Foolish Fabric Contest!

Cheers to Spoonflower!  They're a delightful company who lets users upload images in order to create their own custom printed fabrics, and they have these brilliant contests all the time that result in dazzling arrays of excellent designs.  I wrote them a couple of weeks ago, suggesting they do a Jesters and Fools image contest, and they DID! This morning I received their newsletter, containing the following:

Our Most Foolish Fabric Contest
The Fabric Of the Week contest theme this week is jokers & fools, which has a long and illustrious tradition as an artistic subject. Believe it or not, the person who wrote to suggest that we make fools the subject of a fabric design contest is actually the official jester of the city of Milwaukee. Who knew that there were official fools! [Please commence sardonic commentary here.] Of course the real fools' contest this month will, arguably, be the Spoonflower staff design contest.

Vote For Jokers & Fools Fabrics

I'm blown away! It's a great day for Fool-dom.  Go ahead and vote! Meanwhile, I have some serious shopping to do - I need at least a yard of every single one of these!

Her Majesty's Winter Renaissance Faire! Saturday ONLY, December 4, 10am-8pm!

Jane the Phoole at Her Majesty's Midwinter Faire 2009, with her brand-new BAD MONKEY! Photo by Dawn Krot

I'll see you tomorrow for frolicksome frivolity and festive folly at Her Majesty's Winter Renaissance Faire (lower your speaker volume before clicking!) in Madison, Wisconsin!  I've missed you since we goofed off at Stronghold Olde English Faire, and I'm sure we all of us have plenty of new adventures to recount and laughs in which to heartily indulge!

Where?  614 Westgate Mall, Madison, WI, 53711 - down on the right next to Woodcraft!

Where can I stay locally if I want to spend the weekend in town?  Rooms at the Madison Radisson are offered at a discounted rate of $79.00 for anyone who is attending Her Majesty's Winter Renaissance Faire and wants to stay tonight, December 3rd, or tomorrow night, December 4th.

When?  Saturday, December 4, 2010, 10:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m.

How much?  "How little?" you mean! Tickets are available cheap-as-free at the door for a scant $7.00! Advance tickets are only $6.00 and can be procured at Ravenworks in person or by phone at 608-630-2348 (ask for Raven).  Children under 5 years of age are admitted to the Faire free of charge!

Who's joining Jane there?  Phoole Faves aplenty!  

• Her Majesty and Her Majesty's Court, introducing the electric and scintillating Marybeth Townsend in the role of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, First Queen of England to rule by that name, Queen of England, Ireland, Wales, France & the Virginias etc.
• The Guilde of St. Michael, Trayn'd Bandes, engaging you in Elizabethan military life, weapons training, barber surgery, and fun times galore
• Brilliant craftspeople demonstrating their talents and selling their wares! From the event's own website (lower your speaker volume before clicking - there's surprisingly loud music!) here:  "Our vendors have Renaissance clothing, cloaks, capes, leather goods, swords, shields, jewelry of all sorts, handthrown pottery and Renaissance dinnerware, lampwork beads, and a host of other wonderful items. We also have tarot readers, astrologers, mystical magical items and more. Vendors include Hearthstone Arts, Relics, Ravenworks, Tyme Travel Photography, Sheldon's Pewter, Sir Rocky Rococco's, Ingrid the Crafty, Tom's Jewels, Ollin's Swords (A Phoole Fave),Grandma's Cookies and more...
• Delightful musicians, jugglers and storytellers with fare for every age
• You!

I always have hilarious adventures at this event.  It's low-key, cozy, and intimate, and I always have time for quality chit-chattery on many and divers subjects with everyone.  On the morrow, then, good cousins!

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Being Their Guest: Walt Disney World and Universal Studios' Wizarding World of Harry Potter, Part 1

So Much Magic! by Tom Charney

I went on an actual vacation last week! I traveled on an airplane without hauling my gigantic blue trunk of Jane the Phoole clothes along with me. And while that in itself was novel, the newness of being in places where Other People had to engage Me in environmental interactive entertainment was beyond delightful. I had a fantastic time visiting the Magic Kingdom, EPCOT and Disney's Hollywood Studios, and then cheating on Disney for a day with a side-trip to Universal Studios' The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.


First View of the Magic by Tom Charney

I'd never been to Walt Disney World before this trip - I'd been to Disneyland in California (and you must ask me about that trip.  What a strange trip it was!  It included adventures with former Bristol Renaissance Faire Puritans Eric Forsberg and Maurice McNicholas.  If I haven't done so yet, make me tell you the story about the three of us on Space Mountain and Star Tours), but I hadn't really encountered any character interaction there, and I was much younger, less experienced, and less invested as a performer, so back then, I wasn't really switched-on for scrutinizing What Worked.

But on this trip, I was overwhelmed with glee from the first moment I walked through the gates. Yikes, it's powerfully detailed there.  No holes. Everything is designed, and I really dug it.  We visited the Magic Kingdom the day we landed, and we stayed until midnight, getting our minds blown by fantastic live music all over the place, parades, fireworks of unbelievably high quality and astronomical expense, and bizarre, unexplainable, possibly-supernatural experiences on three rides which you'll have to ask me about in person next time we congregate.

I know I'm extremely late to the party on this, but there is good customer service at these parks.  Everyone was cheerful, slightly crazy in the way that we like, and solicitous.  Even the ducks on the super-manicured lawnlets seemed helpful:


Solicitous Duck by Tom Charney


Cartoony Hodge-Podgery of Fantasyland by Tom Charney

Many years ago I visited Rothenburg ob der Tauber, and I found a house there that was yellow and tall and crooked (this link goes to a page that has a picture of it) which I'd decided needed to be replicated for Jane the Phoole's house, just plonked down on the grounds of Hampton Court Palace somewhere.  When I arrived in Fantasyland in the Magic Kingdom, so much of it reminded me of Rothenburg, except with wider, flatter streets, but still very silly and charming.  We rode Peter Pan's Flight, which I recommend, and in Adventureland, we rode Pirates of the Caribbean two and a half times -- and I'll have to tell you about the half next time we meet!


Ridiculously Perfect Castle Shot by Tom Charney

We stayed for Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party, which was exactly as described:  Merry, Christmas, and Party.  Hot chocolate, SNOW, special parades with fabulous holiday costumes, and extra mind-blowing fireworks.  We dug everyone in the parades, especially all of the female performers who danced the entire paved parade route in 2 1/2" heels, showing what looked like genuine smiles of joy the entire time, and the Toy Soldiers, who marched and actually played practical instruments really very well while wearing the equivalent of full suits of armor:


Photo by Tom Charney

Caboosing the parade was the Santaman himself, who greeted a small girl seated near us during the parade, called her BY NAME, and wished her a Happy Birthday.  The look on her face was too magical.  We thought it might seem skeevy to take a pic of her, though, so here is a shot of the Man With the Bag instead:


Photo by Tom Charney

We stayed in the Magic Kingdom until midnight, looking at everything, enjoying so many families having so much fun everywhere, absorbing the details, from the second-story shop windows, to the gradation of forestry and gardens from land to land, to the intense theming of every little thing, to the attention given to each guest by each character in every encounter.  Characters there manage to make every encounter feel like it's their first and most exciting of the day, even through extended hours.

The next day we devoured Epcot's World Showcase, where naturally I went crazy over the United Kingdom Pavilion and its charming Arthurian-Legends street show:


Photo by Tom Charney

And of course we let a couple of hours slip away from us as we dallied in Italy:


Photo by Tom Charney


Photo by Tom Charney

We had an excellent pranzo at Tutto Italia Ristorante, watching le sorelle Ziti play with the crowd, doing the fake Italian stuff which we all love so well in the world of the Renaissance Faire.


Photo by Tom Charney

I dug how they amassed a crowd immediately, simply by appearing on the sidewalk outside the pavilion, drew their crowd along with them, and instantly integrated them into the act. Disney audiences seem to arrive ready to play, and they require no warm-up at all -- you can just leap directly into involving them in the action, without needing to go to any lengths to play low-dominance or exposition.  Young or old, they're all just ready to be a part of the game.  It was invigorating to be a part of that kind of crowd.  And all of the players we encountered pushed guests just a little bit, whether through danger games or just a little gentle mockery, all to delighted audience response.

But I had to ask our server, Eduardo from Napoli (with whom I'd enjoyed using almost all of the Italian I remember in chiacchierare), whether he thought it was strange that the park didn't hire an actual native Italian street act for the pavilion, and that led to a sweet discussion of the real beautiful things about actual Italian culture and living.  Eduardo asked, "When you were in Italy, what did you love most about the country?" I replied that on all of my visits, especially on our honeymoon, I appreciated above all the rhythm of life there -- the slow, casual, calm, human pace of enjoying life.  "Ah, you make me cry!" exclaimed Eduardo; "The rhythm of life, that's it.  I miss it so much. Ah!"


Photo by Tom Charney

In the Germany pavilion, we liked this statue of St. George, and we enjoyed the silly automaton clock too:


Photo by Tom Charney

We didn't spend much time in FutureWorld, apart from an awesome freaky voyage to Mars on Mission:Space.  And we laughed our faces completely off during Turtle Talk With Crush, which is a must-experience if you go.  It's hilarious.  Can't figure out how it's done, but Crush interacts with the crowd, and it is hysterically funny.  On my next trip I'll definitely try Test Track, which we just didn't get to for whatever reason.

I'm out of writing time now, but as soon as I can, I have many, many more Orlando adventures to share.  The  next day of our trip was spent in the village of Hogsmeade -- and butterbeer, I'm here to tell you, is very, very yummmz.

Phoole Fave: Omega Restaurant

http://www.omegaon27.com/

Not many things in Milwaukee are open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.  Fortunately, one of my favorite restaurants is open forever and always!  Break your fast, lunch, dine, sup or get your midnight munch on at Omega for their encyclopedic menu, tasty food, hasty service, irresistible bakery, and fantastic staff.

At the end of a Hallowe'ekend of total chaos and madness, we (MBTC, Jiggins and I) collapsed into a booth at Omega, delighted to find many of the staff costumed for the occasion.  Here are some blurry picutres I took with my PhoolePhone:

In addition to these characters, there was also a cheerful slow-moving fireman who remembered me from the Bristol Renaissance Faire (even though I was dressed in what passes for Normal Human Clothes except for a ridiculous hat) and a couple of other charming costumes too.

Chomp there today, and you can tell them Jane the Phoole sent you, but that might not mean anything until lots of you tell them that, and even then, it might just be confusing!  But it will be strangely satisfying at the same time.  Enjoy!

PERSIA! PERSIA! PERSIA! Or: Jane the Phoole in an Exciting Adventure with the 300 Battle

By Steve Spitzer: A victory romp for Jane the Phoole, rabid Sir Thomas Radclyffe the Earl of Sussex (portrayed by Frank Skony), Gertrude the Bringer of Total Rampaging Death (portrayed by Sandra Howard), and silent assassin Lady Ann Seymour the Countess of Warwick (portrayed by Mary Hough).

What made me take up arms against a sea of Barbarians last Sunday? Was it the soul-cringe I've felt the past several months that life is short and should be enjoyed sans prohibition at all times? Was it the surprising and endless kindness of the Barbarians themselves (savage though they could seem)? Was it boiling frustration with the endless, pointless, ego-fertilizing Machiavellian machinations surrounding me in nearly every social sphere? Was it a burning need to smash people with stuff?

Regardless of the root of it, I woke up this past Sunday morning with a death wish. I hurtled through my morning with what my venerable college roommate Paul Herbert (a/k/a "PHB," which is short for "Paul Herbert's Butt") would call "Thanatos-Glam" or "Than-Glam," which is that feeling you get when you're on a subway platform, and you get very close to the dangerous precipice, and something in you says, "You could just tumble over." I don't know where the feeling came from, but there it was, pushing me to do even sillier things than I usually do.

I quickly understood that I wasn't the only person enthralled with Than-Glam that day -- everyone was up to strange heroics on Sunday. At the morning Joust of Skill (mind your speaker volume if you click - the music will terrify you if you aren't careful), a young man named Keith approached the dais with two wingmen, humbly asking if anyone ever proposed to their fiancées at the Joust. I assured him that it would be brilliant to do so, and it was, and his sweet Lady Heather nodded vigorous, joyously-tearful assent when the question came, eliciting thunderous cheers from the excited crowd:

Photo by the beautiful Satine Keala

Then Sir Maximillian and Master of Arms Sir Mauldron got up to a world of hijinks during the tournament itself. In one moment, Sir Maximillian (portrayed by longtime Phoole friend and brilliant leather mask artist, the legendary Matthew Mansour) rode slowly over toward the dais, made eye contact with me, and just started singing, "Did you ever know that you're my heeeeerooooo...", which naturally killed everyone on the dais with explosive guffaws. In another, Sir Maximillian and his mighty steed Kilvarough managed to sneak up on the Master of Arms; after nearly leaping out of his saddle in surprise, Sir Mauldron snapped, "Get away from me, or I'll stab you!" Again we all barked with mirth -- and the dais was jam-packed, by the way, full of beautiful people. And at some point the Quintain attacked Sir Wilfort and unhorsed him, which I confess I don't understand, and later his horse's caparison just flew away, which made even less sense! Wyckham Field was Bizzarro-Land Sunday morning, and it was a delightful time of Big Laffs.

Feeling strangely invincible, I remembered that Lady Warwick and I had planned to get ourselves some weapons and join Barbarian Battles for their 300 Battle that afternoon. So I drifted up the hill with Phooligan genius Ivan Phillips and Mistress of Misrule Magnolia May in tow, and I selected my weapon. As Ivan notes, it had a strange effect on me:

Photo by the brilliant Ivan Phillips. MBTC calls this "The Angry Hamster Face" and it is not often allowed at home.

Barbarian Battles are a company of merchant-adventurers at the Bristol Renaissance Faire and many other excellent venues around the world, and they deal in sheer, unadulterated adrenaline. They allow patrons to try out their less-harmful (not harmless, of course, if wielded dangerously and without caution, but useful in conscientious brandishment) daggers, swords, warhammers, spears, pikes, throwing stars, throwing daggers and more, and they offer these weapons for sale. All day, you can enjoy patrons and participants alike whacking one another silly with these things, and I'm here to tell you this: it's a joy to behold, and it's an even greater joy to join in!

At 4:30 p.m. every show day at the Bristol Renaissance Faire, Barbarian Battles organize what they call The 300 Battle, essentially a reenactment of the Battle of Thermopylae. (I haven't seen the movie, but from a glance at the trailer, it's exactly completely correct, albeit in full color.) Lady Warwick and I had made up our minds to join in Sunday's battle, and I'd Tweeted my intentions that morning, so we were committed to action. The day before, the too-kind Barbarians presented me with one of their excellent stout short swords, but I wanted to buy a gigantic two-hander sword, because in my tiny brain, it made sense to compensate for my little Tyrannosaurus-Rex-proportioned flipper arms with a monster sword. Of course that doesn't actually work, but it amused me at the time, and I had fun running around town brandishing the thing:

Photo of Jane on her way to attack Little John by Ivan Phillips

Jane the Barbarian with Maid Marian (Stephanie Murphy) and Little John (Heath Denikas) by Ivan Phillips

So I carried the frightening foam instrument of Phoolish destruction around with me all day. I ran off to show the thing to Ivanovich the Impossibilist and Dinty the Moor, and they agreed I was completely terrifying and warlike; and everyone we encountered approached with a measure more approbation than usual, which interested me.

Excitement about the battle sparked all over town! Phoole Friends working at the Front Gate reported patrons had been asking, "Where's the tiltyard? When is Jane the Phoole in the big fight? Are we here in time to see it go down?" Phooligans checked in from all quarters reporting they'd be in the stands cheering us on. And my very own barbarian horde, the Nation of Dark Cloud, surprised me with their reaction to my announcement about joining in the battle.

His Majesty King Zavier of Dark Cloud himself came forward and said, "Jane, we'll be your guards in the battle. Just tell us when and where."

I was really moved by this -- I got a little choked up. I mean, it's not every day you have a King of a Barbarian Horde declare not only his fealty to your cause but also offer to defend your silly hide in a massive war! I'm serious when I tell you that that was an intense little moment.

And the hours between flew by, as I toddled around the city waving this enormous sword around, daring patrons not to laugh at my awful, horrible jokes. Everyone was delightfully obliging. Then I collected King Zavier and his two Lieutenants, and we went back to Barbarian Battles for a briefing on the order of battle. Once the Battle Barbarians had instructed us, patiently and clearly, on how the battle would proceed (I was very excited about everything, so I had to ask them to explain things very simply and with a little repetition -- you know how I get), the Dark Cloud legion retired to their pavilion to prepare, and I descended the hill toward Bristol Castle to retrieve Lady Warwick.

Meanwhile, Sir Thomas Radclyffe the Earl of Sussex decided he wanted to fight too, and Lady Warwick invited Mistress Gertrude Bridgewater, Mistress of the Bedchamber in the Sussex household (formerly of the Norris household) to vent her frustrations in the fray as well, and Gertrude was beside herself in glee at the invitation. We happy four trudged back up the hill to make ready for the Battle of the 300.

The forest fairly vibrated with the energy of the fighters and their supporters preparing for battle. Phooligans clustered around us, some revving us up for the clash, some providing gentle well-intentioned warnings about what we were about to face. It occurred to us for the first time that we might well get the ever-living snot kicked out of us, and that we'd be running around on the sand at Wyckham Field, which was dusty, gritty, and, by the late afternoon, baked to a blinding glare. But a razor-fanged King Zavier and his tall, black-clad Lieutenants arrived and met the Noble Party, and said to us: "We'll look out for you. No one will touch you."

And as absurd as the whole situation may seem, in that moment, we were bathed in golden shining tingly protective reassurance. I thought, "I will never have this feeling again. I'd better savor it."

The Bristol Renaissance Faire's own Royal Brass came to blast fanfares for the battle, which humbled and awed me completely. I wish they had a website; I'd like to link to it and connect you to them. They really make the entire show, and Pete, Jim, Tom and Jennifer always make me feel like I'm in a Really Exciting Movie of Thrilling Moments of Pageantry when they play.

And then it was TIME. The Barbarian Battles barbarians led the martial procession down the hill to the tiltyard, beating their weapons against their shields, representing the Spartans; and the Persian team's barbarian Generals allowed the Phoole Party to lead their part of the march, chanting "PERSIA! PERSIA! PERSIA!" all the way. Swords aloft, marching and chanting, my heart began to pound, and I realized we were a part of something much larger than ourselves, much more ancient, much more powerful than I'd reckoned for as an afternoon's amusement. Gertrude was beside me, and I thought I heard her growl more than once, and I wondered if she would suddenly change into a slavering werewolf and devour the enemy, but I put that down to those novels I've been consuming lately. And I admit that I turned to Warwick and murmured, sotto voce, "I think maybe we might be about to die." We laughed, but I think we may all have wondered, just even only a little, if we'd survive.

Entering Wyckham Field, we were stunned and thrilled by the patrons packing the stands - and on the dais, Sir Robert Dudley the Earl of Leycestre presided, ready to provide color commentary during the battle. The dais was jammed full of the glitterati of the Elizabethan age -- Lord Mayor Egads Newcastle was in attendance, as was the young Christopher Marlowe, Her Majesty's Dwarf Thomasina, and a host of dazzling characters besides.

And then someone cried havoc, and we let slip the dogs of war!

Photo by Cara Strong

Photo by Cara Strong

Photo by Cara Strong

Photo by Cara Strong

Photo by Cara Strong

Photo by Cara Strong

Photo by James Martin

Photo by Laura Kresch

Photo by Laura Kresch

I know "epic" is a word overworn, but it applies. EPIC BATTLE! And Gertrude was the fiercest among us, charging in again and again, wiping out, face-planting, getting back up, and returning to the front line. Warwick and I began delivering some strategy for the younger fighters -- we'd block for them with our ridiculous huge gowns, making holes for them to get through the Spartan defenses, if their sheer terror didn't stop them in their tracks, which it often did. Sussex clamored through the lines, limbs gangling everywhere - over the din, I heard Lord Leycester comment, "And now there seems to be an orangutan on the field -- no, sorry, that's just Lord Sussex." Dust and sand filled the air and ground our teeth. Battle cries soared, and swords thudded on shields and shoulders and backs. And throughout, little boys with big swords kept encouraging us: "Ladies, you're doing really well. Jane, you're doing a good job!" And that too was overwhelming.

And then the day was ours! Persia broke through the Spartan defense for the seventh time and seized the trophy helm, and the victory cry went up. Valiant soldiers returned loaner weapons to the indulgent Barbarian Battle horde, and the Barbarian Queen took Gertrude's sword from her hands with a kind of reverence that made our hearts swell with lung-burning pride. Later, Barbarian Battles and their fierce-but-kind Queen would honor our Gertrude with a gift of a sword for her to keep, and I think each of us, we few, we happy four, we band of usually-merely-decorative Nobles on Progress, shed a tear of proud joy for Gertrude, our surprise Berserker protectress.

None of us will ever forget that day, that march, those cries, the frenzied fray, and if you've never tried Barbarian Battles or engaged in the 300, I hope this little tale inspires you to heft some of their swords and give them a swing. There's something in the experience that defies description, and you and your fellow-fighters will share a bond thereafter that's unlikely to be forged in any less fiery a furnace than the sizzling sands of Wyckham field!

Smells Like Fool Spirit: Fool Fragrance from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

At C2E2, I met the hyper-stylish, extremely kind people from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, purveyors of scents and soaps to the deliciously literate and haute-macabre. Their zesty "Fool" scent is based on "15 Painted Cards From a Vampire Tarot," a short story by Phoole Fave Neil Gaiman. All proceeds from sales of the fragrances in this series (and their corresponding tees, which are also gorgeous and not to be resisted) go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, working to preserve the First-Amendment rights of the comic community. Order the scent, and you also receive the corresponding Tarot card, created by Madame Talbot. Spookyween's right around the corner, and these scents are the perfect accoutrement to your Octoberings!

Phoole Fave: SCROOGE IN ROUGE at In Tandem Theatre through Jan. 3!

Matt Daniels and Marcella Kearns in SCROOGE IN ROUGE. Photos in this entry courtesy Mark Frohna Photography via Third Coast Digest.

Above, behold the MONSTER TALENTS of totally-brilliant Phoole Friend Marcella Kearns and the extremely-amazing Matt Daniels in In Tandem's SCROOGE IN ROUGE, which runs through this coming Sunday, January 3, 2009. Clickitty-click here to get tickety-boos for this outrageous, scandalous, hilarious panto.

The premise is that a turn-of-the-century British music-hall ensemble of twenty-three is ready to do a lavish musical version of Charles Dickens' beloved A CHRISTMAS CAROL, but twenty of them have succumbed to food poisoning at the last possible second. So four performers have to take on every role in the show.

That's Funny Enough, but this show is So Much Funnier than I can describe. Barbara Castonguay wrote a great review of the show in the Third Coast Digest, clickable here. It's from this excellent review that I got the photo above -- these photos appear in the piece courtesy Mark Frohna Photography, and, by the way, we all should probably go get snapped by Mr. Frohna, as his pics make everyone look super-ultra-famous, which is grand.

Chris Flieller (above, with Marcella Kearns again, photo once again nicely done by Mark Frohna Photography) will make you shoot stuff out your nose, too, 'coz he's screamingly funny in this too, AND you get to bring refreshments right into the hall with you, so SIP STRATEGICALLY, though you cannot possibly plan for calamities such as these. Be prepared to wear beverages, basically, I guess. And do not underestimate the stealth laughs served surreptitiously by pianist Alfred, played by David Bonofiglio -- his is the sort of quiet, brilliant, slightly mean character for whom we all get giddy.

So if you can get a tickety-boo, get in there and see this thing! I'm taking MBTC to see it on Saturday, January 2 in the afternoon. I fear they may be sold out. But I have other fears too, many of which prove baseless, so, you know, give it a try!

Phoole Fave Elon Arbiture Needs Your Votes

Phoole Friends, help Elon Arbiture, composer extraordinaire, as he vies for an honor for the work he's done on the hilarious LEGEND OF NEIL Series 2. From Elon himself:

Hello
Every year Hollywood hosts the "Streamy Awards" which is like the Academy Awards but for web television. This year my scores for The Legend of Neil, Season 2 are eligible to win! Craft Awards (like Best Music) are not determined by popular vote - thankfully - but I think a few nominations would put it more strongly on the committee's radar. So if you could click the link, select Original Music from the list, type my name and then type the Legend of Neil Season 2 and www.legendofneil.com in the boxes that would be G R E A T! (it takes 4 seconds).

Events like this really help bring to light genuine artistry and upcoming talent in the film industry and it is great exposure for my show and my work. Comedy/Zelda/adventure.... there's no better first job I could have gotten!

http://www.streamys.org/submit/public-submissions-people/

THANKS! Season 3 is ALMOST confirmed!!
Elon

Phooligans, Elon's sister Chloe Arbiture is known to you -- she is the performer who brought to life Nixie, the Water Faerie in the Bristol Renaissance Faire's Fantastickals ensemble for several years. Chloe is herself a filmmaker, and Elon and Chloe are a brilliant set of siblings who will one day own the entire entertainment industry, or at least as much of it as they'd like to. Let's get in on the ground floor of their ROCKET TO FAME and support Elon!

The Gift That Keeps On Giving: A RESCU Donation

The following was posted to The Bristol Discussion Board, a forum for everyone and anyone involved with or interested in the Bristol Renaissance Faire, by my brilliant colleague and friend Chris Major, and I am compelled to share it with you.

I realize you are all probably a little numb from being dunned by charities at year’s end - well, here’s one more.

For over 6 years, RESCU Foundation, Inc. (Renaissance Entertainers, Services and Crafters United) has been helping our community, all across the country, with medical expenses. As of last month we have helped over 400 individuals, disbursed over $300,000 in direct aid, and our 2-year-old Advocacy Program has relieved over $1.2 million in medical debt for individuals (as in getting the facility to reduce or completely drop medical charges). Our Wellness Program has sponsored CPR/First Aid training and medical screenings (mammography, prostate) for members of our community. And our constituency is comprised of anyone who has worked at a Renaissance Faire/Festival/Historical Reenactment, etc. That means that many of you on the Bristol Board are eligible for RESCU assistance. There are people on this board that have been helped by RESCU.

I attended a nonprofit conference this last spring and found out we are very unusual in the nonprofit world: We are still all-volunteer; we have kept our annual expenses to less than 10% of income; we normally make an assistance decision within weeks of an application submission; our financial assistance amount, as a percentage of the total bills, is usually higher than other similar nonprofits; our constituency is spread across the country and tends to be nomadic, as is most of the board of directors (most of the conference attendees represented a constituency in a single city or even a neighborhood); the entire board meets face-to-face only once a year; . . .

You get the idea - we don’t really fit the mold. My most frequently asked question was, “How do you do that?” That was the same thing that other board members found when they attended a conference in California last year with heavy-hitters in the entertainment industry. Like the Actor’s Fund, Will Rogers Institute, SAG. They were incredulous that we disbursed as much as we did per case, and how quickly we did it.

RESCU is pretty special.

So, if you have a few extra bucks that you don’t know where to put, we’d appreciate your consideration. We are a 501(c)3 nonprofit foundation, so any donations are fully tax deductible (to the extent individually allowed by law). You can donate online or by mail; it’s all easily done by looking at the donation page on our website.

All of us at RESCU thank you very much.


And PLEASE, if you have need of medical financial assistance (or know a rennie that does), contact us. We have a toll-free phone number, you can email us, you can download an application from the website. All information is confidential and we are HIPAA-compliant. We want to help if we can.

RESCU website

Chris Major aka “banjo”
for RESCU: Board Member, Vice President, Governance Committee Chairman, Tech Monkey

The need is always great, but at this time of year, the want is always felt more keenly. Consider making a donation to RESCU in lieu of buying Stuff for gifts this year. The Renaissance Faire entertainer, service provider or crafter you help may be your favorite, or may be someone you've never met, but you can make such a difference in people's lives simply by giving.

Phoole Fave: Tyme Travel Photography, Madison, WI

It's beginning to Phoole a lot like Christmas., originally uploaded by Phoole.

I'm still getting caught up on blague-ing my Madison adventures, but to tide you over in the meantime, here is a photo by the kind and indulgent Jim Dietrich of Tyme Travel Photography, Madison, WI, one of the sponsors of and vendors at Her Majesty's Winter Faire. He snaps your likeness and drops you into the historic or otherwise scenic background of your choice, but I let him pick for mine this year. It's very win...try. Visit my Flickr page at http://www.flickr.com/photos/phoole/ for more delights!

Phoole Skooled! A Mini-Lesson With Bob Charron of St. Martin's Academy

At Her Majesty's Winter Faire presented by Ravenworks in Madison, Wisconsin, I had Outrageous Adventures of All Kinds, with Good Friends, New Friends, and a Bad Monkey Extraordinaire. One of these exploits flipped open the top of my head and exposed me to dangerous levels of Brilliant Knowledges, and I'm still feeling the aftereffects, so I'd like to share this experience with you.

One of my most favorite features of Her Majesty's Winter Faire is the perennial presence of the Guilde of St. Michael, the Elizabethan military living-history society found at the Bristol and Janesville Renaissance Faires and other fine historical-entertainment establishments. Apart from the fact that my hurrrrsband was one of their founders, along with his best friend Brian Brecht, I delight in them for their candid comfort with the era and their ease of teaching. Spend but five minutes with them, and you've had an excellent and exciting five minutes -- and then you later realize you've learned twenty things you never knew about British military and living history. They build the bridge across eras calmly and cheerfully, without ego or exhausting pretension, and they include and elevate their audience without a second thought. Delightful bunch.

Chris Last is their Assistant Guildemaster, and Chris studies with Bob Charron of the St. Martin's Academy of Medieval Martial Arts in Stoughton, Wisconsin. In the photograph above, snapped by the inimitable, indomitable Heather Winterling Last, Bob is blowing my mind. You might not be able to tell from there, but it happened: my brain exploded.

I think my first experience of Bob's brilliance was at the Madison Faire last winter -- during the supper show, with Chris Last, he gave a demonstration and lecture on Fiore dei Liberi's principles of abrazare, translating in this context to "grappling." Mistress of Misrule Magnolia May and I were, um, riveted, and that's enough said about THAT. But intellectually, the demo was electrically exciting, because Fiore's principles are rooted, of course, in the Trivium -- the grammar, logic and rhetoric of 15th-century Europe. And I've approached the Trivium from so many angles throughout my 20 years of Elizabethan historical interpretation -- customs and manners, dance, fashion, architecture, design, language (Italian, French and Elizabethan English), science, music, poetry, dance, masques, political rhetoric, philosophy, social theory, theology, and on and on -- that it was truly earth-shaking to me to see these disciplines' underlying precepts interpreted physically.

And because I can't leave anything alone, I naturally applied every tidbit I could assimilate to my practice and teaching of interactive environmental historical-comic performance. Mind you, I didn't assimilate very many tidbits at that stage. The grappling was distracting, you see. But that early encounter definitely whetted the appetite for more knowledges of Fiore and his monumental treatise on Medieval martial arts, The Flower of Battle. At the same supper show, I recall having some verbal exchanges with audience and other players that got some fairly big laughs, and Bob had complimented me on really playing the Court Jester, parleying in a ready wit, and I remember that compliment turned my world golden, because it had come from someone who'd taught me something. (I've always had an extreme weakness for getting approval from teachers. It's an ACoA thing, possibly, but Adlerian therapist Sherwin Rubenstein [R.I.P., much-missed friend] told me it works for me, so I keep it.)

I encountered Bob again with the St. Mike's troops at the incredibly-fun Jane's Ville Renaissance Faire last spring, and made myself pay particular attention to the vocabulary of the principles during the Fiore demonstrations. I enjoyed silently congratulating myself over understanding the concept of time being measured as it is in music, and it was delightful to hear music-theory terms from my favorite era of study being used in a martial context, minim-rests and all those things that evoke Mercutio's instructions to Benvolio and so on. I didn't yet understand that this was something I could learn first-hand, despite invitations and encouragements to sign on for lessons at St. Martin's Academy. (Not Relevant At All: I grew up listening to bebop, but developed an appetite for the Baroque masters at a rather young age. Lots of the long-playing records I checked out from the local public libraries were performed by the justly-famous ancient music ensemble, the Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, so when I heard that this martial arts academy was called St. Martin's, for the longest time I was putting an entirely incorrect mental soundtrack with the thing. Brandenburg Concertos, orchestral suites, everything, instead of the catches and lute and chittern and rackets and sackbuts that should have been reverberating in my sconce. Ah, well.) It was there that Chris told me about Bob's wife, Kristina. "All the amazing stuff Bob can do?" Chris enthused. "Kristina can do it on horseback. At full speed." I grinned fit to split my skull over the images that conjured. I recall making a mental note to get someone to do a documentary of these two remarkable people.

Bob joined St. Mike's again for this year's Her Majesty's Winter Faire in Madison, and I tried to keep myself occupied elsewhere in the Faire so as to not be an over-fannish too-geeky hanger-on, but that didn't last long, and, swallowing trepidation, I bounced over to the "encampment" and announced, "I'm here for my Fiore lesson!"

Bob smiled. "All right. Hand-to-hand first, or sword?"

I goggled. "Really?" Couldn't believe I'd get away with it. "Whatever is best, I suppose -- I have no idea!"

"SWORD!" yelled the St. Mike's crew. The smattering of an audience clapped approval.

"Sword it is!" Bob handed me a waster, his steely eyes a-twinkle. I gulped at the heavy short sword's weight in my hand.

I looked down at my capacious busk-farthingale-and-bumroll motley. "Do I need to attire myself in the manner of a boy for this?"

"No." Bob looked at me very seriously. "You must learn to fight in what you're wearing. Your attacker won't wait for you to change your clothes."

And so we squared off, and I suppressed the thrills jangling my spine and tried to pay attention.

At the top of the lesson, I kept mis-stepping, and I kept judging myself, which he of course saw immediately, being an excellent teacher. "Just breathe!" he grinned, and I dropped in a breath and tried to exhale my self-conscience. "Just relax. It's so easy." And he patiently reminded me to do this, over and over, as we practiced. He'd attack, I'd deflect with the false edge, change feet, rotate to the true edge, and allow him to walk into my blade. That was the sequence. But I kept forgetting I didn't have to advance -- I just had to step to the side and let his momentum cause the damage. One of Fiore's basic precepts seems to be to always place oneself on the defensive, never the attack. And each time I mis-stepped I'd berate myself just the tiniest bit, partly verbally, mostly internally.

And then he stopped at one point and said, "Remember your Plato, and the levels of soul?"

I blinked. No one ever, EVER asks me to remember that. I DO know it, but no one had ever asked me about it. "The vegetative and animal and cosmic, you mean?"

He beamed. "Yes. Exactly. Plato says the vegetative soul governs your autonomic nervous functions. The animal soul governs movement, interaction, social conduct, flight, and fight. But you didn't mention the contemplative soul. The contemplative soul governs reflection and prediction, planning out next steps. Your contemplative soul is extremely highly developed. It has to be -- you're the fool. You need your wit for your livelihood. But you don't need it right now. I want you to set it aside for the remainder of the exercise, and whenever we work together. Use your animal soul now -- it knows what to do. You don't have to do anything but let your animal soul fight me."

It was intense. I finally dismissed the head-voices, just thanked and released conscious inner chatter, and of course, it all clicked. He phrased that exactly the way I needed it phrased. And I succeeded instantly and repeatedly. It irked me that I hadn't been able to teach myself that lesson -- after all, I've taught students to release self-judgment for ten years -- but I was amazed that it was simply a matter of the right spell, the right words, and I understood the concept the way I needed to. I made eye contact, received the attack, and the moves were right where they needed to be. And they returned for each repeat of the play.

We then went on to some grappling (HOORAY), and I learned so much. Did you know the human body can shift a TON of weight just using the hips? I didn't. I do now. I enjoyed letting my animal soul run things. To be "on," onstage, usually means the predictive aspect of my contemplative soul isn't fully engaged anyway, as Jane the Phoole has Now, Now and Now, but no Later or Consequences of Now. But this was a Whole New Level of living in the moment. I also had the extreme privilege of meeting the legendary Kristina Charron, horse-warrior extraordinaire. I'm certain I came off as a fangirl dressed rather terrifyingly as a Grotesque History Clown, but this woman has Very Serious Skills at something that's incredibly dangerous and just plain cool, so I suppose I'll not critique my own exuberance. There are viddies online of her equestrian martial excellence, but it would be fantastic to see her applying Fiore a cavallo live.

My Facebook page has loads of pictures from the lesson and the rest of the hijinks from Her Majesty's Winter Faire -- peruse! Hopefully I'll have time soon to detail the Adventure of the Baddest Monkey Yet.

Phoole Fave: RESCU Foundation

This Holiday season, consider giving to this monstrously-important organization. They're one of my favorite charities, and their work is very close to my heart. From their website at http://www.rescufoundation.org/ :

The RESCU Foundation is a non-profit organization established to promote and maintain the health and medical well-being of the participants of Renaissance Faires, historical performances and other artistic events through financial assistance, advocacy, education and preventative programs.
RESCU was founded almost 6 years ago by veteran Renaissance participants. We now consist of 10-12 board members including artisans, actors, guild members, and a former bank executive. Over the years, we have seen almost 400 cases and have disbursed well over $300,000 in financial assistance to recipients in our community. In 2007 our Advocacy Program got off the ground and as of summer of 2009 has further assisted in relieving over $525,000 worth of medical bills through hospital financial assistance, prescription assistance and other programs.
If you qualify for a participant pass at a faire, you qualify for help from the RESCU Foundation.

This winter, so many people everywhere are experiencing soul-crushing hard economic times. Performers and participants in Renaissance Faires often feel these wants even more keenly, because many spend most of the year on the road, hoping to make enough to keep doing what we're best at: delighting you. Won't you consider a gift to the RESCU Foundation to help them continue their advocacy and support of this genre?

Jane the Phoole's Collection of Barbarian Hordes

(I originally clickety-clacked this as a response on a thread over at the Bristol Discussion Board, http://bristolboard.com/board , but I had so much fun composing it I thought I'd share it over here. It doesn't appear that I have previously disclosed anything on this blague regarding my modest collection of Barbarian Hordes, which is what I collected before I took up collecting the words "bad monkey" in foreign languages. Enjoy!) At the moment I only really have two: Dark Cloud and their tiny-but-tenacious rival, the Nation of Ukhatar. It all started two years ago when a Fantastickal whispered, ethereally (i.e. told me backstage), "There are some people in the parade who don't yell 'God Save the Queen.' It sounds like they're yelling something like 'All Hail Dark Cloud.'" I went and found the fellows, and offered to bribe them (some pittance, really; they were very acquiescent and actually quite nice and reasonable) if they'd say "All Hail Jane the Phoole" during the parade ten times instead of "All Hail Dark Cloud." Their King, His Most Royal Majesty King Zavier, protested, "But we only say it twelve times overall!" I suggested they say it 15 times, and make 10 of those "All Hail Jane the Phoole!" Next day, reports came in that they were saying "All Hail Jane the Phoole!" all throughout the parade. So I made it my custom to hail them whenever I encountered them - "All Hail Dark Cloud!" - and they would thunder in response, "All Hail Jane the Phoole!", which suited me PERFECTLY. This custom continues to this very day. In fact I look forward to visiting them at TRF some day to see if the allegiance survives the distance! Meanwhile, shortly after acquiring Dark Cloud as my first Barbarian Horde, I was on my way down to the Priory at day's end to attend Her Grace during Audience when I encountered three guys on a bench near Grandmother Cob's web, all dressed in armor that looked very much like the kind purveyed by King Zavier and his Horde. So I greeted them: "All Hail Dark Cloud!" They sneered and hissed, "We SPIT on Dark Cloud! We are their sworn enemies and will vanquish them in battle!" Awkward! A gaffe of INTERNATIONAL proportions. I coughed politely, squirmed, and tried to amend: "Crying your most earnest and heartfelt pardons, I beg your forgiveness, noble guests. I am, after all, an idiot. Whom am I pleased and humbled here to greet?" They bellowed, "We are the Nation of Ukhatar!" I blinked. (You may imagine a "plink-plink" sound.) Then, smiling expansively, "Well met, my Lords. And you are the whole Nation of Ukhatar, the three of you gentlemen?" They looked at me, then at one another, then at me. "We...ARE the Nation of Ukhatar!" "Ah." I paused, thinking how well it would go over if I asked them how their rate of reproduction fared, given that there are three of them, and they're all butch-ish blokes, but I decided that could wait. While I considered, I noted the middle one of them wore a silver, pointy, rather twisty and scary crown. "And might it be gently and non-threateningly assumed that I am addressing none other than His Most Royal Majesty, the King of Ukhatar?" The crowny chap sat up a bit taller. "I AM the King of Ukhatar!" His men grunted happy assent. "Excellent, Your Majesty. And how are you called?" They looked at me. I entreated, "I mean, Your Grace, how shall I address Your Majesty?" They kept looking at me. One of the men inclined his head slightly to the left. I smiled kindly. "I am called JANE the Phoole, Queen of Jesters and Jester to Her Majesty, Queen ELIZABETH, Queen of England, Ireland, Wales, France, the Virginias et. al. And Your Majesty is King...?" I leaned forward, hopeful, hands spread wide. They all exchanged looks again, and then His Majesty thundered, "I am the KING of UKHATAR!" "I thank you, your Grace, for your patience with my stupidity and dwarfish scope of perception." I offered then to act as emissary from England to Ukhatar, but that seemed to puzzle and upset them only slightly more, so I reverted to the thesis of the entire meeting: "So...at war with Dark Cloud, are you? They your neighbors or something?" I entertained myself momentarily by imagining Dark Cloud as this vast, bleak, stepped blight of a country, haunted and windy and barren, with twisted dark dead trees and scorched fortresses and violated graves and a big pointy wall around it, and Ukhatar being these three guys poinking li'l flaming arrows against the battlements. As could be predicted, they simply bellowed, "We are the SWORN ENEMIES of Dark Cloud!" I sighed, realizing I wasn't going to draw them off of their script. "Look, Your Majesty, I have a lifetime of experience in International Espionage. If you want to work toward peace, or if you need help fighting, I'm really acquainted with those Dark Cloud fellows, so, you know, let me know. God be with Your Majesty; I must away to Her Grace; well met..." and I bowed and scooted away. As I descended the hill I heard them jostle each other and say, "We are the Nation of Ukhatar!" The next weekend, I addressed myself to King Zavier. "Your Majesty, I hear you're at war!" He laughed, then stopped. "Huh?" "With the Nation of Ukhatar. Your sworn enemies." He squinted, then rumbled, in his gruff Texan baritone, "Jane, you're not making any sense. I hear you usually don't, but -- what?" I explained about the guys and their King and their phrases, and King Zavier stroked his beard and looked thoughtful. I finally described their appearances: "They look like they either bought your armor, or possibly they tried to copy it at home, in their parents' basements, but they were of, um, SLIGHTER BUILD than you beefy fellows, and they looked a bit pale..." A light ignited in His Majesty's eyes. "Oh, THOSE guys!" He threw back his head and guffawed. "Really? They're at war with us? Aw. Well, okay!" I let him know I'd offered to spy for them, and if they wanted to return aggression, I'd be happy to double-agent the affair. King Zavier patted my shoulder and said they'd handle it. As I toddled off to whatever my Next Thing was, I heard him spreading the news to the rest of Dark Cloud, and enjoyed their surprised laughs. Unfortunately, not much came of it, and a few weeks later I learned they'd made a peace accord, without my involvement! Well, it saved time, I suppose. The next year I saw Ukhatar again, and they had increased their population -- quadrupled it, in fact, but had not yet gotten any girls in the Nation; still all blokes. But they seem to be having fun, and that's really the name of the Barbarian Horde game. I was going to try to acquire Iron Wolf, but they're not strictly Barbarian -- didn't I learn from all those Brian Friel plays that the Celtic cultures were the Guardians of Knowledge and Learning during the Dark Ages? -- and anyway they seem to be devoted to the Earl of Northumberland, and I don't want to get mixed up in that Windows-Into-Men's-Souls Recusants-vs-Precisionists business any more than I already am. Maybe next time I'll try to acquire Barbarian Battles. They're very, very nice, and they look comfortable, and they don't seem to be at war with anyone until 4:30 every day, when all those kids get run over in Wyckham Field, which is fun.

Phoole Fave: Queen Elizabeth Gloriana

Bristol Ren Faire 2009 - 7th wknd Sat/Sun, originally uploaded by meryddian.

In honor of Her Majesty's Natal Day, I would just like to give a Right Good Shout-Out to Her Grace, particularly as portrayed by the Bristol Renaissance Faire's Mary Kababik. I've loved playing Phoole to Mary's Queen for many, many years, and let me tell you something: If you've seen Mary play Elizabeth I once, you've seen her do it ONCE. She's the Lion's Cub quintessentially, with abrupt turns in mood, a ready wit, and the last laugh, always. And you let her, and not just because she's God's representative on earth -- she earns those laughs. Her punchlines are mighty this season, and she's made ME laugh more often, I think, than I've made her laugh this year. She is gracious, extremely sharing, incisive, cunning, tough and tender at once.

If you're visiting Bristol for the first time this weekend, make a particular point of spending time with the Queen and her Court. Mary Kababik has got to be one of the hardest-working, if not THE hardest-working, Queens in the Renaissance Faire Business, and she will share her time and glory with you. If you're a long-time Faire fan and have already visited many times this season, come behold Her Grace -- she's full of surprises, every single day, and keeps her Privy Councillors, her Favorites, and her Court on their toes with her vibrance, lightning wit and fierce fiery Tudor blood.

Have no doubt that Mary Kababik is one of the hardest-working women in show business. But if you engage her in close conversation, you'll also know that there's no one kinder, more gracious, and more sincere in encountering a Faire's guests. Come get some! Happy Natal Day on September 7, Your Majesty!

FLY - Don't Walk - to Chamber Theatre's AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS!

I should have seen it sooner. I should have seen it NINE OR TEN TIMES. THAT is how much this production delighted me. It's only running tomorrow through Sunday, and then it's gone, so catch it: http://ping.fm/meXtG

Dramatist Mark Brown's view to the whirlwind world of Phileas Fogg and the devoted Passepartout is Exactly What I Like. It's huge, broad, and hilarious, stretching the dynamics to the extreme on one end so the tenderness of quieter moments is what's surprising.

The sets are inventive and applause-deserving, the clothes charming, the 5-person cast precious and screamingly hilarious in their 39 or so different characters.

I sat in the second row and laughed my face -- yes -- COMPLETELY OFF. But the third row was ALSO full of loud laughers, so it was charming not to be the only howler in the house.

Matt Daniels really is a ride by himself, playing EXCEEDINGLY well with others, but I think you'll agree his Raised Eyebrow should probably get separate, equal billing, and he should probably obligate it by special contract to not go off and have its own career. Dang. I definitely get the Matt Daniels thing, everyone. Very. Serious. Eyebrow. His focus is laser-hot, and every tableau exploits his delightful height, balanced proportions and long strides to immense general benefit. And after you see it, and we meet for a chat-chug-n-chew to yammer about how much we've loved the show, I know we'll jointly bellow, "THE TEACUP!"

Everyone in the show's brilliant, even the Noh-style visible leather-apronned begoggled helpers, even the scrumptious inanimate objects I coveted everywhere from the set. I enjoyed every player's heightened style, broad deliveries, ensemble big-picture listening, set-slams on the cheep laffs, and, oh, all of it! Milwaukee Scene Types will say, "Oh, IT'S TOO TRENDY AND OVERDONE to love Norman Moses," and that is Just Too Bad, 'coz he's hilarious, and you're all just going to have to get over yourselves and laugh. He Has Skeelz. Also, if Passepartout goes missing, check my handbag. I'm just saying.

See it! And then let us go have a good bellow about it. See it before it's gone!

"Monkey what?" by Ivan Phillips

Monkey what?, originally uploaded by theta_sigma.

This alarming shot by Phoole Friend and GENIUS Ivan Phillips, who engaged me in a spine-jangling conversation about Dario Maestripieri's theories of the Most Successful Monkeys, namely humans and rhesus macacques, and their use of Machiavellian intelligence, which you can read all about in Macachiavellian Intelligence: How Rhesus Macaques and Humans Have Conquered the World.

This chance encounter installed dormers in my skull, because for the past several years, I've spent a great deal of time observing people who live, struggle, toil, lie, steal, sicken themselves and/or gamble everything in the hope of attaining higher social status, within a wide variety of frameworks: family, peers, career, cliques, any group of more than two people. Ivan shared with me that he'd attended one of Maestripieri's talks about the qualities that make humans and rhesus macacques such successful primates, and, from what I recall Ivan telling me, Maestripieri finds that these two successful monkeys structure their cultures hierarchically, and then distribute resources according to the hierarchy, with the top levels of the hierarchy getting all of the resources first, and then the lower levels getting what's left according to the whims of the topmost level.

I'm intrigued and horrified at exactly the same time, which has always been my gut reaction to all things Niccolo Macchiavelli -- the idealist in me hopes kindness and altruism will save us all, but experience shows Macchiavelli's postulates ringing true again and again. So I'm looking forward to receiving and devouring this book. My strolling chat with Ivan yesterday collided two spheres: my love of monkeys and my fascination with human motivations, and I really didn't see that coming. Cheers, Ivan!