a not so evil empire

On this day, 17 September 1859, one Joshua Abraham Norton then resident of the city of San Francisco proclaimed himself to be "Emperor of These United States," printed in the city's newspaper the Bulletin it was sign Emperor Norton I. In a further decree the following January Emperor Norton I, citing corruption and the disproportionate influence of various lobby groups disolved the Federal Congress.

Now some have called this man eccentric, others have labled him crazy or even schizophrenic, but this failed business man who when he died on 8 January 1880 with no more than a few dollars to his name, tens of thousands of mourners attended his funeral and the procession that followed his casket was more than two miles long.

Indeed the man had his own currency and would eat in gratis at businesses bearing plaques reading "By Appointment to his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Norton I of the United States." Even the City allowed Norton a degree of recognition when in the 1870 census Norton's occupation was stated as "Emperor" and the Board of Supervisors of San Francisco appropriated enough funds to purchase new royal vestments.

In 1867 a police officer Armand Barbier arrested Norton with the intention of having him committed causing a public outcry. The then police chief ordered him released, stating that Norton "had shed no blood; robbed no one; and despoiled no country; which is more than can be said of his fellows in that line."

Indeed while on one of his "Royal Inspections" it is said that Norton actually put himself between anti-Chinese rioters and a group of Chinese. Apparently he bowed his head and began to recite the Lord's Prayer, with which the rioters shamed dispersed.

Crazy!

Read about him on Wikipedia from which this blog entry is sourced.

Wikipedia - Joshua Norton

having major panic attack or dying, not sure

Home safe now but you know public transport is a very scary place when in the middle of a full blown panic attack. Yes tonight has been truely awful. I am chilling out a little now but about an hour ago I thought I was going to die as I sat hunched over staring our the window of a bus, watching my breath condense and evaporate. I did the same in the tram and finally the train, doing my best to ignore the crazies all around me, those real and imagined.

It all started during my spanish lesson which my teacher offered to end an hour early as I was sounding unwell and having a lot of trouble concentrating on her set lesson and might I say that this is no small thing as it basically meant she was letting go of half her fee. Now we got to talking as we do and conversation quickly turned to my work and as I began to recount my day I promptly forgot to breathe.... disorientated I inhaled deeply, shaking and at that I explained that I had to leave stumbling to the door I said hasta luego.

I'm not going to die. This is all in my head. This is not a heart attack. I repeated my little mantra as I made my way to the bus stop, top heavy and very unsteady as my mind accellerated to light speed counting all the ways this could go, were those late night joggers over the road likely to know CPR, had I paid up on my ambulance membership and where was the nearest hospital? HElp, breathe, breathe!!! Alone at the bus stop waiting, waiting I looked at my mobile, who can I call? Who can help? Do I have enough credit? Will these be my last words? Breathe deeply and I settled on a text message. "Having major panic attack or dying, not sure," I wrote. Oh fuck!, what a dick head I am!, I thought and called him.

"What's wrong? Are you by yourself? Oh that's not good.... ummm... want to catch up over coffee tomorrow?"
That'd be nice I told him, I like to think he didn't understand the immediacy of my problem so I made my excuses and disconnected just as the bus pulled up. Now having a man sit a few seats behind you on an empty bus and sing and whistle loud to some sub-continental pop anthem might all sound funny to you but I was truely terrified. He kept this up a good ten minutes before I got off near the arts centre and while he held a pretty good tune my nerves were frayed... and all I could do was breathe deeply in and out again and again.

An hour later, unable to see a doctor in what was a vain attempt to acquire valium I was home and as I said breathing and calming down but still strung high as a fucking kite.

nick berg

The fear hits taught the strings of my heart that beats so fast it just can't keep on going like this. Death can see me as the outside darkens and disappears and the walls blacken and I turn inside myself. The world is ending and my hands are bound my clothes wet with sweat and captivity. They talk to the camera lens of revenge as my lines of fate draw in like light streaking caught in a singularity and all I want to think about is those I love, joy and sunshine but everything just keeps on shrinking down until this last act of violence that I know has been coming will end all this.

Nick Berg was murdered on 7 May 2004 to the words Allahu Akbar, God is great.

don't party too hard mister grey-HAM-ser

As the twentieth century ticked over into the twenty-first I swore that I'd get my license before the apocalypse. My driving instructer was one very large Mexican called Marco who would turn up half-an-hour late if he turned up at all, explaining that he'd had the sort of family problems that required the paid employment of lawyers. Still he would sit there with his Mcdonalds meal deal and discuss his latest fad diet as I nervously merged into freeway traffic cutting off a beemer or a merc, and we'd bond in some odd way when he'd pick me up at uni on hot thursday evenings undressing the ladies through his dark ray bans while I did my best to stay gender neutral; listening to bad fox pop laughing as he switched the car's inside lamp on and off to the beat: our party's strobe light.

And at end of each lesson he'd tell me "don't party too hard mister grey-HAM-ser" and in all honesty in the past few days I've been thinking about these wise words as I recovered from what could be only described as malicious self abuse.

I drink too much. Yes I do.

padre de octubre

Well it's nearly that time of year again with Christmas just a few months away and before you know it all the tinsel and the reindeer and the shiney little baubles will be hanging from the rafters of our hermetically sealed shopping centres and what with all the various feasts and saint's days in between such as St Francis Day (October 4), the Presentation and then the following Immaculate Conception of Blessed Virgin Mary (November 21 & December 8 respectively) and then there's my birthday it's time I make some gift suggestions.

Now with World Youth Day to be held in Sydney in mid 2008 the building frenetic excitement is sure to make 2007 catholic flavoured and what better way to feel part of the action than with a catholic themed calender.

Piero Pazzi an italian photographer has been bringing out the Calendario Romano, full of very hansome Italian "priests" for a few years now, published chiefly as a souvenir for tourists visiting the Vatican it has been latched onto by a UK website which has been selling calendars with one pound out every one sold going to Food chain, a british charity providing nutritional services including home delivered meals and health advice to men, women and children who are chronically sick as a result of AIDS. Now as it turns out these priests in the calendar are actually models and while one apparently was once an alter boy none of them it seems will be offering communion come sunday. Pazzi's website has put a call out to interested clergymen wanting to appear on the calendar but I've not been able to find out whether there's been any ecumenical niblings on this. Nevertheless these guys are very very pretty (my personal favourites being October, March and June) and I do believe this calender would make any good (or bad) catholic's trinity sunday* and while the naughty little catholic in me** is a little disappointed about the authenticity the plus side is that at least these guys haven't sworn no oath of chastity.

"What about nuns?" I hear you say. Well if that's your thing then maybe Nuns Having Fun 2007 Calendar is for you. The black-and-white photos from the 1950s and 60s brought to you by Maureen Kelly and Jeffrey Stone, show Nuns "frolicking through ... waves (yes, in full habits), nuns at the bowling alley, nuns on a roller coaster, nuns singing, nuns in a chorus line, nuns playing jump rope, nuns on a road trip, nuns in bumper cars. Oh, and what fun they’re having!"

Also:

Nicole Martinelli, Italian 'Priests in Calendar Are Models. Zoomata, 2 March 2004.

*Probably not to be displayed in the same room where el papa is hung.

**By the way not catholic, but who can say that there isn't a little bit catholic in all of us.