Sunday, June 10, 2007
Small Pointy Weasel Creature
If you type the word "sable" into dictionary.com, the first definition defines it as "an old-world weasel-like mammal..."
As much as I wish that had something to do with my activities today, sadly, it does not. I wouldn't mind having my own herd of sables. But because they are "old-world," I'm going to assume that means they're all dead.
This is sad.
Now that I've gotten your hopes up and then dashed them, I will bring them back up again. I have done (no) research and cranked up the devilish pixel engine of Adobe origin to create an approximate sable. I used my cat Sprocket as a foundation. I believe cats are also mammals, and if the Jurassic Park guys can use frogs to make dinosaurs, I can use cats to make sables.
The result speaks for itself. It's no wonder these animals were prized for their furs. Look at 'em! Wouldn't you, as an upstanding 17th century woman, simply have to have a stole with that face on the end of it? Men of the same era would kill to have a hat with a sable head poking coyly over the brim. Which is probably why the poor little guys ended up all old-world.
Let's all have a moment of silence for the sables. Done? Done.
Back in 1874, the shipping magnates of Michigan got together and decided that a place called Petite Pointe Au Sable needed a lighthouse. After they'd built it, they de-Frenched the shore, and Petite Pointe Au Sable became Little Sable Point. This pleased many people because it was shorter, and made a little more sense given our language's subject/predicate arrangement.
"What's that mean?" one Yank would ask another.
"Little Point of Sable," the second Yank would answer.
"You been drinkin' the booze!" the first would rejoin.
In order to waste money, the people in charge painted the lighthouse on the shores of Small Pointy Weasel red, then white, and then blasted the whole mess off. This kept people employed, and the Michigan economy boomed. The lighthouse tower has worn nothing but its bare bricks for the last 30 years, which is why Michigan's economy has gone the way of the sable.
You can tour the weaselhouse now. A couple of elderly gents politely usher you into the tower, explain the use of the spiral staircase ("Careful! It's twisty!") and let you loaf around on the observation deck for pretty much as long as you want.
Not a bad time for two bucks admission. I'm thinking about setting up my office up there, as soon as they bring in WiFi.
Posted by Paul FooDaddy Brand at 8:00 PM