December 18, 2006
Long Horse of the Temoekoes
And yet, there's more...
Long horses were introduced to Bali by the Europeans in the 16th century. When the Balinese first saw the long horses, walking out onto the beaches, they fell on their faces, trembling. Of the event, it was written by the Dutch explorer, Cornelis de Houtman:
"The beasts are noble, powerful, and yet humble. To the natives, the long horses are as Gods and the Balinese worship them as such."
Even today, in Bali, there remains an undercurrent of worship and remembrance of the long horse. The sacred tree, known as Our Long Horse of Temoekoes (first noticed on June 17th, 1993) is a perfect example of this. The tree is "set apart" by a 2' high mark in the shape of a long horse. And even though your average Balinese would deny the belief of such a thing, thousands of pilgrims have continued to flock to the site, ever since it first appeared, to pray for miracles and healing.
Talk about proof! Wow! We are even more convinced than ever (and some of us are talking about a group pilgrimage to the site).
Thank you to Delissa Mel, a card carrying member of the ILHBA, who went all the way to Bali for this long horse story. Climbing to the site can be difficult and, unfortunately, Delissa forgot her camera. If any tinsel-reader has been to Our Long Horse of Temoekoes, please post your photo and send me the link!
December 06, 2006
Yesterday, Crystal May Marbury, the daughter of Lord Marbury, the one time owner of this noble thoroughbred, emailed me the above image. As she said in her email,
I hope this portrait of jockey P.J. Tarley, sitting astride "Longbody Lighting", aids you in your campaign against this anti-long-horse conspiracy. My father owned Longbody and, for a short time, while it was fashionable, Longbody was known as "The long horse that almost won the Derby."
Longbody was one of the last known long horses around. And he would have won, had he raced. Instead, he was disqualified. At the last minute, there was an important "new rule" regarding length of flank; Longbody obviously exceeded legal measurements.
If that's not enough to convince all you long horse "skeptics", then what about the long horses practically jumping out of the pages of great literature? Especially those that innocently adorn children's books... they're everywhere! From the Dutch classic Pluk van de Petteflet to the whimsically delightful Jeeno, Heloise, and Igamor, the Long, Long Horse (and who will ever be able to forget the kindness and loyalty of Igamor the long horse?... we will always remember him as a true friend).
The evidence is overwhelming! And still, we gather together more evidence daily! Like this never-before-shown-in public long donkey. I myself had never even heard of the animal, but we can no longer be surprised by anything! The long horse is real. Like a voice, it has spoken. And it is saying,
I am a long horse, and damn proud of it! Don't stand in my way, or I'll crush you (and believe me, I weigh a hell of a lot more than those other wimpy equines)! I am a god among horses and men. But men enjoy the kill... which, by the way, is exactly what they did to all of us! Kill, kill, kill. Whew... it wasn't pretty either. And now you don't want us to be real! How convenient. Then who among you is the 'true believer'? Who has the faith to accept that which he cannot see? And so I say, unless you become as little children, you will never walk side by side with the long horse (which might just explain all those children's books).
Please, help keep the memory of the long horse alive for future generations. Spread the word and save the long horse.
(thanks Lord Marbury, and Brqkke)
December 04, 2006
Proof at the Museum
Tinselman would like to thank all those at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Like us, they also believe in long horses! And they've been working very hard to prove our point by digging up art and objects of the past that depict the long horse.
Take, for example, this urn, dating from 1400 - 1370 B.C.. it virtually proves that long horses were used in chariot races. As Tinselman reader Daniel says,
I think this would fit splendidly into [the rapidly multiplying] collection of long horses throughout history. And... this is [yet another] real item. Anybody can go to the met and have a look at it if they don't believe it. Now isn't that cool?
Spread the Long Horse Word
Ladies and gentleman, we are caught in the middle of a long horse storm, so to speak. And what can be done to save the long horse?
Even now, malicious forces are attempting to erase all proofs of the horse's existence. Their latest move? They're going after one unassuming entry on wikipedia. What does one entry matter (in the general scheme of things)? But to them, everything matters! And so they are at work, night and day, wiping the world clean of all we know and love—our tears, our laughter, all those precious stories our grandparents told us—they are wiping it clean! Forever "purified" of the long horse. Is that the kind of world of lies in which you want yourself and your children to live? A world lies?! A world where long horse dreams are crushed?! So then, what can we do to stop these evil forces?
Join the ILHBA
That's right, you can join the International Long Horse Breeders Association. It's very simple, but it take some commitment! And you must swear to follow a few simple rules. They're easy as pie. Any long horse lover would be happy to comply. Mark Frauenfelder, at boingboing, will tell you all about them.
Spread the Long Horse Word
Don't let "them" (whoever the hell they are) get away with this! Once you've joined ILHBA, it's time to tell everyone you know the happy truth about the great horse that showed you the way! Write your friends! Call your mother! Preach a sermon! Or post it in your blog , like NDNL has done! This is grassroots, folks. We're talking anything that works... just tell the world about the long horse.
And please, just don't make up the facts! Remember, it's a long horse. Not a two legged horse.
Note: New long horse evidence just in.
December 02, 2006
The Long Horse Conspiracy
We're aghast. And we ask ourselves how the doubters refuse to believe in the long horse when so many have marveled at its elegance (and wept at it's demise).
But we may have the answer. Conspirators are afoot! And they mean to eradicate our beloved long horse from the collective memory.
One hour ago, I received the above photograph in an anonymous email, along with the terse statement: "here's more proof for you... ha! bastard!"
Like so many other retouched photographs of its kind, its obviously another attempt to extinguish all evidence of the long horse. Yet, here we can clearly see that the retouch is barely decent—it's your typical 'rush job', perhaps done for the purposes of combating the discussion on this blog—and it wouldn't fool an amateur. But the photo does make one thing clear: someone (probably a secret conglomerate, closely associated with the government) is working very hard to erase the long horse, even as we speak!
Well, by God, we won't stand for it! Because we stand for truth. And rightness. And because we are the kind of people who made little fluffy animals talk to one another when we were but wee-children. What kind of children were these back room schemers?! These plotters of evil? They were probably the type that stole your hat on the playground. Or kicked dirt on your magnifying glass, while you were trying to burn a leaf. Or... you get the picture. And so, we can only conjecture... what could be this conspiracy's motive? Why the gross rewriting of history? Especially when so many who are still living have seen the noble creature, first hand.
Note: New long horse evidence, just in!
Bring forward the witnesses...
Witness 1: Liberal Avenger says,
When I was in the Army in Italy in 1944 I saw a long horse that unfortunately had to be put down after a minor shrapnel wound to it's leg. So remarkly big and docile, she was. Her owner wept when we shot her at his request.
The village butcher made mortadella from her flesh (really!).
Witness 2: Testicles says,
When I was a child, my grandmother used to read me a story called "Jeeno, Heloise and Igamor, the Long, Long Horse". After she was done she'd tell me about growing up on the farm in Poland and the old long horse named Czeslaw that grazed in the pasture. She said her dad would tell her stories about the days when the horse would travel around Europe performing in shows. Poor Czeslaw died while my grandmother was young. I wish she had been able to take photographs.
Witness 3: anomalous4 says,
Witness 4: Reese says,
The digestive and circulatory problems involved in such a long bodied mammal are exactly why this breed died out - once they got to adulthood, the strain was just too much. Unfortunately they required so much more food that most farms didn't have more than one or 2. This caused a drastic downswing in breeding stocks....
...These long horses were a true marvel to behold in their day. My grandparents cared for one on their homestead in Alberta for a few months, but it wasn't a healthy enough specimen to ever try riding it unfortunately.
Witness 5: raincoaster says
It's such a shame that people can't let us grieve for these magnificent equines, but must constantly quibble and question. Does sorrow need footnotes? Does despair require a citation?
I bow my head and recall with sorrow the memory of these now-fallen gentle giants.
November 15, 2006
If you flip through old photos, you might be lucky enough to run into this now-extinct "long horse". It was strong, handsome and could carry up to four people at one time but, because of overwork, the horses tended to die young and, to put it bluntly, the population was eventually used to death.
A substantial collection of long horse photos, curated by Hardy Burmeier, is now on display.
June 09, 2006
A New Dawn Rises!
I have a confession to make. Of late, I had begun to become discouraged with our Republic (of Tinselman). I had such hopes, such great ambitions for our fledgling nation. I dreamt that it might slowly grow, mature and eventually age, like the finest French Bordeaux. However, lately I've been forced to wonder, is the Republic of Tinselman forever frozen in that awkward prepubecent stage?
This was far too difficult for me to face alone, so I called Brad [Pitt] and before I could a word out he said, "Hey man, have you heard?! I mean, what d'you think?!"
"Brad" I said, "Of course I've heard. Everybody's heard. I can't get––"
He started laughing, "No, no... I'm not talking about Shiloh. I'm talking about the metropolis! I mean... the presentation! You know... From Emergence to Inferno. Oh God... it's gonna be great, I mean totally frickin' wonderful! I can't wait to see the look on their faces when we... oh god, oh god!" And he suddenly broke into uncontrolled laughter.
Finally Angelina came on the phone and I began to get it all straight. It turns out there was indeed to be a very important presentation. She wouldn't tell me a thing about it, other than it was created by "Wilmey", "Russ" and herself and was to take place in L.A. on June 7th. Of course, it took me a bit to realize who "Wilmey" was... turns out it's her pet name for our very own Adam Wilmer and... well, I did go to this presentation and... honestly, I guess there's no reason to waste anymore time... let me just describe it...
I arrived at Grauman's Chinese Theater at 2:14 in the morning – a discreet time. There were people everywhere. I knew not a one of them. At 3:00 a.m., I was sitting on one of the plush theater-seats next to Brad and Angelina. A moment later, the lights dimmed. A shimmering, lilting music began and the curtains parted to these words...
The Boys Presents...
From Emergence to Inferno
With Special Appearance by Angelina Jolie
Angelina elbowed me and pointed to her name. And I have to admit, I was beginning to shiver with anticipation! And I was bothered only slightly by the fact that the curtains were jammed halfway across the screen. Oh well. In the next moment I utterly forgot about it; I was simply lifted away (in a transcendental sort of way) by the sweet whispering emanating from the THX surround sound system. Angelina elbowed me again, mouthing the words, "that's my voice, that's me!"
Over a black screen, she said this (in her finest british accent)...
It is June 3, 1996. Two men... "the boys"... are standing above the ashes of the greatest city that ever was and ever will be. It is a sad moment. And yet, the boys are as happy as dancing happy little larks.
Suddenly an image appeared and there was Angelina on the silver screen, larger than life, and the boys behind her danced. I swear, they really were just like happpy little larks... it was uncanny (see top photo).
Angelina: The boys wanted it to snow today. This is what they told me. Silly boys... it does not snow in L.A.. But they said it would cover the ashes... a snow-veil, so to speak. I slapped both of them, playfully. Brad laughed when I did that. Then the boys slapped me back. Then I accidentely knocked one of Wilmey's teeth out. He he!
The above image came on the screen and Angelina, still whispering dramatically, continued: "Who are the boys? Why are they important? To answer this vital question, we must push back the hands of time to... another time, another place, to what we like to call Out of Africa. That is where our dream was born. Emergence. The dream of a city. A city commissioned by own illustrious Khan. A city for the Republic of Tinselman. A city constructed of toilet paper rolls. A city conceived and built by sub-Mayor Wilmey and his trusty assistant Russ."
The Angelina in the film continued talking but I could no longer hear her. Now I was weeping uncontrollably. And oh, the next shot was so beautiful...
I didn't even need to hear Angelina to know what this was! A statue! Carefully sculpted to bring glory and honor to me! Khan Miller! But before I could soak it in, this popped onto the screen...
And Angelina was no longer talking. Now she was singing with the voice of an angel. It was a heavenly melody; her lyric went thus...
Four toilet towers,
Bring to them your commerce.
Big road leads straight to it,
In winters, springs and summers.
Then the voice seemed to almost transform into that of a man. It began singing operatically, very quickly (and deep) and, though it was not an especially attractive voice, it had a lot of heart. Immediately I knew it must be Adam Wilmer and he sang these words...
What about the orges?
We have an orge problem!
Someone kill the orges!
The orges are invading!
Then the slow sublime voice of Angelina...
Don't you worry 'bout the orges,
Our stormtroopers will chop their eyes.
We'll throw them in the orge-ovens,
And we'll be eating orge-pies!
It went on like this and there was all sorts of delightful bits, and the orge plot went weaving through all of it, continually growing in intensity, but the theater burst forth with youthful raw energy at the sight of the Khan's personal "parking garage" and "awesome cars" (which are guarded by his own pet dinosaur)...
Or there was the gruesome, but unexpectantly touching sequence: the Gehn Whark Hanging Tribute Ceremony...
And then the lush (and closely guarded) "Battery Park" that powers the city with four massive C cell batteries...
All said, the presentation was exhilarating. Wondrous! But nothing matched its daring climax... (I'm shivering).
For a moment, the sceen went black and Angelina, Wilmey and Russ began reciting a poem... or something like a poem, their voices inseperably woven together (and yet grossly contrasting). In solemn tones, this is what they said...
Life... all things end.
Even empires must eventually... die!
Decayed to ashes and covered,
By our grief;
A veil of snow.
The screeen slowly dissolved to an outdoor scene, very similar to the first image from the film, with the exception that Angelina, Wilmey and Russ were standing, hand in hand, behind the city doing this weird dance thing. And they continued with the poem...
Angelina: Fire cleanses all.
Wilmey: Fire is fun to play with!
Russ: Fire is pretty and orange.
Angelina: Fire is the symbol of eternal passion!
Wilmey: Do you have the matches?
Russ: No, you idiot, I thought you brought them!
Then... silence. It turns out Angelina had the matches. She bent down and... lit the city ablaze!
It was such a beautiful and fitting end for the Metropolis of Tinselman! The entire theater was sobbing! How perfectly stunning! How horrifyingly lovely! We wept.
Of course it ended exactly as it had begun... with the boys dancing over the ashes. And yet there was one small addition. It turns out Wilmey was really determined to see some snow, so he did this macro slow-motion salt shaker thing as Angelina spoke...
Mourn at the ashes,
There's enough to fill a silo.
Hearken to the silent veil,
And I will name my baby Shiloh.
A new dawn,
The Republic of Tinselman liveth...
I cried many times that night. And I had a great and an important realization. Yes... the Republic of Tinselman certainly is forever frozen that awkward prepubecent stage. We can never grow. We can never mature. We can never age. And all of this is awesome!!!
Note: Metropolis of Tinselman model and From Emergence to Inferno by Adam Wilmer. Wilmey deserves much thanks and kudos for such great descriptions of each and every area of the city! Please overwelm him with kind and flattering emails!
May 05, 2006
The Story of Tank 51
Let me introduce you to the illustrious Elefant Rosa! A pink tank in the old spirit that deserves broad recognition, though I could find very little about her.
So I'll make it up in Little Golden Book fashion (the numbers are the imagined pages)...
- Vroom zoom went tank 51. She was proud. She was big. And she made her masters happy.
- Boom bang went tank 51. She fired her guns the straightest and the furthest. And her masters jumped with joy!
- Crash smash went tank 51. Over rocks and shrubs and streams and trees. And her masters cheered outloud.
- And as tank 51 fell asleep, her masters smiled and nodded kindly at her. She was a good tank.
- One morning, tank 51 woke up. Vroom zoom, boom bang, crash smash, she went to work! But where were her masters?
- The older tank laughed at her. "Silly little girl," he said, "why of course they've gone off to the Land of War."
- The Land of War? Tank 51 was very, very sad. She also wanted to go to the wonderful Land of War. But her masters had left her behind.
- Vroom zoom went tank 51. But she felt small. And stranded. And she did not like the new masters.
- Boom bang went tank 51. She fired her guns not so straight and not so far. And the years rushed by and soon her skin was bleached gray by the sun.
- Crash smash went tank 51. Over streams and rocks and shrubs and trees. But sometimes, when she was lucky, she would give an ant a ride or say hi to a passing squirrel.
- And once, when they painted her green on the outside, she still felt old and tired on the inside. And that made her feel more lonely than ever. The ants all had important jobs to do. The squirrels had important jobs to do. Even the masters had jobs. But she would never have a job to do because she would never go to the wonderful Land of War.
- One day, when she was thinking about this, a strange thing happened.
- Some men jumped over the fence and into the yard. They were not dressed like the masters. They did not talk or walk like the masters. They looked dangerous.
- Tank 51 remembered that the masters were taking a nap, so she decided to stop the men. But they only laughed at her and jumped up, opened her hatch, jumped inside and drove away.
- Vroom zoom, vroom zoom. She did not know where she was going. Far far away they went, over distant rolling hills and flat plains.
- And when they stopped, the men got out. They smiled at tank 51 and told her that they would make her pretty, like a flower. What a silly thing to say!
- She did not believe the dangerous men. Especially when they turned on a rumbling painting machine and began to spray her. She knew paint could not make her feel pretty.
- But this paint was pink! And shiny like the ants! Like a birthday present. Tank 51 felt like a magnificent sunset.
- As she was admiring herself she suddenly said, "Oh no! You've painted over my name, the number 51!" They answered, "No one deserves a number for a name. From now on your name will be Elefant Rosa and you will be a symbol of peace."
- This beauitiful name made her feel beautiful and happy inside. She realized she finally had a job and her job was peace. And she couldn't wait to tell everyone about it!
Believe it or not, my Golden Book Story is mostly true. The actual peace protest, Operacio Elefant Rosa, took place in Figueres, Catalonia and follows fairly closely to what I've written, though I expect tank 51 didn't feel so good about it... especially because it's probable that she ended up right back on that same military base, in the hands of the masters she so disliked. Oh well. War and peace are not a pretty thing. But a tank can be!
Thanks to Xenmate for sending me these links.
Story (cc) Robyn Miller, Some rights reserved.
February 27, 2006
Storytime with Mr. Octopus
An octopus is caught in a number of sometimes harrowing, sometimes delightful circumstances. One minute we laugh, the next we cry. You must visit this work of photographic genius, taken by flickr prodigy Snowshyn.
Note: I have conveniently provided the text (below) that transforms these photographs into a delightful children's multimedia extravaganza. Whenever you hear the "beep", click on the next photograph.
To Begin Slideshow, Open a New Window with this Address:
Begin reading: Oh my god, I'm so damn nervous... I hate girls. Girls are gross. I'm glad I never...
Beep: Ahh! Girls! Girls!!! Where did these stinking putrid girls come from?!
Beep: Oh goodness. I escaped that one just in time. Sheesh... the only thing worse than girls is...
Beep: ... cats!!! Oh no! A cat! Help! Wake up, wake up, wake up... MOMMY! MOMMY!
Beep: MOM-MY!!! Oh... Hey guys! I hope you didn't hear that... I just had the most horrible nightmare. Got anything to drink?
Beep: Canned coffee? You give me canned coffee? What kind of stupid friends are you? Leave! Leave now!!!
Beep: Well good. That Desperate Housewives show is on anyway. Relaxation at last. But... I'm lonely...
Beep: I must see her... my one true friend. Because she loves me when no on else does. Because she serves me hot beverages. And because she's always glad to see me...
Beep: ... my owner!!!
Beep: The End
July 20, 2005
Two Moon Stories
36 years ago today, I was playing in the front yard of our house in Henderson, Texas. Perhaps I was riding my tricycle – the exact details escape me, which I think is excusable... I was only three years old. Honestly, I think I'm doing pretty great to remember anything at all about that day; most days went by in a flash to my three year old brain, never to be remembered again. But this day was different. Because on this day an extraordinary thing took place. My father burst through the front door of our house and began telling me to come inside. Immediately. He then said something amazing and a bit crazy. He told me that real men were about to land on the real moon in a real spaceship.
I hadn't any idea that such a thing could happen or was about to happen, but I went inside and I watched it happen.
Of course, we all now know that a spaceship is only one way of getting to the moon. Henry Selick (of Nightmare Before Christmas fame) is now working on an animated short entitled Moongirl that illustrates another.
(Moongirl, via Drawn!)