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exploding just before touch down (there was no crater)? A UFO

carrying "The Black Oil" to infect Krycheck and Mulder? Beats me.

Sure is strange. Bet a lot of squirrels got themselves deceased that day.
What do all of these have in common? Hmm. Well, let us see. Even if

you are the king of a mighty nation or a big ass tree, you can fall?

Wooden thingies are dangerous? OSHA probably would not approve of any

of the three? The fall of anything can still be a mystery and generate

unanswerable questions? When someone asks you if you are a god, say

yes? I think mom said it best, "It’s all fun and games until somebody

gets an eye put out."
As always, you may forward these things to anyone you want provided

my name and email address are on it.


Be careful out there,

Ells


From: "j'lynn yeates"

To:

Subject: ANST - FW: Musing on July 2 -- Three Kings

Date: Mon, 3 Jul 2000 13:57:48 -0500


- -----Original Message-----

From: Ellsworth Weaver [mailto:astroweaver@yahoo.com]


Dear Folk,
On this day July 2, at least three things happened. Probably a heck of

a lot of great other things but shall we talk about at least these

three and the three kings they affected?
I am sure most of you remember from an earlier date my talking about

Hank VI, Lancaster king of Jolly Old England. It was noted that Hank

was a nice guy but was a lousy king. He really did not do much toward

keeping order, stability and prosperity in his realm. Instead he was

caught up in things like Bible study and trying to decide the rules for

kids painting on scrolls. Now I want to tell you about another guy who

opposed Hank -- Jack Cade – and his rebellion. For on this date, the

rebellion spread into London.


Jack might have been Irish, we really don’t know. What we do know is

that he sometimes went by the name of John Mortimer and fought for

France against England during the Hundred Years War. With what England

had been doing to Ireland since King John’s time, who could blame

him?
In May 1450, Jack and some local boys decided that the nobles were

taking peasants’ land, stealing folks blind, taxing and pillaging,

forcing folks to work for nothing (we call that slavery), and the

incredibly corrupt courts which were letting all this go on. Jack

Cade’s Rebellion, as it became known, trounced the government force at

Sevenoaks, Kent, too. Huzzah! As mentioned previously, Jack entered

London to the cheers of most. His boys forced the London authorities to

condemn and execute both the sheriff of Kent and his father-in-law, the

lord chamberlain under King Hank. King Hank was hurried out of the way

to safety of Coventry. Heavy duty stuff. Everybody was ready to go back

to business as usual but Jack pushed things too far. More violence

erupted and the good London folk thought that was bad for business. You

know how revolutions can get in the way of the tourist trade.
The rebellion was soon in chains. Most of his men accepted pardons and

some offered concessions by King Hank. One little whoopsy: Jack Cade

was pardoned as John Mortimer. On July 12th, 1450. the new sheriff of

Kent, deciding to rectify things and take advantage of the opportunity

offered by that error, hunted down and killed Jack near Heathfield in

Sussex.
Now you might say that Jack Cade died in vain (or in Sussex) but that

rebellion sort of catalyzed the events which led to the rise of Dick

York (Edward IV and Richard III’s dad) and the War of the Roses. Not

only were Hank and the Lancasters of less noble blood, they were lousy

administrators the Yorks could and did charge. So, thanks, Jack.


July 2 also marks the anniversary of the Battle of Marston Moor (1644)

in the first English Civil War (1642 - 1646). This was a battle

between the forces of Parliament and the Royalists (supporters of King

Chuck I) in England. Marston Moor was a wild and windswept place about

6 miles west of York. The folks from Parliament were lead by Lord

Fairfax. The Royalists by the 1st Earl of Newcastle. The situation in

the war had been swinging both ways for awhile until the Scots got

involved. Let’s step back for a sec and look at the cause of this

unrest.
Chuck Stuart I was a great believer of the "Divine Right of Kings."

What he took that to mean is that sure he had some responsibilities but

he was king because God willed it so. Anyone questioning the king’s

right to sit his throne was, in essence, a heretic. Cool position if

you can get everybody to go along with it. Remember that Chuck came

from the Scottish Stuarts who gave England King James (yes, the guy who

commission the Bible to be translated) right after Lizzie I died

childless. Okay, we all know Lizzie probably was Francis Bacon’s mom

but...oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, was I? Forget about that,

okay? Anyway, these nice Scottish folk were heavy into religion and

being king.
Problem was we had had so many other rebellions against bad rule there

in England from King John and his baron’s war to Jack Cade. The Divine

Right thing just was not flying, especially not with the Parliament

Who had gotten stronger under Lizzie.


Back to Marston. Newcastle was aided by Prince Rupert and they were

opposed by the Parliament forces aided by the Scots. Now you might ask

why the Scots were fighting against the Stuarts who were Scottish. The

answer is a long one but suffice it to say Scots like fighting

everybody second only to fighting other Scots. Besides Chuck had gotten

himself too far away from Scottish ways. He was pretty darn Frenchified

to the mind of many a single malt drinker. Prince Rupert and Newcastle

decided that being holed-up in York was not a good idea and decided to

head out of town where they could commence to mash and bash these

upstarts.


It was nasty and darkening when the Royalist forces finally got to the

site. Raining. It was obviously too nasty to fight, the ground was all

slippery and unsafe. Probably best just to pitch a tent and relax until

morning. Darn it! Nobody told Fairfax and the Parliamentarians (what a

wuss name! hard to even fit on a uniform much less as a battle cry.)

Fairfax and company fell upon the Royalists. Slaying was the order of

the evening. Rain and bad weather eventually did not bother any further

6000 late human beings. Most of the dead were Royalists, especially

their officers and experienced troops. The Royalists decided York was

not such a fun place and left quickly.


Two years later Chuck I surrendered to the Scots. The Scots turned

around and sold Chuck to Parliament for 400,000 pounds. That is a ton

o’money even today. Chuck made an escape to the Isle of Wight in

November 1647. The Scots switched sides to fight for Chuck in order to

get some English property in July 1648. Oliver Cromwell beat the Scots

at the Battle of Preston in August 1648. King Chuck lost his crown

and what was holding it January 30th, 1649. Sigh.
I cannot let today go by without noting the passing of a sweetheart of

a guy named Michel in 1566. He was born 14th December 1503 near

Avignon. He was a clairvoyant, an astrologer, a doctor of medicine, a

cosmetician, and a considerable historian. His grandfather, a Jew,

taught him Greek, Latin, Hebrew, and astrology / astronomy. He even had

some luck at treating plague victims. Obviously a bad guy. Michel (Mike

to us who knew him) did lose his wife and kids to the plague and his

father-in-law sued him to recover the dowry he had put up. And you

thought that unfair legal suits are new. He also upheld the heretical

viewpoint that the earth orbited the sun (this was 100 years before

Galileo, by the way.)
A chance remark caused Mike a bit of trouble. He told an "artist"

casting some bronze statue of the Virgin that the artist "was making

devils." He meant it as a critique of the artwork not because he wasn’t

down with the BVM, honest. Because of his astrology and because his

family had been Jewish until pious Christians with swords and other

devices convince them to see the light, the Inquistion did think they

ought to torture him a might to see if they could get him back in

line. Mike took off and hit the road. Sort of staying out of churches.


Queen Kate de Medici could not get enough of him. Mike predicted her

hubby’s death, Hank II with the splintered lance (remember?) and that

all her sons would be king. Well, he missed on one of them, Frank

snuffed before he could inherit. It is said that Hank II was not much

interested in Mike’s predictions. However, later on Kate even gave Mike

a title of Physician in Ordinary, which carried with it a salary and

other bennies.
Sadly though, Mike passed away on this date July 2 leaving behind the

12 volumes of prophecies covering thousands of years into his future.

No other prophet since has covered such a large span of time. His book

The Centuries contains 965 quantrains written in the latter part of his

life. Oh, most folks called Mike by his Latinized last name:

Nostradamus.


What have we learned? Divine rights of kings only work when all the

folks believe it? In-laws should be outlawed? Scotsmen can attack at

night and may switch sides to boot? Stay out of churches if you are an

astrologer? Always make sure they spell your name right in the papers

and on the papers? I think I like: Kings who do not pay attention get

whacked.
Don’t you get whacked out there. I need the audience. Send me your

impressions, comments, praise, room keys. And when you forward these,

and I know you will, please be gentle and keep my name and email on it.

Thanks.
Celebrate your interdependence,

Ellsworth


BTW See "Chicken Run" -- funnier than you would believe.

From: "j'lynn yeates"

To:

Subject: ANST - FW: Musing on July 3 -- Mary Meetings

Date: Wed, 5 Jul 2000 01:46:10 -0500
- -----Original Message-----

From: Ellsworth Weaver [mailto:astroweaver@yahoo.com]

Sent: Monday, July 03, 2000 19:36
Dear Folk,
Two quick ones today both united by a common thread, I guess. You

decide.
On July 3, 1518, in La Rue aux Ours, Paris, France, a drunken soldier

accidentally struck a portrait of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The painting

bled. Just like on X-Files, the portrait bled. Obviously the soldier

was sorry. He was drunk. He was promptly arrested, tried for heresy,

and burned at the stake.


On July 3, 1616 Bernardine (aka Bernardino) Realino went to his reward

with the words "Mary and Jesus" on his lips. Bernie was born of a noble

family in Capri, Italy in 1530. He was pretty much taught by his mom,

who did an excellent job by the way. He went off to U. of Bologna,

don’t ask what the school cafeteria served, to study medicine. After

three years of those sandwiches he decided to switch his major to

law. Indigestion can do that, sour a person.
He got his doctorate and got tapped to be an auditor and lieutenant

general of Naples a year later. He also was Mayor of Felizzano, Italy;

Judge; Head tax collector in Alesandria, Italy; Mayor of Cassine,

Italy;. Mayor of Castelleone, Italy; Superintendent of the fiefs of the

marquis of Naples. Golden boy, indeed. What on earth could stand in

the way of such a politician?


Her name was Mary. Yes, that same one. She appeared to him in a vision.

He found himself out on an 8 day retreat with the Jesuits (lawyer,

Jesuits, now there is a connection!) It did not take him long to join

the Society of Jesus. Within a few years he was teaching and preaching

and ministering. He especially was nice to the poor and to the galley

slaves. He even is said to have a small pitcher of wine which did not

run out until everyone was completely wasted. Cool miracle. Because of

this and a few other miracles plus his devotion to the poor, galley

slaves, and peace (he used his voice to stop several vendettas) in 1947

he was declared a saint. His Saint's Day was yesterday. Guess the 3rd

was taken. I'd take the fifth on that but there we are with the

alcohol again.


What have we learned? That a meeting with Mary can change the course of

one’s life? That Jesuits are a perfect place for lawyers? Hurt the lady

and you are in trouble? How about, the Great Spirit says that wine

makes us clumsy and stupid and I am enough of both? Just a personal

testimonial. *G*
Be careful with the wine this holiday, my friends.
Go see "The Patriot." Great movie and the Smithsonian did the

authenticity part.


Looking for my flintlock,

Ells


From: "j'lynn yeates"

To:

Subject: ANST - FW: Musing on July 4th, A Short Stroll to Tiberius

Date: Wed, 5 Jul 2000 01:50:45 -0500


- -----Original Message-----

From: Ellsworth Weaver [mailto:astroweaver@yahoo.com]


Dear Folk,
On this day, July 4, 1187 Saladin, Commander of the Faithful, met with

the kings, knights and assorted royalty of the Latin East Kingdom (the

Holy Land) at a small hill called The Horns of Hattin. The meeting was

unfortunate. It did not have to happen. There had been a truce, you

see. Saladin was honoring it. The crusaders had difficulty keeping

their part of the bargain. What had been a bargain turned very

expensive.
Reynald of Chatillon, former Prince of Antioch, had been imprisoned by

Saladin’s mentor Nur ad-Din for 16 years. He was not fond of his Moslem

brethren. In fact, Reynald had cut down darned near a whole forest in

Moab to build boats. He tried them out in the Dead Sea, little sea

trials, and then put wheels on them and ported them to Aqaba on the Red

Sea. Of course he meant only nice things with these boats, sort of

spreading brotherhood and peace up and down the coast. Okay, he was not

above helping a boat that was too heavily laden with cargo to lighten

its load. And he was only organizing a welcome wagon for the folks in

Mecca when he landed that contingent of knights nearby. Honest. Saladin

sent the Egyptian fleet to go persuade Reynald to get out of the

neighborhood. Saladin, completely misunderstanding Reynald’s ways,

vowed that Reynald would never be forgiven. This was in 1182.
1183 found Saladin besieging Kerak, Reynald’s stronghold. How the story

is told, it was inconveniently during a wedding party Reynald was

hosting for his wife’s son, Humphrey of Toron, and the Princess

Isabella. Well, the party went on because the guests had all arrived

and it was already catered. Lady Stephanie, Reynald’s wife, in a

gesture worthy of a lady from Texas sent down some food and dainties

for Saladin. Really! Saladin was moved to ask in which wing the

newlyweds were having their honeymoon. He then ordered his artillery

not to bother the new bride and groom. Awww.
Flash forward, 1187. There had been another truce and another breaking

of it (guess whom by?) Yup! Reynald raided a caravan traveling along

the neutral area. Saladin complained to the king but no one really

listened or said they were sorry. Saladin’s recon party found some

Templars and Hospitallers out near Galilee and killed a grunch of them

including the Master of the Hospitallers and the Marshal of the

Templars. The aggrieved Christians decided it was war.
The Christians mounted up a force of about 20,000 men including 1500

knights, a bit of the True Cross, and a nifty treasure in a treasure

box sent to Jerusalem as an "I’m sorry" gift by Hank II of England.

This was because Hank’s men had killed Tom Beckett, Archbishop of

Canterbury, a couple of years before. The Latins decided to open the

treasure (under the care of the Templars) and spend it on hiring some

mercenary muscle. Saladin must have had a couple of thousand more

guys even so and a whole lot more smarts.


On June 30, 1187, Saladin sent half of his troops to besiege the

citadel at Tiberius, home of Raymond of Tripoli (nice guy and former

protector of the king of Jerusalem). Raymond was with the army at the

time but his wife, Countess Eschiva was holding the fort. The other

half of his troops Saladin led into Galilee to a point about 6 miles

west of the Sea of Galilee. He camped where there was water.

Important point.
Even though Mrs. Raymond, the Countess, was being harassed by Moslems,

Ray told the army not to go. He knew it was nasty ground between where

they were and Tiberius. They would have to march through Galilee in the

summer and the heat with no chance of water for a long, long while.

Reynald, we do remember him, and the new Master of the Temple, Gerard

of Ridfort, called Ray a sissy, a wuss, and a Saracen sympathizer.

King Guy of Jerusalem decided to go. Ray went with him, dragging his

heels. This was July 3rd.


It was only 15 miles from where they started to the Sea of Galilee as

the crow flies. Unfortunately for King Guy and his troops, no one knew

how to fly crows. Up and down the hot and very dusty hills and rift

valley. They were in chain mail in July. It was hotter than Texas and

drier than Baylor. Ray’s prediction about no water was right. Top that

all off, Saladin sent some young Turkish lads who were good with bows

just to make the folk feel welcome. Shoot a few at the end of the

column and then ride away.


The Templars were tired. They persuaded King Guy to make camp just

beside a hill, The Horns of Hattin, named because of the small twin

peaks which kind of look like horns. Too bad David Lynch did not know

about this or his TV show might have been called something else. Ray

was still doing his Eeyore routine. He is quoted as saying "Alas, Lord

God, the battle is over. We have been betrayed unto death. The Kingdom

is finished." Now this was on July 3rd. Ray was right, of course.
Saladin decided to make things a little more unpleasant for his foes,

he had his boys at dawn of July 4th set some fires on the dry grass of

the hillside. No one had any antihistamines nor any water to take them

with. Wave after wave of those Turks with bows rode forward, shot, and

rode back. The French infantry broke ranks and climbed the hill,

leaving the rest to their fate. The bishop of Acre was killed and the True

Cross was captured. During part of the chaos, Ray and some of his guys

road their horses over their own troops, over the Turks, and over the

True Cross to get out.
King Guy and his nobles, tired and thirsty and beaten on, were steadily

pushed up the hill to surround the king’s red tent. Then there was

charge and counter charge: the French and Turks back and forth.

Finally, Saladin and his son watched the red tent fall. It was over.


The king and some of his nobles surrendered and survived. Saladin made

good his promise and personally executed Reynald of Chatillon. Huzzah!

About time, says I. All the Templars and Hospitaller knights were

beheaded. The kingdom was lost. Its entire field army was gone, so was

The True Cross. Saladin’s army took the remainder of the Latin boys

off to the slave markets in Damascus. The price of a Christian slave

dropped so low that one of them was sold for a shoe. By August almost

the entire Holy Land was Moslem. Tiberias did fall but Saladin was nice

to Countess Eschiva and let her leave. Thought you might be relieved

to hear that.


What have we learned? Sticks and stones may break my bones but arrows

sure annoy me? Folks may call you chicken but it really should not make

you do stupid things? Even holy relics will not protect one from rank

stupidity? I would quote something that Kim Stanley Robinson said,

"All of politics is about water."
Well, fools are blowing up the strawberry fields behind me in memory of

Saladin, Mel Gibson, or maybe Reynald. Take care of each other. I am

going to take a shower. As always, if you want to forward these things,

keep my email and name intact. Who knows, a nice Countess might want

to hold my fort. *S*
Love your enemies and drive them nuts,

Ells


Subject: Musing on July 7 -- How Does Your Bloody Garden Grow?

Date: Fri, 7 Jul 2000 15:35:38 -0700 (PDT)

From: Ellsworth Weaver

To: 2thpix@surfari.net


Dear Folk,
On this date July 7, 1553 Mary Tudor spent the day hiding in Sawston

Hall. She was hiding from the Duke of Northumberland. What was she

doing?
You may recall from yesterday that Mary was the daughter of Hank VIII

and Catherine of Aragon. (One of my readers complained that I was using

too many nicknames. See, I am cutting back.) She was his first child.

If he had loved her just a little more, she might not have earned the

sobriquet (more Laurel-sounding than "nickname") of "Bloody Mary." She

had Cardinal Wolsey as a godfather which sort of led her to becoming a

strong and (dare I say fanatic? No) fervent Catholic.
Guess how Mary felt when Hank dumped her mom? Well, how would you feel?

On top of all of that daddy dearest was now head of his own church.

Mary was rather outspoken which did not help to increase how dad felt

about her. Hank did not take feedback very well. He even separated Mary

from her mom.
Mary’s new stepmom was that enchanting (in perhaps more ways than one)

Anne Boleyn. Talk about your fairytale wicked stepmother! Anne did not

like Mary one bit. The felines were mutual. Anne occasionally let it

slip that maybe Mary and her mom were going to be shortened by Hank’s

axeman. Then she would say, "Whoopsy! Did I say that out loud?" and

giggle embarassedly. Nothing like playing "flip-a-kitty" to raise a

normal, healthy daughter. Yes sir, it was nothing like that at all.
Ex-queen Kate passed on from natural causes. Hey, I wasn’t there. Anne

got a taste of her own medicine when Hank told her she needed a close

haircut. See what happens being so nasty to folks? This was in 1536.

Mary got another new stepmom, Jane Seymour. Mary was only 20 and

already had three moms. Jane, may she rest in peace, gave Hank what he

wanted – a boy – but died giving birth to him in 1542. That was a

shame, too, because Jane really seemed to like Mary.
When Hank finally died in 1547, young Eddie took the throne. Six years

later, he died. Wow! It was not healthy being a Tudor, by marriage or

by birth. Incidentally, no one told Mary about Eddie’s death on July 6,

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