My "Time Capsule" posts are random by design. They describe odd historic artifacts that I find, mostly in neglected cupboards and closets. Often they are whimsical family mementos. But once in a while something darker shows up.
At first glance this appears innocuous. It is a little coin, made of aluminum. Obviously it is French. The axe and sheaves of wheat are a little peculiar, the former being disturbingly close to the symbol of Fascist Italy, which resembled an axe in a bundle of sticks.
And here's the flip side. The date is ominous. 1944. The inscription reads "Work, Family, Fatherland".
These days the study of history is not what it once was, but most people know that France was conquered by Germany in 1940, and was only liberated by the Allies in the latter half of 1944.
This coin was issued by the Vichy government....collaborators with the Nazis.
But the issue is as advertised a complicated one. Although France was a deeply divided nation that had factions across the board from communists to extreme right wing types, there was never any love for Germany. What there was in the summer of 1940 was -arguably - simply no choice. France had been defeated so quickly and so completely that accepting whatever terms were available was perceived as the only alternative to a nation destroyed entirely. And of course England - also never popular - was felt to have skedaddled at Dunkirk, leaving the French behind. They then went on to attack and destroy French naval assets abroad with much loss of life. A resigned Gallic shrug and getting along with the government they had did not seem so bad in this light. They'd had bad governments many times before.
But it would not have worked without one man. Philippe Petain, Marshal of France and the most respected public figure of the day. He'd been called in at the 11th hour to form a government as the panzers approached Paris. It was his gravitas that made the deal with Hitler seem like a regrettable necessity. Because he had saved France before. More than once actually.
Petain was already near retirement when he began the war commanding a single brigade. He fought with distinction when France was saved by the Miracle on the Marne in 1914. Promoted, he commanded the army that held fast at Verdun in 1916, defeating the great German assault at such a high cost. He later commanded the entire French Army in 1917 when half the divisions on the Western Front mutinied and refused to go over the top for yet another round of futile slaughter. Always a soldier's commander he was fair, compassionate and able to correct many injustices while holding the ring leaders accountable. Of the 600 plus death sentences handed down, all but 26 were commuted.
Only Petain could have brokered the deal that kept half of France unoccupied and nominally free. But of course it ended badly. At first the French and Germans had an uncomfortable coexistance. The movie Casablanca set in Vichy controlled North Africa gave a fair sense of this. But as the war turned against Germany all semblance of independence was stamped out. Southern France was occupied, Nazi laws were brutally enforced, and neighbor turned against neighbor on matters of real or imagined collaboration.
Petain was In Switzerland at the end of the war, but come to France voluntarily....but what to do with him? Imagine some alternate history America where George Washington lived long enough to see England triumphant in the War of 1812. Imagine further that he was given a choice. "Be your King's Viceroy in our reclaimed American colonies. If you refuse we shall burn all your cities to ash and execute the traitorous American soldiers in our custody".
It was necessary to put Petain on trial and to find him guilty. He was sentenced to death but in an echo of his stern but humane actions of 1917 the sentence was commuted. He died in prison in 1951, aged 95.
His sometime protege Charles de Gaulle said of him that his life was: "successively banal, then glorious, then deplorable, but never mediocre"
Wandering unsupervised in various real and imaginary places. Detritus reflects my interests in robotics, travel, history and the odder aspects of the world around me.
Showing posts with label Viva la France. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Viva la France. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
Friday, May 23, 2014
Things are Looking Up for Vincent Van Gogh
An Authoress of our acquaintance is working on a book dealing with the time that Vincent Van Gogh spent in an asylum near Saint-Remy, France. He was there for a year, starting soon after he cut off his left ear. This is considered the most productive period of his career. Many of his most famous works including Starry Night were produced while an inmate there.
The Authoress is heading down there for a visit, and I was happy to report to her that I had already been there on a trip some years ago, and had toured the Saint-Paul Asylum while there. It is a quiet and contemplative place, but did contain one jarring scene.
When our little party of travelers visited the room in which Van Gogh received his hydrotherapy treatments we saw this:
All of us had the same mental image flash, one that I should think would be universal among anyone exposed to the United States advertising market:
Hmmmm. This ad for Cialis seems to have been based on something. But the guy in the ad still seems to have his left ear so it might just be a coincidental similarity.
But happy travels S, and hope you find great material for the book. I offer no apologies for the double entendre of this post title, you heard lots worse during your time down in the excavation trench with a bunch of muddy guys!
The Authoress is heading down there for a visit, and I was happy to report to her that I had already been there on a trip some years ago, and had toured the Saint-Paul Asylum while there. It is a quiet and contemplative place, but did contain one jarring scene.
When our little party of travelers visited the room in which Van Gogh received his hydrotherapy treatments we saw this:
All of us had the same mental image flash, one that I should think would be universal among anyone exposed to the United States advertising market:
Hmmmm. This ad for Cialis seems to have been based on something. But the guy in the ad still seems to have his left ear so it might just be a coincidental similarity.
But happy travels S, and hope you find great material for the book. I offer no apologies for the double entendre of this post title, you heard lots worse during your time down in the excavation trench with a bunch of muddy guys!
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Friday, May 31, 2013
The Big Kitty offers us a Card
We saw this marvelous van parked in a small French town....
Translated it means: deratisation/insect control/destruction of nests of wasps and hornets/disinfection/ treatment of woodwork/defoaming/ The Chatonnerie
Google translate makes a bit of a hash of this, but "deratisation" does exist as a term for ridding a ship of rats. Defoaming appears to refer to some sort of high pressure treatment of wood to get rid of pests that travel on same. And "Chatonnerie" seems to be some sort of pun....evidently the exterminator regards himself as "The Big Kitty".
There is always a small risk involved in standing around photographing things. You look like a tourist. Or an oddball. Maybe both. In fact while admiring this bit of commercial art a fellow came up and asked if we would like his card. Sure enough, it was The Big Kitty himself. It turns out that his name is Americo da Fonseca.
He seems like a nice guy.
Translated it means: deratisation/insect control/destruction of nests of wasps and hornets/disinfection/ treatment of woodwork/defoaming/ The Chatonnerie
Google translate makes a bit of a hash of this, but "deratisation" does exist as a term for ridding a ship of rats. Defoaming appears to refer to some sort of high pressure treatment of wood to get rid of pests that travel on same. And "Chatonnerie" seems to be some sort of pun....evidently the exterminator regards himself as "The Big Kitty".
There is always a small risk involved in standing around photographing things. You look like a tourist. Or an oddball. Maybe both. In fact while admiring this bit of commercial art a fellow came up and asked if we would like his card. Sure enough, it was The Big Kitty himself. It turns out that his name is Americo da Fonseca.
He seems like a nice guy.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
In which I quite nearly violate a Direct Command
I was told that I could not photograph French trailer hitches.
Fine. It shall not be said that I flaunt direct spousal Edicts.
But, hey, who knew? They use a similar style in the Netherlands.
And because it is always wise to keep your Hitch protected....
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
America Gets Saved by the Tax Collectors!
Ship names have always fascinated me. Most of the great ones are from the Age of
Sail, although there are exceptions. It is said for instance that Winston Churchill
more than once proposed the name Cromwell
for a battleship. Final approval
from the King was not forthcoming. Jeez,
you execute one reigning monarch and people remember it for centuries!
While doing a bit of reading on the endless English-French
conflict of the 18th to 19th centuries I came across this
little tidbit from 1761:
“Soon sixteen
line-of-battle ships had been pledged, whose names would proclaim the civic
virtue of their donors: the Langedoc, the Ville de Paris, the Diligent
(sponsored by the postmasters), the Zealous
(by the tax collectors), the Useful (a
hopeful public-relations effort by the farmers-general), and (fashionably but
with some effrontery) the Citizen,
by the court bankers and military financiers.”
This quote is from the delightful book That Sweet Enemy by Robert and Isabelle Tombs.
To appreciate just how bizarre the above naming system
really is you need to know that the court bankers and military financiers were
totally corrupt. Also that the
farmers-general had nothing to do with farming. They were simply another species of tax collectors. In effect under the old French monarchy the
collection of taxes and fees for some things was subcontracted, literally “farmed out”
to private individuals whose ethics in the pursuit of same were about what
you would expect. They in fact went so far as to build a "Farmers-general wall" around Paris so that nobody could get in or out without paying their fair share!
So what became of these ships? It struck me that they would have been about
the right vintage to have been part of the French effort to support the
American Revolution. And this was true.
The final victory of George Washington and the Continental
Army came at Yorktown in 1781. But it was only made possible by the presence
of a French fleet that kept the Royal Navy from effecting an evacuation. If one looks among the line of battle for the
French we find the:
Zele (Zealous) a 74 gun
ship of the line, and
Citoyen (Citizen), another
74.
So one has to wonder just a little, did the Americans and
their allies, fighting and striving to throw off the yokes of unfair taxation
and forced support of an oppressive military presence find any irony in the fact that
their ultimate victory was made possible in part by the equivalent of the Internal
Revenue Service and the Military Industrial Complex?
As to the other ships mentioned the 80 gun Languedoc and the mighty 104 gun Ville de Paris were also present at Yorktown .
The Diligent
was not, and I have found little mention of her career. But what of the Useful, or in the proper French, the Utile?
What sort of career would you imagine for a ship funded by
the most avaricious of tax collectors? Did you vote for short and sordid?
Could this be the same ship?
Oh, it really wants to fit. The
article describes a “former French warship” named Utile that had been acquired by the French East India Company. The date 1761 fits, if closely. It would have had to have been one of the
first of the subscribed ships finished and would have then been detailed off to
the East India Company.
And the account of taking on a cargo of illegal slaves and
then being shipwrecked on a desolate Indian Ocean
island? Just the behaviour and just
desserts (and deserts) one would imagine for tax collectors!
Additional odd notes: some of the castaways from the wreck of the Utile
eventually escaped by raft to the Mascarene Islands
where they wandered among the palms. .
Alas for assigning an ignominious career to the Utile of the tax collectors. Ship names are so often reused and I have found passing reference to a 58 gun vessel that was launched in a more plausible 1764, then "deleted" in 1771. Facts can sometimes mar an otherwise satisfying story.
But let history record that the weasels of the farmers-general did not come up with enough money for a proper 74 gun ship. Tax revenues always seem to come up short. Or did they pocket the difference?
But let history record that the weasels of the farmers-general did not come up with enough money for a proper 74 gun ship. Tax revenues always seem to come up short. Or did they pocket the difference?
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Our Lady of Rugby
Religion and sport do not comfortably coexist. After all, if prayers for Divine Intervention really worked then the most devout team would always win. There would scarcely be time for anything but prayer, and this would make things a little tedious for paying spectators.
Oh, there have been a few minor cultural references to the practice...the movie Angels in the Outfield occurs to me, as of course does the "Touchdown Jesus" mural that overlooks the football stadium of Notre Dame University in South Bend Indiana.
So I was a little surprised to learn that in a small village in southwestern France there is a rustic chapel known as Notre-Dame-du-Rugby; Our Lady of Rugby.
For the past 45 years the little shrine overlooking Larivierre-Saint-Savin has been a pilgrimage for rugby players from France and the wider European community. It was the project of a local priest who rededicated the abandoned chapel after three players from the area were killed in an automobile crash.
It has some swell stained glass windows:
This one is named "Above the Scrum".
The Virgin at the Line Out.
A detail of Our Lady holding Jesus....who of course is holding a rugby ball!
Oh, there have been a few minor cultural references to the practice...the movie Angels in the Outfield occurs to me, as of course does the "Touchdown Jesus" mural that overlooks the football stadium of Notre Dame University in South Bend Indiana.
So I was a little surprised to learn that in a small village in southwestern France there is a rustic chapel known as Notre-Dame-du-Rugby; Our Lady of Rugby.
For the past 45 years the little shrine overlooking Larivierre-Saint-Savin has been a pilgrimage for rugby players from France and the wider European community. It was the project of a local priest who rededicated the abandoned chapel after three players from the area were killed in an automobile crash.
It has some swell stained glass windows:
This one is named "Above the Scrum".
The Virgin at the Line Out.
A detail of Our Lady holding Jesus....who of course is holding a rugby ball!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Mysteries of France-"Oi"
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Touring the Traboules
Visiting the traboules of Lyon is a little like a treasure hunt. You can start with a map such as this that will show you the basic layout. But there are something like 400 traboules in Lyon and they are not all on the maps. Some are easy to find and to access, others not so much. We confined our search to the old section of Lyon, the area around St. Jean cathedral.
You start with promising looking doors:
I am reminded of the quote from "Young Frankenstein" which involved a similar door:
Dr. Frankenstein: "What knockers!"
Inga: "Oh, thank you doctor."
The time to visit is morning. The understanding between the city and the property owners encourages access, but you will have less luck in the afternoon and almost none in the evening.
Some doors will be wide open, just stroll on it.
In other instances the door will be locked, but there will be a keypad and a button. Push the button, the door sometimes unlocks for you. And sometimes not. In certain cases you can be pretty sure the inhabitants have an "open door policy"
Then there are people who do not want you bothering them.
Sometimes we would simply attach ourselves the tail end of a tour group, some of whose guides had entry codes to otherwise inaccessible traboules. Once we just smiled and sidled in with the mail man!
The appeal of traboules is a little difficult to explain. I think a person from a big city might look at them and just see dimly lit passages and hallways, only noting that in a lot of places they have remained undeveloped, with peeling paint and dingy colors.
But this shows a poverty of imagination. If you can't appreciate the serene calm in the middle of a major city; if you can't enjoy five hundred years of architectural quirks; if you can't imagine the ghosts of Resistance Fighters and petty thieves and of young French lovers on their way to forbidden assignments...
Then you might as well stay home and watch the antics of the Kardashian sisters.
You start with promising looking doors:
Dr. Frankenstein: "What knockers!"
Inga: "Oh, thank you doctor."
The time to visit is morning. The understanding between the city and the property owners encourages access, but you will have less luck in the afternoon and almost none in the evening.
Some doors will be wide open, just stroll on it.
| A sealed over well in a secret courtyard |
The appeal of traboules is a little difficult to explain. I think a person from a big city might look at them and just see dimly lit passages and hallways, only noting that in a lot of places they have remained undeveloped, with peeling paint and dingy colors.
Then you might as well stay home and watch the antics of the Kardashian sisters.
Monday, December 19, 2011
The Traboules of Lyon
Traboule is a word I had never encountered until we started planning a trip to Lyon. It is a contraction of the Latin transambulare-to walk across- and is used to describe small passageways that run between and within buildings.
Apparently when medieval Lyon was reorganizing in the post Roman era, the streets paralleled the two rivers. Access to water was difficult, so the traboules were created. These were needed for both commercial purposes and in some instances to fetch drinking water.
The heart of Lyon is medieval, and while it is claimed that some of the oldest traboules go back to late Roman times I saw no evidence of structures that old. Perhaps they follow the same route.
We made a point of seeking out and exploring traboules, they have a fun, slightly spooky vibe to them. Here are a few pictures. Tips on visiting, including the etiquette so far as we could figure it out, next time.
Apparently when medieval Lyon was reorganizing in the post Roman era, the streets paralleled the two rivers. Access to water was difficult, so the traboules were created. These were needed for both commercial purposes and in some instances to fetch drinking water.
The heart of Lyon is medieval, and while it is claimed that some of the oldest traboules go back to late Roman times I saw no evidence of structures that old. Perhaps they follow the same route.
| A typical traboule |
| staircases winding upward |
| The local limestone is full of fossils |
| They are generally found behind whopping great doors like this. |
| A shadowy woman of mystery in the traboules of Lyon |
Sunday, November 27, 2011
The Darker Side of France
I enjoyed my trip to France. The people were much nicer in the south than they were in Paris on my last visit some 30 years ago. And of course, the wine, the food, the sun....
But it is not perfect. It has a feeling of grandeur in decline, yet with a sort of residual swagger that you do not for instance feel in an England where the Sun is Setting.
So as I wandered here and there I was not surprised to find among other Detritus of Empire some hints of a darker side of France. You have to get off the main tourist tracks to do so, but then my feet are always drawn to side streets and back alleys.
Antifa refers to an anti-fascism movement. Anti Antifa would be a double negative, so a pro fascist poster. I looked on the internet, so you don't have to, it seems to refer to a sort of skin head neo nazi thing. They have concerts of unpleasant music.
This does not translate well with my nifty internet app. But appears to speak well of Mussolini. A great man and a great people or some such. For all the snippy comments from the French on our horrid right wing politics I think our Gallic friends have some 'splainin' to do!
The French are big on statues. Many philosophers and humanists, but not a few soldiers as well. Including this square jawed worthy:
Meet Sergent Blandin. He died on the "Field d'honneur" in Algeria in 1842, heroically refusing to surrender when his small detachment was set upon by 300 Arab horsemen.
Here is the front of the statue:
Note the red painted inscription....zooming in:
I guess there is no specific point to the above examples of French imperfections. All countries, all peoples have some. And the difficult economic times are hitting Europe even harder than here in the states. Also, the French have a reputation to maintain, of a passionate, hot tempered, argumentative bunch of folks.
We can't expect them to be correct all the time.
But it is not perfect. It has a feeling of grandeur in decline, yet with a sort of residual swagger that you do not for instance feel in an England where the Sun is Setting.
So as I wandered here and there I was not surprised to find among other Detritus of Empire some hints of a darker side of France. You have to get off the main tourist tracks to do so, but then my feet are always drawn to side streets and back alleys.
| Kind of a trifecta here, xenophobia, anti-semitism and anti-immigrant sentiments all at once |
The French are big on statues. Many philosophers and humanists, but not a few soldiers as well. Including this square jawed worthy:
Here is the front of the statue:
We can't expect them to be correct all the time.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
A TGV Hobo
This is the French high speed train, the TGV:
We rode this twice on our recent trip, and it was certainly the best train ride of my life. Clean, quiet, pretty much on time. The seats were comfortable and compared to our recent airline seating were roomy and luxurious. The French also have a nice sense of style, they had some very fetching young ladies as attendants on the platform getting people on and off in rapid fashion. These mademoiselles were decked out in marvelous uniforms that made them look like Cossack officers with lots of pink trim. I called them the Fashion Police. Spouse forbid me to photograph them, pointing out that it might be illegal.
And the worst train ride of my life? Oh, you have to go back a ways. Once back in my Med School days my brother and I decided we would try being hobos for a trip out west. We were influenced by a friend of ours, a certain "Shoe" whose relative sense of fun and danger should have been clear to us from his evident enjoyment of marijuana and his overseas work helping clear mines in Cambodia.*
There are a lot of details of that trip that are better left unchronicled, but I will always remember a train of vintage boxcars filled with what looked like nice comfortable cardboard. We hopped aboard, only to discover that it was a train of cars headed to a repair facility. They all had damaged wheels. The train could only limp along with "relative" safety at about 30 miles per hour. And as we were essentially running on square wheels there was an incessant racket and shimmy to the ride. After many hours of "chunk-chunk-CHUNK---chunk-chunk-CHUNK" we staggered off this journey of the damned in Glasgow Montana, a community that I am unlikely to ever see again, but will eternally regard as a blessed, tranquil Eden.
----------
*At a recent gathering of old friends I heard various tales of "Shoe's" fate. He became a banker (probably false). He still lives by a train yard (probably true). He married a woman from Cambodia who later left him and joined a Buddhist monastery in France (yes, that seems plausible).
And the worst train ride of my life? Oh, you have to go back a ways. Once back in my Med School days my brother and I decided we would try being hobos for a trip out west. We were influenced by a friend of ours, a certain "Shoe" whose relative sense of fun and danger should have been clear to us from his evident enjoyment of marijuana and his overseas work helping clear mines in Cambodia.*
There are a lot of details of that trip that are better left unchronicled, but I will always remember a train of vintage boxcars filled with what looked like nice comfortable cardboard. We hopped aboard, only to discover that it was a train of cars headed to a repair facility. They all had damaged wheels. The train could only limp along with "relative" safety at about 30 miles per hour. And as we were essentially running on square wheels there was an incessant racket and shimmy to the ride. After many hours of "chunk-chunk-CHUNK---chunk-chunk-CHUNK" we staggered off this journey of the damned in Glasgow Montana, a community that I am unlikely to ever see again, but will eternally regard as a blessed, tranquil Eden.
----------
*At a recent gathering of old friends I heard various tales of "Shoe's" fate. He became a banker (probably false). He still lives by a train yard (probably true). He married a woman from Cambodia who later left him and joined a Buddhist monastery in France (yes, that seems plausible).
Friday, November 4, 2011
Mysteries of France-Super Hero division
From my wandering observations:
A rather un-super looking fellow. As best I can figure out this is an old fashioned poster that directs you to a web site. It seems to be political cartoons.
A sign outside a clinic. I'm sorry, but if you want people to feel good about getting immunizations a picture of you wearing a "weasel-squeezer" spandex suit while holding a six foot tall harpoon of a syringe is not going to do that. I also note that there is no logo or emblem on the chest. GenericMan.
Udders, but massive biceps and a lantern jaw on this cow. Say, there's no added hormones in this beef, are there?
More of a Super Villain I guess. Pripiat is a big mysterious swamp in Russia. Maybe he comes from there?
A rather un-super looking fellow. As best I can figure out this is an old fashioned poster that directs you to a web site. It seems to be political cartoons.
A sign outside a clinic. I'm sorry, but if you want people to feel good about getting immunizations a picture of you wearing a "weasel-squeezer" spandex suit while holding a six foot tall harpoon of a syringe is not going to do that. I also note that there is no logo or emblem on the chest. GenericMan.
Udders, but massive biceps and a lantern jaw on this cow. Say, there's no added hormones in this beef, are there?
More of a Super Villain I guess. Pripiat is a big mysterious swamp in Russia. Maybe he comes from there?
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Mysteries of France-But is it Art?
I won't bore you with standard graffiti, its much the same the world over. But in a couple of places, Arles in particular, there were some things that looked like art student projects. Maybe?
There is some kind of social commentary going on here. Does the Pret a Porter (ready to wear) phrase relate to the image or not?
A contented Meercat in Avignon.
Not sure what language is represented here. I'm not even going to try a translation.
Since spouse blogs under the pen name Next Door Laura this one had me worried a bit. The red sticker up at the top looked like something official, so I think this is an art project of some sort......
There is some kind of social commentary going on here. Does the Pret a Porter (ready to wear) phrase relate to the image or not?
A contented Meercat in Avignon.
Not sure what language is represented here. I'm not even going to try a translation.
Since spouse blogs under the pen name Next Door Laura this one had me worried a bit. The red sticker up at the top looked like something official, so I think this is an art project of some sort......
Friday, October 28, 2011
Dogs of France
My natural affinity for dogs is increased when I travel, especially to places where I am not fluent in the language. Like the local canines, I am able to understand most of what is going on around me, but can't comment. And I have to endure shopping.
| I feel your pain, mon frer... |
Street markets seem particularly hard on dogs. They would really rather be somewhere else...
But other aspects of canine life in France seem OK. They are for instance welcomed in cafes. One place even had specific arrangements for them:| Not sure why this is in English. Dogs don't read it any better than French. |
And the well dressed and coiffed French do not forget their pets:
| It is hard to be sure, but the dog seems to have his mouth open. The notes indicate singing. And the bubbles? |
My archeology instincts never quite go dormant, so I am always scanning the ground in front of me. This can be a good thing, as there are too few green areas in urban France for canine pit stops. Step carefully. Unlike here in the States I never saw anyone carrying a scooper/bag type set up. Centuries of medieval sanitation leave some sort of cultural mark I guess. But I did see some minimal evidence that they were trying....
Ayez le bon reflexe! Sunday, October 23, 2011
Mysteries of France-The Cartoon Eyes
Although I suppose all the merch is actually made in the same Chinese sweat shops I could not help but notice that the eyes of cartoon characters are different in France. Really. Have a look.
This first one is not too bad. Lego guy looks a bit heroic, and has cheekbone marks and a chin cleft not generally seen on round plastic cylinders, but the eyes are notable only for being a bit beadier than usual.
Same news stand. A Tom and Jerry comic where the cat has surprisingly villainous eyes. Oh, and it looks as if you get a plastic hammer as part of the deal. And are those blue plastic horse shoes? Yes, some opportunities for cooperative play between these two mortal foes. I suppose a plastic anvil was too bulky.
At a street market. Tinkerbell looks fairly standard but Minnie is sporting some extra long lashes. And that Barbie clone front and center has eyes that occupy about 50% of the width of her face. Here in the states Babs has some unrealistic proportions to be sure, but the eyes are usually human.
Yikes! You know, I have issues with Garfield in his conventional format-that being a bipedal, omniverous sentinent being who can communicate telepathically with his half wit owner. But here we see him as a hideous lemur-god whose bulging eyes occupy his entire face. Sheesh, nightmare fuel....
This first one is not too bad. Lego guy looks a bit heroic, and has cheekbone marks and a chin cleft not generally seen on round plastic cylinders, but the eyes are notable only for being a bit beadier than usual.
Same news stand. A Tom and Jerry comic where the cat has surprisingly villainous eyes. Oh, and it looks as if you get a plastic hammer as part of the deal. And are those blue plastic horse shoes? Yes, some opportunities for cooperative play between these two mortal foes. I suppose a plastic anvil was too bulky.
![]() |
| comparison T and J |
At a street market. Tinkerbell looks fairly standard but Minnie is sporting some extra long lashes. And that Barbie clone front and center has eyes that occupy about 50% of the width of her face. Here in the states Babs has some unrealistic proportions to be sure, but the eyes are usually human.
Yikes! You know, I have issues with Garfield in his conventional format-that being a bipedal, omniverous sentinent being who can communicate telepathically with his half wit owner. But here we see him as a hideous lemur-god whose bulging eyes occupy his entire face. Sheesh, nightmare fuel....
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