The Holy Grail Press
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Word of the Every So Often
shako: (noun) Imagine a hat shaped like one of those orange cones used on roadways. That’s a shako, which often included a plume. They were traditionally worn by soldiers on the battlefield so you could tell the good guys from the bad guys.
Everyday History
It was on September 14, 1814, that Francis Scott Key, after seeing the American flag still flying over Fort McHenry in Baltimore after a 25 hour bombardment by the British during the War of 1812, was inspired to write the poem “The Star Spangled Banner.” Well, it wasn’t exactly a poem. It was written to the tune of “The Anacreontic Song,” by a guy named John Stanford Smith, and it was a popular British drinking tune at the time. Now there’s irony for you. Too bad it wasn’t a song that everybody could easily sing. Perhaps it’s easier if you’ve been drinking. Or perhaps you just don’t care.
It didn’t take long for “The Star Spangled Banner” to get airplay. The first time it was sung in public was less than a month later, on October 9, 1814. It did take awhile for it to become official. The “The Star Spangled Banner” officially became our national anthem in 1931. Up until then the United States had no official anthem. Instead, when appropriate, “Hail, Columbia” or “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee” was sung. In another great irony, “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee” is to the tune of “God Save the King...or Queen.” Whatever the case might be.
As a bonus, we offer now the first verse of “The Anacreontic Song.” And, if you’re wondering, “Anacreon” was an Ancient Greek lyrical poet (c. 582 to 485 BCE) who mostly wrote about sensual pleasures... you know, love, wine, hanky panky. Keep in mind that Key was writing “The Star Spangled Banner” with the tune to the following words in his head. So it’s possible for you to do the same... backwards. Just try to sing the following to the tune of “The Star Spangled Banner.” I dare you.
To Anacreon, in Heav’n, where he sat in full glee
A few sons of harmony sent a petition
That he their inspirer and patron would be;
When this answer arrived from the jolly old Grecian —
Voice, fiddle and flute, no longer be mute
I’ll lend ye my name, and inspire you to boot
And, besides, I’ll instruct you, like me, to entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine
And, besides, I’ll instruct you, like me, to entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine
There’s something like six verses to that song, though I don’t know why. But then again, there are four verses to “The Star Spangled Banner.” Old joke: For five dollars, sing the first verse of “The Star Spangled Banner.” Now, for one million dollars, sing the second verse.
Cartoon of the Week
After a lifetime of work, Martin had succeeded
in making a mountain into a molehill.
Stuff
History of the Future: The Last Really Good View
Following using the Grand Canyon as a landfill in 2060, and the collective nuking of Iguazu Falls in South America so the countries concerned would no longer have a reason to fight over it, the writers of Traveler magazine began to ponder just how many places were left on the earth that were truly worth going out of your way to see. After two years of intense scrutinization, they found only one. A hillside overlooking the James River just northeast of the small town of Hurley, Missouri, was determined to be the last picturesque place on the planet on August 11, 2063.
Real estate prices there immediately increased by 200,000%, and it instantly became a magnet for the super-rich, who had finally come to admit that the Moon was downright boring. Those who could afford to be on that hillside just outside Hurley immediately began figuring out how to make money off those who could not.
High rises soon appeared where people were willing to pay 1,000 U.S. adjusted dollars for a one minute (adjusted time) view. Whenever one high-rise would block the view, the one behind it would just make theirs higher.
Finally, in what has become known as the Great Collapse, on October 6, 2076, 100 square miles of high rise condos, hotels, and timeshares, spontaneously collapsed in on themselves and fell into the valley, obliterating everything that was once there to see.
Since so much of the world’s wealth was tied up in what simply became known as “That Place,” the world’s markets suffered a simultaneous collapse. Many of the 2.8 million wrongful death lawsuits are still making their way through the courts as of this writing. And it is estimated that there isn’t a chance in hell that anyone will ever figure out who is really responsible for reimbursing those people who had placed deposits so their grandchildren might someday be able to eventually go there.
The only person to profit off the whole affair was a man named Gweev Flood, who bought the whole place for a song (which he didn’t even have to sing). Gweev has since begun charging people a dollar apiece just so the could see what was once “That Place.” There are plans for condominiums.
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