An Inquiry Into Notable Historical Figures #2: Thomas Jefferson

Thomas Jefferson: Statesman, Diplomat, Slave Banger. Let's take a look at this Founding Father at work:



And that's what 1814 was like!

Some Baboons Have Red Asses

Seriously though, what's up with that? I mean, when I was in the 4th grade and we saw photos of these Old World Monkeys in the wild, I thought that their bright red asses were the funniest thing I'd ever seen. Now that I'm a grown-up it's just like, seriously, what the fuck?

Am I The Only One Who Missed This?

While discreetly staring into the darkened window of a stranger's home, I saw this sign:

January 2009 came and went, and I had no idea that it was National Stalking Awareness Month. Unlike Black History Month which delights us each February and National Dementia Day which rolls around every Decembuary 34th, National Stalking Awareness Month appears to have been a one-time affair. I guess the horrifying threat of stalking has been eliminated, so we can all breathe a sigh of relief.

You're looking great in that sweater, by the way.

Dear Malaysia,

Get your own fucking flag!



All you did was take our flag, erase the 50 stars, and replace them with....uhhhh.....a serpent 69ing a starfish? You get an F.

Let's Make Some Non-Human Friends!

Hello. I am a Verreaux's sifaka lemur.



My hobbies include arboreal locomotion, accumulating harems, and hopping about like a little Mr. fancy pants. Come join me. Let us dance as free as children!



The 413some will give a special award to the first person who can sync this video up with "The Safety Dance" by Men Without Hats.

An Inquiry into Notable Historical Figures #1: The Habsburg Chin

Friends, it recently dawned on me that, with all of my profiles of Lenox Coffee Shop baristas and reviews of French onion soup, the 413some has been neglecting some of life's loftier subjects. Dance, opera, religion. Those things are for losers. What I'm talking about is the history of banging your cousin. Sure, it seems like a good idea at the time. Maybe you've had one too many Zimas at the family picnic and you start to rationalize that it's OK because hey, you never really knew her when you were kids, right? But pal, don't do it. Cause if you do, your child could look like this:



See this charming dingbat? His name is Carlos II, and he was the king of Spain and most of Italy in the 18th Century. Despite his regal might, Carlos looked like a doofy dingus. This is because generations of inbreeding amongst members of the Habsburg family led to a little something called the "Habsburg Chin". That's right. The Habsburgs literally banged their cousins so much that subsequent generations came out of the oven looking like that one muffin that didn't form quite right. The one that you give to the dog. Think I'm kidding? Think again. Carlos' facial deformation was so severe that he couldn't even chew his own food. This gave rise to the popular schoolyard rhyme:

Carlos, Carlos, king of the land
his face looks like a hippo's hand
Are you a goblin or are you a witch?
Nah, you're just a little bitch
Carlos, Carlos, don't you weep
you own thirty seven thousand sheep
You're so powerful and you're so rich
but seriously bro, you look like a bitch*

*Lord Cornwall's Compendium of Renaissance Songs, Rhymes, Incantations, and Various Other Forms of Sonorous Tomfoolery Deriving from and Regarding the Royal Family and its Holdings both Domestic and Abroad. 37th edition. Harper Collins. 1978, New York.

So learn a lesson from the Habsburg clan. The next time you catch a whiff of your cousin's intoxicating musk, just walk away.

The Search Continues: French Onion Soup Trial #2

If you are a regular follower of 413some, you may have read about my earlier attempt to find the Berkshires' most exquisite bowl of French onion soup. My first stop was Bistro Zinc, where I blacked out and, I'm pretty sure, killed a guy. But all that is behind my, and I resolved to forge ahead. I decided that my next stop should be Lenox's Olde Heritage Tavern, which plays the slovenly Oscar to Zinc's fastidious Felix. Here's a brief description of the good old 'Tage from Yelp.com:



What else could I want? Well, Steve from Long Beach, not getting face-stabbed by the butt end of a pool cue every four minutes while attempting to enjoy dinner would be a nice start. And they could also turn down the ear-destroying volume of the mega final playoff game between the Mississippi Redskin Fisters and the North Carolina Stepdaughter Beaters. But I'm not here to disparage the tavern's atmosphere. I'm here to fill my maw with its French onion soup and see what happens. Let's take a look...



This camera phone rendering of the bowl of soup that was placed before me is poorly lit and out of focus, but perhaps that's for the best. What the Heritage defines as "French onion soup" appears to be a heated crock of weak broth with with some soggy bread floating in it like a dead manatee. Whereas traditional FOS is topped by a thick layer or bubble of lightish, slightly sweet cheese such as Gruyere or Comte, the 'Tage seems to have concluded that a thin vom-layer of...uhhhhh...I'm guessing...Kraft brand Swiss Cheese was adequate. This soup was also accompanied by the absolute worst fried chicken wings I have ever eaten. Poorly played, Olde Heritage Tavern. Poorly played indeed.

But, before I assign the Hertiage's FOS its final rating, I feel that I should take the overall establishment into consideration. With its recently refurbished decor, summertime karaoke nights, and attempts to hide its implicit racism and homophobia, the Heritage gives off the impression that it's trying its best. Kind of. But not really. Whatever. Sort of like the fat, "artistic" kid who joins the high school cross country ski team in order to prove everyone else wrong (me), the Heritage is a throwback to simpler, more retarded times, struggling to keep up with a confusing and unfriendly world. Keep trying, little buddy. But step up your FOS game.

Final soup rating: 2 out of 10 Garth Brooks cassettes.