Singers Rarely Read

Roderick was excited about reading Locke's Two Treatises of Government. Thus, he is disappointed to discover that the middle section of Locke's draft, intended for insertion between the first and second treatises, is missing and lost to history. "Bummer," he thinks. "I thought this book was a bargain."

In class, Mr. Parvelescu launches into his lecture.

The first thing you should know about Locke's Two Treatises is that you can ignore the first treatise and the first chapter of the second treatise, since all of that was dropped from the editions available to Enlightenment thinkers and the Founders of the American Republic.

Well thank you very much for telling us that now, thinks Roderick. I can think of better ways to spend a Sunday than trying to decipher Locke's fisking of Robert Filmer. Talk about your straw man arguments -- as if anyone believes in the divine right of kings.

Mr. Parvelescu continues:

So we're going to jump ahead to the second treatise. Here, Locke continues in the Hobbesean tradition of arguing from a state of nature, but Locke's concept of 'nature' differs from Hobbes'. To Hobbes, 'nature" is a state of anarchy and lawlessness, in which life is nasty, brutish and short. To Locke, the state of nature is governed by unwritten natural laws which, because they are unwritten, are subject to conflicting interpretation. Since there is no authority in the state of 'nature', Locke argues, there is no way to adjudicate conflicts, which are consequently settled by force of arms and war.

Thus, while Hobbes argues that civil authority (and the sovereign) are necessary to save us from ourselves, Locke argues that civil authority is a means to clarifying norms and settling conflict without war.

After class, Roderick stops at the Dining Hall to grab a bite. He sees that Anna is sitting with Emily Pointe, the girl who sat with them a week ago. He joins them.

Anna introduces him. "Roderick, this is Emily Pointe."

Roderick waves. "Yes, I remember. You sat with us last week."

"Emily is studying dance."

Ah, thinks Roderick. That explains the small breasts. He tries to think of a way to bring this up for discussion, and concludes that there is no way to do so. "That's nice," he says.

"Were you in class just now?" asks Anna of Roderick.

Roderick takes a bite out of his tuna sandwich. "Yes, Mr. Parvelescu's Foundations of Politics. We're studying Locke's Two Treatises of Government, though actually we're just studying the second because we skipped over the first even though I spent Sunday afternoon reading it."

Wow, thinks Emily. He reads John Locke. Maybe he will fuck me if I treat him nice.

"I haven't read anything by John Locke," says Anna. Neither Roderick nor Emily is surprised by this statement, since Anna is a singer and singers rarely read anything at all.

Better to Wait

Megan continues with her latest project, Pride and Prejudice in tweets.

Big Daddy Bennett @mrbennett
@mrsbennett saw #Bingley today @#Netherfieldpark

Mama Bennett @mrsbennett
RT @mrbennett saw #Bingley today @#Netherfieldpark

LizzyB @elizabethbennett
WTF?

KittyKat @catherinebennett
Feel like shit today #cough

Big Daddy Bennett @mrbennett
@elizabethbennett U know #Bingley?

LizzyB @elizabethbennett
@mrbennett who?

PlainMary @marybennett
I hate Twitter

Mama Bennett @mrsbennett
I don't trust #Bingley

KittyKat @catherinebennett
Still feel like shit #cough

BrattyBennett @lydiabennett
Whassup?

She stops writing, for a moment, takes a deep breath, and plunges into Chapter Three.

LadyLoo @ladylucas
@mrsbennett @janebennett @elizabethbennett @catherinebennett @marybennett @lydiabennett #Bingley is nice. He dances.

Mama Bennett @mrsbennett
@mrbennett I want to see one #daughters living @ #nethersfield

Mama Bennett @mrsbennett
@mrbennett and the rest #married

BigWallet @fitzwilliamdarcy
@charlesbingley u c bennett girlz? #hot

CharlieB @charlesbingley
@fitzwilliamdarcy No just dad

BigWallet @fitzwilliamdarcy
@charlesbingley They r #hot

CharlieB @charlesbingley
@fitzwilliamdarcy u said

LadyLoo @ladylucas
@mrsbennett @janebennett @elizabethbennett @catherinebennett @marybennett @lydiabennett #Bingley bringing twelve ladies to the ball.

PlainMary @marybennett
Fuck that

PrettyWoman @janebennett
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

LadyLoo @ladylucas
@mrsbennett @janebennett @elizabethbennett @catherinebennett @marybennett @lydiabennett Wait only six

PrettyWoman @janebennett
Thank god

PlainMary @marybennett
@elizabethbennett at the ball where R U?

LizzyB @elizabethbennett
@marybennett in the #loo

PrettyWoman @janebennett
@ladylucas @elizabethbennett @catherinebennett @marybennett @lydiabennett #Bingleys OK Hurst OK whois other guy?

LadyLoo @ladylucas
@janebennett @elizabethbennett @catherinebennett @marybennett @lydiabennett #Darcy

BrattyBennett @lydiabennett
@janebennett @elizabethbennett @catherinebennett @marybennett #darcy rowwwr

LizzyB @elizabethbennett
Im just sitting here

BigWallet @fitzwilliamdarcy
I hate #dancing

BigWallet @fitzwilliamdarcy
@janebennett u r hot

CharlieB @charlesbingley
@fitzwilliamdarcy check out @elizabethbennett

BigWallet @fitzwilliamdarcy
@charlesbingley meh

LizzyB @elizabethbennett
Darcy can go fuck himself

Megan pauses, and ponders when to introduce the S&M. Not yet, she decides. Better to wait a few chapters.

The Elusive Mr. Strnk

Two weeks into the semester and Roderick still can't find Mr. Strnk.

At breakfast on Tuesday, he complains: "It's two weeks into the semester and I still can't find Mr. Strnk."

Megan checks her nails. "Who?"

"Mr. Strnk, in the English department."

"Is he lost?"

"I don't know, I just can't find him. I couldn't find him last semester, either."

"Is he on sabbatical?"

"No. I checked with the English department and they say he's not on leave or anything, but he's never in his office."

"Why don't you just go to one of his lectures?"

"No lectures, only tutorials and advising."

"Why do you want to see him?"

"He's the author of The Elements of Twitter Style, the Amazon best-seller. Do you have a copy?" Roderick pushes a small book across the breakfast table. Megan picks it up and begins to read:

Elementary Principles of Tweet Composition

(1) Limit tweets to one hundred and forty characters. 'Nuf said.

(2) Make liberal use of letter homophones, such as abbreviations and acronyms. An abbreviation is a shortening of a word, for example "CU" or "CYA" for "see you (see ya)". An acronym, on the other hand, is a subset of abbreviations and are formed from the initial components of a word. Examples of common acronyms include "LOL" for "laugh out loud" or "lots of love" and "BTW" for "by the way". There are also combinations of both, like "CUL8R" for "see you later".

(3) Use punctuation for stress. Periods or exclamation marks may be used repeatedly for emphasis, such as "........" or "!!!!!!!!!!". Grammatical punctuation rules are also relaxed on Twitter. "E-mail" may simply be expressed as "email", and apostrophes can be dropped so that "John's book" becomes "johns book". Examples of capitalizations include "STOP IT", which can convey a stronger emotion of annoyance as opposed to "stop it". Bold, underline and italics are also used to indicate stress.

(4) Use onomatopoeic spellings. One well-known example is "hahaha" to indicate laughter. Onomatopoeic spellings are very language specific. For instance, in Spanish, laughter will be spelt as "jajaja" instead. Deliberate misspellings, such as "sauce" for "source", are also used

Megan pauses and ponders what Pride and Prejudice would be like as a series of tweets. She imagines:

Jane Austen @jausten
Everyone knows that a rich single man needs a wife. #cw #rich_single_men

Roderick interrupts her reverie. "I have to run, but you can borrow the book." Megan barely notices.

Mama Bennett @mrsbennett
@Mrbennett have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last? #Netherfieldpark #rentals

Big Daddy Bennett @mrbennett
@mrsbennett No

Meanwhile, in the Conservatory, Molly struggles to play Scarbo. It's not going well today.

Scarbo

At dinner, Molly announces that she's starting to learn a new piece on the piano, Ravel's Gaspard de la Nuit.

"Do you like it?" asks Anna.

"I don't know," says Molly. "It's very hard."

After dinner, Roderick sits at his desk surfing YouTube. He watches this video about Berlusconi.

Gosh, he thinks. That Berlusconi fella sure knows how to throw rocks at a beehive.

Molly knocks on the door and slips inside without waiting for Roderick to answer. Moments later, her clothing is on the floor (again, without waiting for Roderick).

"Look what I found," says Roderick, gesturing toward the computer screen. Molly is curious; she looks over Roderick's shoulder.

Together, they watch this video of Valentina Lisitska playing the third and final movement of Gaspard, (entitled Scarbo). For nine minutes, they watch, transfixed.

At the end of the video, Molly lets our her breath. "Phew," she says. "Those hands. It looks hard."

"She looks like you," says Roderick. "Except for that pink dress."

Molly agrees that the pink dress looks ridiculous. If Molly had her druthers she would perform in the nude, but it's generally not permitted.

The Elements of Style

Today is Septuagesima Sunday, seventy days before Easter and the third Sunday before Lent. Today, in St. Cecilia Chapel, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale performs J.S.Bach's Cantata BWV 92, Ich hab in Gottes Herz und Sinn. Emily Scharf sings the Soprano solo while Zack fondles her buttocks; Mrs. Dowager sings the Alto solo; one of the ringers sings the Tenor solo; and Zack sings the Bass solo while Emily fondles his buttocks.

The text of the cantata is based on the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard. Mr. Throb of the Theology faculty offers today's inspirational message. He begins by reading aloud the pertinent passage from the Bible:

For the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that is an householder, which went out early in the morning to hire labourers into his vineyard. And when he had agreed with the labourers for a penny a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And he went out about the third hour, and saw others standing idle in the marketplace, And said unto them; Go ye also into the vineyard, and whatsoever is right I will give you. And they went their way. Again he went out about the sixth and ninth hour, and did likewise. And about the eleventh hour he went out, and found others standing idle, and saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle? They say unto him, Because no man hath hired us. He saith unto them, Go ye also into the vineyard; and whatsoever is right, that shall ye receive. So when even was come, the lord of the vineyard saith unto his steward, Call the labourers, and give them their hire, beginning from the last unto the first. And when they came that were hired about the eleventh hour, they received every man a penny. But when the first came, they supposed that they should have received more; and they likewise received every man a penny. And when they had received it, they murmured against the goodman of the house, Saying, These last have wrought but one hour, and thou hast made them equal unto us, which have borne the burden and heat of the day. But he answered one of them, and said, Friend, I do thee no wrong: didst not thou agree with me for a penny? Take that thine is, and go thy way: I will give unto this last, even as unto thee. Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil, because I am good? So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but few chosen.

Mr. Throb finishes reading and looks up at the congregation. "Okay," he says. "I have several thoughts about this parable.

"First, these laborers are pretty stupid, working all day for a penny. I mean, what can you buy with a penny? Pretty much nothing. You might as well collect welfare or unemployment or whatever.

"Also, this householder is a piece of work. I mean, he pays his workers peanuts and on top of that he pays the same amount to the workers who start early and those who start late, which is almost certainly violates labor laws in most states. Then, when the workers complain he quotes contract law and says, like, 'hey, this is my property and if you don't like what I pay you go fuck yourself'.

"Which reminds me of that passage in Marx where the factory owner shows the worker the great army of the unemployed standing outside to justify paying starvation wages.

"So if the householder is a metaphor for God or something, I'd say we need a union.

"Other than that, I have no idea what this parable is about, so let's cut this short."

With that, Mr. Pipes cranks up the organ with a triumphal recessional and the service is over.

Lily Chang awaits outside. She invites Roderick to lunch with suggestions of possible sex. Roderick is tempted -- the sight of her decolletage reminds him, once again, that she is buxom for an Asian girl (even one from Minneapolis) -- but he declines. "I have to read John Locke for Mr. Parvelescu's seminar," he says.

Back in his room, Roderick stretches out on the bed with Locke's Two Treatises and begins to read Book One:

Slavery is so vile and miserable an estate of man, and so directly opposite to the generous temper and courage of our nation; that it is hardly to be conceived, that an Englishman, much less a gentleman, should plead for it. And truly I should have taken Sir Robert Filmer’s Patriarcha, as any other treatise, which would persuade all men, that they are slaves, and ought to be so, for such another exercise of wit, as was his who writ the encomium of Nero; rather than for a serious discourse meant in earnest, had not the gravity of the title and epistle, the picture in the front of the book, and the applause that followed it, required me to believe, that the author and publisher were both in earnest. I therefore took it into my hands with all the expectation, and read it through with all the attention due to a treatise that made such a noise at its coming abroad, and cannot but confess my self mightily surprised, that in a book, which was to provide chains for all mankind, I should find nothing but a rope of sand, useful perhaps to such, whose skill and business it is to raise a dust, and would blind the people, the better to mislead them; but in truth not of any force to draw those into bondage, who have their eyes open, and so much sense about them, as to consider, that chains are but an ill wearing, how much care soever hath been taken to file and polish them.

He pauses. Wow, he thinks, that paragraph is a doozy. And who the bleepity-bleep is Sir Robert Filmer?

He continues to read:

If any one think I take too much liberty in speaking so freely of a man, who is the great champion of absolute power, and the idol of those who worship it; I beseech him to make this small allowance for once, to one, who, even after the reading of Sir Robert’s book, cannot but think himself, as the laws allow him, a freeman: and I know no fault it is to do so, unless any one better skilled in the fate of it, than I, should have it revealed to him, that this treatise, which has lain dormant so long, was, when it appeared in the world, to carry, by strength of its arguments, all liberty out of it; and that from thenceforth our author’s short model was to be the pattern in the mount, and the perfect standard of politics for the future.

Roderick pauses again. Jeez, he thinks. This guy Locke never read The Elements of Style, it seems, especially the part about omitting needless words. Boil those grafs down, dude, to something like 'Slavery sucks, Filmer's an idiot and I'm going to flatten him.'

He starts reading again, but there is a knock on the door. It's Megan, dressed in her Regency gown. She pushes in.

"Mr. Darcy, I came by to tell you that I couldn't possibly submit to your salacious lust unless, of course, you force me to do so."

Okay, perhaps Locke can wait awhile.

Second Girlfriend Redux

"Great news!" says Natasha, at breakfast. There is a pregnant pause as Roderick, Molly, Anna and Megan all wait for the shoe to drop.

"Um, what's that?" inquires Roderick, who generally does not like to wait for shoes to drop.

"I've been selected for the Spring Art Exhibition, and I get a featured position in the gallery."

"Well, um, that's nice," says Roderick.

Molly reddens slightly.

Anna asks: "What will you exhibit?" It's the question everyone is thinking.

"Well, there's Molly's Ladyparts, of course. I settled on that name (thank you, Megan). And Molly, Afterwards, the other one you saw a couple of months back; and I have a whole series of Molly paintings from last year, but my work has matured so much since then."

Roderick takes a bite of scrapple. "By 'matured', I guess you mean 'more pornographic'."

Natasha looks slightly insulted. "I'm an artist. Don't oppress me with bourgeois categories."

Molly is resigned. "So I guess my private parts will be on display for all to see."

Anna offers some practical wisdom. "It's kind of an occupational hazard when you pose in the nude."

Later in the day, Roderick sits at the desk in his room checking out Nigel Farage videos on YouTube. There is a knock on the door; it's Megan. Roderick invites her in.

Megan's pursuit of Henry is not going well. The differences, it seems, are too great: Henry is quiet, diligent, hard-working, rational and focused on tax policy; Megan on the other hand is obsessed with Jane Austen, guns, sex and is pretty much stark raving crazy. Megan had hoped that patience and trust would overcome these differences, but now realizes that patience and trust are qualities she lacks.

So she's hitting on Roderick again.

"Ooh, Mr. Darcy, I have something in my eye. Can you check it for me?"

"Um, OK, sit down on the bed here." Roderick motions, Megan sits and Roderick sits next to her. He inspects her eye. "I don't see anything."

Megan blinks a few times. "There's it's gone now," she says, smiling. "Just give me a minute to recover."

They sit together for a few minutes.

"Mr. Darcy, I do believe you will have to punish me, because I'm very naughty today."

Roderick doesn't quite understand who 'Mr. Darcy' is or why Megan is addressing him as the aforementioned Darcy, but figures he will play along, because it's generally a good idea to play along with Megan when she's carrying her Glock. "Naughty? What did you do?"

Megan snuggles close. "I didn't change my underwear today."

"You don't wear underwear."

"Exactly!" says Megan.

Roderick looks at the clock. "Wow! It's almost ten o'clock. Time for bed. Gotta sing in the Chorale tomorrow."

"It's dark outside, can I sleep here?" pleads Megan.

"Um, OK." Roderick is too kind to point out that Megan lives down one flight of stairs and about twenty feet up a well-lit corridor.

"You don't mind if I sleep naked, do you? It relaxes me."

"Um, no, I don't mind."

"And can I snuggle up against you to keep warm?"

"Um, sure."

It's dark and the room is quiet. Roderick can hear a soprano warbling something in the distance, and wonders if Anna is practicing.

"Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes?"

"Can I be your second girlfriend again?"

Roderick consents to the arrangement, not because he is disloyal to Molly but because he is completely and totally loyal to Molly.

At least, for the time being.

Absence of Sex Toys

This evening, Natasha unveils her latest "Molly" painting.

"I dread this," says Molly at breakfast.

"She promised no sex toys," says Roderick, reassuringly, between bites of scrapple.

"I don't let her near mine," says Megan, giggling.

"Still, I just think she has something up her sleeve," says Molly. She refers, of course, to Natasha's incomplete understanding of the Beauneville Latin motto, which translates as "Anything is permitted as long as it's tasteful"; she comprehends the former but not the latter.

"Did I tell you that 2013 is the bicentennial of Pride and Prejudice?" interjects Megan, changing the subject. Roderick and Molly are too kind to point out that since New Years' Day, Megan has spoken of little else.

At the appointed hour, Roderick and Molly walk together down the hall to Natasha's suite and knock on the door. A butler opens the door and peers at them imperiously. "Yessss?"

"Um, we're here for the unveiling."

"I presuuuuume that you are invited."

"Yes, we are."

"And your names?"

"Roderick and Molly."

The butler looks over his shoulder. "They may enter." It's Natasha speaking. The butler stands aside and beckons to them. They enter.

Albert and Pamela are already there, noshing. You can generally depend on Albert and Pamela to arrive to any event early, and to liberally partake in whatever digestibles are present.

Natasha greets Roderick and Molly. "I'm so glad you came."

Roderick looks at the butler and back to Natasha. "What happened to the last one?"

Natasha dismisses the question. "I need variety."

Shortly, Anna and Megan arrive. Megan wears her favorite 'Jane Austen meets S&M' outfit, consisting of a long Regency gown and a dog collar. While Molly is in the bathroom, Megan nuzzles up to Roderick. "Want to know what I'm wearing underneath this gown?"

"Um..."

"Nothing." She whispers that information while pressing herself against Roderick in such a way that the veracity of the statement requires no verification.

"Okay, everyone, it's time," calls Natasha. She stands next to a covered easel on which there is a large portrait-style canvas that appears to be about three feet wide and four feet wide. Everyone gathers around, and with appropriate drama, Natasha lifts the cover.

Nothing is said for at least fifteen seconds. Natasha looks from face to face, searching for a response.

Roderick breaks the silence. "Uh, when did you decide to go abstract?"

Natasha scowls. "It's not at all abstract, it's purely representational."

Molly reddens slightly. "Oh, I think I know what it is." She reddens some more.

Roderick looks at the painting again. "Oh, right. Yes, I see. Very realistic. Almost...."

"Anatomical." Anna finishes his sentence.

More silence.

"So, um, what do you think you will name it?" wonders Roderick.

Natasha looks at the painting, then back to Roderick. "I'm not sure. I was thinking Molly's Vagina, but that sounds too clinical. What do you think?"

Roderick ponders. "Quim sounds nicer."

"Ladyparts" says Megan, perkily.

"Fica" says Anna.

Molly is puzzled. "I don't understand. How did you get the detail? I've never posed for you like that."

Natasha ruffles through a photo album and produces an image of Molly standing, nude, in the manner of Venus. On the image, a little rectangle is marked at a strategic location. On the next page, Natasha shows them the little rectangle massively enlarged.

Molly is still confused. "But look at it! It's so blurry you can't make anything out."

Natasha shrugs. "Silly. I just used a mirror on myself to fill in the details."

Later that evening, Roderick snuggles up to Molly. Ever positive, he points out the absence of sex toys in Natasha's painting.

Nigel Farage is Winning

At breakfast, Roderick sits with Molly, Anna and Natasha. They reminisce about their recent trip to Berlin.

"What is it about the Berlin Wall?" whines Natasha.

Roderick cocks his head. "Ummm..."

"I mean, what's the big deal? We keep hearing about the Berlin Wall this and the Berlin Wall that. I didn't see any wall."

Roderick has to admit that except for a short segment on Niederdorferstrasse by the Topography of Terror, they didn't see much of the Wall either. "I guess it's another one of those fake Berlin tourist attractions."

"Like the Schloss," says Molly drily.

"Or the Hall of the Hohenzollerns," says Anna. Though they searched Berlin from Amalienhof to Zehlendorf, they never did find the Hohenzollerns.

"Or the Kaiser Wilhelm Church, the Siegesallee or the Cafe Des Westens," says Roderick.

After breakfast, Molly sits down at the Bosendorfer and plays several of the Contrapuncti from J.S.Bach's Kunst Der Fugue. Roderick listens for awhile, then goes back to his room, and surfs online. He finds this nifty video of the Contrapunctus #9 on YouTube.

He continues to surf. David Cameron is in the news, after announcing that he supports a referendum on whether or not Britain should remain in the European Union. He watches this video.

"Nigel Farage is winning," he thinks.

At dinner, Natasha announces that she has solved the riddle of the Berlin Wall. "Mr. Gorbachev tore it down," she says proudly. "President Reagan told him to do it."

Of course, Natasha has no idea who Mr. Gorbachev is.

Not Buxom

Roderick and Molly are busy, busy, busy.

First, there are the academics. Roderick got into the seminars for Logic, Rhetoric and Mathematics, but Molly has to muddle through with the lectures. (Megan advised Molly to meet with the seminar faculty and ask for special permission to attend, and offered to "lend her kneepads", but Molly didn't understand the suggestion).

Molly also has Counterpoint -- she did pretty well in that -- and Anna is teaching her Italian. Roderick continues in Mr. Rothschild's History of Banking lecture, and has also signed up for Mr. Parvalescu's Foundations of Politics seminar.

On top of that workload, Molly has her modeling job that helps pay for tuition; Roderick doesn't have a job because Mr. Smith pays cash. Mr. Bloom expects each of his daughters to help foot the bill for their education. "Hey, I've got four dowries to fund," he likes to say. Given the choice of prostitution or modeling, Molly prefers modeling; it's not as messy.

Roderick is also involved in Cyathos et Gladios, Old Ivy's secret society. I can't tell you what he does. It's a secret.

On top of all that, this is the peak season for music at Old Ivy. Roderick and Anna have the Bach Chorale, with a performance each week. On top of that, everyone who is musical at Old Ivy participates in the annual Shubertiade on January 31. This is an all-day celebration of Schubert consisting of many performances held in intimate settings that evoke the Viennese Schubertiades of the early nineteenth century. Anna, Roderick and Molly plan to perform Schubert's Shepherd On The Rock, for soprano, clarinet and piano.

That's not the end of it. Mr. Wienerwald has asked Roderick to play in the Strauss orchestra for the annual Vienna ball in February; and the Chamber Orchestra will perform in late February.

Roderick hardly has time to wax, shine and polish the Roadmaster. But he will find time.

"Will you be at the unveiling on Friday?" asks Natasha at dinner. She's sitting with Roderick, Molly, Anna and Megan. Henry is studying tax law, or something.

"No sex toys, right?" asks Molly, nervously.

"No sex toys. Promise. Purely representational, with no imaginary elements."

"Well..okay," says Molly.

"Can I sit here?" It's Emily Pointe, student of the dance, and new on campus.

Roderick, mouth full of fish curry, immediately gestures to Emily, encouraging her to occupy the empty chair. His immediate reaction: Pretty. Not buxom.

Either/Or

Roderick's phone rings. He answers: "Hello!"

"Hey, Roderick, it's your Dad."

"Hi, Dad."

"Whatcha doing right now?"

"Reading Hobbes' Leviathan for Mr. Parvalescu's Foundation of Politics seminar."

"Leviathan? That's a large book."

Roderick chuckles at his Dad's clever play on words.

"Oh, yes, it's a real monster."

Roderick chuckles at his own clever play on words, then inquires: "Are you at home?"

"No, I'm in Minneapolis, for a trade show." Mr. Smith has deviated from his usual practice of traveling only to cities that vaguely evoke real cities but are indefinite as to actual location.

Roderick ponders what he knows about Minneapolis. Cold winters. Big mall. Losing sports teams. Even the Asian girls are buxom. "Is it nice?"

"It's okay. The trade show is in the Hubert Humphrey Center. Here in Minneapolis, they revere the memory of Hubert Humphrey. Everywhere else, he's just a loser."

Roderick ponders what he knows about Hubert Humphrey. Ran against Nixon in 1968 and lost. That's it.

At dinner, Roderick sits with Lily Chang so that he can admire her decolletage and discuss politics, but mostly to admire her decolletage.

"Why are women in Minneapolis so buxom?" he inquires.

"I don't know", says Lily, between bites of chicken wing. "Maybe because of the cold weather?"

"Good explanation," says Roderick, nodding. Great explanation, he thinks. Either it proves conclusively the importance of natural selection in the evolution of species, or it proves that there really is a God, or both.

A Sudden Rain Shower

This morning, for the Second Sunday of Epiphany, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale performs J.S. Bach's cantata BWV 13 Meine Seufzer, meine Tränen in St. Cecilia Chapel. One of the ringers sings the Tenor solo, Mrs. Dowager sings the Alto, Zack sings the Bass and Emily Scharf sings the Soprano with Zack's hand on her buttocks. Roderick and Anna sing in the Chorale.

The text, which translates roughly as "My Sorrow, My Tears" is a lamentation of one who feels abandoned. Today's inspirational speaker is Mr. Henry Bottoms of the Psychology faculty; the title of his message is "Let's Change The Subject". In his message, Mr. Bottoms counsels the congregation to ignore that stuff about lamentation and abandonment, and let a smile be your umbrella.

Roderick and Molly let a smile be their umbrella, and get soaked on the way back to West Quad in a sudden rain shower. For Molly, wet clothes are simply an invitation to get naked, as if she needs one. Roderick follows suit, and the two of them prepare for tomorrow's first day of lectures while sitting on the floor au naturel.

Meanwhile, Natasha prepares to announce the unveiling of her latest Molly painting.

A Loaded Question

Molly is happy to return home to her beloved Bosendorfer. On Saturday morning, Molly rises early, throws on some clothing and bounds downstairs to the piano, where she whips off the Beethoven Opus 22, Opus 26 and Opus 27 #1 sonatas before pausing to gaze at the keyboard.

"Breakfast is served!" It's Mary, the good daughter, who also rose early and made everyone a hot breakfast. Molly takes her usual seat and contemplates a plate of bacon, eggs and hash browns.

She seizes a piece of bacon and nibbles on it. "It's nice to be home," she murmurs.

"How was the food in Berlin, dear?" asks Mr. Bloom.

Molly shrugs. "Breakfast was non-existent, mostly. Roderick ate currywurst because they didn't have scrapple."

The Blooms marveled over the absence of scrapple in Berlin, deeming it rather philistine.

After breakfast, Molly sees that Mary left her new book of erotic art on the coffee table. Seeing a bookmark, she opens the book to the marked page:

"Hey, Mary, this looks like you!" laughs Molly, holding the picture up for all to see.

Margaret, who rarely speaks, is matter-of-fact: "Mary's boobs aren't that big."

Mr. Bloom, craning his neck to see the picture, laughs. "Hey, that's what implants are for! Right, honey?" He puts his arm around Mary and kisses the top of her head.

Bing-bong, the doorbell. Molly's expecting Roderick; they're driving back to Old Ivy this morning. He steps inside while Molly runs upstairs to get her bag.

Mary shows Roderick the picture. "Do you think this looks like me?" she purrs.

Roderick examines the picture, then Mary, then back to the picture. "Maybe you with implants," he says.

Molly and Roderick depart. Roderick steers the Roadmaster through the streets of Beauneville, then out on to the country road to Old Ivy. It snowed while they were in Berlin.

Molly snuggles up to Roderick on the bench seat. "Do you think I would look better with bigger boobs?"

Roderick recognizes this to be a loaded question, but answers honestly. "I think you look nice."

Mary's Birthday

Friday evening. The Smiths and the Blooms gather at the Red Trolley Diner to celebrate Mary Bloom's seventeenth birthday. They sit in the big U-shaped bench at the back of the diner: Mr. and Mrs. Smith at one end, Mr. and Mrs. Bloom at the other end; Molly, Roderick, Mary, Margaret and Catherine in the middle, in that order. Mr. Fuzzums takes his usual position under the table inside Catherine's backpack; Miss Kitty stays home.

Stella's lesbian sister Bella is the waitress tonight. Menus are not needed; everyone knows what they serve at the Red Trolley, and if you want to know about the specials you just ask.

Mr. Bloom feels adventurous tonight. "What's the special?"

"Meatloaf." Bella's feet are tired, and she's grumpier than normal, if that is possible.

Mr. Bloom frowns. "What's special about that? Meatloaf's always on the menu."

Bella gives him her best 'don't fuck with me' look. "Ya want it or not?"

"Um, no, I'll take the Maharashtrian Chicken Curry, and an order of Daal."

"We're out of the Maharashtrian Curry, ya want the Pork Vindaloo instead?"

"Um, okay." If you happen to be in Washington County and are fond of Indian cuisine, the Red Trolley Diner is definitely the place to go. In fact, it's the only place to go.

Mrs. Bloom will share Mr. Bloom's Vindaloo and Daal. Mr. and Mrs. Smith order liver and onions. Roderick, Molly, Mary and Margaret all have hamburgers; Catherine will share a hot dog with Mr. Fuzzums.

"So how does it feel to be seventeen?" asks Mrs. Smith of Mary.

Mary, dressed in her 'shy but sexy schoolgirl' outfit, stretches casually. "About like it felt to be sixteen," she giggles.

The food arrives, and everyone tucks in. The pork vindaloo is extremely hot, and there is a bit of commotion as Mr. Bloom grabs for water. Roderick places his hand on Molly's thigh; she doesn't object.

After dinner, they all walk to the Smith's house and take their seats around the dining table. With great drama, Mrs. Smith carries in a beautiful cake with seventeen lit candles, which Mary extinguishes in a single breath. Mrs. Smith slices the cake and everyone partakes except for Mr. Fuzzums, who doesn't care that much for sweets.

Mary opens her presents. There is the customary book of erotic art from Mr. Bloom (signed 'Love, Daddy'). Mary opens at random at holds up one of the pictures:

Roderick is amused. "Looks like Megan, but with smaller breasts."

Mary opens her other presents. The last one, nicely wrapped, is from Roderick. She smiles it him and shakes it. "I wonder what it is..."

Roderick smiles back. "I guess you'll just have to open it to find out."

Mary does so. It's a copy of How To Monetize Your Vagina, the fourth copy Mary has received as a gift this birthday. She feigns pleasure. "How thoughtful, thank you." She opens the inside cover, where Roderick has written a little personal message. Damn, she thinks. Can't return it.

Nothing Intelligent to Say

Home at last. Roderick and Molly arrive home just after midnight, shed their clothes and plunge beneath the covers.

A little after eight Roderick rises and, taking care not to wake Molly, dons his bathrobe and slippers. Slipping silently out of the room, he descends the stairs to the kitchen, then out the back door to the carriage house, where his Roadmaster sleeps silently.

Opening the door and sliding behind the wheel, he inspects his prize.

While they were in Berlin, some dust accumulated on the dashboard. Roderick wipes it clean and burnishes the chrome until it gleams.

He depresses the accelerator and turns the key; the Fireball Straight Eight roars to life. Shifting the Dynaflow into reverse, he backs the throbbing behemoth into the driveway so he can inspect her finish in the sunlight.

The Ventiports are dirty. No matter. Roderick cleans and polishes, polishes and cleans until the Ventiports glow in the sun.

Molly joins him. "Let's go for a ride," she says, which Roderick recognizes as code for Molly seeking sexual arousal. He runs back inside, loses the bathrobe, dons shirt, pants and shoes, grabs wallet and runs downstairs to join Molly, who waits expectantly on the big bench seat. Firing up the Fireball again, Roderick backs carefully down the driveway, shifts the Dynaflow to Drive and floors the beast; she surges forward down Elm Street.

Making the left down Fifteenth and right on Main/Maple, the Roadmaster rumbles out past the town limit to Uncle Dave's Farm, home of the Beauneville Pigs (who dine on nothing but Beauneville Beauty apples, and who are ultimately transformed into Beauneville Ham, the apotheosis of pig).

Roderick pulls into the driveway of Uncle Dave's Farm. parks the Roadmaster and sits by the side of the road with Molly to contemplate the moment.

"I have nothing intelligent to say about this moment," says Roderick.

"That's okay," says Molly, hugging his arm. "Let's get something to eat. Also, I have to stop at Dorabella's to get something for Mary."

"Oh, right, Mary's birthday," says Roderick, slapping his forehead. "I need to get her something too." Roderick knows exactly what to get for Mary, who turned seventeen while they were in Berlin. The Smiths and Blooms plan to celebrate at the Red Trolley tomorrow night.

Skinny Soy Latte

One more day in Berlin.

Roderick, Molly, Anna and Natasha are out and about in the general vicinity of the ruins where the Kaiser Wilhelm Church is supposed to be. Feeling peckish, Roderick refers to his Baedeker and reads aloud:

Situated at 18/19 Kurfurstendamm, The Cafe des Westens ("Café of the West") was the first coffee house on the Ku'damm when it opened in 1893. Today, it is the most important gathering place for Berlin artists and intellectuals. Here, the traveler can mingle with the likes of writers and critics such as Alfred Kerr and Herbert Ihering, the painter Max Liebermann, composers and musicians (such as Linke, Kollo, Jean Gilbert and Strauss...

Anna interjects. "Strauss? I love the Blue Danube."

"I think they mean Richard Strauss," says Molly, helpfully.

Natasha looks puzzled. "There's more than one Strauss?"

"Indeed there are," says Roderick. "There are many Strausses, actually." He proceeds to explain in detail the difference between Johann Strauss, Jr. the beloved "Waltz King" of Vienna, who wrote hundreds of lovely waltzes and polkas to which beautiful couples swirled in gorgeous ballrooms bedecked with flowers, and Richard Strauss, composer of the opera Salome, in which the eponymous anti-heroine demands the head of John the Baptist on a platter, lifts the severed head and kisses it on the lips; after which Herod, disgusted, orders his soldiers to crush her to death with their shields, which they do as the curtain falls.

"Oh", says Anna. "That Strauss."

"Read on", says Natasha.

One can also rub elbows with Maximilian Harden, Christian Morgenstern, Frank Wedekind, Carl Sternheim, Emil Orlik, Else Lasker-Schüler, Herwarth Walden, René Schickele and Paul Scheerbarth.

Roderick looks up. "Wow! An establishment frequented by Harden, Morgenstern, Wedekind, Sternheim, Orlik, Lasker-Schüler, Walden, Schickele and Scheerbarth is my kind of place!"

He continues.

Anyone who has made a name for himself can be found here. The painter Emil Orlik, a regular patron, has drawn many pictures of Berlin celebrities in the café...

Natasha interrupts. "Did you say Emil Orlik? I just happen to have some of his pictures here in this book." She thumbs through an album and holds up this page:

Molly likes the picture. "Do they let patrons dine naked?"

Natasha frowns. "No, that's a model. Here's one of his drawings of people from the cafe." She holds up the book again.

Roderick examines the picture. "I guess he didn't have a camera handy."

Natasha looks at him like he's retarded. "Of course he didn't. They only invented iPhones recently."

Roderick reads on:

Known to locals as the "Café Megalomania" the cafe is a kind of home for many artists. The "Café Megalomania" is also famous for permitting women to show themselves here in the latest fashions, thus demonstrating support for emancipation...

Anna, for one, is relieved that they let women into the place.

The cafe is the center of German Expressionism. Here, avant-garde writers such as Else Lasker-Schuler and her husband Herwarth Walden, René Schickele, John Sleep, Erich Mühsam and John Henry Mackay, Peter Hille, Paul Scheerbart, Frank Wedekind, Artur Landsberger, Carl Sternheim, Leonhard Frank, Solomon Friedlander, John Hoexter and Jakob van Hoddis fight the good fight against Naturalism and Impressionism. The cafe is also home to the literary journals Der Sturm and Action...

"Blah, blah, blah," says Natasha. "All I want to know is do they serve a skinny soy latte with flavor shots?"

Roderick closes the Baedeker. "I guess we'll just have to go there and find out. It's right down the Ku'damm."

Unfortunately, though, on arrival at 18 Ku'damm, the quartet finds an upscale restaurant that looks vaguely like an American diner.

"Hmmph" says Roderick. "Must be a misprint."

Anna is disappointed. "I was hoping to see Else Lasker-Schuler."

Molly takes Anna aside. "I think she's dead," she whispers.

Fortunately, there is a Starbucks at the end of the block, so Natasha gets her skinny soy latte with a flavor shot. Good thing. Because when Natasha doesn't get what she wants she gets really grumpy.

Chick on a Stick

"What did you guys do yesterday?" Natasha isn't really interested, but inquires anyway.

"Well," Roderick begins. "It was interesting."

"Yes," adds Molly. "Interesting indeed."

Anna says nothing, as is her habit. Today she's wearing a pretty floral dress and is quite the lady.

"First, we went to see the Schloss," says Roderick.

"Only there was no Schloss," Molly giggles.

"What's a Schloss?" asks Natasha. Anna leans over and whispers an explanation.

"Then we went to see the Hall of the Hohenzollerns at the Berliner Dom, but it seems they never built it."

"And we never did find the Hohenzollerns," adds Molly, helpfully.

Natasha also requires an explanation of who the Hohenzollerns are, which Anna provides. Anna is less successful providing an explanation of why Natasha should care who the Hohenzollerns are, or where they are located.

"So then we went to see the Siegsallee."

Roderick tells the story of how they spent yesterday afternoon. Just finding the Siegsallee was an adventure. They hailed a taxi on the Schlossstrasse and piled into the back seat. The driver, who wore a turban, inquired where they wanted to go.

"Siegsallee, bitte." Roderick feels smug because he knows a German word, though in this case it's unnecessary as the driver learned to speak perfect English at the University of Mumbai, where he studied Civil Engineering and Gender Studies with a Minor in Bioethics.

The taxi driver looked at them blankly. Roderick pointed to a picture in the Baedeker.

The driver scowled and shook his head, so Roderick showed him another picture.

Squinting, the driver examined the picture, shook his head and returned the book to Roderick. Roderick tried one more time:

This time, the driver pointed to the Victory Column in the background. "Chick on a stick!" he exclaimed, and accelerated west on Unter Den Linden.

Molly whispered: "What's chickonastick?"

"German for 'spoils of war', I think" said Roderick.

The taxi driver dropped them on Strasse Des 17 Juni just west of the Victory Column. Roderick scanned the area in vain, looking for the statuary shown in the pictures.

Molly shrugged. "I guess that was fake, too."

Roderick was exasperated. "Berlin is stupid. Nothing's what the travel guide says."

Anna tried to be helpful. "Perhaps a more up-to-date travel guide would help...?"

Next, they went to see the Kaiser Wilhelm Church, shown here:

But all they could find were some ruins and ugly new buildings.

"Okay" said Roderick. "One more sight to see before dinner. Let's go to see the grandest train station in Berlin, the Anhalter Bahnhof. Here's a picture." He held up the Baedeker.

About thirty minutes later, as they gazed at the broken facade, Molly sighed. "I guess nobody rides the train anymore."

Natasha pretends to be interested in this detail as she listens, but she's thinking about Eduardo. She has an itch and needs to be serviced.

Baedeker in Berlin

Except for exhibits of German Romantic painters, Natasha is bored with Berlin.

Roderick, too is somewhat disappointed but for different reasons. Part of the problem is his tour guide, a 1913 Baedeker he found at Dorabella's bookshop, in the "previously owned" section.

Over breakfast, he reads aloud from Baedeker:

In 1699 the Elector Frederick III of Brandenburg (who took the title King in Prussia in 1701, becoming Frederick I), appointed the architect Andreas Schlüter to execute so-called second plan in the Italian manner dating from 1697. Schlüter's first design is likely to date from 1702, who planned to rebuild the palace in the Protestant Baroque style. His overall conception of the shape of a regular cube enclosing a magnificently ornamented courtyard was retained by all the building directors who succeeded him. In 1706, he was replaced by Johann Friedrich Eosander von Göthe, who designed the western extension of the palace doubling its size. In all essentials, Schlüter's balanced, rhythmical articulation of the façades was retained, but Göthe moved the main entrance to the new west wing.

"Wow!" says Roderick. "I can't wait to see this!" He continues to read:

King Frederick William I, who became king in 1713, was interested mainly in building up Prussia as a military power, and dismissed most of the craftsmen working on the Stadtschloss. As a result, Göthe's plan was only partly implemented. Nevertheless, the exterior of the Palace had come close to its final form by the mid 18th century. The final stage was the erection of the dome in 1845, in the reign of Frederick William IV. The dome was built by Friedrich August Stüler after a design of Karl Friedrich Schinkel. Thereafter, only smaller changes in the palace’s exterior took place. Major work took place inside the palace, however, engaging the talents of Georg Wenzeslaus von Knobelsdorff, Carl von Gontard and many others.

"Look, here's a picture." He holds up the Baedeker.

After breakfast, Roderick, Molly and Anna set out to see the Schloss. Roderick bubbles with excitement. "I can't believe that Natasha doesn't want to see this!"

However, on arrival at the location marked on Baedeker's map, they find naught but an empty construction site, with a goofy modern thing.

"Not much of a Schloss," Molly remarks.

Roderick is stumped. "They can't have torn it down, that would be crazy!"

Anna inquires: "What's next in your book?"

"Let's go see the famous Hall of the Hohenzollerns in the Memorial Chapel of the Berliner Dom. It's right across the street. Here's a picture."

"Oooh, the Hohenzollerns!" says Molly. "I can hardly wait!"

The trio make their way across the Schlossstrasse to the Lustgarten, avoiding the pickpockets, beggars, peddlers and other riff-raff. Cutting diagonally across the grass -- the signs say "Please Keep Off The Grass" but they are in German, which Roderick can't read -- they approach the north wall of the Dom and gaze at a blank wall:

"Hmmpf" grumbles Roderick. "I guess they never built it."

"Where are the Hohenzollerns?" Molly wonders.

"I'll ask one of the locals." Roderick strolls over to a woman and child standing on one of the paths in the Lustgarten. The woman holds a sign that says something in German. Roderick speaks briefly to the woman, who shakes her head. He rejoins the others. "She doesn't know where the Hohenzollerns are," he says.

"Piffle." Molly pouts.

"No worries!" says Roderick, leafing through the Baedeker. "Berlin is a big city and there's lots to see. Next, let's check out the Siegesallee."

Lukewarm Potato Salad

Roderick, Molly, Anna and Natasha venture out today to see more spoils of war at the Pergamon Museum. Roderick is excited; he's interested in Antiquity. Natasha is bored.

"It's just a big temple," she says, gesturing toward the Pergamon Altar. "And they stole it from the Greeks."

"The Turks, actually," says Roderick, helpfully.

"Greeks, Turks, whatever. When will we be done here?"

They move on to the Market Gate of Miletus.

"It certainly is big," says Molly.

"It's mostly fake," says Anna, leafing through her guidebook. "They only found fragments, and filled in the rest with cement."

"The Kaiser liked it," says Roderick. He weighs whether or not to start another discussion about the good things the Kaiser did, but decides against it.

Next, the Ishtar Gate. Natasha is not impressed. "Meh," she says. "It's a gate. So what?" The Aleppo Room is more to her liking. "This tile would look nice in the bathroom."

Roderick wishes to see the Bode, but can't bear listening to Natasha whine, so he proposes they take a walk. Across the Spree they go, along Am Kupfergraben to where it turns into Am Weidendamm; then across the river again to the Schiffbauerdamm.

Just past Bertolt-Brecht-Platz, they spy a restaurant named "Brechts". "I'm hungry," says Natasha. "Let's eat here."

"I don't know," says Molly. "It looks expensive."

"That's what Mr. Mastercard is for," says Natasha. "As far as we're concerned, it's all free."

They are a bit early for the lunch crowd and the place isn't too busy. The hostess seats them and distributes menus. Roderick notes the picture of Bertolt Brecht at the top, and notes the irony that a really fancy restaurant is named for a Communist.

Molly squints. "What is 'Gebackener Pinzgauer Ziegenfrischkäse mit Walnusschantilly und Birnenconfit'?" she asks.

Anna leans toward Molly and whispers: "Um...baked goat cream cheese from Pinzgau with walnut chantilly and pear confit. That's twelve Euros."

"Oh," says Molly. "What's Pinzgau?"

Nobody knows what Pinzgau is.

"Any scrapple on the menu?" asks Roderick.

No scrapple.

Roderick likes the sound of 'Wiener Schnitzel in Limonenbutter gebacken mit lauwarmen Kartoffelsalat und Wildpreiselbeeren'. They serve Wiener Schnitzel at the Red Trolley, usually with a side of scrapple. Just to be safe, he points to the menu and asks Anna to translate.

She reads where Roderick points. "It's a veal cutlet fried in lime butter, and it says its served with lukewarm potato salad and wild cranberries."

Roderick orders the veal. "Can you microwave the potato salad so it's not lukewarm? Oh, and you can keep the cranberries." The waiter doesn't understand English, so Roderick just points.

He likes this restaurant even if it is named after a Commie.

Spoils of War

Roderick, Molly, Anna and Natasha make it to the Alte Nationalgalerie today. Finally. Around one in the afternoon.

The day starts around nine. Roderick and Molly take a longish shower, then walk with Anna to the Adlon, but when they arrive Natasha isn't ready; it seems she slept in. So they settle in for breakfast, which takes awhile for Room Service to deliver, and Natasha showers with her valet.

They take their time strolling up Unter Den Linden. Anna has her guidebook, and pauses from time to time to read aloud in German, which none of the other three understand.

They stop by a statue in the middle of the street. Anna announces: "Reiterstandbild König Friedrich II von Preußen."

"What's that?" whispers Molly.

Roderick squints. "Some guy on a horse."

At the museum, they linger over the paintings of Menzel, Schadow, Thorwaldsen, Canova, Schadow, Begas, von Hildebrand, Meunier, Thoma, Feuerbach, Böcklin, von Marées, Leibl, and Trübner; the works of Max Lieberman; the art of Jakob Philipp Hacker and portraits by Anton Graff and his contemporaries. On the next floor, they study the works of the German artists working in Rome, such as Peter Cornelius, Friedrich Overbeck, Wilhelm Schadow and Philipp Veit, plus the frescoes illustrating the story of Joseph, commissioned for the Casa Bartholdy in Rome, which are a major achievement of the period.

After a brief pause, they move on to see the paintings of Caspar David Friedrich from all phases of his artistic career, plus the works of Carl Blechen, Philipp Otto Runge, Gottlieb Schick, Joseph Anton Koch, Carl Rottmann, Eduard Gaertner, Johann Erdmann Hummel, Carl Spitzweg and Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller.

Natasha sees Roderick gazing at Carl Spitzweg's Flying Kites. She snuggles up to him and points at the picture. "Don't you just love the brushwork, the brilliant use of color, the radical composition...?"

"I don't know," says Roderick. "I've always said that if you've seen one Carl Spitzweg you've seen them all."

There is a room full of Monets, Manets and Renoirs. Molly tugs at Roderick's sleeve. "I just love Impressionists," she sighs.

Roderick chuckles. He thinks it's funny that a museum in Berlin has French paintings. Spoils of war, he thinks. He considers commenting, but decides not to.

Cold, Wet Buttocks

Monday did not go as expected. For starters, Anna arrived late at the Adlon; something about how the taxi turned left at the Reichstag when he should have turned right. She was hungry, too, and ordered something to eat, so by the time the quartet departed for the Alte Nationalgalerie it was past noon.

Anna commented as they walked up Unter Den Linden, past the Handelsvertretung der Russischen Föderation in der BRD Außenstelle Berlin. "I believe that's the Handelsvertretung der Russischen Föderation in der BRD Außenstelle Berlin." Her German diction was perfect, which is not too surprising considering how much time she spent in Switzerland, though mostly in the French part.

Roderick voiced his concern about the plan for the day as they passed the headquarters of Winheller Rechtsanwaltsgesellschaft mbH. "It's past noon," he pointed out, demonstrating his command of the obvious. "We can see the works of Menzel, Schadow, Thorwaldsen, Canova, Schadow, Begas, von Hildebrand, Meunier, Thoma, Feuerbach, Böcklin, von Marées, Leibl, and Trübner; or we can see the works of Max Lieberman; or we can see the art of Jakob Philipp Hackert, portraits by Anton Graff and his contemporaries and works of the German artists working in Rome, such as Peter Cornelius, Friedrich Overbeck, Wilhelm Schadow and Philipp Veit. Or we can see the frescoes illustrating the story of Joseph, commissioned for the Casa Bartholdy in Rome, which are a major achievement of the period; or we can see the paintings of Caspar David Friedrich from all phases of his artistic career; or the works of Carl Blechen, Philipp Otto Runge, Gottlieb Schick, Joseph Anton Koch, Carl Rottmann, Eduard Gaertner, Johann Erdmann Hummel, Carl Spitzweg and Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller. But I don't think we can see all of them and also have lunch."

This provoked a lively debate about the relative merits of Menzel, Schadow et. al. in which nothing was decided except that it was clear to everyone that Roderick wouldn't mind another dose of currywurst.

In any case, no choice was required of the group as they discovered, on arrival, that the Altes Nationalgalerie is closed on Mondays.

They crossed the River Spree and wandered around Oranienburg and Friedrichstadt for a time until Molly spotted a piano store on Friedrichstrasse (just around the corner from Präventionsteam Berlin & Nichtraucherinitiative24). Molly was so pleased to see a piano she sat right down and played the Beethoven Opus 27 #1 -- the one with the really funny scherzo with the silly Trio section in C Major that goes nowhere followed by a recapitulation that starts off like any other recapitulation except that Beethoven adds some really difficult syncopation and Molly's fingers flew. A crowd gathered around the piano as Molly played, and burst into applause at the conclusion. Molly beamed, and was about to begin the "Tempest" when the owner shooed them out.

It seems that in Europe culture matters as long as the guy that owns the piano is paid.

Anyway, all of this happened on Monday. On Tuesday, they were supposed to go to Potsdam but got lost.

This morning, at the hotel, Roderick finds this recording on YouTube of the Beethoven. He beckons to Molly, who has just stepped from the shower. They watch together as Daniel Barenboim plays the piano and Roderick fondles Molly's cold, wet buttocks.

Preludio and Fuga

Roderick awakes in an unfamiliar room. Oh,right, the Novotel Berlin, on Anhalter Strasse. He pokes the lump in the bed; Molly groans.

"Hey, we slept more than twelve hours. We should get going." They had arrived yesterday, badly jet-lagged, and after dragging around Potsdamer Platz for awhile returned to the hotel and went to bed early.

Molly groans again. Roderick steps into the shower and tries to figure out how it works. It's one of those hand-held affairs secured to the wall with a little hook so you can shower, but it only really works for small people.

"Hey, let me in." Molly slips into the shower and between the two of them they manage to figure out the mechanics of the shower and get clean while fondling.

Exiting the Novotel, they walk up the Anhalter Strasse, then left on the Wilhelmstrasse. As they talk, they chat, or rather Roderick chats and Molly listens.

"Why does everyone complain about Kaiser Wilhelm II? All things considered, he wasn't such a bad Kaiser."

"Well, he did start a war that ended badly."

"Yes, there's that."

"And he invaded Belgium."

"Okay, granted. But except for the War and the invasion of Belgium, he was a pretty good Kaiser."

"His advice to the Emperor of Austria-Hungary was terrible."

"Yes, I suppose."

"And there is the gratuitous naval buildup, that alienated Great Britain."

"Yes, there's that."

"And the pointless diplomatic blunders."

"Okay, but except for the War, the invasion of Belgium, the naval buildup and the diplomatic blunders he wasn't a bad Kaiser."

"Not to mention the tasteless statues he put in the Tiergarten."

Roderick had to admit that Molly had trumped him on that point. To paraphrase the motto of Beauneville Latin, anything is acceptable as long as it's in good taste.

They continue along the Wilhelmstrasse, past the old Air Ministry.

"Now Goering, he's another underrated one."

They continue to walk and talk along this vein.

Arriving at the Adlon, they take the elevator to Natasha's suite and knock on the door. Her valet answers.

"Yes?"

"We're here to see Natasha."

"I presume she's expecting you?" The valet milks the word "presume", as if in fact he couldn't imagine that Natasha would expect such vermin.

"Um, yes, we're supposed to meet up here."

"And you are?"

"Roderick and Natasha."

"Wait." The door slams.

A few moments later, Natasha opens the door and welcomes them. "Sorry about that. Ernesto's new."

"What happened to the other one?"

Natasha shrugs. "I need variety. Have you eaten? Order anything you want from Room Service."

Roderick is indeed feeling peckish, and scans the menu. "Any chance I can get some scrapple?"

Natasha looks at him like he's retarded. "Come on, Roderick, this is Berlin, we can't get German-American food here."

Roderick settles on currywurst for breakfast; Molly orders yogurt. While they wait, they explore Natasha's suite, which has more square footage than the average American single-family home.

"It's the Brandenburg Gate Deluxe Suite" says Natasha. "The Presidential and Royal Suites weren't available. Some fucking head of state from somewhere."

Roderick thinks it's a shame that Natasha's hospitality options are limited by the ins and outs of world diplomacy.

"So what's the plan for today?" he inquires. "After we eat, I mean."

"We're going to walk up Unter Den Linden to the Alte Nationalgalerie so we can see the work of great German artists like Menzel, Schadow, Thorwaldsen, Canova, Schadow, Begas, von Hildebrand, Meunier, Thoma, Feuerbach, Böcklin, von Marées, Leibl and Trübner."

"Wow!" says Roderick. I've always wanted to see the works of Menzel, Schadow, Thorwaldsen, Canova, Schadow, Begas, von Hildebrand, Meunier, Thoma, Feuerbach, Böcklin, von Marées, Leibl and Trübner."

"They also have a large collection of paintings by Max Lieberman."

"Wow, Max Lieberman. I totally want to see that."

"Then we'll check out the art of the Goethe era including landscapes by Jakob Philipp Hackert, portraits by Anton Graff and his contemporaries and works of the German artists working in Rome, such as Peter Cornelius, Friedrich Overbeck, Wilhelm Schadow and Philipp Veit. And we won't want to miss the frescoes illustrating the story of Joseph, commissioned for the Casa Bartholdy in Rome, which are a major achievement of the period."

While Natasha speaks, the food arrives; Roderick tucks in. "Frescoes, right. Must see," he says, between bites of currywurst.

"We're saving the best for last. After lunch, we'll check out paintings by Caspar David Friedrich from all phases of his artistic career. Also, the works of Carl Blechen, Philipp Otto Runge, Gottlieb Schick, Joseph Anton Koch, Carl Rottmann, Eduard Gaertner, Johann Erdmann Hummel, Carl Spitzweg and Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller."

"I've always said that if you haven't seen Blechen, Runge, Schick, Koch, Rottmann, Gaertner, Hummel, Spitzweg and Waldmüller you haven't truly lived."

Molly thinks that so far the shower was the best part of the day. "Caspar David Friedrich, doesn't he inspire you? I mean that and pornography?"

Natasha is busy and doesn't hear Molly's question. Molly snuggles against Roderick. She's feeling antsy for a piano, any piano. She drums her fingers on the coffee table, playing Busoni's Preludio e Fuga in C minor Opus 21 in her imagination. She can't wait for Anna to arrive.