My erudite co-author Gerald was recently interviewed on the popular Australian radio show Open House, which was broadcast this past Sunday in the Antipodes. For a brief respite from the cut-and-thrust of your daily life, we urge you to sit back, relax and enjoy the repartee here (click “listen”) or else download the podcast from this website.

Once you’ve savoured (er, savored) the experience, why not browse some of these recent publications, which had the good sense to write about our book recently: Fortean Times (May 2010), Chronicles (May 2010), First Things (June/July 2010), The Chap (June/July 2010), The Social Register Observer (Summer 2010), Subterranea (June 2010) and Canadian Monarchist News (Spring-Summer 2010)…

(NB: The Australian war hero and RAAF flying ace Charles Scherf is shown in the vintage photo above, recounting his exploits for radio listeners worldwide.)

Today is Bastille Day, the annual national commemoration of the 1789 event during the French Revolution in which, so republican lore tells us, the political prisoners of the cruel and wayward ancien régime were liberated by a freedom-hungry mob. Never mind that the Bastille only held seven inmates — four forgers, two lunatics, and an aristocrat accused of deviancy — and was guarded by soldiers invalided out of normal military service. The day was, curiously, chosen as the national day of the French Republic, a decision which has since been ratified by over a century of tradition.

Central to that tradition is the annual military parade down the Champs-Élysées, in which the armed might of the nation is capably displayed in all its foppish finery. This year’s march was given an extra dose of colour by the presence of contingents from the armed forces of thirteen African nations who celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of their independence from France this year.

While Bastille Day is a purely French celebration, millions throughout the world no doubt had their flags waving high and proud during the quadrennial World Cup, this year held for the first time on the African continent. FIFA, the international agglomeration of football associations, jealously guards the World Cup brand when it comes to merchandise, but capitalist enthusiasts have nonetheless managed to cash in on the event through the sale of non-branded patriotic paraphernalia.

Target, the American mass-market retail giant, was recently the victim of a unique infiltration by the murky and subterranean forces of reaction through its World Cup cashing-in operations. The chain of stores was discovered selling t-shirts emblazoned with the word “SPAIN” across the chest and proudly displaying the Franco-era flag of that Iberian nation. Once attention was drawn to them, the t-shirts were swiftly withdrawn from sale, but experts say untold hordes of impressionable American youths may have nonetheless been influenced towards the authoritarian traditionalist fringe in the meantime.

Speaking of fringe, certain sectors of what we might call the “patriotic” community in the United States have recognised one deviously subtle sign of a foul and dastardly plot to subvert the popular sovereignty and independence of the American people: the gold fringe on American flags. Our putative conspiracy exposers claim that gold fringe is nowhere mentioned in the Constitution nor in the appropriate legislation passed regarding the design of the ‘Stars and Stripes’, but is only mentioned in army regulations. The fringed flag is a military rather than civil symbol, they uphold, and signifies admiralty jurisdiction which has been brought onto land as a surreptitious method of establishing a military dictatorship in the United States. Any citizen who takes part in a legal case in a courtroom which has a gold-fringed U.S. flag is unknowingly legitimising this parallel government that seeks to erase the republic.

While the less imaginative in the audience might be tempted to dismiss these claims, they do reflect a mindset that attributes a certain importance to flags and to the other outward symbols of our countries, governments, and societies. Be it in support of — or opposition to — the French Republic, a World Cup team, or the secret military government of the United States, I hope readers will not miss an opportunity this summer to put out more flags.

The City University of New York (“the poor man’s Harvard”) is traditionally better known for Marxists than for mystics — or monarchists. Clearly there has been an interesting turn of events. Emeritus professor and Jewish theologian Michael Wyschogrod has put forward a bold proposal for “a dramatic solution to Israel’s constitutional dilemma”: the restoration of the Throne of David.

Did I get that right? The essay (“A King in Israel”) appears in full in the May 2010 issue of the serious journal of ideas known as First Things (though only subscribers get full access), and you can judge it for yourself. At first glance, it seems an idea that would only further inflame tensions in the region and make allegiance impossible for Israel’s non-Jewish citizens. On the other hand, the writer argues that only an essentially mystical and historical arrangement of this kind can reconcile the otherwise irreconcilable. He explains:

The crowning of an actual Davidic monarch today would require prophecy to select the proper person. In the absence of prophecy, this is impossible… Israel can nonetheless be declared a Davidic monarchy without a reigning king…

The solution that I propose is by no means unusual for a constitutional monarchy. It is a common occurrence in monarchy that no king is present or that the present king cannot rule, for example due to youth. In such situations, a regent is appointed [or elected] as a placeholder for a king…

Collateral benefits might ensue from such a declaration. For example, the fact that several Arab countries are monarchies (including Israel’s eastern neighbor) raises the prospect that a Davidic monarchy in Israel might elicit a certain degree of respect.

Your thoughts? It’s hard to say whether Israel’s Muslim citizens, for example, would feel more comfortable giving their allegiance to a Regent representing the temporal aspects of the historic Throne of David than to an Israeli president underpinned by a council of rabbinic scholars (an alternative the writer touches on). It’s true that in European history, kings and their subjects didn’t always share the same faith, and it worked all right. Until 1918, the staunchly Lutheran citizens of Saxony had no difficulty supporting (and even liking) their Catholic kings. Whether this can work in the Middle East, I have no idea.

I suppose if you wait long enough, you’ll live to see the seemingly improbable happen as buildings get renovated and reused.

For example, there’s the case of the former Café Royal at 68 Regent Street in London, the once-fashionable late-supper haunt of both Oscar Wilde and Winston Churchill. The place was steeped in legend, intrigue and even unsolved murder (with a night porter found shot with two bullets in his head). Last year’s blockbuster Sherlock Holmes film was partly set there. It seems everybody passed through at some point, and even celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay had his wedding reception in the place. A couple of posh Masonic lodges used to meet on the premises in a special room (dining afterwards), though in more recent years the lodge room was redeveloped as the Elysium nightclub. So for several years, there was vigorous discoing on the spot where previously the “third degree” was given to trembling candidates. Now it’s all gone, as this part of Regent Street undergoes yet another transformation.

If that’s the kind of heritage building you enjoy seeing, we have a new stopping point for you to add to your travel itinerary — the glamourous new boutique property in Budapest called the Hotel Rosslyn, now restored to its prewar appearance (as above). The “Rosslyn” name was picked by the developers to convey a bit of mysterious buzz, as the building is the former Symbolic Grand Lodge of Hungary. Freemasonry became legal in the Hungarian kingdom after the Austro-Hungarian compromise of 1867, and the members (mostly well-to-do, left-leaning bourgeois with a secularist bent) built this opulent building at Podmaniczky 45. Today, the hotel seems delighted to offer jaded accountants and marketing managers a chance to hold their conferences in the former temple chamber, perhaps adding a bit of spice to what would otherwise be dull proceedings.

Other hotels in a similar vein are the Schlosshotel Rosenau in Austria (covered in our book), the Hotel Stern in Coire (Chur), Switzerland and Hyatt’s Andaz Liverpool Street Hotel (with a temple chamber worthy of the Magic Flute).

As for ‘trading places,’ it’s worth noting that the Grand Lodge of France is housed in a former Franciscan church (8, rue Puteaux in Paris), while the Sacred Heart parish in Geneva is based in a former Swiss Masonic temple… Sursum Corda.

At times, Canada can be properly regarded as a bastion of leftish, “progressive” political correctness. However, at other times, it remains stubbornly traditional and even “Tory”. For example, these days there is a campaign led by alternative religious groups to repeal the country’s anti-witchcraft law, one of the few left on the books in any Western nation.

Section 365 of the Criminal Code of Canada makes it an “offence punishable on summary conviction” to pretend “to exercise or to use any kind of witchcraft, sorcery, enchantment or conjuration”. In effect, the “occult or crafty science” (words from the statute) is banned. Needless to say, there are few if any prosecutions, and some claim the law is an unenforceable dead letter.

Canada’s Criminal Code also continues to make blasphemous libel a crime, and indeed a vast (and unknown) number of ancient English statutes also remain in force in the country — even if they have been repealed in the UK in recent decades. Contrary to popular opinion, Canada is not an officially secular state, and even the Constitution Act, 1982 begins with the words “Whereas Canada is founded upon principles that recognize the supremacy of God and the rule of law”…

Anyway, if you’re up to anything “occult or crafty” in the dark of night, don’t be surprised if a stern but polite Mountie knocks at your door to arrest you.

Have you noticed the revival of absinthe, and other ‘wormwood-based spirits’? They are legal again in many places, and attract the sort of drinker who hopes the bottle might rub off a bit of seemingly dark and dangerous mystique (while imparting nothing more risky than a slight hangover).

Much more ghoulishly horrifying are the cocktails apparently in vogue today in Africa, most made with an extremely cheap base of fermented maize and sorghum:

Chang’aa (“Kill me quick”) – the base plus either mortuary embalming fluid or some other methanol. Decomposing rodents and bits of underwear are occasionally found in the mix (no joke). Causes brain damage and blindness.

Jet-Five – the base with a bit of jet fuel. Ditto.

Waragi – banana gin, frequently toxic.

Laela mmago (“Goodbye Mum”) – the name about says it all.

Ghastly stuff, and a sad commentary on the desperation of many Africans.

I recently picked up a copy of Ian Fleming’s Thrilling Cities, the James Bond creator’s early 1960s world travel guide “focused on the bizarre and perhaps the shadier side of life.” It’s an amusing period piece. The Sunday Times of London sent Fleming on an all-expense-paid, round-the-world jaunt, in first-class on BOAC. His fuel, as always, was a near-lethal level of consumption of booze, cigarettes, and buttery scrambled eggs on white toast. (The only vegetable matter that ever passed his lips appeared to be the chives on his eggs.)

His second stop, after Hong Kong, was the then-seedy Portuguese colony of Macau (where I myself had a fascinating visit several years ago). Fleming was on the trail of a man he hoped would fit the bill of a genuine Bond villain — the mysterious Dr. P.J. Lobo, who was said to control much of the world’s trade in gold. As he writes,

Irresistibly attracted, I gravitated towards him, the internal Geiger counter of a writer of thrillers ticking furiously.

Not only did Macau have no income tax or exchange controls, it was not subject to the Bretton Woods agreement which artificially fixed the gold price at an unsustainable $35 an ounce. The Doctor was said to have ingeniously exploited that loophole, buying gold at the official price and legally re-selling it at a higher unofficial market price to anyone who cared to visit Macau. Where they took it afterwards was their business.

So Fleming carefully arranged an introduction, and was ushered to the Doctor’s mansion, the Villa Verde. The Catholic religious art there didn’t reassure Fleming the agnostic, nor did the “powerfully built butler, who looked more like a judo black-belt than a butler” — who offered Johnny Walker. The Doctor was charming, and, on request, played some of his compositions on a gramophone. (He was an amateur composer.) They talked of gold, kidnapping, criminal brotherhoods, and opium:

“It is a terrible thing, Mr Fleming. These people give all their money for opium. Soon they lose their interest in food… They become sexless, neuter, and waste away. It would be much better if they drank beer, even too much beer, as I believe is sometimes the case in your own country. But what do you think of my coffee? This is my own coffee from my estate in Timor.”

In the end, they parted, Fleming concluding the Doctor was not the villain he had hoped to find — but rather a “careful, astute operator” who was actually a rather respectable, public-spirited fellow. Fleming, waxing philosophical, continued touring Macau, in search of high-stakes fan-tan and dens of vice. He found them.

I suppose that the art of letter-writing hasn’t completely died out yet, given the example shown above (and, enlarged for easier viewing, below). My thoughts? You can guess. I must say I did find the first two pages of Dan Brown’s latest novel to be most interesting ones of all, given that the following introductory notes appear in quick succession:

“This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously…

FACT:… All organizations in this novel exist… All rituals, science, artwork, and monuments in this novel are real.”

An interesting distinction, to be sure. But why does the book include so many small errors, including on minor Washington, DC geography and Masonic trivia (eg, “Supreme Worshipful Master”)? Some pundits have commented that it was simply artistic license, for example on changing the symbol of a double-headed eagle to a double-headed phoenix. It’s hard to argue with that.

For me, the only real cringe moment in the book involved the description of a libation (and I’m not speaking about episode with the ritual drinking of wine from a human skull). Rather, it was a seemingly epicurean character’s offer of a rather high grade of tea — with “cream and sugar.” Surely no self-respecting tea connoisseur would ever proffer that? (If tea in the English style was on offer, milk, not cream, would be the dairy injection. I personally prefer mine in the Slavic style, in a tea glass and without milk.)

I was last in Singapore in 2005, that wonderfully well-run city-state, having flown on what was then (and might still be) the world’s longest non-stop flight: Singapore Airlines’ 18 1/2 hour Newark to Changi hop. As always, after having enjoyed the superb service and hand-mixed S’pore Slings, I was struck by the bold lettering on the landing cards handed out on the plane: “DEATH FOR DRUG TRAFFICKERS”. It wasn’t always so — in fact, prior to the Second World War, some 50% of colonial Singapore’s government revenue came from the tax on opium sales for recreational use.

In the Straits Settlements (which included Singapore, Penang and Malacca), the seedy opium den with its glass-eyed drug addicts was in fact a key pillar of the state — so much so that British colonial officials had a bad conscience about what critics called the funding mechanism of “Empire on the cheap” in Asia. An Opium Replacement Reserve Fund was created to prepare for a phasing out of both the tax and the legal, but not medicinal, use of opium. In 1946, the colonial government made use illegal, and the successor Republic of Singapore eventually undertook one of the few successful “wars on drugs.”

In the rest of world, where the war on drugs has been distinctly unsuccessful, the older model of taxing drug use (whether legal or illicit) has been receiving lots of attention, for all the obvious reasons. Did you know that some 20 US states now require drug dealers to buy tax stamps for their packets of drugs, on pain of higher penalties including the extra crime of tax evasion if caught? To date, the stamps have mostly been bought by collectors, at least in some places. Nebraska apparently has a stamp design that incorporates a skull and syringe. Still, one hesitates to be too dismissive.

A reader of Curated Secrets wrote to let us know about the recent death of a beloved family friend, a classic, well-mannered American gentleman of a type now rarely encountered.

This reader went on to say a bit about his late friend Andrew Orr, a lifelong Philadelphia Main Line resident. Educated at the Haverford School and Yale ’56 (where he was DKE and Skull and Bones), Mr Orr was apparently no stranger to such local haunts of the establishment as the Merion Cricket Club and the Bryn Mawr Presbyterian Church. However, he also joined the Pennsylvania National Guard (in the First Troop, Philadelphia City Cavalry) and other causes a quiet, gentlemanly patriot might support in the mid-20th Century. One wonders if any his thirteen grandchildren will follow in his footsteps.

While we would hesitate to endorse the rites acted out from generation to generation in the Bones tomb, this obituary appears to bear out a motto that appears inside the walls — Rari Quippe Boni. At the very least, Requiescat in Pace.