FinermanWorks

I may give up Passover for Lent.  As if the last 2000 years did not provide persecution, Jews torture themselves once a year by eating a form of styrofoam called matzo.  For eight days we endure it as a substitute for bread. 

According to Exodus and Cecil B. DeMille, when the Jews were fleeing Egypt they did not have time to prepare the bread in any edible form.  Skipping a few steps–including leavening–in the baking, the result was mottled, tasteless slabs, flaky but indestructible.  No self-respecting mold would want to grow on it. 

However, the very nature of matzo makes me doubt the historical basis of the Exodus.   If the Exodus really had occurred, archaeologists certainly would have found the matzo crumbs by now.

Of course, I must mention Passover’s role in Christianity.    Why do you think that Jesus allowed Himself to be crucified?  Even HE couldn’t stand matzo for 8 days.

On this day in 1912, Robert Falcon Scott ended a rather disappointing trip to Antarctica. Nature evidently did not show the proper respect to a representative of the British Empire. The penguins did not greet his expedition with a few choruses from Gilbert & Sullivan, and the South Pole proved rudely aloof. Indeed, if the Pole had any sense of deference, it would have come to him.

Expecting to be the first gentleman to reach the South Pole, Captain Scott planned a grand tour, with modern conveniences as well as traditional fashions. His expedition included motorized sleds and horses, so he had a choice in how he would ride to the South Pole. Had he personally selected the dog teams, they probably would have been comprised of pugs.

The expedition promised to be an extravaganza. In addition to the the complete catalog from Herrod’s, Scott’s team included a staff of scientists who would provide suitably British names for any discovered species, landmarks and eclectic oddities. Of course, the undertaking would be costly, and His Majesty’s government would only subsidize some of the expenses. Scott actually had some ability as a fundraiser, and found a number of private contributors. Fortunately, in the Edwardian era sponsors were more discreet, so Scott was not obliged to wear a parka covered with corporate decals. (However, you can imagine what Lipton would have paid to be the first tea brewed at the South Pole.)

The expedition arrived in Antarctica in early 1911 and spent the better part of the year preparing for the trip to the South Pole. For lack of Lyons restaurants along the route, food depots were established at some distances from the base camp to accommodate the polar tourists. The motorized vehicles and horses were thoroughly tested and found to be thoroughly inadequate. Neither could withstand the cold. The dog teams proved more resilient, but Scott had more faith in his own bipedal resolve. He and four members of his expedition would walk to the South Pole, dragging supply sleds with them.

After a two month hike, they arrived at the South Pole on January 17, 1912 only to discover that it already was the Norwegian consulate in Antarctica. Roald Amundsen had arrived there a month earlier, using dog sleds. It may have been summer in Antarctica, but Scott and his team were suffering from frostbite, dehydration and hunger. (Amundsen had relied on dogs for both transportation and–when necessary–an entree.) Depressed and malnourished, Scott’s crew became unlucky and careless. On the trek back, one Briton suffered a fatal injury, and no one could quite remember the exact location of the food depots. They actually were quite close to one of the food caches when, on March 29th, Scott and his team starved and froze to death.

Search teams from the base camp found the bodies, along with Scott’s diary. The diary, after careful editing to remove any hint of incompetence, was published as an epic of British heroism.

Of course, his heroism would have been unalloyed if Scott had the least idea what he was doing.

There were some advantages to being a Roman emperor. For instance, until the fifth century, the pay was excellent. You would rarely be turned down at an orgy. Furthermore, the job would never be outsourced to India, if only because the Romans had but a vague notion about India’s location.

Longevity, however, was another matter. From an actuarial perspective, an emperor would have regarded murder as a natural cause of death. In a period of five centuries, Rome had more than 80 emperors. The total is imprecise because the imperial reigns often were.

The Emperor Pertinax might have expected a longer reign. He certainly was an improvement over his predecessor, the depauched and incompetent Commodus. (You remember him from “Gladiator.”) Indeed, on his own merits, Pertinax had the makings of an excellent ruler. He was conscientious, honest and capable. You could add frugality to his virtues, but that actually was a flaw in�Rome. The people wanted their bread and circuses, and the�Praetorian Guard expected “donations”.

The Praetorians could overlook any vice in an emperor but stinginess. Pertinax had every virtue but generosity, so he did not survive his bodyguards. Today is that dubious anniversary.

The impulsive Praetorians seized the throne but had no one to occupy it. Then the extravagantly rich Didius Julianus,�the Steve Forbes of his day, simply decided to buy the position of emperor. He showed up at the Praetorians’ camp and proceeded to bid for their loyalty. Another patrician competed in the auction for the Empire, but Julianus outbid him. His purchased Praetorians then cowed the Senate into acclaiming him the emperor.

The Praetorians’ loyalty lasted two months. When an ambitious general marched on Rome, the imperial guard switched sides again. Julianus did not live to regret it. He now is remembered as a joke. (The same might be said of Steve Forbes.)

You may have seen commercials with actor Jeff Daniels promoting Michigan and its wonderful climate for business.

I think that Chicago should try a similar tactic.  This city can’t live forever on the residuals from Al Capone, and we never got any for the atom bomb.  The question is which Chicago-born celebrity would be the perfect representative.  Jim Belushi might be the most authentic, but I am doubt many businesses would relocate based on his recommendations of the 50 best places to throw up. 

No, Chicago would want a more sophisticated appeal; and I can think of one of our natives who has it…

Of course, you know that I am John Malkevich.  If you don’t, go about your pathetic existence and let me speak to the sentient members of the audience.  I want to tell you about the wonderful opportunities awaiting you in Chicago.  Yes, like me, you would rather live in the south of France; but you can make a fortune here that would buy you a paradise in Provence.

Chicago is your kind of town for business.  Here I am at one of our totally mystifying and completely barbaric futures exchanges.  Yes, it is incomprehendible–and what better place to launder your money. 

Does your business need financing?  Here I am on Chicago’s Gold Coast, where you will find many lonely, rich widows.  With this city’s friendly spirit, you will not have any trouble talking your way into their apartments and lives. 

Do you need a creative means of transportation?  Chicago has alleys.  They are perfect for discreet entrances and impromptu exits. 

And even if worse comes to worse, you will appreciate Chicago’s convenient judicial system.  Cook County pays its jurors $17; I am sure that you could be more generous. 

So, if you are looking for a perfect climate for business, Chicago is your sociopath to success.