In Honor of Joseph The Second

The Great Cathedral of Lake City stands resolute on Central Avenue, its elaborate Baroque facade only slightly diminished by the surrounding glass towers, the Whacko Taco restaurant across the street and the Big Box store diagonally across the intersection of Central and Main. If you stand at the right spot on Central, you can see the Cathedral's ornate South facade reflected in the mirrored face of the Gibralter Insurance Tower, a building that is now mostly empty as lawyers, trustees and claimants struggle over the carcass of that now defunct institution.

Roderick and Molly are in Lake City today. Roderick has a gig -- the Great Cathedral Orchestra needs a clarinet for the Mozart Requiem -- and Molly wants to catch up with Mary. Standing in the atrium of the Great Cathedral, Roderick reads a plaque:

In 1910, Lake City was mired in progressivism. While fashionable architects sought to tear down historical buildings and replace them with the most modern style, architect Albert T. Skwayer just wanted to build nice buildings for his wealthy clients.

Below the plaque there is a bust of Albert T. Skwayer with a Latin inscription that translates as "Fake History is better than No History."

"Excuse me, are you Roderick?" Roderick turns to face a fifty-ish bespectacled man in a scholar's robe.

"Um, yes."

"Welcome to the Great Cathedral! I'm Deacon Weems. You're the Clarinet?"

Roderick considers responding with a smart remark to the effect that while he plays a Clarinet he is not, in fact, a Clarinet. Instead, he just nods.

"Good. Follow me."

As they pass through a grand narthex into the enormous nave, Roderick inquires: "What denomination is this church?"

"We worship abstract greatness," says Deacon Weems, throwing the response over his right shoulder as he strides towards the altar.

"I don't understand."

Deacon Weems pauses in the transept, where members of the orchestra are setting up for rehearsal. He points to the empty chair that Roderick is supposed to occupy. "You believe that God is Great, don't you?" he asks.

"Um, yes."

"So there you have it." The matter settled, Deacon Weems strides away.

Roderick ponders that and frowns. "But..." The Deacon, however, has disappeared.

Molly strokes Roderick's hair. "I don't get it either," she says.

"What are you going to do during rehearsal?"

Molly holds up a copy of Finnegan's Wake. "I have some light reading."

Roderick smiles as he walks to his designated chair. Molly sure has an eye for the fun stuff. Seated, he opens his clarinet case, assembles the instrument, attaches a reed and noodles a bit. As he warms up, the other clarinet player arrives, a dark-haired and rather buxom young woman.

"Hi, I'm Roderick." Roderick extends his hand.

"Brandy."

"Sorry, I didn't bring any."

"No, that's my name. Brandy Rohrblatt." Brandy shakes Roderick's hand, sits, assembles her clarinet and noodles.

Roderick points to the Requiem sheet music on their music stands. "Who died?"

"Joseph the Second."

"The Emperor of Austria?"

"Joseph the Second, by the grace of God elected Holy Roman Emperor, forever August; King of Germany, Jerusalem, Hungary, Bohemia, Dalmatia, Croatia, Slavonia, Galicia and Lodomeria; Archduke of Austria; Duke of Burgundy, Lorraine, Styria, Carinthia and Carniola; Grand Duke of Tuscany; Grand Prince of Transylvania; Duke of Brabant, Limburg, Luxembourg, Gelderland, Württemberg, the Upper and Lower Silesia, Milan, Mantua, Parma, Piacenza, Guastalla, Auschwitz, Zator, Calabria, Bar, Montferrat and Teschen; Prince of Swabia and Charleville; Princely Count of Habsburg, Flanders, Tyrol, Hennegau, Kyburg, Gorizia and Gradisca; Margrave of Antwerp, Burgau, the Upper and Lower Lusatia, Pont-à-Mousson, Nomeny and Moravia; Count of Namur, Provence, Vaudémont, Blâmont, Zutphen, Saarwerden, Salm and Falkenstein; and Lord of the Wendish March and Mechelen."

"Oh, that Joseph the Second."

"Yes."

"But he died in 1790."

"Yes."

"Why a Requiem now?"

"We celebrate Mass for all of the late royals, at least the great ones."

"Including the Hohenzollerns?"

Brandy looks around furtively. "Shhh. Don't mention that name around here."

"Why not?"

Brandy leans closer to Roderick and whispers: "The Hohenzollerns are fake royals. That whole 'King in Prussia' business with the Emperor Leopold? Totally corrupt."

"Ah," says Roderick, admiring Brandy's ample decolletage. "I always wondered about that 'King in Prussia' thing."

"Okay, people, let's get started." A youngish conductor raps on the podium. "For those of you here for the first time, I am Mr. Langestock, Music Director of the Great Cathedral, and this is Mr. Trillern, the Choir Director." He beckons to a mustachioed fellow wearing a purple blazer standing in front of the choir, who bows in response. "We're doing Mozart's Requiem in honor of Joseph the Second."

"Which Joseph the Second?" asks Mr. Trillern.

"Joseph the Second, by the grace of God elected Holy Roman Emperor, forever August; King of Germany, Jerusalem, Hungary, Bohemia, Dalmatia, Croatia, Slavonia, Galicia and Lodomeria; Archduke of Austria; Duke of Burgundy, Lorraine, Styria, Carinthia and Carniola; Grand Duke of Tuscany; Grand Prince of Transylvania; Duke of Brabant, Limburg, Luxembourg, Gelderland, Württemberg, the Upper and Lower Silesia, Milan, Mantua, Parma, Piacenza, Guastalla, Auschwitz, Zator, Calabria, Bar, Montferrat and Teschen; Prince of Swabia and Charleville; Princely Count of Habsburg, Flanders, Tyrol, Hennegau, Kyburg, Gorizia and Gradisca; Margrave of Antwerp, Burgau, the Upper and Lower Lusatia, Pont-à-Mousson, Nomeny and Moravia; Count of Namur, Provence, Vaudémont, Blâmont, Zutphen, Saarwerden, Salm and Falkenstein; and Lord of the Wendish March and Mechelen."

"Oh," says Mr. Trillern, "that Joseph the Second."

Boodle House

A first year student approaches Molly at breakfast.

"Your interpretation of Schubert's C Minor was lovely," he says, referring to Molly's performance two weeks ago at the Schubertiade. Each year, the students and faculty of Old Ivy pay tribute to Schubert on his birthday, January 31.

"Thank you," says Molly.

"And I like the vagina pictures." Natasha's latest work, a tryptique devoted to you-know-what currently occupies an entire wall in the East Gallery.

"Thank you." Molly bites into a piece of scrapple.

After breakfast, Roderick attends a meeting of the Vienna Ball Orchestra Committee. Mr. Wienerwald presides. On the agenda: this year's program.

"Okay," harumphs Mr. Wienerwald, "let's review the rules. Sheldon, will you do the honors?"

Sheldon Wang, the concertmaster, rises and faces the group. "The first rule of the Vienna Ball Orchestra is you don't talk about Vienna Ball Orchestra."

The group titters slightly.

"The second rule of Vienna Ball Orchestra is YOU DON"T TALK ABOUT VIENNA BALL ORCHESTRA.

"Rule number three: An der schönen blauen Donau cannot be played in consecutive years."

Mr. Wienerwald interjects: "We played it last year, so that's out."

"Rule number four: Geschichten aus dem Wienerwald must be played...

"Rule number five: ...preferably, with a zither."

An uproar ensues. Geschichten aus dem Wienerwald includes an important part for the zither. Last year, and for the previous three, Sophie von Drittemann, zitherist extraordinaire, did the honors. But she graduated with honors last May and returned to Vienna. At present, Old Ivy is sans zitherists.

"Well, that's a fine kettle of fish!" exclaims Aretha Wang, a violinist only remotely related to Sheldon.

"I won't perform without a zitherist," proclaims Betsy Fife, one of the flautists.

"Okay, okay," shouts Mr. Wienerwald, raising his hand for silence. "I'll get a ringer from Lake City." Zitherists, it seems, are in short supply in Washington County, but when you really need one the Lake City Zither Society can usually put you in touch with one of their members. They don't come cheap, though.

Sheldon concludes the rules. "Rule number six: the Radetzky March may not be played under any circumstances."

Meanwhile, Mr. Smith is in Lake City for business overnight and has time on his hands. He visits the famous Boodle House for a tour.

The tour begins with a video.

In 1905, Lake City was mired in progressivism. While fashionable architects sought to tear down historical buildings and replace them with the most modern style, architect Albert T. Skwayer just wanted to build nice homes for his rich clients.

Heh! Thinks Mr. Smith. Roderick would like this.

The Old Ivy Bach Chorale Takes the Week Off

At Lake City University, Mary Bloom lives in Some Random Doner That Nobody Knows House, known to its residents as SRDTNK, or "Sritt-Nick". Mary thinks the whole House concept is kind of stupid and despises her roommate, Melissa Mouse, a pre-Med student and actual virgin.

Mary sits on her bed and whines into her cell phone. "She gets all upset when I bring my customers in here. Like last night, I was going down on this guy and she keeps looking up from her Shmorganic Chem or whatever and giving me these looks -- like, you can tell she thinks its so disgusting."

Melissa turns the other way in her bed and pulls the covers over her head.

"That's too bad, honey," says Mr. Bloom. "Maybe you should cut her in on a piece of your business."

"But Daddy," Mary protests, "she's an actual virgin. I mean, you know, she hasn't actually done it with anyone, even a boyfriend. Can you believe it?"

"Hmm, yes, I see the problem. Maybe you should file a grievance with the Housing Office."

"I thought of that, Daddy, but it won't work. She's under twenty-one, so virginity is still technically legal under the rules."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot about that. Aside from the roommate problem, how's life?"

"Pretty good. I had fifteen clients last week, which is pretty good considering this little situation. Also, I have arrangements with three of my four professors, including Mr. Barville."

"That's great, honey. Listen, some of my agency clients are in Lake City next week. Think you can fit them into your schedule?"

"Of course, Daddy! You know I always make time for your clients! The usual fee?"

"Yes, the usual fee. Just send me a check with my cut when you get a chance."

There is a beep on Mary's cell phone. "Somebody's calling me. Gotta run, could be a client. Love you, Daddy!" Mary presses Send to connect to the other call. "Mary Bloom speaking," she chirps, in her most virginly voice.

"Dis be Shawanna at de fron' day-esk." Shawanna Cabot Wadsworth of New Canaan, Connecticut is white as the driven snow, but went full ghetto a few years ago to further her career in gender politics. She cornrows her blond hair, rummages clothing at second-hand stores, wears Uggs and can recite verbatim every word of every scene in every episode of Girls. "Dey be peoples wants to see y'all, and dey looks like dey be da man."

Mary wrinkles her nose. "Um, can I speak to Mary Elisabeth?"

"Ah'll go gets her."

Long pause.

"Good morning, this is Mary Elisabeth." Mary Elisabeth Purcells is the Front Desk Supervisor. Born a few blocks from the University on Lake and Sixty-Fifth, Mary Elisabeth grew up with her great aunt and grandmother while her father served time for aggravated assault and her mother tried unsuccessfully to recover from heroin addiction. Mary Elisabeth joined the church choir at Zion A.M.E. Church on Lake Avenue; she sang so well that she gained admission to the Performing Arts High School in Lake City, and earned a scholarship to Lake City University. She now covers nights and weekends at Sritt-Nick to supplement the small income she earns as a counselor at Lake City Neighborhood Community Centers.

"Somebody wants to see me?" asks Mary.

"Yes," says Mary Elisabeth, in a hushed and professional tone. "Two men, wearing suits. They say they are from the National Virgin Society. Something to do with your application for Miss College Virgin America. Do you want to speak with them?"

Mary pauses. National Virgin Society? What could they possibly want at this time on a Sunday morning? "Yes, please, could you put them on?"

There is a brief silence as Mary Elisabeth hands the desk phone to one of the men.

"Hello, this is Roger Rector from the National Virgin Society, is this Mary?"

"Speaking."

"We're here for the random virginity check."

"The what?"

"The random virginity check. You know, for your application."

Mary ponders this. There was a lot of fine print at the bottom of her application for Miss College Virgin, which she did not read.

"I'm not decent."

"Oh, I don't think that's a problem."

"My roommate is sleeping."

"We'll be quiet as mice. Only takes a minute."

"Can you come back later?"

"If you decline a random check, you will be disqualified from Miss College Virgin, and your membership in the Society will be revoked."

"Well, okay, come on up."

Meanwhile, at Old Ivy, Megan continues her novel:

Mae Rose's remaining daughters died from various causes attributable to obesity, stupidity or both, except for Emily, who died when struck by lightning while cleaning the gutters.

At the Church of the Holy Placebo, Dr. Feelgood's sentiments grow increasingly perfunctory. "The Memorial Service will be $199," he says, taking Mae Rose's hand. "Make your check payable to me. The organist is an extra $25, she prefers cash."

With few opportunities for conversation at home, Muffin takes to cruising the neighborhood, seeking companionship. One morning, she approaches a boy at a bus stop.

"Good morning," says Muffin. "My name is Muffin."

"Good morning," says the boy. "My name is Fred."

"Are you on the way to school?" asks Muffin.

"Yes. Just waiting for the bus."

"Do you live nearby?"

"Yes, just down the street, near the crazy fat lady with the sinkhole in her back yard."

Muffin smiles as well as a Dandie Dinmont Terrier can smile.

The boy smiles back. "I don't run into talking dogs every day."

Muffin considers responding with a nasty wisecrack, but suppresses the thought.

Today is the fifth sunday after Epiphany. Since Bach wrote no cantatas for the fifth sunday after Epiphany, the Bach Chorale takes the week off.

Banking Sounds More Interesting in German

Megan continues to work on her novel:

Heroic efforts by city workers saved the Port-O-Potties, but could not save Dahlia and her customer.

The memorial service, held at the nearby Church of the Holy Placebo, is sparsely attended. At the door, Dr. Feelgood holds Mae Rose's hand. "She was so young. And such a good earner."

Mae Rose sobs.

"He's creepy," says Muffin, as they walk to the car.

"I just don't know what we're going to do without Dahlia's cash," Mae Rose says, weepily.

"We can charge people fees to get rid of their cars," says Muffin, pausing briefly to contribute to the Church of the Holy Placebo's front lawn.

Megan pauses, and shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Ouch, she thinks. Mr. Joyce is an awesome writing coach, but a bit hard on the buttocks. She makes a mental note to change her 'safe' word to something other than 'Ulysses'.

Meanwhile, Rosa Behaarte-Beine brings up her favorite subject at today's 'Sunday Brunch with Parvelescu'. "Why doesn't anyone talk about the positive aspects about life in the GDR?" she asks between bites of gluten-free non-GMO granola.

Parvelescu sips his coffee. "Like what, for instance?"

"Well, free health care, for one."

"Bismarck introduced universal health care to Germany in 1883. The Commies can't claim credit for that."

"Very little crime."

"You're right about that, and the police were very responsive. You didn't even need to call them. Just say 'Erich Honecker is a moron' in a loud voice and they'd show up in no time."

"No pointless consumerism."

"That's true, too. There was nothing to buy. Let me guess, you're from West Berlin?"

"Ja, Zehlendorf."

"Your mother and father vote SDP?"

"No, they're Greens."

"And you were born after the wall came down?"

"Ja, 1995."

"So you don't really remember the Wall?"

"Why does everyone complain about the Wall? Israel has a Wall."

"The distinction being that while Israel has a wall to keep terrorists out, the Berlin Wall was built to keep citizens of the GDR in. Because wanting to leave the GDR was the ultimate crime, punishable by death. Those who wanted to leave the GDR were, in effect, saying that the GDR was not paradise, a belief that could not be countenanced."

Rosa shrugs. "I suppose you're going to complain about the Stasi. It's kind of hypocritical for Americans to criticize the Stasi when you have Guantanamo Bay and NSA wiretapping."

"With the 'subtle' distinction that the GDR put its own citizens in Torgau for thought crimes, while Guantanamo Bay holds stateless individuals who admit they want to kill and maim American citizens." Parvelescu uses his fingers to emulate "square quotes" around the word 'subtle'. "And whether you agree with the NSA's tactics or not, it's inarguable that they act in the interests of all Americans while the Stasi -- whose motto was 'Sword and Shield of the Party' -- was an instrument of the Party and not the state. The Stasi would be equivalent to a large security apparatus working for the Republican Party to suppress political action by Democrats."

Parvelescu is on a roll.

"The GDR justified harsh measures against those who wanted to leave by citing the state's investment in education and training. That is the essence of the socialist bargain, no? We pay for your education, you belong to us."

Parvelescu leans back triumphantly, relishing the pleasure of flattening a first-year student. Not coincidentally, his new book The Socialist Bargain goes on sale next week.

Lily whispers something in Roderick's ear, something that sounds like "chuck" or "luck". Roderick just smiles. "Maybe later," he says, which for Roderick is code for "No, thank you."

After dinner, Roderick calls Mr. Smiley.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Smiley, this is Roderick."

"Hello, Roderick."

Roderick talks about his day, ending with Parvelescu's demolition of Rosa.

"Ah, the Berlin Wall," says Mr. Smiley, waxing wistful. "I was there with Miss Kitty the night the Wall came down. We made passionate love in the Potsdamerplatz near the wall. I went looking for the spot last summer, but there's nothing there but a HypoVereinsbank."

Hmm, thinks Roderick. Hypovereinsbank. An Aktiengesellschaft fur Konten, Kredite & Finanzierung, Geldenlage & Vorsorge. Banking sounds so much more interesting in German.