This week marks the 136th anniversary of the completion of the Washington Monument.

The Washington Monument was started on July 4th, 1832, and because of money shortfalls and the Civil War wasn’t completed until December 6th, 1884. So it isn’t any wonder that we should go and see the last piece of the construction put in place. We need to take our list of the Top Ten Things Not to Do to not cause any kind of time continuum interruption. Grab the list and jump in the Oldsmobile, and we’ll be off.

TopTen Things Not to Do at the Completion of the Washington Monument in 1884

10 If you go, do not offer to place the eight-inch aluminum point on the top. (If you do, at best, you’ll be laughed at. To St Louis. At worse, you will ask Lt. Col. Casey of the Army Corps of Engineers. (It was Lt. Col. Casey who supervised the construction of the final piece of the monument, Morrison. He is the one to place the point. If looks could kill.)

9 If you go, Do not get in Tiny the WWF champ’s way as he lowers the capstone in place. If you do, at best, someone will pull you out of the way. At worst, Tiny will lower it in place anyway. (You see, Morse the capstone weighs 3,300 pounds. I think Tiny wouldn’t mind seeing what a flat you would look like sailing off the monument.)

8 If you go, do not torture other visitors with the question, Do you know why the monument is 555 feet high? If you do, at best, you will be ignored. At worst, you’ll ask someone who knows but is chilled to the bone in the cold air. (That person will tell you that the height was determined by setting it at ten times the base’s width. That person is now asking for your gloves, Morvan. I think they have earned them._

7 If you go, do not ask if you can take the elevator to the top. If you do, at best, those you ask will think you are drunk. At worst, they’ll think you are having an episode of some kind. (The elevator was not complete until 1888, Moshe. Even the iron stairs were not done until 1886, so these folks are wondering. Oh, look. They have guys in white jackets and are pointing your way.)

6 If you go, do not take a bet on how many marble and granite stones were used in the construction. If you do, at best, you’ll bet a penny. At worst, you’ll put your Maryland horse farm up as collateral. (Even though you thought you knew history, Mosi. Your guess was wrong. It took 36,000 blocks of granite and marble to build the monument. Those big guys look like they want the deed to your virtual horse farm, which, of course, you don’t have. Maybe it’s time to jump back into the Oldsmobile.)

5 If you go, do not ask to see the cornerstone. If you do, at best, you’ll get some surprised looks. At worst, you’ll be handed a shovel. (The cornerstone was buried 21 feet below the surface in 1848, Muni. I think these guys are beginning to believe you are some kind of anarchist. I would be careful if I were you. Those tar and feather parties are not much fun.)

4 If you go, do not give an opinion that the laying of the cornerstone in 1848 was a solitary affair. If you do, at best, whoever hears this chatter will not have attended. At worst, you say so in front of someone who was there. (The cornerstone was laid with upwards of 20,000 people in attendance, including President James K. Polk, Mrs. James Madison, Mrs. Alexander Hamilton, George Washington Parke Custis, and future presidents Buchanan, Lincoln, and Johnson, Murchadh. This person is laughing at you now.)

3 If you go, do not point out the apparent ring of different colored stones at the 126th foot level. If you do, at best, you’ll get a “so what.” At worst, you say something overheard by Lt. Col. Casey. (The different color stones resulted from the quarry near Baltimore not being available after the construction was begun again. Different stones were used, and the color was slightly off. The Lt. Col. is so pleased to have you point this out, Mychajlo. I see him with a box of dueling pistols. Could it be he wants satisfaction?)

2 If you go, do not argue with those who say the completed monument is the tallest building in the world. If you do, at best, people will walk away. At worst, you might get into fisticuffs with one. ( You see, Myrick, once the monument was complete, it became the tallest building in the world. It was second only to the Cologne Cathedral. It kept this status until the Eiffel Tower was completed in 1889. Looks like that guy is putting on some gloves. Hope you know how to box.)

1 If you go, do not question the value of the aluminum apex. If you do, at best, those who hear you will think you are crazy. At worst, Lt. Col. Thomas Lincoln Casey will hear you. ( The aluminum apex was thought to be as valuable as silver. It was cast in Philadelphia and thought to be the largest piece of aluminum in the world. After casting and before installation, it was put on display at Tiffany’s in New York. Looks like the Col wants a word with you, Matthew.)

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Today is the 79th anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and time to remember all who lost their lives on that Sunday morning.

This week marks the 134th anniversary of the first revue stages at the Folies Bergere theater in Paris in 1886. The show was quite a hit, and we certainly want to be there. Grab the list of the Top Ten things not to do so we don’t cause a time continuum tear. Hop in James’s Oldsmobile, and let’s go.

Top Ten Things Not to Do at the First Folies Bergère Revue in 1886 by John W. Howell © 2020

10 If you go, do not gape at the scantily clad dancers. If you do, at best, they will think you’re ill. At worst, you might collect a slap from one of the chorus members. (It seems, Mohsen, that you attracted the attention of Bertha, who was previously with Ringling  Brothers Circus. She used to box with the big Grizzley bear. Good luck with your relationship.)

9 If you go, do not laugh at the antics of Tiny, the WWF champ. If you do, at best, he won’t be able to pick you out of the crowd. At worst, Tiny believes he is a serious performer and is now wondering why you are laughing at his performance of Pagliacci. (Of course, you and Tiny know Pagliacci first premiered in 1892, but that didn’t stop him from wailing out what he thought was a fine opera. He is looking for you, Monroe. He said something about high dive. Let’s just say it doesn’t sound like a good thing.)

8 If you go, do not ask what the title of the revue, “Place aux Jeunes,” means in English. If you do, at best, you will ask an older person. At worst, you will ask a young person. (You see, Montague, “Place aux Jeunes” means a place for young people. You know folks who don’t mind a little nudity in their shows. That person you asked is talking to the gendarm over there. The term pervertir keeps coming up. It might be time to leave.)

7 If you go, do not think you can have a feather as a souvenir. If you do, at best, you’ll get a hand slap. At worst, that feather was the cornerstone for the whole costume. (This is a fine kettle of fish you have gotten us into, Montay. Even though it is 1886, causing a person to lose their costume is a serious offense. I hear a bunch of people running your way. It might be good to go the other way for now.)

6 If you go, do not think you can take the stage and sing along. If you do, at best, you’ll fall into the orchestra pit. At worst, your off-tune singing will cause the entire show to stop. (Well, Montez. Believe it or not, the 200 or so who have paid for admission are not pleased about this circumstance. I hear someone calling for tar and feathers. A very tough combination to get off.)

5 If you go, do not ask about the acrobats. If you do, at best, no one will know what you are talking about.  At worse, you’ll ask Édouard Marchand. (Marchand was the guy who took a different direction with the Folies, Montrel. He had the idea of an elaborate review featuring women. He will point out to you that acrobats, circus acts, and boxing kangaroos all played at the Folies in the 1870s. He now wants to know if you want your money back. I would tell him no.)

4 If you go, do not ask about the artists Manet and Toulouse-Lautrec. If you do, at best, no one will know them. At worse, you will ask the barmaid. (Now you have given away your status as a time traveler, Moor. Both artists painted famous paintings using the Folies as subject material. In fact, Manet’s A Bar at the Folies-Bergère, painted in 1882, is of that girl. Manet died a year later. This painting did not become famous until long after 1886.)

3 If you go, do not order Absinthe at the bar. If you do, at best, they will be out. At worse, they are having a happy hour special. (You better be careful, Moreley. Absinthe contains the chemical compound thujone made up of a ketone and a monoterpene present in the spirit in trace amounts and was blamed for its alleged harmful effects. That theory has been debunked, but why chance it. Oh, I see. A little too late on the warning. Happy trails to you.)

2 If you go, do not make a bet about how many costumes sets and people are involved in the shows. If you do, at best, you only bet a little. At worst, you put up your virtual farm in Les Baux-de-Provence. (Of course, you lost, Morgen, since who would be able to guess 40 sets, 1000 costumes, and 200 people. I shape you have a virtual deed to your virtual lavender farm.)

1 If you go, do not mention that the show Place Aux Junes does not have the word Folie and thirteen letters like all shows at the Folies Bergère. (Another faux pas, Morpheus. That tradition was established 100 years ago, so you are about 34 years too soon. Don’t worry, I think these guys like the idea anyway.)