There is one monarchy left on the planet that (or who) still lives in a wooden palace. In this day and age.
Which country?
The fact that I know this SCARES me. I probably need that brain space for other things.
Bring on the guesses.
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Japan?
No. But same region of the globe.
Sort of.
Denmark.
OK, so I didnt see the other comments there.
Damn, that’s what I get for answering without cheating and Googling first. I won’t say, lest I ruin the fun.
No. Not Denmark. Yes … it’s over … by Japan … sort of. :)
I got my information from Paul Theroux. Yes, no Googling.
hmm…I’ll guess first and then I’ll check:
Thailand?
OK, near Japan, so an East Asian monarchy…Thailand?
Jinx! ;-)
No to Thailand.
And … it’s SORT of near Japan. It’s closer to Japan than it is to Denmark, I’ll say that.
ha!!
Let me know if more clues are needed, and I’ll come up with one.
I’ll go in the other direction from Japan than Thailand: how about Fiji?
Dave – closer.
But Fiji is a republic, not a monarchy. But a Polynesian could probably row to the royal kingdom of which I speak.
It’s not Nepal is it? I know I remember reading about a fire a while back…though I know that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s wooden.
Dammit. Didn’t see that last clue.
I was going to write something snarky like:
“I am SURE the brilliant Polynesian navigators could row their way to Nepal. I am sure of it.”
Looking it up, I see to my surprise that Fiji is indeed a republic. OK, then Tonga.
Yes!! Bravo!
I think this is the second time you’ve won a trivia thing, Dave. The other one was the Patriarchs one…
Deductive reasoning. Gotta love it.
Hey! You don’t make fun of my East Tennessee edumacation and I won’t make fun of how tiny Rhode Island is. I could squash Rhode Island like a bug. ;)
Rhode Island would’ve been my next guess, Tommy.
:-p
Oh my God, Tommy, the fact that I know this bullshit fact about the wooden palace in the Kingdom of Tonga has nothing to do with my education – and to be honest, I wish I could forget it!! Like I said, I’m sure that brain space could be put to better use!
Rhode Island be small but … like the commercial sings: “We’re the biggest little state in the Union … Rhode Island! Rhode Island!”
Tonga? Is that where the small bikinis come from?
Val, now I’m gonna be a complete geek – and say that Tonga, apparently, is the most obese country in the world. So thongs would be frightening there.
Their king weighs 444 pounds (last time I checked.)
WHY DO I KNOW ALL THIS CRAZY STUFF?? I need to get a friggin life.
Did you check personally?
And when he sits around the wooden palace, he sits AROUND the palace…
;-)
Tommy: euuuuuuuu
Dave J:
Now that is quite an image.
Sheila: I’ll take “Crap That Only Crazy People Know” for a thousand, Alex.
Alex: And the clue is “Four hundred forty-four pounds.”
Sheila: What is the weight of the King of Tonga?
Alex: You are absolutely correct! That brings you in the lead as I call for security and we head to commercial break!
emily, I swear to God you should have sent me a note: “Warning: You will guffaw with laughter when you read my next comment.”
I just got the whole crazy picture in my head – of me on Jeopardy … Oh God. Still laughing.
“444 pounds.”
“Clearly that is the weight of the king of Tonga.”
BWAHAHA
Yeah, unless the fellow decides to go on a diet and trim down to a svelte 420 lbs, in which case, you’re fucked.
Tangetially, I did make the initial cut for Jeopardy a couple of years ago, but they didn’t call me back. CURSE YOU, TREBEK! ;-)
Lewis Black, from his special last weekend:
“this is the same logic that told me that told me, when I was a kid, that in the event of a nuclear attack I should get under my desk. Because with flames everywhere, I’ll be protected by a wooden desk- I guess SO I CAN BURN FASTER!”
Tonga, eh?
Well, I’m sure that’s what it says in the books. But my house is made of wood.
And in my own way, I am king. Hail to the king, baby.
What kind of wood?
spd rdr:
No f***ing clue.
Why?
Ash, perhaps?
Few people have less trivia-related knowledge than I. My brain just doesn’t retain non-critical stuff that well. It never ceases to amaze me when people blithely quote lines of dialog from some movie they saw ten years ago…
MikeR:
God willing, this useless bit of trivia will not stay with me for 10 years. Please let it go away…please let it go away…
It willl NEVER go away. We won’t let it. :-p
It’ll be in the same category as “don’t even try, CHiPs” I imagine.
I can just see it. 4 years from now, I’ll confess on my blog: “Gee, I need to lose some weight” and one of you will pipe up: “Cheer up, at least you’re not as fat as the king of Tonga!!”
(marking calendar)
What kind of wood is best for a castle?
Teak, perhaps. Or mahogany. Or even ash, Ash. I don’t think a knotty pine castle would be very inspiring. Sort of Levittownish, as castles go. Ebony would be gorgeous, but a tad frightening under a full moon. Oak is better seen standing in a clearing rather than as a headboard or parapet. Oaks’ power is its life. Cyprus is a little soft perhaps, but mix in some cedar and the whole Kingdom will bask in the generous fragrance.
I think, however, that the best material would be yew wood, all orangey and warm with dark swirls, pits and medallions throughout. Polished to a high gleam, a castle of yew would be beacon to all of the monarch’s subjects. An inviting place for those both highborn and low. It reflects hansomely on the Ruler’s magnificence, benevolence, and taste.
Castle Yew.
It has a nice ring to it.
You are a poet. :)
I think yew would be nice, too. Sylvia Plath wrote a haunting poem about a yew tree – hearing the word always makes me think of her.
Please supply a link to the poem.
I am in need of some wood.
spd rdr: Heads up, it is an EXTREMELY bleak poem. A very early expression of a death wish – however, it is quite brilliant. And here it is: I could recite some of it by heart:
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.
The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky —-
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection
At the end, they soberly bong out their names.
The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.
The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness —-
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.
I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness — blackness and silence
“How I would like to believe in tenderness”
Precious.
Thank you.