 Is he still out there? Picture by frogDNA, Creative Commons License Imagine that you’ve been transported back to 1970. It would look both strangely similar and different from today. You certainly wouldn’t be seeing cell phones or cybertrucks, but you would see still people wearing bell-bottoms, pornstar moustaches, and feathered hair (but all unironically back then). If you turned on the radio, you’d hear I’ll be There by The Jackson Five, Layla by Derek and the Dominos, and Lola by The Kinks, not on an oldies station, but on the American Top 40 hosted by Casey Kasem (which also started this same year). Now picture yourself parked in a nice car in a remote location in the woods outside of Washington, DC. It's almost Halloween, and you and your main squeeze are parked right next to a small bridge. It’s very dark. Your car engine is running, maybe to keep the car warm enough for any disco-era shenanigans you have planned, or maybe – and more innocently – you just want to keep the radio on so you can hear that wild new song by The Carpenters. It seems like a nice night regardless.  Underneath the infamous Bunny Man bridge But alas, your sexy 70's tranquility is then traumatically disturbed. You can’t believe your eyes. Are you losing your mind? Out of the darkness, you both see a grown man wearing a bunny suit. They guy is hopping mad (see what I did there?), literally frothing at the mouth in anger, and screaming at you. As he gets closer you can make out the word “trespassing” in his unhinged tirade, but little else. Then, as if he was a dwarf from Lord of the Rings, he lobs an axe through your window, shattering it into a million shards. Terrified, you jam on the accelerator and bolt out of there as quickly as your non-unleaded gas can take you. You've just met the Bunny Man.  Is this the axe???? This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license. Image by KeeferC (2004). Before the internet, stories like this might stay purely regional. It would be far more difficult for “Slender Man” and other tales to grab hold of the public consciousness without online forums. Back in the 1970s, strange stories like this got passed along and elaborated upon through word of mouth, some eventually becoming “urban legends”. Not surprisingly, there quickly became several variations of "The Bunny Man" bandied about at teenage sleepovers or to help pass the time in junior high Algebra classes. He became even more threatening as time went. Just a few years later, hushed whispers – usually made across the teenage frequencies – gave him an origin story. The Bunny Man was now an escaped mental patient and psychopath. The gentleman was responsible for several deaths in the area, sometimes hanging them upside down from the bridge in similar fashion to what the Italians did to Benito Mussolini and his mistress at the end of World War II. Along with murder, The Bunny Man also was said to have a penchant for animal mutilation. Just heaving axes into car windows was just so 1970…  Shot of the famous bridge. What lagomorphic dangers lurk in the surrounding forests? We must say that this is a great story that one of us even heard while living on the other side of the country. It’s got just about everything a good urban legend needs and is, franky, just a lot of fun to think about. But, as is well-known, skeptics and researchers generally take all the fun out of everything. Such is the case with this rascally rabbit. Most of the stories associated with the Bunny Man are apparently pure bunk. The only one with any truth to it is the introductory story. For those of you interested in a more reasonable, less fun take on the matter than the Bunny Man stringing up dead bodies all over Fairfax County, please read this: https://research.fairfaxcounty.gov/local-history/bunnyman However, if we’re being honest, we much prefer the legend. It's kind of fun to imagine that the Bunny Man is still out there, wearing a fur suit matted with the blood of his victims, fantasizing about all the delicious vengeance he'd like to mete out on those dastardly people who dared to trespass near his precious bridge. He may very well be sharpening his axe and giggling to himself as we type this paltry prose... Travel Tips: If you want to visit this easy to miss one lane bridge in Clifton VA, you would never guess how close you are to DC. For all of its association with malevolent ax-wielding tomfoolery, it’s a lovely place nestled between open fields, babbling brooks, and some pretty opulent mansions. It’s truly a beautiful area, but we could imagine it taking on more of a Blair Witch vibe at night.  Beyond the bridge, this part of Virginia is very pretty and includes many small historic towns, wineries, breweries, and farm markets.  Tomten love to take care of animals. You’ve all seen those Christmas gnomes. You know, the cute ones with chubby bodies, stubby little feet, long gray beards, and tall, festive wooly hats that stand straight up (i.e., as if Santa’s cap took Cialis). They’ve likely been on the shelves of your local department store since the very second that Halloween officially ended. You may have already purchased a few of them. They may be decorating your Christmas tree or children’s bedroom right now. Well, dear reader, we have some important information to impart... information that might save you and your pets' lives. There are a few things you need to know about these guys. What are they? First off, they're not technically gnomes. They sure do look like them at first glance, but as any nerd who misspent large portions of their youth reading fantasy novels or the works of the Swiss physician Paracelsus knows, gnomes typically live underground and guard treasure. Gnomes, these are not. These little bundles of Christmas cheer are actually called Tomten (singular = tomte). They are nisse in Danish and tonttu in Finnish. At one point in time, so the story goes, they were normal-sized humans just like us. Farming was their gig. Many stories tell of their being the original owner of a nice homestead, caring for their land until death.  1900 Christmas card by Jenny Nyström. Nyström is considered the creator of the modern Swedish Santa Claus (jultomten), a small man with a long white beard and a red top hat. Creative Commons License (https://snl.no/Jenny_Nystr%C3%B6m) After they shuffled off their mortal coil, they somehow gained immortality, shrank a bit, and decided to stick around the farm. They’re kind of like miniature household deities. However, it would appear that one downside of a tomten’s eternal life is that they are forced to buy their hats exclusively from one very deranged haberdashery. There’s always a catch to immortality… What do they do? Tomten can be very helpful. Stories abound of them doing chores for the new owners and taking good care of animals. They legitimately care about their farm and want to help keep it running smoothly regardless of who owns it. Thus, they don’t behave much differently from any other good Swedish farmer. As you all know, Swedes are a diligent bunch, so these immortal ones are handy to have around.  This is a classic tomten tale with very good and traditional illustrations What do they like? Tomten generally like to work hard, be left alone, and be shown respect. Thus, if you accidentally spill a drink on the floor, you should apologize to any tomten who might be working below you. Apart from respect, tomten don’t need much in compensation for all their hard work. Unlike gnomes, they’re fairly uninterested in money or other fancy things. But, again, everything comes with a cost. So, if you want to truly keep your tomte happy, you can’t forget one important rule: make sure to give them porridge on Christmas eve with a pat of butter on top. Tomten are greedy for butter. They love the stuff as much as Golem loves The Precious. However, they apparently only need their #1 vice one day out of the entire year (don’t ask us why – we didn’t come up with this shit). Therefore, you would be wise to comply with this humble request, making sure to have a single bowl of porridge laid out for your squat friend every Christmas eve. Also, keep in mind that tomten are a bit like Mogwai from Gremlins movies: bad things can happen if you don’t follow instructions. We will type this again in bold: bad things can happen if you don’t follow instructions. Always please put the pat of butter ON TOP of the porridge. If you don't, you could make them angry.  Please don't forget the butter. What happens when they get angry? One story tells of a work-weary tomten who stopped by the house after everyone went to bed to enjoy his Christmas Eve repast. Looking down at the bowl of porridge, there was no butter. The audacity! The insult! A year’s worth of hard work and the stingy farmer can’t even spare one little dab of creamy goodness?!?! The tomten understandably flew off the handle. Red with anger, he ran out of the kitchen as fast as his stubby legs could carry him – his long beard blowing in the wind like he was in a diminutive Victoria’s Secret photo shoot. He threw open the barn door and entered. He stood at the door a moment in silence, his moonlit shadow much larger than his childlike frame would imply. Tension hung thickly in the air, and every single animal in the barn held its breath. Then, in a fit of blind, butter-induced rage, he killed the first cow he saw, blood spurting onto his red felt cap and bits of gore lodging into his long gray beard. When it was over, the tomte noticed rivulets of crimson melting the snow outside the barn. Righteous vengeance was his. Boathrocide isn’t easy work, though, so after he calmed down, he realized that he was still a hungry little tomte. He then walked back to the kitchen, leaving a trail of bloody little footprints in the snow, and tucked into his seemingly bland porridge. Then, he made a startling discovery… there WAS butter, but it was at the bottom of the bowl! Oceans of dairy-induced remorse overtook the tomten, and he bolted out the house again. The penitent little livestock slayer ran to the neighbor’s barn this time, quickly stealing a of cow to replace the murdered one. This tale doesn’t reveal whether or not the farmer noticed that he had a purloined heiffer in his barn, but who cares? The scales of tomten justice were righted nonetheless (except for the neighbor – tomten morality can be a bit fuzzy sometimes). Conclusions
Before deciding if tomten are right for you, consider the details we mentioned above. Though they are cute, remember that they are not ornaments. They can be helpful additions to any family, but they must be paid the buttery respect they deserve. And, before you ask, margarine is not an acceptable substitute. Don’t even try to give them any of that boujee whipped stuff either. Do you want your pets to die?!?! Disrespect can have consequences. Caveat Emptor, indeed… Happy (and safe) holidays from the PD team! Travel Notes: Tomten don’t seem to be associated with any particular part of Sweden. They instead seem to be generally Scandinavian. You can find authentic Swedish tomten at various stores. We purchased our very first tomte (named Ost) at a Maxi ICA Stormarknad (i.e., supermarket) outside of Uppsala, Sweden. We should also say that Ost was not very amenable to being on a plane, so we thank the old gods that we remembered to bring extra pats of butter in our carryon luggage. Even Samuel L. Jackson couldn’t have saved us from Tomten on a Plane.  The one and only Nosferatu Are you a fan of the 1922 silent film classic Nosferatu? Do you like imposing castles? Are you interested in vacationing in Slovakia? Even if you answered a firm “no” to all these questions, we recommend that you keep reading and keep an open mind. We are not ashamed to admit that we are head over heels, Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah’s couch, Billy Bob Thorton wearing a necklace filled to the brim with Angelina Jolie’s blood IN LOVE with Slovakia (FOOTNOTE: for younger readers, there was a time when Tom Cruise was married and when Billie Bob dated Angelina). It’s one of our top places to visit when we want to relax and not just work in a different time zone.  The entryway oozes Old World charm and incipient vampire shenanigans. Strangely enough, most Americans and Brits wouldn’t even consider Slovakia to be a prime vacation destination. Some snootier Europeans might even view it as a “flyover” country. Though we find these assessments baffling, it’s their loss, as we like our favorite sites less crowded. Because, regardless of whether you like nature and hiking (e.g., the Tatra mountains), good wine (Devín, Veltlinske Zelene ), or good food (e.g., Bryndzové Halušky), you can’t beat Slovakia. But then there are the castles. Oh, my, those castles... Literally three of the top five castles of the Proper Degenerate team are found in this tiny little country barely the size of Mississippi. Though we will have future posts on the darkly beautiful castles of Slovakia, we will start with a real winner: Castle (Hrad) Orava (pronounced oar-ah-vah). Several scenes from Nosferatu were shot here, and you can see why. It’s ruggedly beautiful, seemingly remote, and creates a vibe of “old European aristocrat”. At the highest level that tourists can ascend, there is a little display with a statue of that old, blood sucker, Count Orlok.  An atmospheric shot of some of the surroundings Even if you don’t care about its connections to one of the most iconic movie vampires of all time, the castle is well worth a visit. It remains one of the best-preserved Medieval structures in all of Europe. With a bit of imagination, you can gaze through a tiny window into what it must have been like to live as a Medieval lord, lady, or peasant.  The curved tunnel entrance to Orava If you lived here, you’d have been well protected. Orava Castle was designed for defense. High on a hill, it’s difficult to imagine trying to conquer this place only using horses, men, and medieval weaponry. Though there are no shortage of staircases, there were none back in the day. You would have had to scramble up ladders and ropes with the dexterity of a ninja squirrel just to find your way to the entrance. Once you got there, the entry into the castle courtyard is essentially just a curved stone tunnel. “Why isn’t it straight?”, you might ask. Well, this was so that Orava Castle’s troops could quietly hide just past the curve, unseen from any potential invaders. It’s a well-known fact that conquest gets a bit more difficult when you’re unexpectedly showered with arrows. Now let’s discuss a small sliver of Orava’s history. In a past post we created a cocktail inspired by Countess Erzsébet Báthory (1560 C.E. – 1614 C.E.), sometimes called the Blood Countess. Well, it turns out that the guy who arrested her and tried her accomplices - György Thurzó- owned this castle. In fact, a letter box where he and his wife kept their love letters and other correspondence remains preserved in a bedroom. Thurzó, like Erzsébet, was a wealthy noble. He eventually reached the rank of Palatine of Hungary, second only to the king in terms of administrative power. Even more interesting, he and Erzsebet’s husband, Ferenc Nadasdy, were lifelong friends. György and his first wife were good friends to Erzsebet as well, at least until her arrest for serial murder. The fact that he was the one to imprison her in her own castle (Čachtice Hrad) was likely a complicated decision for him.  Save your energy for the last few sets of stairs to the top Regardless, György Thurzo called Castle Orava home for many years. Old György remains there to this day, lying in final repose in the castle crypt. If you want to visit his final resting place, though, you must go visit the castle in summer, as it is otherwise closed to tourists.
Along with history, grand structures tend to also become associated with myths, legends, and tragic tales. Orava Castle is no exception, and may even be a bit unique. For instance, “White Lady” tales are a dime a dozen. Many places are known for them, even Altoona, Pennsylvania (see our post on The Ghost of Wopsy here). However, Orava not only has a “White Lady” myth (i.e., the wife of a Master Donc), but a “Black Lady” one as well. The Black Lady in question is Erzsébet Czobor, the second wife of György Thurzó. She was apparently a clever woman and a talented administrator. Running entire castles wasn’t too challenging for her even when her husband was away fighting wars and trying to lock up Medieval serial killers. She was also quite imposing. For instance, many castle owners might try to keep their unruly servants in line through docking pay, firing them, or possibly imprisoning them. That wasn’t scary enough for Mrs. Czobor. She instead threatened to haunt them all after she died. Some of her workers apparently didn’t take this curse seriously, though. As a result, she is said to peer over the castle walls to this very day, spending her immortality trying to keep worker shenanigans to a minimum. Say what you will about her, but she had her principles. Getting There Hrad Orava is very easy to find using google maps or other online sources. Once you get to the town, follow the signs to the large parking lot festooned with souvenir booths and located within sight of the castle. Just be aware that parking fee is a little steep for small town Slovakia (i.e., a whopping seven euros at our last visit). We have it in good authority that the town made the decision to significantly raise the rates because tourism comes with other costs (i.e., annoying tourists), so this made us feel a bit more empathy. It might also be helpful to keep in mind that you need to be in decent shape to walk all the way to the top. You certainly won’t have to scramble up rope ladders, but the paths are steep and the steps are many. Thus, prepare for your trip a few months in advance using a StairMaster or take your time and be patient. You need to save a little energy for the last round of steps to get the best views and the full Orava experience (i.e., the mannequin of Count Orlok). We would rate this as 8/10 for castle experiences. Also, please note that the gift shop – which looks incredible – was closed both times we visited. We have no idea why, as it was supposed to be open. We surmise that it could generate a good bit of extra revenue, and we definitely had euros in our pocket waiting to buy black and white castle prints and Nosferatu neckerchiefs.. There is an online shop where you can purchase some – but not all – of the fun items we saw in the window. Side Trip Orava is within driving distance of many other castles (including Hrad Beckov). Don’t miss out on the opportunity to try some Slovakian wines while you’re there, either. It’s underrated and very affordable. Conclusions: Even if you couldn't care less about György Thurzó, Erzsébet Báthory, or Nosferatu, this would be an amazing side trip for a vacation if only for the architecture and views. Links: https://www.oravskemuzeum.sk/ It’s an unfortunate reality that we have day jobs and cannot yet be full-time degenerates. Though neither of us is currently employed in academia (thank the gods and demons), we both spend a good bit of time publishing articles in stodgy scientific journals. The workday striving for precision sometimes unexpectedly bleeds into weekend fun. As one example, we found an interesting way to pass the time both before and during Covid by taking a page from clinical drug trial research. No, we were not developing vaccines in the bathtub, but we started applying “double-blind” research methodology to our taste tests. Why wouldn’t we just enjoy our favorite treats, you might ask, and make the weekends more relaxing? Well, we enjoy certainty, and we wanted to see if we REALLY liked the things that we liked, or just thought that we liked them because of habit or good advertising.  The holly subjects of the vertical tasting. Of course we started with alcohol. The first of these taste tests was of bottom-shelf American lagers (i.e., there’s no need to spend a lot of money to have fun), and the procedure was pretty straightforward. One of us went into the kitchen and poured each beer from its aluminum can or bottle into an individual serving container that you couldn’t see through, writing down which beer went where (e.g., Miller High Life into blue coffee mug). Then, the other came in, poured each container into two identical opaque glasses, and wrote down which container corresponded to which glass (e.g., blue coffee mug into Erzsebet Bathory coffee cups). After this process was completed, the tasting began, and each beer was rated on various scales (e.g., hops, malts, carbonation). After the ratings were all sorted and finalized, the winner was selected, and the true identities of all beers are revealed to the shock and delight of the participants. It’s a fun party activity, but you really only need two people to do this. The results of this cheap lager test were surprising: we discovered that we ranked our formerly favorite cheap beer only #4 of 10, and one we thought was hated ended up at the top spot. We also found out that we were unanimous in still hating Busch beer the most. You can’t argue with science…  A perfectly poured glass of Pumking  Our favorite memento from Southern Tier's Pittsburgh brewery. One of the things we don't hate is the fact that pumpkin beers start showing up all over the East coast of the US in the Autumn. They don’t seem to be a big thing in the UK or Europe yet, and this remains a unique American perk. Therefore, it will probably surprise no one that we’ve been annually taste-testing pumpkin beers for a few years. The results have been alarmingly consistent: Southern Tier’s famous Pumking Imperial Ale has been the winner EVERY SINGLE TIME and for EVERY SINGLE YEAR. Believe it when I tell you that we’ve done our best to knock him off his orange perch. Last year, we selected over a dozen different pumpkin competitors to take on the King. He beat them like they were like anonymous nunchuck-wielding goons in the Blade movies. We had the pleasure of visiting Southern Tier’s tasting room in Pittsburgh PA several times to pay our respects. During one visit, we enjoyed their draft Pumking so much that we made a few impulse buys of limited-edition ales (e.g., Sapsquatch – an ale made with maple syrup) and a gigantic Pumking sign. Their merch is impressive. Though we love the sign, it occasionally reminds us to drink with a wee bit more moderation. We can exert some restraint, though; we save a few bottles every year to age. We hit upon this early on, finding that a forgotten bottle was incredible a year after it was produced. We now crack open a 2- or 3-year old Pumking each Thanksgiving and Christmas to help the holidays go more smoothly. Long story short, after years of patience, we finally collected enough well-aged Pumkings to do a “vertical tasting” of seven solid years of alcoholic pumpkin-y goodness. We had some important questions: 1) How long does it stay drinkable? 2) Is there a “sweet spot” where aged Pumking is better than fresh?, and 3) What flavors change the most over time?
How long does it stay drinkable? For our sample, there was a clear line in the sand when the Pumkings stopped tasting good. This was at the seven year mark (i.e., the 2018 bottle). In order to double check and ensure reliability, we cracked open our very last remaining 2018 later that night with the same result. A pity, as 2018 was a very good year. Is there a “sweet spot” where aged Pumking is better than fresh?, Yes! It seems to be somewhere between two and three years. At some point during that time, Pumking matures to a “liquid cocaine” stage where the malts are perfection, the hops mellow, yet the spices remain punchy and beautiful. What flavors change the most over time? There was some variability on this. In general, the malt flavors held up the best but the hops obviously lost some potency with age. The spices were the real wild card, though, with some flavors becoming MORE dominant over time, but not in a systematic way. More generally, the pie spices seemed to hang on pretty well, but became harder to differentiate over time (i.e., not tasting cinnamon, but tasting “spice”). Finally, when the time of tasting and judgment was over, we thought it might be fun to blend of all the non-skunked versions. This did not go well. For some reason, you need to keep the Kings separate. I guess they don’t like to share the stage, and you don’t want an international war in your glass. Now, we should note that we have had other high ABV beers in our life that were aged longer than seven years. Though we did a pretty good job keeping them in dark and (relatively) cool places, the temperature was not completely uniform, so we could have cocked up and/or accelerated the aging process. That being said, even under imperfect conditions, the fact that a five+ year old ale is not only drinkable, but a real treat, is pretty impressive. Kudos to the Southern Tier folks for crafting a true American masterpiece. You may even still be able to pick up a six-pack of the 2024 if you do a little searching Snippets of our tasting notes below if you’re true beer nerds: 2018
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