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Top Chef Medieval: Cannibalism for Kings

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Fava Beans...Fava Beans...

Here's another striking episode from late in Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia regum Britanniae:

Cadwallo was so filled with grief and anger at the loss of his comrades that he refused to take any food, lying ill instead in his bunk. At first light on the fourth day a great yearning seized him for some game to eat.

Last Updated on Wednesday, 26 May 2010 20:42
 

Naming Our Gear

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So, I was reading Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia regum Britanniae and came across this passage:

Arthur himself put on a leather jerkin worthy of so great a king. On his head he placed a golden helmet, with a crest carved in the shape of a dragon; and across his shoulders a circular shield called Pridwen, on which there was painted a likeness of the Blessed Mary, Mother of God, which forced him to be thinking perpetually of her. He girded on his peerless sword, called Caliburn, which was forged in the Isle of Avalon. A spear called Ron graced his right hand: long, broad in the blade and thirsty for slaughter.

[from Lewis Thorpe's 1966 Penguin translation, p. 217]

Firstly: a spear called Ron? What's next? "And then Arthur put on his noble boots, Bob and Terry."

Secondly: I've always been somewhat fascinated by the tradition of giving weapons personal names, so frequently seen in chivalric romances and Norse sagas. Someday I'd like to do some actual research into the topic, but in the meantime I wonder what the state of this custom is today. Do soldiers name their weapons? I know of artillery pieces that have names, but I don't know about rifles and sidearms.

On the civilian side, I know plenty of people who name their cars, and some who name their houses. Some musicians name their instruments (though it seems a honor accorded only to certain types of instruments -- guitars, certainly, but pianos... less commonly). What else do we name?

Well, computers and "smart" electronics -- usually because we're asked to. Your iPod prompts you to give it a name (mine: "Trumpy," after the alien in the movie Pod People of MST3K fame). For networking reasons, you have to give your computers names (mine: various Flannery O'Connor characters). So we might expect to see this trend continue even beyond devices that require you to register them with a name. Will we be naming our smart phones? How many people already refer to their devices by their "name," rather than saying "my iPod" or "my laptop"? I don't know any, myself, but I'm sure they're out there.

Anyway, this might be yet another element that blends geek cultures. An old classmate of mine once critiqued another's choice of network password -- the name of an obscure Lord of the Rings character (and this was in the days before the movies) -- by saying "Any hacker worth his salt will know a great deal about Tolkien." It's fascinating to me that there is this strange confluence of tech culture and medievalesque culture. Bestowing totemic names upon our most valuable tools is just one more example of that cross-over.

 

Rat-Powered Hurdy-Gurdy

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One of my ambitions (whenever I find myself with about $3,000 to burn) is to own and learn to play a hurdy gurdy (to add to my collection of instruments that make many listeners flinch). As such, I often find myself browsing You Tube for clips of people doing unconventional things with this medieval instrument. One of my favorites (and one of the first hurdy-gurdy clips I found on You Tube several years ago) is this fantastic performance by Matthias Loibner:

 

 

But today I stumbled across a clip of hurdy-gurdy innovation that, while not musically terribly practical, is absolutely brilliant. The rat-powered hurdy-gurdy:

   

I haven't heard of the group Rosa Crux before, but judging by some of their other clips, they seem to be half experimental, half performance art, all with a metal sheen. Intriguing.

Last Updated on Saturday, 27 March 2010 23:10
 

Buttery Abscesses

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I was listening to Dr. Mark Crislip’s daily “A Gobbet o’ Pus” podcast (which currently consists of material from last year’s blog posts), and he had a line that I feel absolutely compelled to share. Apparently, colonies of Streptococcus anginosus, which can cause abscesses in the lungs, are said to smell like buttered popcorn. This is because they produce the chemical diacetyl:

What is cool is that the reason it smells like buttered popcorn is that diacetyl is one of the compounds that gives butter that butter smell, and chardonnay that chardonnay taste. Next time you have that fake butter spread, think to yourself, “I can’t believe its not Strep anginosus!”

I can’t wait to find an occasion to deploy that line, though I might have to make friends with more doctors and biologists if I want to actually get a laugh…

You subscribe to the Gobbet o’ Pus podcast here, and check out Crislip’s other two excellent podcasts, the Persiflagers Puscast (reviewing the monthly infectious disease literature) and the Quackcast (excoriating supplements, complementary and alternative medicine).

Last Updated on Monday, 08 March 2010 02:30
 

More site redevelopment

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Quick update: after some very interesting but time-consuming experimentation with Drupal as a CMS for this site, I'm now giving Joomla a try. It certainly provides a nicer aesthetic experience right out of the box, but I'll be playing with it for the next few months.

Thanks for your patience!

Patrick

 

Today's Disgusting Tidbit of Milton Lore

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From The Book of Memory, by Mary Carruthers:

Metaphors which use digestive activities are so powerful and tenacious that digestion should be considered another basic functional model for the complementary activities of reading and composition, collection and recollection. Unlike the heart, no medical tradition seems to have placed any of the sensory-processing functions in the stomach, but “the stomach of memory” as a metaphoric model had a long run. Milton, his biographers agree, mentally composed a store of verses daily, which he then dictated to a secretary. […] And Milton’s anonymous biographer, speaking also of his mental composition, remarks that if the poet’s secretary were late, “he would complain, saying he wanted to be milked.” (207)

I now want to write a poem/song and title it “Milking Milton.” (Actually, I like the title “Milk Me, Milton!” better, but that sort of gets the quote backwards…)

Last Updated on Monday, 08 March 2010 02:29
 
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