Well wasn’t that pretty much Europe’s 19th century Guantanamo? And isn’t a Napoleon so much mar a-lago-ish than even the best Chinese chocolate cake -- with or without TWO scoops of a frozen confection? Who can argue there isn’t some historical precedent for the added stop [photo to right]? And that without the “breaking news” of allegations of an additional connection between the two in the person of, of all people, Roger Stone? Oh never mind, I think I’m making some of this up. Let’s just leave it a getting bogged down in Russia.
Now hold on a minute, I know what you’re going to say, hasn’t history proven St. Helena to have been the more, uh, enduring confine? You know how escape plans can get really dicey when a place of forced residence is both in the Western Hemisphere and West Africa at the same time. [OK, look it up, if you must smart ass. And while you’re at it, what a surprise to also learn from the adjacent map, not of my own creation incidentally, that both Spain, Portugal and most of Great Britain have alway apparently been part of the New World as well. Well look at the damn map! How do you think they got the jump on all that colonizing?
Of course, admittedly, despite its remoteness, of the two destinations, St. Helena did at least make an effort to accommodate the nouveau imperial lifestyle our world leaders have come to expect (photos below).
But far from its Alcatrazy historical image, St. Helena once actually was quite the happening pied-à-terre — at least in the Tierra del Fuego sense — but then they had to go and build that Suez Canal ! (BTW, same problem for del Fuego with that ditch in Panama — so we’re guessing it doesn’t make any difference which hemisphere you’re in, and, fun fact, there are only two to choose from either latitudinally or longitudinally).
Presidential travelwise, the good news is, after 500 years, the impossibly remote St. Helena finally got an airport — and only last year. So far, with but a single paid passenger charter last month. What were the chances! Yes, and I am not the only one in our OCD chapter to have actually researched this. But, given this current serendipidous, potentially exilicious, opportunity, I also discovered the airport’s location is the auspiciously-named Prosperous Bay, honest; and if that’s not Trumpy I don’t know what is.
The bad news is due to the steep landing approach, rocky outcrops and, mostly, terrible wind shear like nobody’s business, the primary aviation activity so far has been pretty much limited to medical evacuations. Unfortunately, we’re told, most were uncovered pre-existing conditions, most likely dating from the time the African and South American continents started drifting their separate ways. Forget about Air Force One or anything else Trumpworthy, including anything big enough to handle more than 50 passengers. However, it’s reassuring to know Capetown will still remain only a five day voyage on any of the President’s three seafaring yachts — the Nina, the Pinta, and the recently renamed Melania Knaussa.
However, in the current atmosphere of mistrust, it’s almost a given that the requisite mid-South Atlantic layover might also raise some suspicion with a one-way ticket.
On the other hand, the current option, Elba, does have golf.
Of course with our opening side by side photographic compare-and-contrast of the two autocrats past and present, there remains one related vital national security concern that cannot be left unaddressed. If there is a God in heaven, with any luck, that dissemblement wouldn’t be attempted by Kellyanne Conway.
It’s this. If you’re anything like me, you probably wake up most mornings asking yourself, “What justification could there possibly have been for the Napoleonic Wars?”
Well literally after minutes of research, near as I can tell, just like today, most if not all of those hostilities can likely be chalked up to Trumplike umbrage and simple overreactions to anyone approaching (or tweeting by carrier pidgeon) somebody like, — let’s just say a thin skinned, narcissistic, megalomaniac — with the snarky observation, ”Hey Napoleon, nice HAT !”
But you knew that. Which ultimately begs the question, did you also know there’s a specific name for that particular form of haberdashery? The “Bicorne” (OCD Chapter, op cit.). No, not “bitcoin” --which, herein opens up the whole bicorne-tricorne paradigm.
As you may recall, our own founding fathers – once most succinctly identified by the late George
Carlin as a group of slave owners demanding their own freedom –favored the “tri cornered” variation – shown to the right being both worn and waved, in the famous Archibald MacNeal Willard painting, The Spirit of ’76, permanently on display at Abbot Hall in Marblehead, Massachusetts. (Little known fact, three Bay State towns are actually named after governors with Napoleon complexes: Peabody, Marblehead, and Athol (or as known in the pre-Napoleonic era, Athos, Porthos and Priebus). As you can also see here, an even more popular form of plebian head gear proved to be an early prototype of the common do-rag.
On the other hand, the ensuing — and some would say excessively, more egalitarian -- French Revolution, eventually led to the Napoleonic “bicorne” shown below adorning its most celebrated wearer, with brim folded upward, creating two slightly asymetrical sides rather than the colonial three. Rumor had it that the French Emperor had actually aspired to the full three corners, but was infuriated when they said he always came up a little short.
Another curious parallel, shown at right, is the traditional Napoleonic pose. White House sources tell us this likely had to do with the monarch’s obsessive desire to keep his unusually diminutive hands out of public view. Either that, or eczema.
Of course by now you are wondering how these Colonial and French Empire fashion plates each got their chapeaux to do that? As with their mutual historical time period – yesteryear – the conundrum actually contains not one but two “whys.”
The first being, that without any of the meticulous folding, what you’ve basically got is a felt sombrero – regarded in France as a decidedly lesser, albeit more functional, form of headdress. In fact, we’re told this was likely the overriding justification for Napoleon’s invasion of the Iberian peninsula– installing his own brother (Jared Bonaparte) on the Spanish throne out of the French unwavering, disproportionately slavish, devotion to fashion.
The second “why,” was eventually isolated by a Freudian school -- the racy Lécole Moreau (later Moreau-Bardot) as a simple case of middle eastern “turban envy.” That phobia still engulfing both Europe and America – a millenary obsession with the desire to force citizens of Islamic nations to frequently ask, “How do you think they do that? We just wrap fabric – but it’s so 12th century.” (Source: Depeche Mode – magazine not the band.) Need we add, something likely to continue unabated until Ivanka comes out with a hijab line of her own.
We’d be remiss in not here noting the one exception of that shining moment in our history, when Northern units in the American Civil War inexplicably decided to go all zouavey on us. Go ahead, look that up too. In addition to being fashionable, it’s a pretty fascinating homage. (But then again, didn’t the Klan, as usual, out of pure ignorance, and the typical absese of ironic sensibility, adopt what were essentially peakish, redneck burkas?)
We digress. It is also worth noting our tricorne-bicorne paradigm, metaphorically epitomizes the considerably greater stability of colonial three-legged stools compared to the little-known Franco tabouret à deux pattes (two -legged stool, used extensively in brie extraction, should that choose to run). The latter also frequently cited as an explanation why the sh*t hit the fan almost immediately during the French Revolution, while we, on the other hand, were able to delay similar intramural havoc nearly another four score and seven years.
All of which further begs the question, what is the proper way to put a bicorne on? The comedic stylings of the great jazz accordionist Pete Barbuti (yes, I know, an oxymoron—the music not the musician) would later demonstrate the procedure for putting on his accordion by eyeballing the instrument and uttering in mock flattery, “Hey accordine [sic], you’re too much, you’re terrific, man, you’re somethin’ else.” (Would you come a little closer to the monitor please, I’m not sure I want to direct this to everybody — but is this wearing you out yet? Well we’re almost done.)
Let’s just say that, for many years, as today, this polemical hat fetish evolved into quite literally a polarizing issue. For example, as shown in the additional photos (continuing from left to right below), while such straightforward military models as the Duke of Wellington, the Governor General of British Columbia, and the Knights of Columbus all held to sporting their caps, well, straightforward, the feisty Bonaparte swung his around 90 degrees in what later became known as the “gangsta” style, generally recognized as employed to express a certain belligerence. This side-to-side affectation was also favored around the same time by Wellington’s seaborne counterpart, Admiral Horatio Nelson; although it was uncertain whether his could be attributed to the toughness the gentleman demonstrated losing an arm in the Battle of Tenerife, or simply to the difficulty of just getting his hat on straight for the very same reason.
We certainly hope this clears everything up. And, incidentally, although late night TV will likely be continuing their bachanal for what looks like far into at least the near future, Richard Armour and Peter de Vries, you are sorely missed.