Author: Robert Coontz (Administrator)

The birthday is today, January 27, 1756. It’s a bit late in the day to start a thread, but there’s still time for a little night music.

‘In that direction,’ the Cat said, waving its right paw round, ‘lives a Hatter: and in that direction,’ waving the other paw, ‘lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.’
‘But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ Alice remarked.
‘Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the Cat: ‘we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.’
‘How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice.
‘You must be,’ said the Cat, ‘or you wouldn’t have come here.’

The Reverend Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, logician, fantasy novelist, stutterer, High Victorian, and nonsense versifier supreme, was born on January 27, 1832. He concocted his famous pseudonym by Latinizing his first and middle names (to Carolus Ludovicius), reversing their order, and de-Latinizing them. Though he died 100 years before Muse came along, we daresay he would have approved. Thanks to lifewithoutacellphone for reminding us that today is his day.

Hear the splatting of the pies,
Apple pies!
What a world of misery their crusted warmth belies.

Yes, on the whole it’s a good thing that Mr. Poe didn’t write about Muse. He was an unhappy soul, but his poems and stories have given us many hours of diversion. So we hope that he’ll be of good cheer (in a foetid, sepulchral way) wherever he is (which we shudder to think about).

“The only president of the United States who was never president of the United States,” as the Firesign Theater once called him, was born 302 years ago today (January 17). Hail to one of the most fascinating, down-to-earth, and likable Americans to have trodden the continent in recorded history.