Où Est Le Chambertin?

It was no secret in the French Court: the favoured wine of Napoleon Bonaparte was Le Chambertin… one of the greatest of Burgundies. His residence was filled with cases of the wine (it’s good to be Emperor!). Continue reading

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Ivan the Terrible

Ivan the Terrible
 
Ivan IV Vasilyevich was the first ruler to assume the title Tsar of all Russia. He was crowned with Monomakh’s Cap at the age of 16 on January 16, 1547.
 
His early reign was noted for reforms and scoial modernization. Introduced at this time was card playing, then in vogue at the French Court, as an upper class diversion. Both whist and bridge became popular in Moscow Society.
 
Ivan was not a particularly good bridge player and one evening he got into a heated argument with his son (Ivan V) over the correctness of a bid. Consumed in anger, the Tsar took his Imperial Walking Stick and beat his son to death.
 
This act earned him the sobriquet Ivan Grozny… “Ivan the Terrible Sport”… which became shortened to “Ivan the Terrible”. He was also referred to as “Ivan the Lousy Card Player”… or Ivan the Louse.
 
In Russian the term “Grozny” can also be translated as fearsome, loathsome or unsavory as in describing an unappealing soup.
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Rootbeer Float, Please

I had to stop into a CVS Pharmacy on my way to the gym this morning. I could have chosen one in either Derby, near my Nest, or one in Norwalk near my gym. Quite convenient. Both are open 24 hours a day. That’s important for me. You see, I keep strange hours.

It is rare for me to get home before 10:30 on any night, either in Derby or Woodbury. And I am at the gym as close to 5:00 in the morning as I can get.

My purchases today were quite mundane: shampoo, deodorant and Stars and Stripes flavoured water (with just a bit of sparkle). Of course, if I had wanted to, I could have purchased Valentine cards, candy, food in abundant variety, electronic stuff (not fancy), snow shovels (had it been summer: everything for beach & patio), DVDs, CDs, magazines… I could have dropped off film for development. And… oh yes, actually had a prescription filled. Surprised? Well, after all, it is a drug store.

Fine.

At the gym I put in 3 miles on the tread mill. Nothing fancy. Cut a sweat and warmed up for my 6:00AM yoga class. This was to be my second session.

I had been grousing to a couple of my gym-mates about the increasing loss of flexibility (I grouse about other things; but that need not be described here). Two “brothers-in-sweat”, one younger, one older, both endorsed yoga and its rigorous stretching as something that would help me. And classes are offered at our gym on a pro bono basis.

I checked it out. I loved it.

So here I sit for the second time. On my unfurled floor mat. Sitar music in the background (which I find as soothing as listening to LL Cool J), I am in a position that is somewhere between somewhat and completely uncomfortable. Eyes closed. Our instructor, who truly has a soothing “WQXR” voice, reminds us about breathing, maintaining posture… finding our inner core beginning with our spine as a source for relaxing… “relax fully and seek our place.”

I don’t know about this “inner core” stuff. I am thinking that this is merely meant as a diversion to keep simple folk, like me, from recognizing how uncomfortable they are. Sorry. This “inner core” malarkey is too esoteric for me.

Still, the idea of “our place” is not without merit…

So when I am in the “ultimate land crab” position, also called a pose (something that I will hold for three minutes)… my mind takes a “stroll” to Beck’s Drug Store in New Haven.

Don’t look for it today. It exists no more.

But when I was a kid, it graced the corner of Edgewood and Central, four blocks from our home on Alston. It was an easy walk, even for a little kid… cross McKinley, Alden, Marvel and then Central.

Beck’s was a small place. Even to a little kid like me. The floor was made of tiny hexagonal white tiles. There was a counter with a soda fountain & maybe a half dozen stools. There was also a counter where you picked up prescriptions. And on the wall behind that counter were shelves filled with a small collection of pint and fifth sized bottles of hootch… although at that age, brand identity was not important to me, I can imagine that Dewars, Canadian Club and Beefeaters were represented.

I don’t recall there being anything in the open floor space… no kiosks with greeting cards, or displays with hair spray. I think it was just a place to stand and wait for a stool (although I can’t remember ever having to wait for a stool)… or for your turn to pick up your prescription, or perhaps a fifth of rye.

The presence of spirits for sale in a drug store was a residue of Prohibition. The Volstead Act (our 18th Amendment) which became the Law of The Land on January 29, 1920 prohibited the “manufacture, sale or transportation of intoxicating liquors… for beverage purposes.”

There was, however, no prohibition of alcohol for “medicinal” purposes. No surprise that the period between 1920 and 1933 saw a dramatic rise in sympathetic physicians who would prescribe a “wee dram of the devil that bit ya”.

Well here it is, the 50s and a small neighborhood drug store still dispensed alcohol; but no longer with the need of an Rx.

The presence of a soda fountain, on the other hand, had its origin to the previous century when soda water was considered a healthy tonic. And eventually ice cream became layered in.

Of this I can assure you… when Ian Gordon and I walked into Beck’s, demon rum was not on our minds, a tasty ice cream soda was.

“Can I have a rootbeer float, please?”

*******

You know, you can get a lot at a CVS today; but you can’t get a rootbeer float.

*******

Hey… are three minutes up yet?

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Humor Patrol

No one has to remind me the seriousness of finding quality humor in the market place. Even with the advent of the internet, most of what gets passed from one citizen to the next is nothing more than tripe.

And you may think tripe is funny. I don’t. It doesn’t look good, it probably tastes worse than it looks… and it certainly isn’t funny.

It is why I have created the Humor Patrol. An organization dedicated to finding only the funniest examples of humor (not tripe) and presenting them to our subscribers. This way, you will not have to sift thru countless forwarded emails to find one that will split your sides! The Humor Patrol will do that for you!

Now this isn’t an easy task… especially when one considers the amount of tripe that is out there.

But I am sure that you will find the subscription fees perfectly in line with other professional services. The initial payment of $100. American, will be good for the first six months (six months filled with mirth and merriment).

If after receiving two installments of humor and you are not satisfied, your money will grudgingly be returned (less some incidental expenses that have been incurred on your behalf). If, however, you are deemed to be a humorless cur by the Oversight Review Committee, then you will receive an additional billing of $25. to terminate your subscription.

An example of the exceptional quality of this service is provided below. It was discovered by Senior Agents of the Patrol… Alan, working in concert with his brother Stuart. Brothers Cadan have exerted due diligence in their responsibilities, although some of their material is not meant for polite society.

This tale is gender neutral… meaning, that while it is told from one perspective, it can easily be inverted.

 

An 80 year old woman was arrested for shop lifting.

When she went before the judge he asked her, “What did you steal?”

She replied: a can of peaches.

The judge asked her why she had stolen them and she replied that she was hungry.

The judge then asked her how many peaches were in the can.

She replied 6.

The judge then said, “I will give you 6 days in jail.”

Before the judge could actually pronounce the punishment the woman’s husband spoke up and asked the judge if he could say something.

He said, ” What is it? “

The husband said “She also stole a can of peas.”

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