I Want to Show You Something Really Quite Magical

 I want to show you something truly magical. In fact I think it's one of the best things you can possibly image search on Google: Ancient Roman mummy portraits. Not the cold marble of Gods and Emperors, but the painted faces of real, everyday people like you or me who went about their day in the classical world. It's an intimate and moving sight if you've never seen them before, trust me.  Like You could reach out and hold their hands...

Asherah

 

 

 

Ever wondered 'If the God of the bible had a wife what would she look like?' No? Well, anyway, here she is- Asherah. Back in the Hebrew day, Yahweh was but one of a pantheon of gods including El, Baal and his missus here. 

Then, in a moment that would define the future, some time after the Babylonian exile, the priests decreed Yahweh the one and only deity and Asherah got her divorce papers (A garbled reference survives in the bible about cutting down 'sacred tree poles', Asherah meaning 'sacred tree').
 

Two questions immediately arise. i)- what would the cultures, faith and art of Europe and Asia look like now, had Yahweh and Asherah remained an item and ii): How much would Hello magazine have paid for an exclusive photo spread at their new kitchen?

Boston Tea Party Museum- The Empire strikes back!

The Boston Tea Party Museum stands on the site of the Boston Tea Party, known as 'The stone cold tea massacre' to all British schoolkids. My target is acquired.

Inside, visitors encounter guides impersonating characters from the event. Here, charismatic sociopath Samuel Adams implores us to engage in colonial thuggery.

The heartless tea-bashing continues aboard deck, with children encouraged to throw replica crates into the harbor. Damned un-English!

But not so fast! While the Manson family-style horror continues, I clandestinely drop a perforated tiny bag from old Blighty upon the deck. That's right- I'm putting that tea BACK on the ship!

Down below decks I do the same, right on top of a crate of salty biscuits or weevils or some shit. Sons of Washington, sons of Lincoln and Happy Day's Tom Boswell: who's laughing now? Who's laughing? Whu-ha-ha-haaa!

My mission complete and escape made (despite a minor shoot-out with Ron Paul in the gift shop), I settle down to drink Virgil's root beer. Please note America- I am not pouring this much-loved beverage of yours into sea water and turds. I'm pouring it down my bloody throat. Anyhoo, honor satisfied, I think. Your move, Mel Gibson!