It’s Now or Never


Elvis fans who want a real piece of their beloved star now have a rare opportunity to own one. If they can cough up a few million or two (or ten) for his private Lockheed Jetstar plane, which has been sitting on a runway in Roswell, NM for the last thirty years.


The interior hasn’t been touched, as you can tell from the plush magenta seats that big enough for Elvis’ latter-day backside to have ridden in comfort.


The cockpit does need a little work.

Check out the auction here:

Flower Power


I used to live with my then-boyfriend Jay in a loft on the Bowery (a block away from the corner in the photo below), owned by Jay’s employer, Andy Warhol. It was thoroughly no-frills, but of course nothing on the Bowery back in the day had anything to do with frills. I’d sit by the front window and try to work, although I was often distracted by the monologues of the local drunks and junkies who parked themselves downstairs and shared their sorrow with the world. Yep, those were the days.



The Bowery is now pretty much unrecognizable as the bums have been replaced by condo-dwelling hipsters who flock to the local boîtes for the elderflower-infused artisanal cocktails and whine about Tinder. Not that it looks like this all the time. Floral designer Lewis Miller is on a mission to beautify the city with his Flower Flashes series of random floral installations.


They’re gorgeous. (Note: this is the corner of Houston and Second Avenue, which used to be equally grungy. Just saying’.)

Death Becomes Her


Regular readers of my Decrepitude know I love the macabre, especially as it pertains to historical discoveries. Yesterday,  while dealing with interminable paperwork and hassles for several hours at my idiot bank, I was trying to divert myself and came upon this piece about a Twitter feed that pushed all my right buttons.


Medieval Death Bot aka @DeathMedieval scours the coroner’s rolls from Ye Olden Tymes and tweets out the best (well, not exactly best, considering how these poor souls met their maker) examples of sudden death back in the day.


It’s amazing how many sweet little babies succumbed to the unwelcome attention of the local sows. And how many men succumbed to arrow, drink, and drowning. Plus ça change, yes?

See for yourself:

Chasing My Money


So I get an alert that my bank account was overdrawn when I knew it shouldn’t have been. Go to Chase. Find out some heinous sack o’crap forged my name  – having somehow gotten my bank account # – and took out much of my money. Then Chase tells me it is an active investigation and my account is frozen for 10-30 DAYS. Yes, a month of no access to MY MONEY that I put in a bank so it would be safe.


See this other heinous sack o’crap? Am sending him the bill for all the problems this is going to cause me. Never bank with Chase.




No, not our president or his pals Roger Ailes and Bill O’Reilly. I’m talking about a 112-million-year-old dinosaur found by chance in Canada, at the Suncor Millennium Mine near Fort McMurray in 2011.


Not only is this a new species of nodosaur, or armored dinosaur, but it’s the best-preserved one ever found. Meaning that paleontologists can examine its mummified skin and will eventually decode the contents of its fossilized last supper.


If you happen to be in the vicinity of the Royal Terrell Museum of Paleontology in Alberta, stop on by to see the exhibit.


Creationists excepted.


You’re Only as Old as You Feel


With all the unbelievably rancid news coming out of our nation’s capital, let me focus today on something lovely instead. Pierre Bergé was the long-time lover and business partner of Yves Saint Laurent, who died in 2008. He just married his partner, architect Madison Cox. Because, finally, he could.


“I have lived two big love stories before, with Bernard Buffet during 10 years and with Yves Saint Laurent during 50 years,” Bergé said. “Gay marriage didn’t exist. Today, I am making my relationship with Madison Cox legal.”


May they have many happy years together.

Idaho Insults


When you deface a memorial to a murdered 15-year-old, you have to be pretty rank.


Especially when the 15-year-old is the murdered Anne Frank.


Some feral anti-Semites and racists took out their permanent markers and showed their Trump side to the citizens of Boise when they defaced the marble at the Anne Frank Human Rights Memorial, a now-sacred site for contemplation and mourning. Not only will it cost a fortune to replace the marble, but they have spit on the memory of every person murdered due to hate.


Bad enough that we have Russian cameras in the Oval Office. We have white supremacists, bigots, and racists supporting the man who put them there. Even when Trump resigns or is impeached, these haters aren’t going anywhere. Not even the dank, dismal caves they lurk in.

Read more here:

The Frescoes of the Casa dell’Efebo


A visit to Pompeii should be on everyone’s bucket list. It is absolutely eerie walking down the paving stones, looking at the ruts made by the chariots and carts, seeing the blackened loaves of ossified bread the baker had just taken out of the oven and the plaster casts of the long-dead victims, their faces frozen in gasping terror.


It is also absolutely marvelous to see how well-preserved the art still is. Pompeii was like the Hamptons of Rome, an escape for the wealthy citizens who wanted to be near the sea and away from the swampy and muggy Roman weather. The walls of the large villas are covered in frescoes depicting gods and goddesses; the frescoes in the brothel are imaginatively X-rated.


The American Journal of Archeology has just published a study of the Nilotic scenes found in the garden of the Casa dell’Efebo, and they are stunning.


Evidently the Romans were as interested in Egyptian culture as we still are.