Yelping My Way Through Time

Culinary & Inn Review: The Daily Nazarene, June 32 AD 

I guided my tired and thirsty camel off the Roman Road somewhere near Nazareth and headed for my favorite restaurant—Isaiah’s Falafel Palace—but that and every other eatery in town seemed to be closed. I was so famished that I lifted my hands up to the heavens and cried, “Oh Lord of Abraham, bring this lonely traveler some sustenance.”

            Just at that moment there was rumble beneath my feet and a flock of doves circled around me singing an ever-so-sweet song. Out of nowhere a young man with very long hair and a celestial glow in his eyes was suddenly standing before me. Twelve other young men attended him. I had heard some rumors about this Nazarene youth and his ability to feed the masses. I stood transfixed wondering what savory delectable would be on today’s menu.

He placed his warm hand on my cheek and said, “Brother, are you in need of a miracle?”

Nodding my head, I replied, “I just traveled all the way up from Jerusalem and I’m really beat and so hungry—do you know any place open and perhaps a modest inn where I can lay my head?”

The young man first looked to the sky and then said; “Fear not, for I shall make a table before you with a selection of nourishment.” And faster than you could say Anno Domini there appeared a roughly hewn board filled with fishes and loaves. “Oh this is great,” I replied, but I also desired a little libation to go with my repast.

The bearded anointed one then asked for my water sack and said, “I shall change your water into wine and may you both be blessed.” I handed him my leather sack and he laid his hands on it and placed it down on the table with my meal. He then put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Brother, my friends and I must be off now to bring salvation to mankind. Please enjoy your meal and when you need to lay your weary body down, get thee to my home and thou mayest sleep in my shop, but please try not to awaken my mother as she is a light sleeper.” I invited them all to stay but I could tell they were on a mission and I sat myself down to dine. As I watched them disappear on the road south I took an educated guess that those twelve men must have been his line or sous chefs, as feeding the starving masses of Judea must take a lot of work and preparation.

However, shortly after I sat down to enjoy this “miracle” feast, my excitement soon turned to disappointment. Let’s start with the wine; yes a Golan Heights merlot is a lovely treat, but for heaven’s sake not with fish. I was hoping for perhaps a nice Coastal Plains chardonnay or at least a very dry Negev fumé blanc. Granted, his choice of the North Coast merlot is a favorite among the scribes and Pharisees, and its hints of fig and pomegranate are exciting, yes, enticing, with perhaps a fatted calf or a ram, but it’s simply not served with seafood.

Which brings us to the fish. While the tilapia zilli had some zest to it, I felt that the anointed one was a little too generous with the cumin and the cayenne. Indeed, while this piscis was no doubt compassionately net caught in the Sea of Galilee, I was really in the mood for more of a salt water creature, say a swordfish or perhaps a nice filet of broiled leviathan. Not to be too critical of my heavenly host, but I could get tilapia anywhere, and if indeed it’s all a miracle, why not surprise the diner with something different from the usual catch of the day?

Now let’s talk about the bread. Yes, it was warm and yeasty but it was not gluten free. One would surmise that anyone who could walk on the water, bring sight to the blind, and raise the dead could come up with a gluten-free alternative to the usual Judean loaf.

The dessert was lacking as well. I sure hope he didn’t commit that lemon cake recipe to stone. There were lemon peels in the cake and little bits of date pits as well. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but perhaps this young man should just stay with his worldwide salvation thing or carpentry and leave the restaurant business to those with a little more sensitivity.

Things didn’t get any better when I went to bed down at his home. The place was full of sawdust and there were nails and odd tools all over the floor. When I finally made myself a little pallet out of straw and was dozing off, in walked his mother. She then kept me up all night worrying that her son was hanging around with the wrong crowed. Every time I tried to doze off she said something to the effect of “So my son, he’s running around with these twelve men—how is he ever going to get married like that? What kind of mishegoss are these young men up to?”

I tried to comfort her by replying, “Oh Mary, it’s just, you know, a stage he’s going through, a sort of messianic thing, you know. Perhaps it’s an attempt to bond or gain approval from his father.”

Mary tilted her head and replied, “He should stay here and learn the carpentry business and all will be well.” When she finally left I still couldn’t sleep because of all the bugs in the straw. However, I was awakened by heavenly smells emitting from Mary’s kitchen, where she was preparing my very favorite morning eye opener—shakshuka—and though her harissa was a little on the pungent side, the repast was a most pleasant way to greet the dawn.

 All in all a questionable evening meal and a most uncomfortable night at the inn; however, the company was interesting and breakfast was great, so I’ll give my dining and lodging experience here in Nazareth three stars.

Art Review for The Paleolithic Post, April, 15,000 BCE

Anyone worth his or her horsehair brushes or bone tubes for shooting out dyes against cave walls was in attendance during the recent full moon exhibit at Lascaux. It was quite the exciting show as many of the artists in attendance had gone far beyond that whole bison and horse thing, which is so Lower Paleolithic.

There was one artist in particular—I do believe his name is Unk—who is part of the new vanguard of cave painting, as he enjoys employing his own blood on his images from time to time. This exciting new technique adds a titillating sense of realism to those old cold stone walls. I would advise, however, not getting too close to Unk while he is working since he has been known to bite and actually devour those he feels are too critical of his work.

There was a major buzz or perhaps “grunting” going on for a young new artist who had recently worked his way up to Lascaux from Pech Merle. Nomina Dubia was completing his latest work of a nude holding an animal horn. The horn was incised with rows of mysterious lines that kept his fans guessing—were the lines a lunar calendar or a woman’s menstrual cycle? Nomina would not grunt either way, which created a greater sense of excitement about the new work. Nomina has recently signed on with the Flint & Stone Agency and his work will be soon be touring throughout the greater Dordogne area.

Perhaps the most wonderful surprise of the show was my terrific culinary experience at the new upgraded restaurant. Yerk & Saltina have not only changed the name of the eatery from “Paleos” (which is so way too obvious) to the charming “Chow At Lascaux.” This talented couple has changed the bill of fare as well. In the past Yerk and Saltina were legendary for their mastodon ribs. However, I for one felt that consuming these meaty bones directly extracted from the carcass of a recently slaughtered beast was a bit challenging, but not anymore. 

Last vernal equinox Saltina attended a workshop up north given by (might I say) a more evolved tribe who referred to themselves as the Parisi. They have this technique in which they strike small rocks together over dried leaves, thus creating an event that they refer to as “fire.” Before consuming any meat, they immerse the fresh carcass within the flames, and the results are the taste of legends. Saltina was a little taken aback when one of the Parisi mentioned that they have been using these flames for hundreds of thousands of lunar cycles. One of the Parisi referred to her as “sort of Neanderthal,” but since Saltina is indeed a Neanderthal she didn’t mind at all.

Saltina’s new and exciting innovative fire technique is now all the talk of the Midi-Pyrenees. One no longer has to chew and chew raw meat for sustenance.

So the next time you have the pleasure of dinning at Chow At Lascaux, be sure to order the ribs, which have been immersed in these roaring flames of the earth. For a few stones extra Saltina will gladly add her “gatherer special” rub of lichen and earthworms, which, when all cooked with the ribs, is simply a joyous festival for the palette.

The open cave exhibition runs for two lunar cycles, and Chow At Lascaux is open from sunrise to sunset except during earthquakes and the occasional invasions from nearby hostile tribes and stampeding hoards of angry mastodons. I give both the show and the eating experience four stars.

Be sure to catch the next show at Lascaux: Charcoal—How Much Is Too Much?

Classified & Personal Ads from Newspapers Now Extinct

From — The Domrémy Times June 18, 1427:

Single, spirited and ever so slightly aggressive young French girl seeks a possible relationship with a supportive and progressive minded male. If your idea of fun and romance are flowers, poetry and quiet walks by The Muse River, you need not apply. However if the thought of besieging an impregnable English fortress with a broadsword in one hand and the will of God in one’s heart sound appealing to you, then read on.

Are you seeking a woman who has visions and hears voices (all of which are spiritually pure), if so, I just might be the right girl for you. I also enjoy, constructing crossbows, preparing French cuisine from the Lorraine region and placing crowns on young French monarchs. If a relationship with a young maid determined to liberate France and obey the will of God resonates with you please write to —Joan c/o Jacques and Isabelle d’Arc, PO Box 1412 Domrémy France.

Special Note —Burgundians, plague victims and non-believers need not apply.

From —The Paleolithic Post — April 10^th – 15,000 BCE

Lonely cave painter from Southern France seeks companionship. Do you love art? Do you enjoy exploring deep dark holes on the side of hills? My name is Unk and for the last ten years I have been creating provocative and intelligent images from the Dordogne to the Cele. I have a show opening soon in Lascaux and it will run for the next two moons. I’m far beyond the Bison and Horse thing; that is so Lower Paleolithic.

My latest work is a nude holding an animal horn. I have taken the time to incise the horn with lines. Are the lines a lunar calendar or a women’s menstrual cycle? Come meet me and find out. All genders welcomed, especially anyone that wants to get under a Bison hide with me every night and keep me warm. Fire making skills are most welcomed. Also as far as the “hunter-gather” thing goes, I’d much rather paint, so you have to be OK with that. Love me and I’ll immortalize your image forever.

Come to Lascaux on the next Vernal Equinox and keep shouting my name around the cave, I’m bound to hear you. If not I’ll be the one with a great deal of chest hair and a slight dent in my cranium due to someone’s poor scaffolding work down at Pech-Merle.

From— Laocoön Times – April ^1st, 1183BCE

For Sale—One large hand made Wooden Horse created by Greek craftsman on the banks of the Agean Sea. This fifty foot high work of art is a glorious treasure to behold just on it’s own merits, but wait there’s more. Inside this handsomely sculptured equine is room for over thirty men and women, a perfect vehicle for weddings, funerals or any ritual concerning the goddesses Athena. Did I say vehicle? Yes this work of art is also portable as it sits proudly on four large hardwood wheels that will never chip or crack.

There are a few gauges in the surface, but this “Wasi-sabi” only adds to the character of the work. The new moon is almost upon us and we will soon be navigating the wine dark sea back to Ithaca. Just take a right passed the large flaming structure, go about a half a league on Rosy Fingers of Dawn Street and you’ll see the horse. Act now, this Bronze Age beauty is a one of a kind and won’t last long. Makes a wonderful and thoughtful gift. Odysseus, 1855 Cassandra Lane, Troy

From— The Dailey Nazarene April 8, 15 AD/CE:

Single, Aramaic Jewish male seeking companionship with a compassionate, patient, and understanding female. Must enjoy walking to various parts of Judea with a dozen or so men, spiritual discussions in the countryside, and witnessing miracles. I seem to have a very busy schedule these days, healing the sick and raising the dead but in between my visions and my teaching I get lonely. It’s no easy task trying to redeem mankind, especially with all those Romans around. In my spare time I make cabinets, chairs and small religious items.

My family life is somewhat of a challenge to most of my friends. My mother is a Saint but my father situation is somewhat challenging. Actually I have two Dad’s one who lives with my mom, and one who is somewhat distant, but we’ve worked it out and we all get along. Do you like to dine on wine, bread and fishes? If the answer is yes you’ll have ample amounts of all three as well as an opportunity to witness a large spiritual awakening both here in Judea and in the rest of the western world.

Send all scrolls to: Yeshua Ben Yosef 7010 Lower Galilee Lane, Nazereth, Judea.

From— The Neverland Herald – Forever & Ever

Single animated fairy seeks a grown up. I have spent the last century of my life waiting for a guy in a green suit to show up, and I now realize he will never Pan out. Due to my diminutive size (I’m a minus 10 petite) I can only hold one emotion at a time and yes I have some anger issues but can be loving and supportive as well.

Are you Pixie Dust tolerant? If the answer is yes then come fly with me and enjoy the earth from 1000 feet up as we soar through the heavens.

I work long hours at my job in Southern California but I find that I never run out of energy especially for the right person, fairy, troll or gnome. My bell is ringing…can you hear it? So don’t be a Lost Boy, look me up!

Please write to — Tink, PO Box 8888, Anaheim California.

From—Eden Reader –July 19^th, 4004BCE

We are a young couple looking to relocate to the east side after being evicted over an über stringent no fruit policy. Currently looking for a shame free facility overlooking the Euphrates for two adults and a reptile. I am presently out of work but collect disability due to the loss of a right rib and I also do some pruning (fig trees, apple trees etc) and tilling of the Earth. If our clothing optional lifestyle and my wife’s sweet tooth are not a problem we would like to move as soon as possible.

Adam 3:23 Genesis Lane, Earth

From—Sumarian Times –August 16^th, 2250BCE

Hi I’m a high priestess of the moon god Nanna and have composed over 42 hymns about Akkadian temples. The problem is I have no one to critique my work as apparently I have created this art form that one day will be called poetry. I like writing about my personal relationship with the goddess Inanna. Do you like to write about your inner life or the gods? My dad, King Sargon the Great said it would be ok for us to meet at his temple, especially when he’s out pillaging and destroying other cultures.

Don’t be shy, come over this Tuesday and we can work on some new verses and hymns about Inanna or any goddess that resonates with you. Remember to bring your own tablets and chisels and really think about what you’d like to say before transferring to stone. I’ll provide the wine.

Enheduanna – 86 Akked Lane, Ur

From— The Daily Thebes – June 6^th, 1330BCE

While it’s true I’m worshipped as a God and as a venerated Pharaoh in reality I’m just a lonely teenager with no one to have fun with. Does floating down the Nile under a full moon with a cool beer in your hand sound like a good time to you? I also love dancing, chanting and singing praise songs to the goddess Amun.

Everyone here at the temple is all wrapped up tighter then a mummy. I’m young I want to have fun and please don’t let the fact that I’m married to my half sister stand in your way, it doesn’t stand in mine. I know all the hot spots on the south side of town, and all the blues bars in Memphis and I also have a little lover’s hideaway in Luxor.

PS —I’ve been feeling a little funny as of late, I might be coming down with something, so write soon ok?

Send your tablets to—Tut, 1350 Valley of the Kings Road, Thebes

The Ghost of Gight

It’s truly an exercise in the thrift, trying to explain a song in eighty words or less as I often  do when creating liner notes for recordings. For within a song there are many songs and a multitude of different stories. Say a the main focus of the piece is Highway 101 and your enjoying the ride as you speed down the road. However, if you wish there are always many side roads one can take. All of which exists in a song, especially the older ballads. 

A very timely quote about songs and ballads is from folklorist Frank Harte:

All songs are living ghosts

And longing for a living voice

For example track #13 on Celtic harper Kim Robertson's recording Highland Heart which is actually about a ghost titled: The Ghosts of Gight. 

Here’s the whole story in 83 words:
Gight Castle (near Fyvie above the river Ythan) was home to the Gordon’s for many hundreds of years. It was built by William Gordon around 1479 and eventually sold in 1787 to clear the gambling debts of one Mad Jack Byron whose son was the famous poet Lord Byron. The ghosts’ legend concerns a piper who was sent to investigate an underground passage and never returned. Though it is said that the sound of his pipes can still be heard at the castle.
That’s it, four hundred years of a Scottish family and their castle is now compressed into less then 90 words.

 As I would hate to short change the Gordon’s and their estate here is (as that obnoxious man on the radio says) the rest of the story:              

In or around 1787 Catherine Gordon (the daughter of the 12th Laird of the Gordon’s of Gight sold her families estate to pay off a gambling debt accrued by her husband “Mad Jack” Byron. “Mad Jack” was anything but a loving husband as he pilfered money from his wife so that he may run around Paris, drank, gamble and visit numerous houses of sin. He died before his son was three. Mad Jacks father “Foulweather Jack” was an officer in the royal navy with a reputation for attracting storms and his brother known as “the “Wicked Lord Byron” was a suspect for not one but two murders. As well as being members of the Gordon Clan they were also direct descendants of King Edward III of England (1312-1377).              

William Gordon constructed Gight Castle around 1479 as a home for many of the Gordon clan. The castle sits along the Ythan River just east of the town of Fivie. For the two centuries that the Gordon’s owned their castle they were plagued by mysterious circumstances some of which lead to the demise of a number of the occupants of the said estate. All of the various tragedies were prophesized by one Thomas of Ercildore who lived near the Eildon Hills sometime around the 13th century. His story goes something like this: 

One day a wizard named Michael Scott instructed three imps (who were known to the Scots as little mischievous devils or sprites) to split one hill into three. Out of the split hills came a Fairy Queen who abducted Thomas for seven years. There have been many verses written about this abduction, here be a few:

 And see not ye that bonny road, that winds about the fernie brae?

That is the road to fair Elfland,where thou and I this night maun gae.

"But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, whatever ye may hear or see,

For, if you speak word in Elflyn land, ye'll neer get back to your ain countrie.                

After his seven years in fairyland Thomas returns with the gift of both poetry and prophecy. He used these gifts to his advantage as he would create poems to illustrate his predictions and soon he became known as Thomas the Rhymer. In a very real sense he was the first Scottish rapper and the only one known to have the gift of prophesy.              

He is credited with predicting the death of King Alexander III in 1286, the defeat of King James IV at the Battle of Flodden in 1513 and the Union of the Crowns of Scotland and England in 1603. Thomas soon gained the reputation as sort of a Nostradamus of Scotland. He became so popular that the Jacobites consulted his predictions before their uprisings of 1715 and 1745. For the Gordon clan he wrote theses prophecies: 

‘When the heron leaves the tree, 

The Laird o’ Gight shall landless be.’ 

When the Gordon’s first owned Gight Castle there were Herons living in a large tree by the castle. Around 1735 the herons flew away and in three years the estate was sold to the Earl of Aberdeen.                              

His next poem for the Gordon’s:

‘‘At Gight three men by sudden death shall dee,

And after that the land shall lie in lea.’

 In 1791  Lord Haddo fell from his horse on the Green of Gight. A few years latter a servant on the estate met a similar death while working on the farm. In this century a worker was crushed to death while working on a wall. The castle is now in ruins with only a small guesthouse standing on the estate and of course the ghost of a piper who disappeared while working underneath the castle. 

Catherine Gordon emerged from the ruins of Gight and moved to London. Shortly after relocating, her son Lord Byron is born (1888). Byron is born with a clubfoot an issue that some say was one of the causes of his erratic and sometime violent behavior.               

At the age of ten Byron inherited the titles and the estates of his great-uncle “The Wicked Lord Byron”. Byron then attends many prestigious schools (including Harrow and Trinity College) where he begins his career as a writer of prose and poetry. At the same time he is indulging himself in what some have called “an abyss of sensuality."
One of his lovers Lady Caroline Lamb described him as “mad, bad and dangerous to know."              

In 1814 Byron became obsessed Anne Isabella and pursues her for a year. She is gifted in math and science Byron refers to her as the “princess of parallelograms”. In 1815 she agrees to marry him and in December of that year she gives birth to Byron’s only legitimate child a daughter whom they name Ada who would latter be credited as the first person to write a computer program.              

Byron’s moods soon sink and his behavior turns violent. Fearing for her and her daughter’s safety Anne Isabella off to her parent’s estate. A year latter they were divorced and Lord Byron soon leaves the country. He then travels though central Europe with his personal physician Dr. John Plidori and in 1816 they decide to rent Villa Diadati an elaborate estate constructed on the shores of Lake Geneva Switzerland.              

Meanwhile Clara Mary Jane Clairmont one of Bryon’s many lovers is relentlessly pursuing him. Claire was an aspiring writer and had an affair with Byron (as many women and men did) shortly before he left England. She constantly wrote to Byron for career advice in publishing but her desire was to always be Bryon’s lover as she had been at seventeen when they first met in London.
Clara is so obsessed with him that she persuades her eighteen-year-old half sister Mary Wollenstonecraft Goodwin and her lover, poet Percy Bliss Shelley follow him to his estate in Switzerland. Realizing that Claire is pregnant with his child Byron allows them to stay and soon forms a close friendship with Shelley and his young lover Mary. They swim in the Lake Geneva, inspire each other to write and indulge themselves with Laudanum, the additive opium beverage that became the drug of choice during the Romantic and Victorian era.               

It then rains for a week straight and Bryon suggests they read a book of German ghosts stories published in Leipzig in 1811 titled “Fantasmagoriana” compiled by German author Fredrich August Schultz originally titled Gespensterbuch. After reading a number of the stories Byron then challenges his guests to create their own personal tale of horror.               

Dr. Poldori based his character on Byron and called his work “Lord Ruthven” which was about an aristocratic vampire who bites into the necks of members of the establishment for sustenance. The novel is released in 1819 as “The Vampyre and for many years it is attributed to Byron. It is the first work in print to take the folklore of the vampire and place it in a contemporary setting. Shortly after being adopted for the stage in the 1820’s many authors including Poe, Dumas and Tolstoy wrote similar works, which of course culminated at the end of the century with Irish author Bram Stoker’s Dracula.               

Mary Wollenstonecraft who in a year would become Mary Shelley wrote a novel about the dangers of the industrial revolution titled “The Modern Promethus” after the character in Ovid’s Metamorphoses who created a man “in godlike” image from clay. She worked on this idea for the next two years and released it under the name of Frankenstein.

The mysteries that followed the Gordon’s for two centuries, the untimely deaths, the rhyming prophet Thomas of Ercildore, and the missing piper who became the Ghost of Gight have now manifested themselves in the birth of the gothic novel.


Lord George Gordon Byron (1788-1824)