Okay okay. I know. Enough is enough. You’re plastering us. You’re
bombarding us. Who can listen to all this? Who can read all this? Who
needs it? Who wants it? Turkey shmurkey. Leave us alone. Our head is
exploding. Bam! Boom! Bombs between our ears. Blurred vision. You
think we like all this? You think we want all this? You bet your
bippie we do. Continue Benjamin. Don’t let the dissenters sway you.
Do your stuff. Tell us about that Ceremonial Flask.
Ah well… with an invitation of such force… how can I refuse? But
be warned. This is the last of the Turkey stuff. I know when I’m
getting away with my skin.
Opulence and the Ottoman Empire. Tautology–in the opinion of moi–in
its finest and briefest form. Imagine this. You have a little oil.
For anointing purposes perhaps. Or a little wine… for serving and
sipping across the table while toasting your hundred wives. You’re
Sultan Selim II … or Sultan Murad III… or… in a later time…
the Pasha of West 47th Street.
No matter. We’re talking here of a Ceremonial gold flask decorated
with jade and rubies and emeralds and more. Precious stones.
Semi-precious stones. Classic jewelry gold working matchless in its
intricacy. A cover on top to prevent precious vapors from escaping. A
spigot of a beastie with its mouth wide open ready to spew forth the
liquid contents of its innards. It’s to salivate from.
The table is silent in anticipation. A Eunuch glides forth in flowing
robes from behind a hidden curtain. He is going to pour from the
flask for all. Mmmm. This is clearly wine night. All are titillated
as the anticipation of crimson nectar about to flow from flask to
goblet and from goblet to parched gullet fills the night air. Who is
going to be the lucky wife tonight?
Surreptitiously lascivious glances emanate from behind mascara laden
lashes. Perfumed throats glisten with the musky aroma of alluring
perfumes. They are ready… all of them. The Sultan smiles. He sees
the lust in their eyes. What kind of wine will it be tonight? A
Merlot? A Cabernet perhaps? Shiraz? Malbec? The Eunuch picks the
ceremonial flask up. He slowly pours the heavy red liquid into each
glass.
All wait for the signal. The Sultan holds up his hand. He lets it
drop. On cue each of the Harem wives picks up her glass and sips.
Ahh. Perfect. Manechewitz Malaga.
Let the games begin!
For those of you who are new to this thing called Tidbits…may I
direct you to my home page at http://www.tyler-adam.com where you
will scroll down the left side menu till you get to the area that
says Current Tidbits… click it… and you will see represented on
our pages a Ceremonial Flask of magnificent spendiferousness dating
back to the Ottoman Empire.
And there ya have it.
That’s it for this week folks.
Catch you all next week.
Benjamin Mark