this degraded habitat. Try doing this at your municipal ball field, county park, or another publicly-funded outdoor space. I'm sure the local police (and your fellow taxpayers) will be understanding of your need to muddy your fenders at their expense.

If you think this rant is silly, petty, and trivial, you're right. Unfortunately, the problem itself isn't at all trivial: it's part of a larger problem that impoverishes our daily lives. For many of us in this country, there is now only one remaining kind of leisure left: the frantic binge that comes after a five-day work week. It's a toxic weekly cycle we are all too familiar with, one which engenders an "I worked all week and therefore I can now do whatever I want / My parents are out of town, party at my house" rationale that gives carte blanche to all manner of assclownery. Leisure time has become synonymous with loud, obnoxious, and aggressive behavior: its very presence drowns out and prevents all other kinds of enjoyment. We can look back on a time when people lived lives of quiet desperation with a fond nostalgia, as our own lives of desperation now tend to be deafening.

In a state as densely populated as New Jersey, there is virtually no escape from this infantile, selfish behavior--especially in summer, when the Little Neros all but run the show. It's jammed down our throats wherever we turn: try getting through one summer day without being pummeled by at least one booming sub-woofer or intentionally blaring Harley. These minor annoyances, taken individually, seem a trifling matter, but their cumulative effect drastically degrades our quality of life.

Easily-abused joyride machines like motorcycles, powerboats and quads enable the inconsiderate morons among us to overrun everyone else. The temptation to be a complete jackass on these vehicles proves too great for people who lack self-control and maturity. It never seems to occur to such people that "doing their thing" undoes yours. And if you call attention to your own right to a peaceful existence, it's common for these spoiled brats to take offense in turn, and to act as though their habit of imposing themselves on others is itself a god-given right that you have no right to question.

How ironic that people who have made disrespect into a lifestyle should demand it for themselves!

Some ORV abusers even have the gall to portray their choice of pastime--their hobby--as their "culture," implying that it is akin to their race or religion, and somehow sacrosanct. This is laughable. People giving you grief for something you've chosen to do is not persecution: it's accountability. Grow up.

(If they can't deal with being held accountable, then they should get another hobby. Something equally pointless but quiet and less expensive, like fishing, or building a pumpkin catapult, or something. Then they can take out their childish, destructive impulses on gourds instead of globally endangered species.)

Personal events during this past summer have confirmed my opinion that this overdeveloped sense of entitlement--this rampant snowflakism we see everywhere--has gotten way out of hand. Last month, a small sailboat I was on was almost capsized when a chest-shaking cigar boat--one of several--passed within twenty feet of us at full throttle. I don't even recall being shocked or angry: public life has degraded so much that we've come to accept this kind of thing, and that's sad.

What's even sadder is that it's everywhere, even in the deepest parts of the Pine Barrens. Everywhere you go, there's an ear-splitting, mechanized couch potato who refuses to man up, put on his big boy pants, and take the law and the rights of other people seriously.

If we want to keep our society sane and worth living in, then this behavior cannot be tolerated any longer. These overgrown brats have to learn that there are more people in this state than ever, and that they have to become good stewards, good citizens and good neighbors, just like the rest of us grownups. And if they should damage or destroy these natural sanctuaries that the public has wisely set aside for posterity, then criminal charges and severe restitution fines for damage to public lands should be leveled at offenders until they get the message.

So yes, we have to use education, engagement, and enforcement to minimize the constant assault on these areas. In principle this is law enforcement's responsibility, but there are too few, and new hires are unlikely anytime soon (why this should be the case in the most heavily-taxed state in the nation is another discussion). It must be said, too, that the off-road and jeep groups must police their own members and report offenses, as their future credibility depends on their doing so.

Fortunately, it sounds like there is a growing group of off-roaders and hunters who are also distressed by this situation, and are joining up with naturalists and conservation groups to patrol these areas, report illegal activity, and clean up trash (which a couple responsible off-road groups, to their credit, have done for some time). I look forward to working alongside these folks, and I ask those ORV enthusiasts who have abused these sensitive areas in the past to rise to the challenge of becoming champions for this, the largest remaining tract of wilderness in the Mid-Atlantic seaboard. The more you learn about the place, the more you realize it's worth fighting for. Maybe our combined efforts can create a shared ethic of responsible stewardship that will inspire future generations to do the same. That's the hope, anyway.

New Jerseyans concerned about this worsening situation should express their concerns to the NJ Pinelands Commission and your local elected officials. It's their job to enforce standing laws, and we should hold them to it.

Of course, if you see any illegal off-road activity while out in the Pine Barrens, you should call the NJDEP Park Police at 1-877-927-6337.

So that's my two cent rant. Back to more pleasant matters in the next post.

PS: A year's supply of Rice-A-Roni to anyone who knows where the title of this post came from. (Update: Congratulations Mr. M. Zohn, who correctly attributes the title "Who Breaks A Butterfly On The Wheel?" to Alexander Pope's "Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot." He also rightfully points out that in the original it is "upon." not "on." Smart fellow, that Mr. Zohn.)