The grisly plaster cast pictured above of the flayed corpse of a hanged murderer has quite a history.

On October 2, 1801, Mr James Legg shot one William Lambe to death in the latter’s bedroom.  Apparently the 73 year old Mr. Legg had been nursing a grudge against Lambe for some time.  As Mr. Lambe was awakening on the morning of Oct 2, Mr. Legg, gun in hand, confronted him, thrust a second pistol at him and challenged him to a duel to settle their differences.  Mr. Lambe tossed the proffered pistol out the door of his room whereupon Mr. Legg fired upon Mr. Lambe, killing him instantly.

Mr. Lambe’s wife witnessed the murder, but Mr. Legg admitted to it as well.  His trial took place on Oct 28, 1801.  He was sentenced to death, and his execution by hanging took place on Nov 2, a month to the day after the deed was done.  Justice was swift in those days.

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Since a bunch of readers have asked, I’ll give a quick update about the fire in Santa Barbara.  I took the photo above when MD and I went out to dinner last night in downtown Santa Barbara.  The top of our car, which is parked next to the restaurant, is in the foreground, providing some perspective.

As it stands now, MD and I are a little ways from the evacuation area, but the margin is getting closer and closer.  Fires move pretty fast when they are driven by winds gusting from 60-70 mph.  I’ve driven around and looked at the fire and placed it on a map and compared it to where we are.  When I do this and think about it, the reasoning, cognitive part of my brain tells me that we are in no danger at this point, but the primitive, reptilian part of my brain screams a different message.

If you click this link you can see a Google map of Santa Barbara that will update every 15 minutes.  You can see the areas that are under voluntary and mandatory evacuations.  And you can see how far this fire has spread in just four days, which is what the primitive part of my brain is focusing on. You’ll have to scroll to the right to see the part of the fire that affects us.  Our house is north of E. Valley Rd and above the Birnam Wood Golf Course.  If you see the edge of this evacuation hit Birnam Wood, you’ll know we’re out of here.

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MD, Dan Parker and Willie Nelson (click to enlarge)

I have a number of photographs that I would like to put up on this blog, but I can never figure out how to make them connect to a post.  I’ve decided to start a series of posts (here and there) with the photos at the top and the story behind the photos following.  This is the first.

As most of you know from one of my previous posts, I’m not much of a concert goer.  I hate the noise, I hate the people standing up in front of me, I hate the drunks, etc.  Well, I got a call a few days ago from Dan Parker, former track star at the University of Kentucky, and one of my regular golfing buddies (whom I regularly beat like a rented mule) asking me if I wanted to go to a Willie Nelson concert at the Santa Barbara Bowl.

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Great article on the front page of the weekend edition of the Wall Street Journal about the travails of celebrities and their lawyers. As I’m sure most people are aware there is an ongoing battle between celebs and the articles written about them in Star, the National Enquirer, and other tabloids. Although no one with good sense (in my opinion) would believe anything in these trashy rags, the celebrities apparently really get their noses out of joint about some of the reporting. And when they do, they call their tabloid-buster lawyers. The lawyers write letters threatening lawsuits, and the tabloids back off or print retractions.

The times they are a changing. Now the tabloids are fighting back against not the celebs, but against their lawyers as well. And I’m loving it.

Most (probably all) celebrities make a Faustian bargain when they get get into the celebrity business. I’m sure that each of them in their pre-celebrity days has watched all agog as some already made celeb got out of a limo and was mobbed by fans and paparazzi and said to themselves: wouldn’t that be cool; I’d give anything to be like that. When their day comes, I’m sure they bask in it for a while, but then get tired of never having a moments privacy. Then they get snitty, and do the old I just want to be left alone. But it’s too late. They’ve made the bargain, and there’s no turning back.

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