<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609</id><updated>2012-01-05T12:04:43.327-08:00</updated><category term='napoleon trivia'/><category term='st.helena napoleon'/><category term='napoleon trivia valet marchand'/><title type='text'>The Emperor And I</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>57</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-71697230245042847</id><published>2010-03-05T01:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T02:15:28.788-08:00</updated><title type='text'>England.</title><content type='html'>I'm sick at home, so why not upload this thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been through somekind of blogging rehab, plus I am just very busy with other things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've been to South England with my father. And we visited a crapload of things only tourists are interested in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously everything around there is from before 1300, amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally, dad and I called it a "castle trip" but come to think of it.&lt;br /&gt;We've seen only one castle, lol. Which WAS the ultimate medieval castle.&lt;br /&gt;Those things are smaller than what they look like in the movies *blond remark*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been to Oxford to see the colleges and gawk at students like we dont have those in the Netherlands. It's different, these are English students, and they all wear the same.&lt;br /&gt;Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing Napoleon related was the watch tower at the coast. Build there when his invading plans were getting serious. He had 130.000 soldiers in Boulogne, waiting for the command to invade England. He never gave that command.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also saw a very big Silver statue of the duke of Wellington, riding a horse.&lt;br /&gt;he looked as arrogant as ever, but I cannot scold him in his own country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I respected him for once. Treasure the moment, vain twit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've seen Stonehenge and that is EXACTLY what they tell you that it is.&lt;br /&gt;Stones...&lt;br /&gt;Very old stones..&lt;br /&gt;In a field..&lt;br /&gt;yea..&lt;br /&gt;It's awesome.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S5DY6oSg5JI/AAAAAAAAAJY/dh2Bx9GWqDQ/s1600-h/England+065.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445090451250013330" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S5DY6oSg5JI/AAAAAAAAAJY/dh2Bx9GWqDQ/s320/England+065.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the times, I was struggling to get my camera to work. Give me a break, I am blond and a girl. And my camera hates me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;British police officers are very polite by the way. The Dutch ones are horrible. They yell at you like you killed the Queen, while all you did was parking somewhere they didn't want you to park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, here is a photo of me in Christ Church College in Oxford. I hate photos of myself. It ruins the camera, lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-71697230245042847?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/71697230245042847/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/03/england.html#comment-form' title='43 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/71697230245042847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/71697230245042847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/03/england.html' title='England.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S5DY6oSg5JI/AAAAAAAAAJY/dh2Bx9GWqDQ/s72-c/England+065.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>43</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-6594565774013869927</id><published>2010-02-18T03:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T03:39:15.060-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Napoleon Lives on... in Japan.</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, I was watching television and rolled into some travelling documentary about Japan.&lt;br /&gt;It was semi-interesting and it made me decide yet again that I never want to go to Japan..China..or anywhere near Asian countries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man visiting several musea was over excited with almost everything he came across and he aggrevated me to the max. Anyway, there was one thing that startled me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onto visiting some kind of exhibit of robotic movements and artificial life and intelligence, the man was introduced to a life sized model of Napoleon...breathing.&lt;br /&gt;He was laying on a couch, papers scrawled across his stomach, and his chest was slowly rising and falling. There was mud on his boots, and his hair was tangled.&lt;br /&gt;He looked like he had just returned from a campaign, and had fallen asleep while working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my jaw dropped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The breathing could be heard, it was heavy and slow. When the man was asked to touch Napoleon, the skin reacted like it was real.&lt;br /&gt;The Japanese man who made it told him it was a piece of art and science he was very proud of. And he hoped musea would be interested in buying it.&lt;br /&gt;If not Napoleon, then perhaps the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sure made history come alive he said, and laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man looked a little unsure about it all, but laughed all the same.&lt;br /&gt;He was from Europe, the man.&lt;br /&gt;And perhaps he knew Napoleon as a little more than a piece of science.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-6594565774013869927?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/6594565774013869927/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/02/napoleon-lives-on-in-japan.html#comment-form' title='7 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6594565774013869927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6594565774013869927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/02/napoleon-lives-on-in-japan.html' title='Napoleon Lives on... in Japan.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-8173132034929193979</id><published>2010-02-07T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T10:23:49.192-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking about suicide.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Got you there, didn't I? Don't worry, I'm not thinking about MY suicide, but Napoleon's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Napoleon wanted to thank Caulaincourt for his loyalty, advice and services before he went to Elba, he messed it up epically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days before being shipped off to Italy's most retarded island, Napoleon tried to kill himself by taking poison he had been carrying with him for years. In a little bottle on a chain, hanging around his neck.&lt;br /&gt;He had just said goodnight to Caulaincourt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Valet Constant heard strange noises and decided to go check on his master. Constant found him in a frightful state, laying on his bed, trying to muffle his screams in his pillows.&lt;br /&gt;Dr.Yvan was summoned and tried to persuade Napoleon into drinking some tea, in the hope it would make him vomit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon refused at first, he wanted to die, and yelled at the doctor to leave him alone.&lt;br /&gt;But with endless effort, the doctor as well as Constant managed to make him drink a few cups of tea. And Napoleon vomited into a vase Constant held underneath his mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The valet didn't know what to do with the vase after that, so he put it outside in the garden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Napoleon was slowly calming down, still convinced he was dying, Caulaincourt was dragged out of his bed with the news that the emperor was in critical state. Caulaincourt hurried to his master's bedside and asked "Ah, sire! What have you done!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon told Caulaincourt he admitted his wife and son to him and that he was leaving this world soon.&lt;br /&gt;Caulaincourt was shocked, but remained calm as always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the doctor, Napoleon asked if the dose had been strong enough. Yvan had no idea what the emperor was talking about. But Constant later told him he had seen a small empty bottle in a corner of the room. It then became clear that Napoleon had tried to kill himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The poison was a few years old, given to him by Dr.Corvisart before leaving for the Russian campaign. And it was no longer capable of killing anyone. Napoleon saw it as a sign. He was now convinced it was meant to be that he would suffer through it all.&lt;br /&gt;Hopeless romantic he was, hm? &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S28FDbGIJ3I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/EreTdE0Mx0s/s1600-h/Book5Chapter5g.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435568831630681970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 262px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S28FDbGIJ3I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/EreTdE0Mx0s/s320/Book5Chapter5g.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He fell asleep when the pain eased down, and the next morning he was alright. As if nothing happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He would later say that suicide is something meant for cowards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be it so, he gave poor Caulaincourt quite a scare.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-8173132034929193979?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/8173132034929193979/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/02/thinking-about-suicide.html#comment-form' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8173132034929193979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8173132034929193979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/02/thinking-about-suicide.html' title='Thinking about suicide.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S28FDbGIJ3I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/EreTdE0Mx0s/s72-c/Book5Chapter5g.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-8166672160240729906</id><published>2010-02-05T00:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T01:04:14.222-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes Holland Is Cool</title><content type='html'>The 20th till 21th of February this year, Napoleonic soldiers will camp at our local historical entertainment parc The Archeon, which I thought didn't exist anymore since 2000 or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the weekend before I go to England with my father. We're going to visit castles and have a nice father-daughter bonding moment.&lt;br /&gt;I'm really excited about it, I've been looking out to it since it was certain we were going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I might be able to talk my mum into taking me to the Napoleonic thing.&lt;br /&gt;It's not a battle re-enactment, just the soldiers sitting there acting Napoleonic.&lt;br /&gt;Awesome..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the Archeon when I was a little girl. Dad used to take me there with my sis.&lt;br /&gt;It's like one of those re-enactment parcs, starts with the cavemen, and ends with the Golden Age.&lt;br /&gt;So I wonder when they decided to evolve and throw Napoleon in it.&lt;br /&gt;Cause I actually thought the entire parc went bankrupt centuries ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well no matter, I saw the announcement in some magazine this morning and I was like yaaaaay, spilling my coffee everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;The entire Dutch Napoleon society is there with some foreign guests.&lt;br /&gt;I have to go there!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flirt with marshals and put toddlers in canons!&lt;br /&gt;The French took over! It's raining offspring!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oi, even their site still exists and now I see they have been demonstrating Napoleonic stuff since years. Am I blond or what?&lt;br /&gt;I dont even realize they're demonstrating a Napoleonic thing when it's happening right in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They can send the cavalry on me and I'd still be like...oi, I never thought there was a ranch around here! Horsies! :) *gets slaughtered*&lt;br /&gt;Murat hates me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably because I think he looks incredibly gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, mum will be home soon, time to use the puppy eye act.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-8166672160240729906?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/8166672160240729906/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/02/sometimes-holland-is-cool.html#comment-form' title='5 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8166672160240729906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8166672160240729906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/02/sometimes-holland-is-cool.html' title='Sometimes Holland Is Cool'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-8549714189187704854</id><published>2010-01-31T00:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T01:11:04.741-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The brave moustache man</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;In War And Peace, written by Tolstoj, there is this one scene I find particulary funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although the books aren't meant to be funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon had just crossed the Neman and he and his staff arrive at yet another river, the Wilija. There, he meets a Polish regiment, part of his army.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He sets himself beside the river and looks around with his spyglass, wrapped up in thoughts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A cavalry officer with a moustache has just arrived as well with his troops, and asks permission from the emperor to galop his troops through the river in his honor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not even looking up from a few papers, Napoleon replies "Sure, go ahead.."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The cavalry man with the moustache returns to his troops and yells "Vivant!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;His men throw themselfs into the ice cold water on top of their horses and swim their way to the other side. The river was wild and cold and it ended up in a total drowning chaos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;40 men found their deaths.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon was totally unaware of the dramatic scene that was happening in front of him, he was thinking about how many bridges the river would need and how much time they would need for building those things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of his marshalls comes up to him, nudges him gently and tells him about the heroic mass hysteria that was taking place. But Napoleon's mind is somewhere else and he starts about brigdes to the Marshall, who has no choice but to go along in the conversation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Meanwhile, the cavalry man with the moustache reached the other side of the river, turns around and yells "vive l'empereur!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the spot where Napoleon was standing, is empty. The emperor has left.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few months later, Napoleon suddenly remembered the moustache man in a completely random moment. And asked for him. Moustache man had survived the Russian Campaign and was given a medal for his bravery that day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon had a fantastic memory, but it was completely random sometimes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He could seriously remember the name of the person who had handed him an ashtr&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S2VIqjdo6GI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Yk-HU9oSX-M/s1600-h/NapEnjoyingBuildingBridges.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432828421403633762" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S2VIqjdo6GI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Yk-HU9oSX-M/s320/NapEnjoyingBuildingBridges.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ay 20 years ago. I forgot his name, and it's not even a year ago that I red about that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would have forgotten about the place, the time, the name and the ashtray.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-8549714189187704854?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/8549714189187704854/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/brave-moustache-man.html#comment-form' title='3 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8549714189187704854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8549714189187704854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/brave-moustache-man.html' title='The brave moustache man'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S2VIqjdo6GI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Yk-HU9oSX-M/s72-c/NapEnjoyingBuildingBridges.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-7942802687294468520</id><published>2010-01-26T02:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T02:41:44.450-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday present</title><content type='html'>So tommorrow.. January the 27th, I celebrate my 20th birthday.&lt;br /&gt;And I am not alone, cause Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart celebrates his birthday as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend, I was at my father's house.&lt;br /&gt;And my dad had been stressing over a present for me for weeks.&lt;br /&gt;On the phone, he asked me what I would like..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm horrible with such questions, so I replied..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know... get me something about Napoleon"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By lack of a better idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The result was four beautiful books about the man, so I was in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, cloud nine.&lt;br /&gt;He told me he went to a very big second hand book store, and kind of entered Hell cause they had about 5 giant bookshelfs about Napoleon.&lt;br /&gt;I can already see him stare at them like "I should have bought her a rabbit skull"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atleast my father persists on buying something that interests me, wether it's practical or not.&lt;br /&gt;He bought me a Jack Russel terrier Skeleton last year.&lt;br /&gt;I love it and use it as my own personal jewel storage and named it Sparky.&lt;br /&gt;Sparky does look a little bizarre with all the earrings hanging from his ribs and bracelets around his skinny neck, but atleast I don't have to pay for his vaccinations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, about the books;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first one is an edited version of Napoleon's own autobiography, his memoires dictated to Las Cases and Montholon.&lt;br /&gt;Edited by Somerset de Chair and titled Napoleon on Napoleon.&lt;br /&gt;And it contains pictures, I'm blond so I need pictures otherwise I don't understand what the hell they're saying.&lt;br /&gt;Just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second one is titled The Napoleonic Wars, written by Gunther Rothenberg.&lt;br /&gt;I think the subject is kind of obvious, it's about his marriages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kidding....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a very detailed book about all the battles and campaigns.&lt;br /&gt;Complete with original uniform designs for the Grande Armee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third one is titled England's Prisoner, written by Frank Giles.&lt;br /&gt;It's about Napoleon's  time on St.helena.&lt;br /&gt;A little dry, but with enough information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the fourth is called Waterloo and the Hundred Days.&lt;br /&gt;Written by David Chandler.&lt;br /&gt;A great book with all the strategies and opinions of Napoleon, Blucher and Wellington.&lt;br /&gt;It contains amazing pictures I've never seen before, and I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad is the greatest, really.&lt;br /&gt;He's very patient when it comes to me rambling about useless Napoleon trivia as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother just throws a fit and runs off joining the British Army..&lt;br /&gt;She practically hates Napoleon by now....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like it's his fault I'm obsessed with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, when my scanner decided to stop boycotting me, I will scan some of the special images so you guys can see them. Like..Napoleon the Fugitive, great portrait of him right after Waterloo. Looking all worn out and defeated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-7942802687294468520?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/7942802687294468520/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/birthday-present.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/7942802687294468520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/7942802687294468520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/birthday-present.html' title='Birthday present'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-4451141727849955228</id><published>2010-01-14T15:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T15:04:34.614-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A vet's motto</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0-ioIQBQKI/AAAAAAAAAJA/hmB5CaF1F3I/s1600-h/3128676813_120f8ee156.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426734886297878690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 226px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0-ioIQBQKI/AAAAAAAAAJA/hmB5CaF1F3I/s320/3128676813_120f8ee156.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Somehow, this just made me laugh so hard I got stomach aches...&lt;br /&gt;Relax, it's from a joke of the Simpsons series...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not related to Napoleon in any way....But just....wow....&lt;br /&gt;I still burst out laughing when I look at the pic...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-4451141727849955228?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/4451141727849955228/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/vets-motto.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/4451141727849955228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/4451141727849955228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/vets-motto.html' title='A vet&apos;s motto'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0-ioIQBQKI/AAAAAAAAAJA/hmB5CaF1F3I/s72-c/3128676813_120f8ee156.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-6563484270255845437</id><published>2010-01-11T23:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T00:16:25.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Commercials from Hell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0wvg4xai3I/AAAAAAAAAI0/aj6VCmZSHH4/s1600-h/51yJwTffieL__SS500_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425763893116570482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0wvg4xai3I/AAAAAAAAAI0/aj6VCmZSHH4/s320/51yJwTffieL__SS500_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's driving me crazy! All those commercials using Napoleon to promote something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm sure I haven't discovered everything yet, but for as far as I know, he has been used to promote banks, beer, cognac, GPS systems, Insurances, movie channels, bike races, car races, candy and condoms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's right, condoms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He had two kids outside his marriage, and still they use him to promote condoms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Talk about a bad publicity stunt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The clip was on youtube, but they removed it ages ago.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It wasn't even funny...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Atleast make it funny...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I doubt Napoleon would sign up for all that crap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think he would get kinda pissed when someone called him Napoleon Beernaparte.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;cause yes, that's the great slogan they designed for the beer thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did he even drink beer? uhg...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't think his stomach could handle that..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-6563484270255845437?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/6563484270255845437/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/commercials-from-hell.html#comment-form' title='4 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6563484270255845437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6563484270255845437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/commercials-from-hell.html' title='Commercials from Hell'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0wvg4xai3I/AAAAAAAAAI0/aj6VCmZSHH4/s72-c/51yJwTffieL__SS500_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-1383331538519406650</id><published>2010-01-10T05:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T05:39:18.226-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey Doll..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0nYEWpaO_I/AAAAAAAAAIs/Lj1P8ErkMFQ/s1600-h/Napoleon_v1_Full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425104795454815218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0nYEWpaO_I/AAAAAAAAAIs/Lj1P8ErkMFQ/s320/Napoleon_v1_Full.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Famous people are made into actionfigures, that's right, this entry is about actionfigures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Endure me, the only thing you get to read on this blog is a bag of nonsense anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enfin, Napoleon has his own actionfigure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pretty impressive, really.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Josephine, Marie Louise, Murat, Ney and even Lannes are available.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Random grenadiers and officers, and some dude on a horse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I came across the site one day and I was waiting for the moment I actually felt like posting something about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They're all made with outstanding details and they're very expensive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I treasured my late Napoleon figurine thing, God bless its soul, cause my dog ate it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And threw up Napoleon's head a few hours later, by the way...nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would totally worship these detailed things. They got real clothes and all...&lt;br /&gt;Best part of that is that you can take them off&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just kidding...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;anyway, if I ever feel like spending my money on useless things, I would totally buy one of those Napoleon dolls. I hope he leaves my sister's old barbies alone, though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I never played with barbies, I played with little animal figurines.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Horses and all that crap..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Got a whole bunch of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enough for a respectable cavalry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My sister's barbies received nothing but abuse from me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No matter what you do to them, they just keep smiling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pisses me off...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If my dog managed to eat my not yet existing expensive Napoleon doll thing I would euthanize the shit out of him. I would seriously chuck a mental.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He can eat Lannes, cause he was ripped to pieces anyway... Not by a dog, but oh well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And of course, he can feel free to savagely destroy Marie Louise at any time he wants, lol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder if they have a pregnant version of her, like with Barbie, lol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And with that, a hysterical Napoleon version.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If they accept special orders, I would totally let them design a Marchand doll.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm almost 20...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Time to start playing with dolls...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-1383331538519406650?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/1383331538519406650/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/hey-doll.html#comment-form' title='1 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1383331538519406650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1383331538519406650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/hey-doll.html' title='Hey Doll..'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0nYEWpaO_I/AAAAAAAAAIs/Lj1P8ErkMFQ/s72-c/Napoleon_v1_Full.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-2110417281367990710</id><published>2010-01-09T11:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T12:11:14.269-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In your face</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0jgoRaOAjI/AAAAAAAAAIk/uzTIwz9bmGw/s1600-h/ewwlol.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424832733640524338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 285px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0jgoRaOAjI/AAAAAAAAAIk/uzTIwz9bmGw/s320/ewwlol.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So, while spending my saturday browsing the internet, concentrating on having no life whatsoever, dealing with a grumpy Englishman, a hysterical dog and a temperature of -12 outside, I came across this ....weird.... picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tsar Alexander and Napoleon...kissing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And not just...a friendly kiss... but really....FRENCH kissing, haha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eh, right..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So... I know there are rumors about Napoleon and Alexander liking eachother a bit too much and I dont know how much of that is true, but... Thats not a reason to draw things like this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's shocking, and it destroys my appetite.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-2110417281367990710?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/2110417281367990710/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/in-your-face.html#comment-form' title='5 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/2110417281367990710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/2110417281367990710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/in-your-face.html' title='In your face'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0jgoRaOAjI/AAAAAAAAAIk/uzTIwz9bmGw/s72-c/ewwlol.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-3387930843166090263</id><published>2010-01-06T06:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T06:35:50.391-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sergey﻿ Trofimov</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0Sfe7mLdlI/AAAAAAAAAIU/B05wLAAmT0A/s1600-h/almostscary.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423635205003638354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 171px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0Sfe7mLdlI/AAAAAAAAAIU/B05wLAAmT0A/s320/almostscary.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is the name of the Russian actor that portrays Napoleon in the Bank Imperial commercials.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And possibly the man who resembles Napoleon the most.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been looking for his name for months! And when I couldn't find it, I send an email to the commercial design thing in Russia, responsible for those commercials.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And they replied, very dry with only the name and some kind regards.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BAHA, AWESOME..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sergey looks so much like Napoleon it gets scary.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It could have been his twin brother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next task is tracking down said actor so I can marry him MWAHAHA.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you haven't seen the Bank Imperial commercials yet, go look them up at Youtube.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two with Napoleon, both with Sergey playing him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He speaks good French for a Russian.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-3387930843166090263?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/3387930843166090263/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/sergey-trofimov.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3387930843166090263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3387930843166090263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/sergey-trofimov.html' title='Sergey﻿ Trofimov'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0Sfe7mLdlI/AAAAAAAAAIU/B05wLAAmT0A/s72-c/almostscary.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-6579279610999011806</id><published>2010-01-05T01:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T01:33:55.930-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Right..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0MHZLzsceI/AAAAAAAAAIM/FM8d0ViAyfg/s1600-h/lettheemperorpass.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423186505531945442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0MHZLzsceI/AAAAAAAAAIM/FM8d0ViAyfg/s320/lettheemperorpass.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I found this picture on the internet. It's titled "Let the emperor pass!" and is supposed to be Napoleon crossing the Beresina bridge in a hurry during his retreat from Russia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got this slight feeling the painter didn't really agree with Napoleon on any level.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I don't see Napoleon crossing a bridge and pushing women with babies into the water while doing so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And if he did, his travel companion Caulaincourt would atleast have a shocked expression on his face instead of sitting there shooting roots.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No, really, I can totally not relate to this retarded painting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon wouldn't be so emotionless about it either.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Look at him, he's like.. "I'm hungry, when can we eat?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Absurd, Napoleon wouldn't push women and babies into the ice cold water because he wants to pass a bridge. Unless they gave out free Donuts on the other side, of course.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-6579279610999011806?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/6579279610999011806/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/right.html#comment-form' title='6 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6579279610999011806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6579279610999011806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2010/01/right.html' title='Right..'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/S0MHZLzsceI/AAAAAAAAAIM/FM8d0ViAyfg/s72-c/lettheemperorpass.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-1472080961172661437</id><published>2009-12-30T02:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T03:12:34.940-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ney</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Szs1KQnfe7I/AAAAAAAAAIE/SO4mI1BSeGM/s1600-h/marechal-ney3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420985026846096306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Szs1KQnfe7I/AAAAAAAAAIE/SO4mI1BSeGM/s320/marechal-ney3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh God what did I put myself into?! Okay well.. To Hell with it, I'm not going to write down his entire lifestory, that'll take forever and a day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Michel Ney was born the 10th of January in the year of our Lord 1769. Same year as Napoleon, he was a few months older. (thank you, Capt.Obvious) He was born in Saarlouis and after finishing his education at Collège des Augustins he became a notary.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The job killed his braincells and so he enlisted in the Colonel-General Hussar Regiment in 1787. He worked his way through the ranks and fought many battles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was given the title of Marshall in 1804. Marshal of the Empire, Napoleon knew how to make friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ney fought in jena, and saved the day at Eylau.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He commanded the right wing at Friedland.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In May 1808 he was created Duke of Elchingen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And he was send to Spain in August the same year, analyze that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He also fought against Wellington at Torres Vedras (Portugal) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During one battle, he had four horses shot down underneath him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Poor Horses..anyway..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was in Russia Ney got his nickname "bravest of the brave" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;His regiment and he were cut down from the main army during the retreat from Moscow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They were attacked and Ney got injured, but they managed to rejoin the army again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon gave him his nickname.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The story has it, that Ney was the last to cross the bridge at Beresina, as the last Frenchman leaving Russian soil.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the French Campaign, in Fontainebleau, Ney became the spokesman of the Marshalls, demanding Napoleon's abdiction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As a reward for him shoving the abdiction papers in Napoleon's face until said emperor actually signed the crap, he was promoted by the Bourbons and made a Peer (which is a kind of fruit in the Dutch language, imagine my reaction)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After that, he started a vegetables store en bred Chinese hamsters for the rest of his life. The hamsters were later used as cannonballs at Waterloo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;just kidding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Upon hearing Napoleon's return from Elba, Ney was send to Auxerre to stop him. He promised the king to bring Napoleon back in an iron cage, roaring like a lion. That plan didn't work out because he forgot to bring a cage and so he rejoined Napoleon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was given command over the cavalry, and charged the British squares without Infantry or Artilery support and was seen beating his sword against cannons in idiotic frustration.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The cannons were not impressed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After Waterloo and as example to the other Marshalls, Officers, Generals etc, Ney was arrested, charged and executed for treason against the King.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He did not use the blindfold, and gave the order for the firing himself, saying;'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Soldiers, when I give the command to fire, fire straight at my heart. Wait for the order. It will be my last to you. I protest against my condemnation. I have fought a hundred battles for France, and not one against her ... Soldiers, Fire!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ney is burried at the cemetery of Pere Lachaise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A legend tells us that he was not executed but somehow managed to escape to the United States where he became a school teacher under the name of Peter Stuart Ney.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As for me, I think he went to the Galapagos islands... to breed Chinese Hamsters.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Flying.. Chinese Hamsters.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-1472080961172661437?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/1472080961172661437/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/ney.html#comment-form' title='4 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1472080961172661437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1472080961172661437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/ney.html' title='Ney'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Szs1KQnfe7I/AAAAAAAAAIE/SO4mI1BSeGM/s72-c/marechal-ney3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-1824261482814034140</id><published>2009-12-30T01:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T01:46:37.471-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Layout</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SzsgiqjBSAI/AAAAAAAAAH8/8qcQk0-PCT4/s1600-h/napoleonchair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420962356379338754" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 222px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SzsgiqjBSAI/AAAAAAAAAH8/8qcQk0-PCT4/s320/napoleonchair.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Graphic Design, I suck at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But since it's christmas vacation, and christmas is behind us, and no one knows what to do now..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I screwed around with the layout a little, wasn't really happy with it.&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy with it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I still absolutely adore this image ---&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just look at him.&lt;br /&gt;A bit of a selfrespecting emperor misbehaves at a fancy restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;I bet he's going for the chicken..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is a time of forgiveness and being nice to people you actually hate.&lt;br /&gt;Next station: An entry about Ney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A nice entry... I won't beat him up.&lt;br /&gt;I promise..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well just a little maybe..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-1824261482814034140?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/1824261482814034140/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/new-layout.html#comment-form' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1824261482814034140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1824261482814034140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/new-layout.html' title='New Layout'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SzsgiqjBSAI/AAAAAAAAAH8/8qcQk0-PCT4/s72-c/napoleonchair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-3499338350732627989</id><published>2009-12-28T15:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T15:31:18.518-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shaving, it's an art.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Szk_u2HFGVI/AAAAAAAAAHc/0_O6VYtalsE/s1600-h/Constant2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420433700548843858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 204px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Szk_u2HFGVI/AAAAAAAAAHc/0_O6VYtalsE/s320/Constant2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And as in every art, you have a talent for it, or you don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon couldn't shave himself.&lt;br /&gt;Lucky for him, he had servants for that. Poor Constant was victim #1 to do it and he describes how those sessions went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon was a very impatient person. So during his shaving, he twisted, turned, talked, moved around, made sudden movements and sometimes just pushed Constant aside and walked away.&lt;br /&gt;Constant, obviously, always did his best not to cut his master. And thankfully that never occured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Constant was a skilled shaver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the poor servant grew a little weary of all the stress every morning, and so he kindly offered to teach Napoleon how to shave himself.&lt;br /&gt;And when Napoleon was in a good mood, he let Constant have his fun.&lt;br /&gt;Disaster occured and Napoleon managed to cut himself, yelling out;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh Constant! Look what you made me do, you wretch!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Napoleon wasn't the one to give up and eventually (around 1812, probably) he could shave himself without making it look like a bloodbath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe he continued shaving himself on St.Helena as well, but correct me if I'm wrong.&lt;br /&gt;I do know Marchand had to honor to do so when Napoleon was too sick to even lift his arm.&lt;br /&gt;The poor thing hadn't shaved in a week and he looked like a caveman (a dying caveman) and so Montholon talked him into a shave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to shave Montholon. Sweeney Todd anyone? *evil laugh*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-3499338350732627989?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/3499338350732627989/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/shaving-its-art.html#comment-form' title='10 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3499338350732627989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3499338350732627989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/shaving-its-art.html' title='Shaving, it&apos;s an art.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Szk_u2HFGVI/AAAAAAAAAHc/0_O6VYtalsE/s72-c/Constant2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-2520580927893018177</id><published>2009-12-28T08:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T09:13:21.869-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Meow Meow...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Since everyone seems to post SOMETHING about the big Napoleon versus Felines question, I will do so as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cats, what do we know of cats? I know a lot about cats, I even follow an education for it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's my job to know EVERYTHING about cats. Inside and out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And yes, Ailurophobia is one of the many things that comes across in my studies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since Felines exist, people that fear them existed as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;People that worship them too... Think of the Egyptians, and nowadays, crazy cat ladies aka my aunt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the office, I once had a man at my desk asking me what to do with his girlfriend. He owned three lovely kittens, but his new girlfriend who came to live with him recently, was afraid of cats.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I advised him to get her a shrink to find out why the blood girl was afraid of felines.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In Napoleon's case, it was trauma that caused him to be so afraid of cats.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the poor man went completely mental upon seeing a cat, he just lost it...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon could be the epitome of self control, but when cute little Hello Kitty entered the building, our proud emperor lost his wits and went about waving his sword around, yelling for his guards to God please save him!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When Napoleon was only six months old, his nanny left him in the yard for a few seconds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In those few seconds, a playful cat decided to "attack" baby Bonaparte. It was playing, if it wasn't, Napoleon would have been dead or at least bare traces of the attack.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cause really, cats can kill a six months old baby.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since that day, Napoleon feared cats. Of course, for a baby, the cat must have looked like a giant tiger. Had he lived in the modern world, therapy would have helped him live with the fear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I admit, cats can be frightening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have one customer with a very evil cat, she really really hates my guts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I should stop plunging needles in her butt everytime she visits.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to sedate her just to clip her nails.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I once red a little detail about Napoleon's severe case of kittens-are-evil-phobia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dont remember who wrote it, I think Caulaincourt, but I might be mistaken.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Could have been Constant as well, although he kind of avoided writing down embarrasing things about his emperor. (save from the epic shaving fail)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was during the Russian campaign that Napoleon called out for help one evening. He and his staff were staying over at some Inn. Apparentally, the Inn owned a cat and that same cat sneaked into the emperor's bedroom some part during the night and jumped upon his bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When Napoleon awoke (noisy purrer, maybe?) he got the shock of his life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reason for chaos in the Inn when the emperor screamed his lungs out like he was being assasinated by thirty Cossacks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Brave brave Constant risked his own life by removing the purring machine from His Majesty's bed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On who's bed the kitten spend the night after that, they don't say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Szjm32QvVZI/AAAAAAAAAHU/20QtdgVjBiI/s1600-h/catevillll.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420335998673311122" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Szjm32QvVZI/AAAAAAAAAHU/20QtdgVjBiI/s320/catevillll.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-2520580927893018177?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/2520580927893018177/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/meow-meow.html#comment-form' title='8 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/2520580927893018177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/2520580927893018177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/meow-meow.html' title='Meow Meow...'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Szjm32QvVZI/AAAAAAAAAHU/20QtdgVjBiI/s72-c/catevillll.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-7421231441166773578</id><published>2009-12-24T09:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T09:15:33.394-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas eve and being discovered</title><content type='html'>Oi, my family discovered my blog. This blog.. this weird blog about Napoleon.&lt;br /&gt;I remember telling my sister about it, and apparentally, she told her boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh help..&lt;br /&gt;My family already declared me mental.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sometimes invite my mum to read a few entries, but she doesn't understand shit about computers and would never be able to trace it without my help.&lt;br /&gt;Now my dad just doesn't give a scrap...&lt;br /&gt;My sister probably looked it up but never said anything about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the silence treatment... it's bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now she told me her boyfriend Melle knows about it, and red it as well.&lt;br /&gt;I'm a little worried about that..&lt;br /&gt;Melle is a very high educated person, but he said he liked it, so..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay...well...that's....a good thing right?&lt;br /&gt;And he didn't read War and Peace, maha.&lt;br /&gt;War and Peace is for people with too much free time, a weird obsession with Napoleon or people that just want to look smart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since Melle doesn't have a lot of free time (I think not, I don't know actually) Doesn't have a weird obsession with Napoleon (one mental person in the family is enough) and doesn't need to look smart cause he really is...&lt;br /&gt;He didn't read it..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm really proud he complimented my blog (unless he was just sweettalking my sister, cause she's hell when she's angry.....or hungry)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to all my dear readers... Alexis and John..&lt;br /&gt;I wish you all a very napoleonic christmas...&lt;br /&gt;This little clip on youtube shows how to make it a napoleonic christmas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zym70mm_gzk"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zym70mm_gzk&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-7421231441166773578?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/7421231441166773578/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-eve-and-being-discovered.html#comment-form' title='8 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/7421231441166773578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/7421231441166773578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-eve-and-being-discovered.html' title='Christmas eve and being discovered'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-5940874102955015617</id><published>2009-12-22T14:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T15:07:00.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Waterloo</title><content type='html'>I wanted to write about something that helps us Napoleon fans get even more cheery than we already are because of Christmas, can you tell?&lt;br /&gt;And which subject can possibly be more uplifting than Waterloo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't even take place during winter, that would have atleast been something.&lt;br /&gt;I'm completely random with my entries, I know.&lt;br /&gt;Now don't worry, because everyone is packed with holiday stress I won't bother you with a detailed explanation of the entire battle. Lousy excuse, I'm too lazy for that, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch the movie if you're that curious. And since when do I provide anyone with serious and educative information in the first place? Got any questions? I'll be more than delighted to pass them to Mr.Markham aka David, so he can answer them. Haha ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, the battle of Waterloo. The last actual battle of Napoleon. Many call St.Helena his last battle, but unless Napoleon fired any cannons in the direction of Lowe's residence (something I would have liked to witness) I don't think one should call it a battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not really clear how Napoleon lost the battle at Waterloo. Personally, I blame it all on Ney, but that's probably because I just...don't like him. He resembles one of my teachers, and I hate that man with every viber in my body.&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon started too late with giving orders. It had rained all night and the ground of the battlefield was soiled. His artillery couldn't move and the horses sunk into the mud as well. Napoleon wanted to wait for the sun to dry the earth a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was also very sick, and the pain he had to endure distracted him from making descisions. He had been vomiting throughout the night and his Hemmoroids (ew..) prevented him from riding his horse to examine the battlefield.&lt;br /&gt;Give him a break, he had been on horseback since weeks, packed with stress. And for the good peace, maybe he really WAS getting old. Just a bit, a speck...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I doubt he slept much during the night before the battle. (awfully hard to sleep when you keep vomiting allover the place)&lt;br /&gt;I seriously respect Marchand for dealing with all of this. Since he was hired to be Napoleon's first valet, he probably didn't spend a day serving a completely healthy man.&lt;br /&gt;Marchand makes me wanna cuddle with kittens, he's just so cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The English robbed him off Napoleon's carriage and baggage nearby Waterloo, by the way. He could only save some money. Poor Napoleon had to borrow someone else's underwear after that.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder who's. He could probably build a tent of those of his Marshalls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marshall Ney commanded the cavalry (Murat, stop laughing) and ordered them to charge the British Infantry. Now according to Napoleon, who was trying to have a nap during the disaster, the cavalry should not attack an unweakened infantry.&lt;br /&gt;So the French cavalry was destroyed.&lt;br /&gt;And when Napoleon returned, he was furious at Ney for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that day, both armies (British and French) saw something nearing the battleground in the distance. Wellington hoped it was the Prussian army led by stupid old fart Blucher, and Napoleon hoped it was marshall Grouchy returning from fighting the Prussians.&lt;br /&gt;Stupid old fart had been laying underneath his own dead horse for hours, but was now on and about and ready to slaughter some Frenchmen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it hadn't been Blucher, even if no one had arrived, Napoleon would probably have won the battle. For the British were about to lose. But no..&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon lost the battle. He even had to leave in a hurry or they would have arrested him on the spot. Blucher and Wellington met in some farm, and Blucher wanted to name the battle after that farm. But Wellington decided it would be waterloo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name Wellington was already given to a meal with steak, so it had to be Waterloo.&lt;br /&gt;Nobody liked Wellington, everbody hated him. Poor guy.. then again, he was a git...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon went to Malmaison and spend there his last days in France. Okay, he went to some stupid French island as well, trying from there to go to America. But the days he awaited his answer from the allies, the answer that would decide his fate, he spend at Malmaison.&lt;br /&gt;He asked England if he could be their guest, wanting to live in peace somewhere on the countryside.&lt;br /&gt;But the English wanted him gone...and with gone...I really mean gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean gone as in remotest island in the world gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a sad thing though. Napoleon had so many victories, yet most people..&lt;br /&gt;know him from Waterloo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-5940874102955015617?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/5940874102955015617/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/waterloo.html#comment-form' title='6 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5940874102955015617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5940874102955015617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/waterloo.html' title='Waterloo'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-1084584840383772782</id><published>2009-12-19T13:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T13:25:57.087-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Napoleon in his worst outfit</title><content type='html'>Personally, I love the way Napoleon dressed. &lt;div&gt;Not many paintings show him dressed in something else than his two favourite uniforms:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The green one, Colonel de chasseur a cheval de la garde&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the blue/white one, Colonel of the imperial guard grenadiers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From which the green one was his absolute favourite. That is probably where the idea comes from that his favourite color was green. Notice the furniture in his quarters at Fontainebleau, Versailles and the Tulleries.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was very simple for an emperor, he could have choosen some facy outfit with lots of bowties and decorations (like the Tsar's)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But his worst outfit, was the probably very practical but scarely ugly Russian campaign coat and hat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I mean, I like the coat... The one he's wearing on that famous painting? Napoleon At Eylau?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The silver one with the fur. I really like that coat, it makes him look so fluffy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the hat that came with the coat...oh my god, mother of dear God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If that hidious thing was a present from the Tsar as well, then I know why he tried to invade Russia. I would declare war on the person who gave me such a thing too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No offense, really. It probably kept him warm (not that it helped much) and every man who could afford it wore such a thing. But.. I mean come on..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I found this picture, I first laughed my butt off, and then was like..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why, God, Why?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And he doesn't look all that happy in it either, notice his face?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's got a beard too, well with such an outfit..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A beard really finishes it, doesn't it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sy1ErmL3ofI/AAAAAAAAAHM/ALssr7Sccyg/s1600-h/tartt1255.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417061442571969010" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 244px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sy1ErmL3ofI/AAAAAAAAAHM/ALssr7Sccyg/s320/tartt1255.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-1084584840383772782?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/1084584840383772782/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/napoleon-in-his-worst-outfit.html#comment-form' title='3 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1084584840383772782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1084584840383772782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/napoleon-in-his-worst-outfit.html' title='Napoleon in his worst outfit'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sy1ErmL3ofI/AAAAAAAAAHM/ALssr7Sccyg/s72-c/tartt1255.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-4582606992310342349</id><published>2009-12-18T15:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T15:44:35.584-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I solved it</title><content type='html'>I have this little doll/puppet thing of Napoleon, a toy if you will.&lt;br /&gt;Dad bought it for me when I was thirteen years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It always stands on my nightstand, until today.&lt;br /&gt;I think I accidentally left my bedroom door open.&lt;br /&gt;And my dog came in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I came home today, I found the emperor brutally slaughtered and allover the place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's it..&lt;br /&gt;I solved the mystery.&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't cancer...&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't stress...&lt;br /&gt;We can even stop hating Montholon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon Bonaparte was murdered...&lt;br /&gt;by a dog...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;I needed to go shopping anyway...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-4582606992310342349?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/4582606992310342349/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-solved-it.html#comment-form' title='4 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/4582606992310342349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/4582606992310342349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-solved-it.html' title='I solved it'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-6115593887302555845</id><published>2009-12-17T02:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T03:50:06.524-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowfall in Holland</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;It's a rare thing, especially since the climate changed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But last night it snowed in Holland, and the world has turned white.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't have college on Thursday, so I took my dog for a long walk in the woods that surround my house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Snow reminds me of the Russian campaign. It makes me wonder what it was like. And it makes me want to visit Russia. As my mind was everywhere but close to watching out for my dog, he ended up fighting with a Labrador called Alexander.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After dragging my way stronger and heavier trained guard dog off the family pet, I could continue thinking things over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone who wants to know what it was like for Napoleon himself to be in Russia, should read Caulaincourt's book. I know the army had it worse, but the emperor himself had to suffer as well. Physically as well as mentally. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not to mention he really couldn't stand the cold. He was born on Corsica, one of the warmest islands in Europe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He always slept in a warmed bed, in a warm bedroom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During the Russian campaign he suffered from a severe cold on top of all his usual ailments. It even got so bad he lost his voice for a day. I wonder if he wrote down his orders during that time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finding suitable headquarters and shelters was a big problem during the retreat from Moscow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And more than once the emperor had to sleep in some partly collapsed cottage which really didn't shelter him and his staff from the cold that good. Napoleon wasn't a person who fell asleep easily, imagine how hard it was for him to fall asleep while being cold to the bone and packed with stress and worries.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The memoires of Constant tell a lot about the Russian campaign as well. I can almost say Constant had it better than Caulaincourt. If they found a shelter with two rooms, one was meant for the emperor, and the other for the rest of the staff. Which means all the Marshalls and what not. Constant slept in the emperor's room, so Napoleon could wake him up should he need him during the night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon decided to leave his troops behind and head to Paris. From there he could help his troops better. And affairs of state asked his immidiate attention. The troops felt abandoned, naturally. And the Marshalls were not happy either.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To not draw much attention, Napoleon decided to only take Caulaincourt with him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They travelled under a false name. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon was scared to be noticed and captured, and talked about it often with his travel compagnion. Sometimes he joked around about it, other times he was scared.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If the Cossacks had captured them, Napoleon would have died in Russia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After being tortured, no doubt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They arrived in Paris safely, and poor Constant arrived a few days later. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On which Napoleon received him like a friend coming home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would have stayed in Russia... Returning to Paris would mean returning to Marie Louise..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Worse than Cossacks ;) Atleast Cossacks dont freak out when they're put on a horse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I came to the conclusion that my dog would have survived the Russian Campaign. Not only because he can stand cold like a beast, but also... because his heritage is Russian.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;East Berlin developed this breed, West Berlin developed the German Shepherd we all know today. But the East had the original dogs mixed with Russian guard dogs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The result was the Old Eastern German Shepherd.&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyoabTl-VRI/AAAAAAAAAHE/mocVyiZIhlY/s1600-h/snowfun+011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416170558284780818" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 248px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 319px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyoabTl-VRI/AAAAAAAAAHE/mocVyiZIhlY/s320/snowfun+011.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My dog is a Cossack..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One that would have licked Napoleon to death.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-6115593887302555845?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/6115593887302555845/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/snowfall-in-holland.html#comment-form' title='15 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6115593887302555845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6115593887302555845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/snowfall-in-holland.html' title='Snowfall in Holland'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyoabTl-VRI/AAAAAAAAAHE/mocVyiZIhlY/s72-c/snowfun+011.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-68678277007783454</id><published>2009-12-15T04:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T04:39:54.256-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lannes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyeDNRX5wPI/AAAAAAAAAG8/LD8v_4-YwBk/s1600-h/alannes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415441340961505522" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyeDNRX5wPI/AAAAAAAAAG8/LD8v_4-YwBk/s320/alannes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marshall Jean Lannes was awesome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was born in the same year as Napoleon and followed him in many battles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was the son of a livery stable keeper, and did not had much education.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As we all know, Napoleon didn't give a shizzle about people's backgrounds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He judged them by skill, courage etc etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And so Lannes became a Marshall when Napoleon became Emperor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marshall of France, now there's a title.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lannes was a personal friend to Napoleon (yes, Napoleon WAS capable of having friends)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was allowed to be more informal to the emperor than others, and openly disagreed with him as well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During the whole thing in Spain, he said "This damn Bonaparte is going to get us all killed"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, that was not in Napoleon's presence. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was named Duc de Montebello in 1808, fascinating hm?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During the battle of Essling, Lannes got injured by cannon fire. He was sitting somewhere thinking things over, and the next moment he was allover the place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He really didn't think it was all that bad until the surgeon told him he had to amputate his leg.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amputating is not easy, by the way. But in those days, it all depended on how strong your surgeon was. If he had a good pair of muscles in those arms, all it needed was a good chop on the right place....and the right leg.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Didn't matter for Lannes, both of his legs had to be chopped off anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When Napoleon was told that his Marshall was laying mortally wounded in some shabby old tent, he immidiately went down to visit him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was the first time Napoleon cried during a battle, they say. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Probably first time in public...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The emperor openly wept over his dying friend and held his hand. And poor Lannes, in much pain, comforted him. The scene has been painted/drawn/sketched a billion times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lannes was send to some landhouse and died of his injuries eight days later. Lannes left six children behind, one of them from an earlier marriage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;His direct descendant is still Duke of Montebello, and the director of the Metropolitan museum of art.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;His name is Philippe Lannes de Montebello.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-68678277007783454?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/68678277007783454/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/lannes.html#comment-form' title='14 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/68678277007783454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/68678277007783454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/lannes.html' title='Lannes'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyeDNRX5wPI/AAAAAAAAAG8/LD8v_4-YwBk/s72-c/alannes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-3319573577001086484</id><published>2009-12-13T14:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T14:44:36.875-08:00</updated><title type='text'>War And Peace</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;The famous book by Tolstoy, everyone heard of it. But I didn't know it was about the Russian campaign till a few months ago.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't even know it was about Napoleon!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But it is, and I love it, even though they picture Napoleon as... and I quote Tolstoy himself:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"A short fat man not sitting on his horse the right way and who devowed all things human"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okidoki than, Mister Tolstoy, whatever you say. Agh, give him a break..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He hates Napoleon.. it happens..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After reading the book (Traumatic experience) I bought the movie from 1965.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The most expensive movie ever made (still, I believe) And with the use of the Soviet Army playing around 150.000 soldiers. Russian, French... what else...Polish....etc etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is a remake from 2007...haven't seen that one yet. It's just as Russian as the old one, but even harder to get. You should say, old movies are hard to find. Well, do me a favour and try to get your hands on the new version, not that easy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Throughout the movie, I was constantly thinking.. where the heck is Caulaincourt?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Afterall, he wrote a book about how super awesome his time in Russia was.. (sarcasm alert)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Great book, by the way. With Napoleon in Russia is the title. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always had a soft spot for Caulaincourt, don't know why.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's just.... cute....and funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;His book made me laugh a couple of times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, war and peace the movie from 1965 has a surprisingly good Napoleon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I mean good as in looking-like-Napoleon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cause with all do respect, Christian Clavier does NOT look like Napoleon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even though the movie Napoleon 2002 was great, they could have done a better job on finding a good Napoleon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And they did a pretty good job in 1965. The dude resembles the real one quite a good deal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And he behaves the right way as well, maybe a bit too grumpy sometimes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But you can see him walk around, hands behind his back, head on his chest, deep in thought.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not aware that near him, canonballs are dropping and people are dying and whatnot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's used to it, I suppose. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just a regular day at the office.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He seems pretty uneffected by his army getting blown to shreds, so that's a faulty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon was always much effected by dying soldiers and did his best to help them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course, they don't show him giving orders to also help the Russian ones.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That would make us symphatize with him, right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well too bad for the filmmakers that I do so already.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even a retarded scene of him in bath with close-ups of his fat belly that is probably meant to give the viewers a total "eww" moment, won't make me think any less of him. They really have to do better than that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That belly was his best part ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Great movie though, really. If you haven't seen it yet, go watch it.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyVt5EZBjcI/AAAAAAAAAG0/23cPnt244dE/s1600-h/warpeacething.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414854954181561794" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 174px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyVt5EZBjcI/AAAAAAAAAG0/23cPnt244dE/s320/warpeacething.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;it's worth your time.. (take a day off, it takes forever, just like the real campaign)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-3319573577001086484?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/3319573577001086484/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/war-and-peace.html#comment-form' title='20 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3319573577001086484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3319573577001086484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/war-and-peace.html' title='War And Peace'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyVt5EZBjcI/AAAAAAAAAG0/23cPnt244dE/s72-c/warpeacething.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-3202361907198401420</id><published>2009-12-12T05:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T05:58:28.935-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Napoleon: Total Nonsense</title><content type='html'>It's a new game for the PC, Napoleon Total War. &lt;div&gt;With revolutionary graphics and historic accuracy....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The game itself is pretty historical accurate, I give them that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can command the French Army from the campaigns of Italy till Waterloo, or you can&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;try to beat Napoleon by joining the allies. (Who wants to be a Kozac when you can look as handsome as a French Officer?) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can battle with all the strategies Napoleon used throughout his career, and if you try real hard, you can even arrest him and exile him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Turns out you can also gun him down right there on the spot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Result: A shocked veterinarian and very unhappy Marshalls.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The campaigns and battles are beautifully made, all the soldiers wear the right uniform, and not all the horses are the same color. (that always pisses me off in a game)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;All the fallen soldiers and horses stay on the ground and don't just dissappear. And if you leave them there after the battle, your soldiers will get sick.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;During the Waterloo battle, and if you play on the French side, there is a moment you cannot do anything and you just sit and watch Ney wreck the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But there is one thing that annoyes me to the max. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon himself...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They completely RUINED all of his characteristic features. And instead, made some American Movie Criminal looking guy. He looks EXACTLY the same in Italy as in Waterloo. He wears EXACTLY the same. He looks like some...American action movie villain. Dangit, they completely destroyed his looks. Why? Did the real one look just too darn cute for a war game?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cause I mean, come on..look at his portraits. That doesn't look all that badass.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not only his looks annoy me, he stands in the way all the time! And if he dies, the game is over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you command the French Army, you don't play Napoleon himself, you play the one receiving his direct orders or something. Which means you cannot FORCE him to go seek shelter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can ASK him, but he never does so.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now don't get me wrong, I haven't played the game myself yet. It comes out in January I think. But I have my connections in the review world of PC games. And so my own personal game nerd told me all this. Thinking it would interest me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to play it, see if I'm a good General.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll probably be way too careful though, I don't want my emperor to get hurt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, I have a picture of the Napoleon in the game. Doesn't he look like a movie villain? Oh and look, he's wearing purple lip gloss as well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What the... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's more something for Tsar Alexander.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyOhM6Fc91I/AAAAAAAAAGs/VYd4KKtW81I/s1600-h/15979_1254992222_large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414348420152096594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 231px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyOhM6Fc91I/AAAAAAAAAGs/VYd4KKtW81I/s320/15979_1254992222_large.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-3202361907198401420?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/3202361907198401420/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/napoleon-total-nonsense.html#comment-form' title='7 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3202361907198401420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3202361907198401420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/napoleon-total-nonsense.html' title='Napoleon: Total Nonsense'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SyOhM6Fc91I/AAAAAAAAAGs/VYd4KKtW81I/s72-c/15979_1254992222_large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-6814642978293147312</id><published>2009-12-09T01:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T01:59:04.028-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Female Officer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sx9yyq5q14I/AAAAAAAAAGk/jl50_yjGvdo/s1600-h/untitled654.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413171491957823362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 231px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sx9yyq5q14I/AAAAAAAAAGk/jl50_yjGvdo/s320/untitled654.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon was surprisingly women-friendly for his time. He even had a female officer!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's not even normal today, you can only imagine how unusual that was for the 19th century.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In 1808 Marie Schellinck received the Légion d'honneur from the Emperor himself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She and her husband had joined the army, and apparentely, she was fed up with cooking and cleaning and decided to become a soldier.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You go, girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her secret was discovered when she got injured. And when the Emperor was told of this, he was much amused and decided to decorate her for her courage. He had all the right to have her punished, cause although female soldiers were not a special thing, it was still forbidden.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But he didn't mind, and gave her a medal... Charmer he was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder how her husband reacted to his wife becoming an officer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Poor dude... if she asked him to take out the trash, he was forced to reply with "YES, M'AM!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I ever have to re-enact someone from the Napoleonic Battlefield, it would be her! Definately!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll gun them all to planet pieces for Mon L'empereur! No way I'm going to sit in a tent knitting baby socks watching the boys get all the fun!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was 15, I had a role in a musical in which I had to play Marie-Louise... eww..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I never liked her. The kid that played Napoleon was a terrible player and the only thing he had in common with Napoleon, was that he danced like...well...like....Napoleon. Since Marie Louise had nothing else to do, she was probably a good dancer, she had time to actually take lessons for example. She didn't have to rule an entire empire. All she had to do was give Napoleon an heir, and act like an empress.  Let's not mention "Being supportive to husband and give him a damn break when he's on campaign, instead of sending him letters with lists of ailments she suffered from" Girl, who'd you think you married?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Talk about type casting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I took it all as a personal insult.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-6814642978293147312?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/6814642978293147312/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/female-officer.html#comment-form' title='3 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6814642978293147312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6814642978293147312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/female-officer.html' title='Female Officer'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sx9yyq5q14I/AAAAAAAAAGk/jl50_yjGvdo/s72-c/untitled654.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-4169151503705443639</id><published>2009-12-08T10:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T10:43:19.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Napoleonic Re-enactment.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;An entry about the re-enactment of the Napoleonic battles. Every year, the battle of Waterloo is reconstructed till the slightest detail. Even Napoleon himself can be seen walsing around the battlefield, followed by a bunch of pretty decorated Marshalls and Generals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can sign up and participate in camping like the soldiers did. No modern facilities are allowed. So watching the weather channel while cleaning your weapons is forbidden. I can already imagine Ney chucking a mental over a football game he bet on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Almost every regiment and bataljon etc etc are a seperate group you can join, doing exactly the same things as the real ones did, with authentic uniforms and all that. Horses are provided, uniforms are your own problem. It's an international bussiness, and I'm sure it's an amazing sight to see all those soldiers from different countries come together and form one army.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For as far as my knowledge goes, the battles of Iena, Austerlitz and Waterloo reconstructed, from which Waterloo every year. The arrival of Napoleon at Golfe-Juan (return from Elba) and his arrival at Berlin are reconstructed. I wonder if they will ever re-enact the Russian Campaign. That would be a sight, all those exhausted soldiers. It would probably be too much risk, to dangerous and too...unhealthy. Russia is cold, trust me...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sx6dfpX7Z4I/AAAAAAAAAGc/MkC8B4R7OOY/s1600-h/SirTristanAubergnie.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besides, the burning of Moscow...how are we going to re-enact that? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am really looking forward to the reconstruction of Waterloo, you can watch Napoleon run for his life at the end, it is said. Getting into a carriage and hurry off. I should go give him a hug. My dad promised to take me there and I'm sure he's going to turn into a little boy watching soldiers and weapons. Yay, war!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ah, let him watch, then I know for sure I can flirt with the officers without him seeing it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I mean that photo, Good Lord why do you never see them like that at the mall? ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sx6dfpX7Z4I/AAAAAAAAAGc/MkC8B4R7OOY/s1600-h/SirTristanAubergnie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412936969153636226" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 368px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sx6dfpX7Z4I/AAAAAAAAAGc/MkC8B4R7OOY/s320/SirTristanAubergnie.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sx6dfpX7Z4I/AAAAAAAAAGc/MkC8B4R7OOY/s1600-h/SirTristanAubergnie.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-4169151503705443639?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/4169151503705443639/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/napoleonic-re-enactment.html#comment-form' title='7 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/4169151503705443639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/4169151503705443639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/napoleonic-re-enactment.html' title='Napoleonic Re-enactment.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sx6dfpX7Z4I/AAAAAAAAAGc/MkC8B4R7OOY/s72-c/SirTristanAubergnie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-7555228569468262865</id><published>2009-12-05T15:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T16:09:33.517-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My favourite painting.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SxryaJYPXvI/AAAAAAAAAEo/TCmjROS2qe0/s1600-h/Napoleon_returned.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411904433247182578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SxryaJYPXvI/AAAAAAAAAEo/TCmjROS2qe0/s320/Napoleon_returned.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The famous painting of Napoleon greeting his troups when he returned from Elba is my favourite one of all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The troups that were originally send by the king to gun Napoleon down are now running at him, seconds away from embracing him. One heroic story behind that painting, I love it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon stood before them. "Soldiers, I am your emperor. If there's anyone among you who wants to kill his emperor, here I am!" And he opened his coat, offering his heart to them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Marshall Ney gave the command to fire, and nobody shot. Someone fainted, and then it was just one big ball of group hugs and Napoleon-worship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon forgave Ney for his little mistake, and was rewarded with a destroyed cavalry a few weeks later. Merci Bien, Ney... appreciated...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The painting is just fantastic, all those hysterious soldiers running at Napoleon. I believe some tried to keep the others from reaching Napoleon, for he would have been hugged to death.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Better end then St.Helena.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder where the painting is, not in the Louvre, that's for sure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I believe it is very big though. Not as big as the coronation, but...close.Maybe just as big as Napoleon At Eylau. The only painting I know of Napoleon in his wintercoat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A Present from Tsar Alexander. Speaking of which, there is someone who keeps arguing with me about Alexander having some sort of gay relationship with Napoleon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought Napoleon only joked around with that, and told Caulaincourt to stay with him when the Tsar was around, or he might fall for his charms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That sounds like a joke. Seems like Napoleon was a bit scared of Alexander's flirting. Who wouldn't be? The uniform alone freaks me out. Too much babyblue...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alexander the fashion king...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This entry is getting weird.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-7555228569468262865?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/7555228569468262865/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-favourite-painting.html#comment-form' title='9 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/7555228569468262865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/7555228569468262865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-favourite-painting.html' title='My favourite painting.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SxryaJYPXvI/AAAAAAAAAEo/TCmjROS2qe0/s72-c/Napoleon_returned.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-3434036366445026641</id><published>2009-12-03T02:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T02:22:31.229-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Entertainment from Hell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SxeRQWp_zCI/AAAAAAAAAEg/-wT5y15ExUM/s1600-h/London(Madame_Teussades__Wellington_visits_napolean_upon_death)98.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410953187454602274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SxeRQWp_zCI/AAAAAAAAAEg/-wT5y15ExUM/s320/London(Madame_Teussades__Wellington_visits_napolean_upon_death)98.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In london, Madame Teussades came up with something new.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon on his deathbed, laying in state, visited by Wellington.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wait....what??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know Wellington did visit St.helena once, and spend his time there in the same house as Napoleon spend his first night. But that was before his exile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is retarded. Napoleon was never visited by Wellington when he was laying in state.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Only Hudson lowe passed a brief glance at his dead emperor. If he had any guts in his body, he WOULD have shrugged and walked off. But instead he made some ironic lame comment and left.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And why did they make entertainment out of a dead Napoleon anyway? If you want to entertain people with corpses, do it right and make a corpse out of every famous person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Museum of Famous Dead People..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They can finally add Micheal Jackson to their collection.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's not fun, and I am against it. Why did Napoleon had to be dead before he was interesting enough? These things can make me so angry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not going to that museum for sure, I don't want to see him dead!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe we can ask Mark Schneider to replace the doll, and he can jump up and scare kids.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At least that would be a bit more realistic, since Napoleon loved to tease people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And that Wellington doll, I have a great waterproof Marker in my drawer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-3434036366445026641?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/3434036366445026641/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/entertainment-from-hell.html#comment-form' title='5 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3434036366445026641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3434036366445026641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/entertainment-from-hell.html' title='Entertainment from Hell'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SxeRQWp_zCI/AAAAAAAAAEg/-wT5y15ExUM/s72-c/London(Madame_Teussades__Wellington_visits_napolean_upon_death)98.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-1245872510935702376</id><published>2009-12-01T00:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T00:51:43.618-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fine, I'll do it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SxTY4Kwqd-I/AAAAAAAAAD4/rTx0H-DnxXI/s1600/nl-kleurplaat-kleurplaten-foto-napoleon-p9174.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410187511851546594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 226px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SxTY4Kwqd-I/AAAAAAAAAD4/rTx0H-DnxXI/s320/nl-kleurplaat-kleurplaten-foto-napoleon-p9174.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If no one is going to upload their blog, then I'll just have to do it. Even if I have absolutely no Napoleon News at all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh right, Mr.Markham replied to my email (I was like a kid with Christmas) and told me he MIGHT be in Amsterdam next September. That would be awesome, I would love to meet the president of the international Napoleon society. Any closer to meeting Napoleon himself I wont get, most likely.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unless there's a heaven and I have a chance to meet/stalk him, ofcourse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But..that's not really a subject to handle over the internet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But if I have the honor to go to a Napoleon congress, then John should come too! Oh yes you will, John, even if I have to drag you off that island. Mr.Markham told me he would like to meet my blog "group" Which contains you and.....ehhh...Anyway, I told him it is a very select group, haha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You should catch up on visiting Napoleon monuments though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Homework assignment for congress: Fontainebleau, Versailles, Les Invalides, Museum of Army, and the Louvre. Yes, the Louvre. For it has the appartments of Napoleon the Third.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Trust me, it's worth it, he should have become a decorater instead of an emperor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;His uncle would have developed a serious headache in those rooms, but oh well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The movie Monsieur N is now on youtube, with English subtitles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I finnaly discovered what the movie is about after 6 years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Damn you, French teacher from High School, you fail at life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My French is TERRIBLE, while I beat all my teachers with English.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hey, it's readible....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh right, coming June, I will go check out the reconstruction of Waterloo, and I hope Marc Schneider is there to play Napoleon. He just looks awfully much like him, and he does those little funny Napoleon things. Like pulling his soldier's ears and all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I might even dress up like a soldier and join, God knows you can make better photos when you're in the middle of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sire, say cheese! *click*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-1245872510935702376?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/1245872510935702376/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/fine-ill-do-it.html#comment-form' title='5 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1245872510935702376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1245872510935702376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/12/fine-ill-do-it.html' title='Fine, I&apos;ll do it.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SxTY4Kwqd-I/AAAAAAAAAD4/rTx0H-DnxXI/s72-c/nl-kleurplaat-kleurplaten-foto-napoleon-p9174.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-6752265333075960885</id><published>2009-11-26T08:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T08:53:49.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A brave email</title><content type='html'>I wrote an email to David Markham, president of the Napoleon Society.&lt;br /&gt;I asked him if there will ever be a congress near Holland, last one was in Canada.&lt;br /&gt;If I owned a private jet, I would have been there, but sadly...I do not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love to visit one of those congresses, and meet other Napoleon fanatics.&lt;br /&gt;This blog thing was a good idea, but it is still a very small select group we form.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Napoleon Society supports the poisoning theory, and honestly.. I don't know what to believe. I don't believe it was stomach cancer, since a lot of witnesses constantly mention Napoleon's charming fatness. But, others say he lost a lot of weight over the years.&lt;br /&gt;So..I don't know what to believe anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And ulcer that could have eventually BECOME cancer is a good option as well, but then again. Arsenic poisoning sounds pretty logicall to me too. I don't know what my own personal St.Helena expert thinks about this. John, was Napoleon murdered? What is your opinion actually?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been busy the last couple of days, and my mind has been at other places. Christmas Holiday is not so far anymore, I'll have time to collect my thoughts again and get back to what really matters. I hope I can one day join the Napoleon Society and actually do something with my fascination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause for now..&lt;br /&gt;I'm just a girl with a weird hobby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-6752265333075960885?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/6752265333075960885/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/brave-email.html#comment-form' title='5 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6752265333075960885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6752265333075960885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/brave-email.html' title='A brave email'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-2903118950028512020</id><published>2009-11-19T14:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T14:54:27.625-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not a good rider.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SwXLKK2cK_I/AAAAAAAAADw/sKudQ2L3tDQ/s1600/nap0011a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405950303299972082" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SwXLKK2cK_I/AAAAAAAAADw/sKudQ2L3tDQ/s320/nap0011a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon was not a good horserider. Horseriding requires patience, and Napoleon lacked patience as he lacked hairs on his chest. His horses had to be heavily trained to stand a chance to become his battlesteed. Not only were they given the usual warhorse training.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fireworks in their ears, flashing of lights, things thrown against their legs..etc etc&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But Napoleon's horses were also trained to ENDURE Napoleon, yes endure Napoleon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon whacked/whipped/kicked his horses around in frustration, and it would have looked terribly embarresing if the horse would have thrown him off. So the horses were trained to endure the semi-abuse of the emperor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon only galloped. Walking wasn't fast enough for him, and trotting hurt his stomach.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He jumped over fences instead of letting someone open it for him first, but was a terrible jumper. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Causing the horse much discomfort at any jump.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He did not fall off often, but sometimes..it did happen. The emperor would lose his balance and land in the mud. And although he must have been sore after such a fall, he never complained about any pains. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One time, during a hunting party with the Czar, Napoleon managed to fall off his horse again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And everyone had to stop in their tracks. The Czar never saw the accident, for he was riding far on the front. But later he was told about it and he asked a servant why Napoleon even organized those hunting parties? It was known that the French emperor did not enjoy hunting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The servant replied (boldly) that Napoleon was probably trying to impress the Czar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On which Russia's leader answered "By falling off his horse? Well he did!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-2903118950028512020?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/2903118950028512020/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/not-good-rider.html#comment-form' title='3 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/2903118950028512020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/2903118950028512020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/not-good-rider.html' title='Not a good rider.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SwXLKK2cK_I/AAAAAAAAADw/sKudQ2L3tDQ/s72-c/nap0011a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-8354402386894480746</id><published>2009-11-17T03:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T03:13:33.714-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One can only do so much...</title><content type='html'>Well, Melanie left and deleted her blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would say it was my fault, for we had an argument.&lt;br /&gt;But I apologized about a thousand times,  and really..&lt;br /&gt;one can only do so much.&lt;br /&gt;It is her choice if she wants to run off because of such a stupid little thing.&lt;br /&gt;I did everything in my power to apologize to her and tell her I'm sorry,&lt;br /&gt;Like I commited the most serious of crimes, which is absolutely not the case..&lt;br /&gt;But some people are just more sensitive then other, I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not stop with my blog, because I still like to share my information with the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So long, Melanie.&lt;br /&gt;The Napoleon society will regret your departure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-8354402386894480746?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/8354402386894480746/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/one-can-only-do-so-much.html#comment-form' title='3 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8354402386894480746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8354402386894480746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/one-can-only-do-so-much.html' title='One can only do so much...'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-1078276788102319414</id><published>2009-11-14T15:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T15:32:47.409-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Prince Charming.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sv898XXe-jI/AAAAAAAAADY/PB8eeYjs5po/s1600-h/ghostcapture.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404106185141844530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 237px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sv898XXe-jI/AAAAAAAAADY/PB8eeYjs5po/s320/ghostcapture.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not really a name you would give to Napoleon, but I found a photo that makes him look quite like a romantic prince from a fairytale.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is from some horse show I think, notice the sand, the stage smoke, the perfectly groomed horse. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You don't groom your horse before a battle, what kind of use is that? So it is not from a reconstruction of Waterloo or whatever. A nicely groomed horse was the last thing Napoleon worried about during Waterloo. He was more caught up with his painful stomach/bladder/bowels/head. Yea, he wasn't in shape during his last battle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyhow, the pic took my breath away. it is beautiful.. and I would love to jump on the horse behind him, let him take me for a little ride. It could also pass for a ghost capture, it isn´t. I know... But still.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I gotta go on with my work, there is a case to be solved with a cat that constantly walks backwards. The animal is perfectly healthy...she just walks backwards, and bumps into everything. Quite funny, but as a veterinarian, you don´t laugh about a patient. Especially when the owner is all worried. I doubt the cat is in a life threatening condition, she´s perfectly fine, just a little...nuts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other Napoleon news, I ordered the book about Dr.James Verling, the doctor on St.helena who could have possibly cured Napoleon. If Napoleon was being poisoned, Verling could have noticed the signs, if Napoleon was suffering from a stomach ulcer, Verling could have seen it in time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cause Verling was a doctor with an actual medical degree, oh that comes in handy when you need to heal someone, really.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If Napoleon died of stomach cancer...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I doubt Verling could have helped him...but he could have lessened the pain and lessen the many complications such as constipation, dehydration etc etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Napoleon would have had a less painful death.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If only Napoleon wasn´t such a stubborn little daisy to forbid Verling to treat him. Only because he was British and Napoleon thought he would poison him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No, Antommarchi gave you just the right stuff, three enemas a day, now where did that dehydration came from again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need to stop typing, phone is ringing..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How is the cat doing, doctor..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Still walking backwards...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Otherwise purring like a just fixed car, ma´m.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-1078276788102319414?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/1078276788102319414/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/prince-charming.html#comment-form' title='3 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1078276788102319414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1078276788102319414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/prince-charming.html' title='Prince Charming.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Sv898XXe-jI/AAAAAAAAADY/PB8eeYjs5po/s72-c/ghostcapture.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-8643710706929050977</id><published>2009-11-11T04:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T04:25:39.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chaaaarge! LOL</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvqtMSn3U1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/7gLg674dxqc/s1600-h/charge!+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402821129653408594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvqtMSn3U1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/7gLg674dxqc/s320/charge!+004.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon deglared war to my dog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reminds me of Russia.. too big to conquer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;LOL, sorry...couldn't resist&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-8643710706929050977?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/8643710706929050977/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/chaaaarge-lol.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8643710706929050977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8643710706929050977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/chaaaarge-lol.html' title='Chaaaarge! LOL'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvqtMSn3U1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/7gLg674dxqc/s72-c/charge!+004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-6204365097387228410</id><published>2009-11-11T04:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T04:15:46.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Guarddog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Svqq2ID53lI/AAAAAAAAADI/WjpcH8sYrxo/s1600-h/poink+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402818549837848146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Svqq2ID53lI/AAAAAAAAADI/WjpcH8sYrxo/s320/poink+004.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is named Amon, and is a almost two year old longcoated German Shepherd dog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The moment I turned 18, I told my mother I wanted a big dog to protect me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And so, we went to pick up Amon from the breeder in April 2008. Amon comes from very old and good worklines, and his father is a policedog. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm very proud of him and train every week with him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's a very kind and friendly animal to all humans, unless someone bothers me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then hell breaks loose and he won't let go of your arm unless I tell him to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just wanted to introduce you to him, he's a big part of my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Usually, he's outside guarding the property, but for the photo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was allowed to come into my room.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-6204365097387228410?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/6204365097387228410/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-guarddog.html#comment-form' title='3 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6204365097387228410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6204365097387228410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-guarddog.html' title='My Guarddog'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/Svqq2ID53lI/AAAAAAAAADI/WjpcH8sYrxo/s72-c/poink+004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-2293088030538525604</id><published>2009-11-08T08:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T10:57:11.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful but strange.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvcUVdet3rI/AAAAAAAAADA/9dyNjdjuI3Q/s1600-h/WattGiftMH.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401808636977471154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvcUVdet3rI/AAAAAAAAADA/9dyNjdjuI3Q/s320/WattGiftMH.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I came across this picture today, one I haven't seen before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It intriques me, all kinds of questions are running through my head when I look at it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who is that woman? Why is she giving Napoleon a box filled with jewels? Why is Napoleon looking like he expects her to throw it in his face? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know Hortense gave him jewels before he went to St.Helena, so he had something to trade should he need it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know Walewska gave him her jewels for the same reason, and to remember her by.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But this woman, I don't recognize her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And why is Napoleon giving her such a startled look?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like she stumbled into his office, completely out of the blue. She's looking desperate, like she's begging him to accept her gift. Is she a mistress? Giving back the presents Napoleon has given her? Is she angry at him?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon just stood up from his chair, still holding on to it. She is not introduced to him, if she was, he wouldn't have been standing when she entered. But he has been sitting, only just flew off his chair, taken by surprise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A very unusual picture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I love it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-2293088030538525604?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/2293088030538525604/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/beautiful-but-strange.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/2293088030538525604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/2293088030538525604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/beautiful-but-strange.html' title='Beautiful but strange.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvcUVdet3rI/AAAAAAAAADA/9dyNjdjuI3Q/s72-c/WattGiftMH.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-4078150451214361934</id><published>2009-11-06T15:33:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T15:46:07.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Napoleon's Pyjamas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvS04lM-gII/AAAAAAAAAC4/unwFX9l9DUA/s1600-h/saunders_napoleon_and_the_jealous_hsuband_see62may.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401140737276280962" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 167px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvS04lM-gII/AAAAAAAAAC4/unwFX9l9DUA/s320/saunders_napoleon_and_the_jealous_hsuband_see62may.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a picture of Napoleon in his pyjamas... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Isn't that awesome?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He had so many of them, about every museum owns one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the army museum of Paris, I've seen one of those.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The description said he wore it on St.Helena.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder in which pyjama he died.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did they threw that one away cause it was probably covered in blood/vomit/other bodily substances?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have something with Napoleon in his pyjamas, it just looks too darn cute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He had all kinds of them, long shirts, or just complete suits.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pants and shirt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And he sometimes wore his bathrobe as well, because he was so easily cold.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He always slept with three or four blankets and at least three pillows. Building a complete private "nest" according to Constant, who had a hard time straightening the sheets every day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;France must have been proud to have an emperor that liked to snuggle with his bed sheets and covers. Imagine him all rolled up in his imperial bed, completely ignoring where the head or the foot of the bed actually is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It wasn't like he slept in an actual bed every night anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But when he did, he made his own little party out of it, lol&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Champagne, Constant! I'm sleeping in a bed tonight, instead of a chair!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-4078150451214361934?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/4078150451214361934/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/napoleons-pyjamas.html#comment-form' title='4 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/4078150451214361934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/4078150451214361934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/napoleons-pyjamas.html' title='Napoleon&apos;s Pyjamas'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvS04lM-gII/AAAAAAAAAC4/unwFX9l9DUA/s72-c/saunders_napoleon_and_the_jealous_hsuband_see62may.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-1462921394232536518</id><published>2009-11-05T10:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T11:02:24.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Napoleon attacked my laptop</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvMhG_t7dxI/AAAAAAAAACw/2GJlj2xj2Hk/s1600-h/lol+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400696782214362898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvMhG_t7dxI/AAAAAAAAACw/2GJlj2xj2Hk/s320/lol+001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May I introduce you to my little Napoleon puppet? I have it since forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe my father bought it for me when I was 13 or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't he adorable?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's got a horse too.. But I don't know where it went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Marshall Murat is standing on top of my wardrobe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without a horse, sadly.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my laptop fell into the hands of the French.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-1462921394232536518?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/1462921394232536518/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/napoleon-attacked-my-laptop.html#comment-form' title='1 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1462921394232536518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1462921394232536518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/napoleon-attacked-my-laptop.html' title='Napoleon attacked my laptop'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvMhG_t7dxI/AAAAAAAAACw/2GJlj2xj2Hk/s72-c/lol+001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-8246307315944770021</id><published>2009-11-04T05:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T06:11:39.111-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A shocking Image and medical critique</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvGLL1KYzwI/AAAAAAAAACg/e2TcbNNJDP0/s1600-h/autopsie_gd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400250463559405314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 59px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvGLL1KYzwI/AAAAAAAAACg/e2TcbNNJDP0/s320/autopsie_gd.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I should stop snooping around for interesting pictures, it leads me to the most shocking details.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is by far the most shocking picture I've seen of Napoleon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;According to the description, Antommarchi drew this after he sewed Napoleon back together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;About an hour after the autopsion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What..he was still naked an hour after the autopsion? For the love of, at least cover the poor thing with a blanket.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What strikes me is how skinny Napoleon looks. Some say he was fat when he died, but I don't know, according to this picture.. he was all skin and bones.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is by far the saddest picture I've ever seen as well..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Another thing I think is bull, is that Napoleon's stomach area is untouched.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What, they pulled out his stomach and liver through his chest area? Come on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During an autopsy, you open the body from throat to genitals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You don't stop under the ribs. So Antommarchi either did a VERY good job on the stitches, or he wanted to make the drawing less cruel by leaving his stomach intact.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They investigated Napoleon's stomach and liver for sure though, at least it's in the rapport.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is false? The rapport? The drawing? Antommarchi's lack of autopsion skills perhaps?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Really, it's not that hard. As a veterinarian, I do autopsions on an almost daily base.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, that sounds like I'm a very bad veterinarian.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nah, I'm young but quite skilled. Anyway. I work at a clinic that has animal corpses send to for autopsions. Because not every veterinarian likes doing it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not that I particulary enjoy cutting in dead animals, but I do it nevertheless.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;THUS, I know that Napoleon's stomach area had been cut open for sure as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;They simply had to! I dare you, try to cut the stomach out through the chest area.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Try to reach the liver through the chest area. You gotta have long arms for that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So did Antommarchi just... wriggled past Napoleon's organs to squeeze the liver a few times and then say "Okay, it's fine!" Nice to know they didn't have latex gloves in those days yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Poor Napoleon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Antommarchi made a mess of the stitching. Look at it! What kind of amateur work is that?! It's all bubbly and wobbly.. What did he try to do? Sew his ribs together?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a straight cut! How hard can it be?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, Antommarchi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What was your specialty?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Euthanasia?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-8246307315944770021?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/8246307315944770021/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/shocking-image-and-medical-critique.html#comment-form' title='3 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8246307315944770021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/8246307315944770021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/shocking-image-and-medical-critique.html' title='A shocking Image and medical critique'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvGLL1KYzwI/AAAAAAAAACg/e2TcbNNJDP0/s72-c/autopsie_gd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-5337270328269827730</id><published>2009-11-03T15:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T15:45:57.381-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sailtrip from hell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvDAakj5qZI/AAAAAAAAACY/x2nQ-ONlYAc/s1600-h/5e4300bb9d26ace0_large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400027515940612498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 215px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvDAakj5qZI/AAAAAAAAACY/x2nQ-ONlYAc/s320/5e4300bb9d26ace0_large.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon's journey to St.Helena took two months... Two bloody months.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And before going to said island, he was first brought to the coast of England.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon, naturally, thought he was going to be brought to great britain, he asked for that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But no, he wasn't allowed to get off the ship, he had to stand on the deck and let people gawk at him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Latest attraction, Napoleon Bonaparte.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the freakshow, the journey to St.Helena started. And he was treated like garbage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The British officers humilated him, insulted him and no longer adressed him with "Sire"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was now General Bonaparte. Napoleon must have either thought he looked really good for his age, or that he was just pissed on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The common sailors however, learned to respect their prisoner. Sometimes one or two were invited to dine with Napoleon. He earned their respect by talking to them, showing interest and giving them money probably.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And whenever Napoleon wasn't vomiting allover the nice British navy ship (Cause he got seasick) He was sitting on one of the canons on deck. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The days were long, boring and full of tension for both parties.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The British officers calmed down along the way, though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Agh, sailing. I once spend a vacation on a friend's sailboat. A real oldfashion sail ship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not as big as the freaking Bellerophon...or was it the Northumberland again? One of the two, haha. Pardon me, it's 00.37 in the morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, living on a boat like that, wow...that is not easy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And although my stomach is A LOT more stronger then Napoleon's, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I felt mine turning upside down whenever I went down the cabin during a little trip on open sea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon should have tried sleeping on deck, now THAT'S vacation.&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't close my eyes inside of the ship, too hot, too much movement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I rolled out a blanket on deck and slept like a baby.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm sure Napoleon would have appreciated the cool sea breeze and the waves lulling him to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-5337270328269827730?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/5337270328269827730/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/sailtrip-from-hell.html#comment-form' title='4 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5337270328269827730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5337270328269827730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/11/sailtrip-from-hell.html' title='Sailtrip from hell'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SvDAakj5qZI/AAAAAAAAACY/x2nQ-ONlYAc/s72-c/5e4300bb9d26ace0_large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-790787463379751600</id><published>2009-10-31T07:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T08:22:05.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deathbed Images</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuxVslzBF6I/AAAAAAAAACA/jo_ku2d8nj4/s1600-h/retardeddeathbedscene.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398784277859080098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuxVslzBF6I/AAAAAAAAACA/jo_ku2d8nj4/s320/retardeddeathbedscene.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deathbed images of Napoleon, they all look different. It's like artists just don't give a scrap about historical accuracy when it's about Napoleon's death. You've got one very famous one, with all the people standing around his bed. A few of those were actually there, but the English officers and a bunch of others I can't seem to identify, what the peep are they doing in Napoleon's bedroom?! A part from annoying the sizzle out of Bertrand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then there are a few weirdly drawn, colorful deathbed scenes from various artists that I found around the internet and in books. They are all different, with different people on them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Except Montholon's wife doesn't seem to change position very often. She and her offspring are always at the end of the bed, crying and what not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes Napoleon is telling something, sometimes he's giving orders, sometimes he's just silently slipping away, I even saw him give his sword to Montholon. Or he was just poking him in the chest with it. I see him do it, really. Napoleon, man, nobody can get a hold on his behaviour sometimes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A part from marshall abuse, there are also a bunch of them with Napoleon abuse in it. Who the smiggle lays on his deathbed with his clothes on? I even have one in which he wears his hat and sword! Come on, get him dressed AFTER he died. Let the poor man die in his pyjamas. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And sometimes he sits, with his clothes on, on a bed that resembles a wooden board, talking and pointing at things/people. That's not a dying scene, that's just Napoleon with too much energy to go to sleep. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The bedroom changes furniture and size as well. Sometimes the dark bedroom of Longwood looks a lot like the imperial bedchambers I've seen at Fontainebleau. Not to mention it sometimes has the size of the entire house. Napoleon died in a small, dark, gloomy room, not some kingly decorated football field.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is sad, but the truth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, which one shall I upload? Not all of them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe the most retarded one, in which Napoleon is fully dressed and laying on a wooden board.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just realized, Montholon's wife is not in it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-790787463379751600?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/790787463379751600/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/deathbed-images.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/790787463379751600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/790787463379751600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/deathbed-images.html' title='Deathbed Images'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuxVslzBF6I/AAAAAAAAACA/jo_ku2d8nj4/s72-c/retardeddeathbedscene.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-5362088079714498630</id><published>2009-10-29T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T16:30:50.967-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Carriage rides and hot milk</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuolmVQxO2I/AAAAAAAAABw/bWwr4l9iwI4/s1600-h/napoleon-bonaparte-mort.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398168443829697378" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuolmVQxO2I/AAAAAAAAABw/bWwr4l9iwI4/s320/napoleon-bonaparte-mort.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Napoleon didn't like carriage rides, it bumped too much and made him nauseous.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later on, it also hurt his fragile bladder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But carriage rides were one of the things he had to do that were less pleasant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And you rather sit inside a carriage, then ride a horse in the pouring rain. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not according to him, but he didn't want to get a cold either, so carriage ride it was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the Napoleon series of 2002, he and Josephine are said to make love in a carriage. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, if Napoleon would get seriously sick during a simple ride, do you see him wring himself in all kinds of weird positions to make love to Josephine during one of them? He would throw up allover her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then she would be the one asking for a divorce.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On St.Helena, the doctor told him to take excersize. And believe it or not, but getting dragged across the island in a carriage counted as excersize. Napoleon was always sick when he returned. Strange huh? One would say, if Napoleon gets sick after/during a ride when he's considerably healthy, he surely feels much better after one of them when he's deadly ill.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God, with my medical knowledge, I need to talk firmly to myself not to get too angry at Dr.Antomarchi, he did the best he could for his time. But made incredibly STUPID descisions according to the modern medical knowledge. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then reading that HUDSON LOWE of all persons, recommended warm milk to Napoleon to ease the pain, is just too far beyond my understanding of said Governor. I mean...milk wasn't such a bad idea at all! That rests against the stomach well, and...it makes you sleepy when you heat it up. And Napoleon happened to get little rest when he was so ill.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But warm milk is something given to little children, when they can't sleep, or have tummy aches.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I give that one to you, Mr.Lowe. That was very thoughtful. What's next, reading a bedtime story? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Antomarchi didn't thought it to be such a great idea, according to him, Napoleon had never been able to drink any milk. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is odd, I believe he put it in his tea sometimes. And Josephine made him chocolat milk sometimes, that contains milk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So who did he ask about that? Napoleon himself? He said no to every kind of medication. Even if it was something as plain as milk. And when you feel nauseous, yes, you don't want milk. You don't even want to THINK about milk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perhaps they should have tried the bedtime story.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope Mr.Lowe brought his reading glasses to Longwood when he came to annoy the hell out of everyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-5362088079714498630?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/5362088079714498630/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/carriage-rides-and-hot-milk.html#comment-form' title='3 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5362088079714498630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5362088079714498630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/carriage-rides-and-hot-milk.html' title='Carriage rides and hot milk'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuolmVQxO2I/AAAAAAAAABw/bWwr4l9iwI4/s72-c/napoleon-bonaparte-mort.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-5046764441808214315</id><published>2009-10-28T05:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T05:54:27.055-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Russian commercials</title><content type='html'>Russia has a bank called "Imperial"&lt;br /&gt;Bank Imperial needed a good commercial? So one extremely creative Russian dude designed some commercials especially for the bank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a bunch of them, and two with everyone's favourite little Corsican in it.&lt;br /&gt;When I heard about it, I was like "Oh goody.. &gt;_&lt;" But they're actually pretty good!&lt;br /&gt;The commercials are nonsense, totally not related to the bank at all. They just picture a scene from history and tell something about it. Probably because the bank is very old or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. My Russian isn't that well. Might as well ask me to translate Egyptian paper scrolls, I can tell you just as much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But one thing is sure, they've been searching Hell and Heaven to find a man that resembles Napoleon. And I don't know how they did it, but goodness did they do a good job!&lt;br /&gt;Maybe some of you will disagree, but I think the actor looks a lot like Napoleon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8U7xq49bdWs&amp;amp;feature=player_profilepage"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8U7xq49bdWs&amp;amp;feature=player_profilepage&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-5046764441808214315?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/5046764441808214315/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/russian-commercials.html#comment-form' title='1 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5046764441808214315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5046764441808214315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/russian-commercials.html' title='Russian commercials'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-6059083366183255298</id><published>2009-10-27T04:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T05:04:48.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Retarded Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SubhfIPfP8I/AAAAAAAAABo/upJs9zt6-hs/s1600-h/napoleon750.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397249128354758594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 233px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SubhfIPfP8I/AAAAAAAAABo/upJs9zt6-hs/s320/napoleon750.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two posts on one day, am I bored or what? No, just sick like a dog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;October flu wont leave me alone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, enough about me..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm just surfing through the many Napoleon pictures on the internet, trying to find something interesting. And it amazes me how many retarded pictures I find.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Earlier, I already posted the possible king of retarded Napoleon images, but I found quite a bad one again. It's from a cover of a book explaining weird rumors about famous people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I believe the part about Napoleon is about the rumor that some mental person amputated his genitals after his death. Why would anyone do that? That is just horrible.. I know Napoleon ordered to remove his stomach and heart, but I never red anything about his youknowwhat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well according to this stupid book, some braindead Englishman (agh, now I get it..) has the thing in a jar on his attic. Found it back when cleaning up his grandfather's house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Analyze that; finding Napoleon's genitals in a jar during spring cleaning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's all rumors, and according to me all nonsense. Napoleon wasn't left unguarded for a single second till he was put in a coffin. And I really don't see Marchand nor Bertrand do such a horrible thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who would want to pass on a certain bodypart of Napoleon to their children and grandchildren? I know I wouldn't keep it, if my grandpa gave me someone's penis in a jar. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Gee, Thanks grandpa"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, this post turned out to be longer then I expected. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And that picture, looks like Napoleon was a bit too wrapped up in his thoughts when he was getting dressed to leave. He forgot a few things, I think. See, Constant? That's what you get when you leave your emperor to dress himself...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-6059083366183255298?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/6059083366183255298/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/retarded-pictures.html#comment-form' title='4 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6059083366183255298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6059083366183255298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/retarded-pictures.html' title='Retarded Pictures'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SubhfIPfP8I/AAAAAAAAABo/upJs9zt6-hs/s72-c/napoleon750.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-6874865436138021151</id><published>2009-10-27T03:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T03:49:10.592-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guard Duty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SubQC3__HQI/AAAAAAAAABg/FR6BlHA7lII/s1600-h/guarddutya.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397229951260761346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SubQC3__HQI/AAAAAAAAABg/FR6BlHA7lII/s320/guarddutya.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Imperial Guard Valert fell asleep in the grass the night before the battle of Iena. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of his companions was on guard duty, and Valert decided it would be safe enough to fall asleep now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When he woke up a few hours later, it was still dark around him. But the morning was approaching, and against the light of the nearing day he saw his emperor standing just a few feet away from him. Leaning against a musket, looking off to the horizon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Struck by the sight, Valert kept staring at his emperor standing guard until the sun rose above the empty fields. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the morning was announced, Napoleon noticed his little audience and Valert was given the musket. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-6874865436138021151?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/6874865436138021151/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/guard-duty.html#comment-form' title='4 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6874865436138021151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6874865436138021151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/guard-duty.html' title='Guard Duty'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SubQC3__HQI/AAAAAAAAABg/FR6BlHA7lII/s72-c/guarddutya.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-3843254959347615298</id><published>2009-10-25T03:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T03:43:14.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Acces</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuQrVKuawOI/AAAAAAAAABY/95hc2jJDGoE/s1600-h/fontainebleau+037.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396485896152989922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuQrVKuawOI/AAAAAAAAABY/95hc2jJDGoE/s320/fontainebleau+037.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a confession to make.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't completely follow the rules when I was at Fontainebleau.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When being guided through the small appartments of Napoleon, we came across a closed door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The guide didn't show us what was behind it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the group walked along, I remained in the hall, trying to open the door.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It wasn't locked and I peeked inside. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was like stepping into a different dimension, a different time.&lt;br /&gt;It appeared to be one of Napoleon's lounge chambers, but completely forgotten by everyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Time itself had given it back to history, I think.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All the appartments had something broken and sad, but this room was completely fallen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dust was covering the floor and the furniture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I took a photo, and it amazed me when I looked at it this morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That sun... wasn't there when I took the photo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a cloudy day, didn't see the sun at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perhaps, that isn't the sun, maybe it's him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, it stopped my breath when I saw it.&lt;/div&gt;What do you all think? Did Napoleon showed himself to me?&lt;br /&gt;Because I swear on my grandpa's grave, that light wasn't that bright when I was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-3843254959347615298?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/3843254959347615298/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/no-acces.html#comment-form' title='3 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3843254959347615298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3843254959347615298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/no-acces.html' title='No Acces'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuQrVKuawOI/AAAAAAAAABY/95hc2jJDGoE/s72-c/fontainebleau+037.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-5996870292245587307</id><published>2009-10-24T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T12:14:07.061-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My trip to Fontainebleau</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuNR5LhGzMI/AAAAAAAAABQ/biHPqyGbh8U/s1600-h/fontainebleau+039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396246821306027202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuNR5LhGzMI/AAAAAAAAABQ/biHPqyGbh8U/s320/fontainebleau+039.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have just returned from a tiring but super fun trip to palace Fontainebleau, Napoleon's autumn residence. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have seen his private quarters, that can only be seen on appointment. A guide has to be reserved and you have to pay extra. Only four people at once can go with the tour, and see the every day life quarters of Napoleon and Josephine, and later, Of Marie Louise as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The upstairs imperial quarters are the ones seen by the big public, the grand rooms with a lot of gold and red and all that expensive stuff. The private quarters were surprisingly simple and showed of Napoleon's likeness for soft pastel colors and not too much furniture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There you could see his personal taste, upstairs he held conversations and recieved people. Downstairs he just lived like every other man. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I even got to see the toilet...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had the funniest guide I could ask for. A young man around 23 or 24 with black hair and a little beard. He was terribly nervous, for he had to translate everything into English for me, and he told me he was a disaster with the English language. He did a pretty good job, but goodness was the poor thing stuttering and never making eye contact.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Secretely climbing over a fence resulted into seeing the (empty) imperial stables. They were locked, but I could at least look around the outside of the enormous stable building and coach houses. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I walked around a bit in the forest surrounding the palace, I know Napoleon went out hunting in those woods a lot. Not because he enjoyed hunting, but because the doctor advised him to go play outside a bit more. And why not kill things while you're at it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fontainebleau had a beautiful chapel inside the palace, it was terribly funny to read that it was used as a storage room the entire time during the first empire. I can already imagine all the junk Napoleon dumped in there just to mess with the churgh people surrounding him&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Louis Napoleon (napoleon the third) had it renovated and used it frequently.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And not to dump stuff in...To the delight of the local priest, I'm sure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, I've had a great time, am very tired.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And for everyone's amusement..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A photo of Napoleon's bedroom, taken from his private quarters.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So this is the bed he slept in during autumn months.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unless he fell asleep on a seat, which frequently happened...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-5996870292245587307?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/5996870292245587307/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-trip-to-fontainebleau.html#comment-form' title='4 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5996870292245587307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5996870292245587307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-trip-to-fontainebleau.html' title='My trip to Fontainebleau'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SuNR5LhGzMI/AAAAAAAAABQ/biHPqyGbh8U/s72-c/fontainebleau+039.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-161442330041475711</id><published>2009-10-21T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T09:00:41.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fontainebleau</title><content type='html'>Tommorrow I will head to France for a visit at Palace Fontainebleau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been there twice already, once when I was thirteen, other time I was...fifteen or something, I don't remember.&lt;br /&gt;I Don't remember anything from the inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm really excited!! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna jump on Napoleon's bed and then get thrown out... IT'S WORTH IT..HAHA&lt;br /&gt;I now know it wasn't his favourite place to stay, his main residence was the Tuileries palace, but sadly... His nephew had it bombed away accidentally.&lt;br /&gt;There are plans to rebuild the entire place though... I sure hope so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Fontainebleau it is, I'm gonna have a great time aggrevating my mother with my Napoleon trivia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new book arrived, diaries of Constant, his first valet from 1800 till 1814.&lt;br /&gt;With a buttload of pictures and really detailed stories.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know Napoleon was actually in danger when he left Moscow, but he had to jump over the flames. Well, his staff offered to carry him... but... I don't know... Carrying Napoleon? I think he would freak out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Waterloo someone did DRAG him off the battlefield to get him into safety, and he just lost it and started kicking around. But carry him... I hate it when people carry me, and I'm just as tall as he was...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, I'm not a guy.... Not to mention an emperor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'll be back in a few days!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-161442330041475711?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/161442330041475711/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/fontainebleau.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/161442330041475711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/161442330041475711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/fontainebleau.html' title='Fontainebleau'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-4787618171421553069</id><published>2009-10-18T12:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T13:09:35.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One for you, Mel.</title><content type='html'>Napoleone Buonaparte was born the 15th of August in the year of our lazy lord 1769, on a small Island called Corsica.&lt;br /&gt;He was the second son of Carlo and Letizia, nine more kids followed after him.&lt;br /&gt;And he was named after his dead brother that died a few years before his birth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Buonapartes were actually not that poor, and daddy dearest was one of the most important people on the island. That's why he could arrange an education for his young son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother Letizia, who was later refferd to as "Madam Mere" was a stern woman with an iron fist, no wonder with nine kids. She was said to give life to Napoleon on a carpet in the livingroom, but according to her, that is just a rumor. Sadly, she didn't tell us where she gave birth to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We do know it was a slow birth, she was said to be in labour for over twelve hours. And some say that is why Napoleon always did things in a hurry, always tried to be on time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although Mommy continued to raise Napoleon even when he was emperor, and did not tolerate any disobedience from him, she loved her son dearly.&lt;br /&gt;She fought for his safety on St.Helena, sending him doctors and cooks and priests... the last thing not really appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon loved his mother and always looked up to her.&lt;br /&gt;Once even saying to her: "The day you die, I will have no more superiors"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our beloved emperor never bowed for anyone, except his mother.&lt;br /&gt;She carried his death and the death of all of her other children with the same dignity as she had carried their rise to power, and she died in 1838, 2 years before her famous son would be brought back to Paris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father, however, died before his son had even managed to become consul, and Napoleon saw it as a task to look after his family. Even if brother Louis was actually the oldest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis, became king of Holland, my own country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me, Melanie....Did I forget anything here?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-4787618171421553069?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/4787618171421553069/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-for-you-mel.html#comment-form' title='1 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/4787618171421553069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/4787618171421553069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-for-you-mel.html' title='One for you, Mel.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-6372723609225827479</id><published>2009-10-16T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T14:45:18.544-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maria Walewska</title><content type='html'>Maria Walewska was Napoleon's mistress. She was a Polish Countess with the task to "talk" Napoleon in making Poland a sovereign country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was 19 years old when she first met Napoleon, waiting for his arrival in Poland with a bunch of flowers in her hands. He was absolutely stunned by her appearance and wanted to see her again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria Walewska was scared to death. She had always heard that the emperor of France was an absolute terror of a man, taking whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Which would include her soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon was head over heels in love with the charming young lady, married to some lame count old enough to be considered ancestor. But he never ever lay a hand on her until she agreed with becoming his mistress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a mistress seems hard enough to me, but then ending up falling in love with your lover is probably even worse! She learned to love Napoleon, with his captivating personality and probably a lot of silly jokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gave Napoleon a son, and called him Alexander. It was Napoleon's second illegal child, but the absolute confirmation that he was capable of creating offspring.&lt;br /&gt;His first illegal son, Leon, was from a lady in waiting called Eleonore. A nice looking girl, but with an IQ not bigger than her shoe size and doubts about the kid being actually his crossed his mind often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Countess Walewska was the purest woman on the planet, married to her country and now deadly in love with the world's most powerful man.&lt;br /&gt;Some say she was the only woman who ever loved Napoleon without wanting something in return, for she completely forgot about the entire Poland-is-awesome thing after falling in love with said emperor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, Alexander Walewski was made count and spend his life in Poland helping the ex-soldiers of Napoleon's former Grande Armee, and with doing that: he was the only son of Napoleon who actually did something to honor his father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, just maybe... it was because he was the only child made out of love.&lt;br /&gt;For Leon was made out of pure boredom, or lust, pick your choice.&lt;br /&gt;And Napoleon the second, out of duty and mom and dad hated eachother's guts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well done, Countess Walewska.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-6372723609225827479?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/6372723609225827479/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/maria-walewska.html#comment-form' title='3 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6372723609225827479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6372723609225827479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/maria-walewska.html' title='Maria Walewska'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-152140534075671588</id><published>2009-10-15T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T09:21:04.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Black Substance</title><content type='html'>In the last months of Napoleon's life, he started throwing up a black substance that resembled coffee. It probably smelled different though.. ahum.&lt;br /&gt;According to his doctor, the substance was "created" by the ulcers in Napoleon's stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay people, ulcers don't create anything that resembles coffee, if it creates anything, it's either white or yellow and it's called pus. So what was the black substance in Napoleon's stomach? The smelly thick liquid that he vomited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is what we call dead tissue...&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon's stomach was destroying itself from the inside..&lt;br /&gt;So basically, he was vomiting pieces of himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ISN'T THAT JUST HORRIBLY SAD, OH MY GOD?!! :(((((&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone reading this is probably like omfg, eww.. right now...&lt;br /&gt;But I only feel sorry for the poor thing.&lt;br /&gt;Even if he would vomit the discussed black stuff allover me, I'd still feel sorry for him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor poor Napoleon...I hope Montholon is proud of what he did...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-152140534075671588?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/152140534075671588/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/black-substance.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/152140534075671588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/152140534075671588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/black-substance.html' title='A Black Substance'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-6205104867259479053</id><published>2009-10-14T03:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T03:17:08.742-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='st.helena napoleon'/><title type='text'>The Saddest Chapter.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/StWlG3ngMhI/AAAAAAAAABI/cC7cx3Aq_xQ/s1600-h/ownedtothemax.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392397666273473042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/StWlG3ngMhI/AAAAAAAAABI/cC7cx3Aq_xQ/s320/ownedtothemax.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hi guys, been awhile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been reading a book about Napoleon's last exile lately.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And it gave me some sort of depression that shut me away from everything even related to Napoleon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The book was so sad, he suffered so much on that cursed rock.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is the problem with detailed explanations, they awaken feelings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That book is soaked with my tears, I have cried so much over it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is frustrating to feel so helpless while reading that book, you can't do anything about it, for it already happened and it's over. It is history.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I sometimes fantasize what I would do if I could travel back in time and go to St.Helena.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm a veterinarian, so I know pretty much about medication and surgery. And I can't help myself to think about a possible treatment that could have cured him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And if curing him would be impossible, I would have drugged him down with painkillers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So he would at least be comfortable and without pain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To read he was always cold, even with six blankets, just tears me open. I wish I could wrap my arms around him and warm him with a hug, staying at his side to comfort him,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bertrand and Marchand were great of course, but I doubt they offered the tender loving care only women can offer ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-6205104867259479053?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/6205104867259479053/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/saddest-chapter.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6205104867259479053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/6205104867259479053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/saddest-chapter.html' title='The Saddest Chapter.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/StWlG3ngMhI/AAAAAAAAABI/cC7cx3Aq_xQ/s72-c/ownedtothemax.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-637611898800864533</id><published>2009-10-04T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T11:17:32.428-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Close Encounter</title><content type='html'>It seems, that a lot of people have sworn to have seen Napoleon. Waterloo, Versailles, Fontainebleu and even Malmaison are locations ghost busters explain to have seen/hear Napoleon. But unlike Hitler, or Elvis Presley for that matter, Napoleon seems to take a liking in appearing in front of young women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in the spiritworld, for I have had too many encounters with spirits to deny it, or not believe it.&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I have only seen him in the reflection of the mirror in a shabby old hotel room nearby Paris. And since I was only 12 years old, I screamed... lol&lt;br /&gt;My mother had a hard time calming me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, maybe it never happened, and then again, maybe it did.&lt;br /&gt;I know a lot of people who claimed to have seen him, even talk to him.&lt;br /&gt;So I say, why not? Napoleon liked talking to regular people, he was a generous person.&lt;br /&gt;I think he would visit the people that like him, or love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My advice is, if you ever have the feeling Napoleon is right beside you, trying to make contact. Don't  be scared, but be curious... for he liked messing with people and playing games.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-637611898800864533?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/637611898800864533/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/close-encounter.html#comment-form' title='1 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/637611898800864533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/637611898800864533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/close-encounter.html' title='Close Encounter'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-5470627969726032366</id><published>2009-10-02T09:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T09:37:39.768-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='napoleon trivia valet marchand'/><title type='text'>Louis Marchand, the cutest valet.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsYsNbSxFPI/AAAAAAAAABA/0V8a-u7ps38/s1600-h/marchand99.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388042613371770098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsYsNbSxFPI/AAAAAAAAABA/0V8a-u7ps38/s320/marchand99.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Louis Marchand, Napoleon's first valet from 1814 till 1821, deserves his own little blog thingy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When Constant, Napoleon first valet from 1800 (or something) till 1814, deserted his master and fleed right before Elba. Marchand took over his job. He had been Napoleon's second valet since 1810, and although extremely young by the time, he had Napoleon's complete trust. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marchand was a friendly, kind hearted but watchful and protective valet and Napoleon said his services were those "Of a friend" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;His memoires he kept on St.Helena were published in 1955 and are detailed about the every day life of the emperor in his last exile. His memoires are the most important source we have for the poisoning theory.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nevertheless, I've always preferred Marchand over Constant. And not only because Marchand just looked a hell lot better, but also because Marchand had NAPOLEON'S preference. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The young valet never tired of cleaning up the emperor's clothes when Napoleon felt like throwing his uniform around the palace. Marchand stood by his master's bedside when he felt ill and took care of him with so much love and kindness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know a lot more details about Marchand, but this is him in a nutshell I think.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-5470627969726032366?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/5470627969726032366/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/louis-marchand-cutest-valet.html#comment-form' title='1 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5470627969726032366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/5470627969726032366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/louis-marchand-cutest-valet.html' title='Louis Marchand, the cutest valet.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsYsNbSxFPI/AAAAAAAAABA/0V8a-u7ps38/s72-c/marchand99.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-3154019809267208374</id><published>2009-10-01T05:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T05:34:13.108-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='napoleon trivia'/><title type='text'>Forbidden area.</title><content type='html'>Sometime ago, I red somewhere that Napoleon HATED to be touched anywhere near his stomach area. He would get pissed and yell at the moron that had DAAAAARED to touch him there. I believe this was stated by Corvisart, his doctor. According to the story, beside doctors.. some mistress had accidentally touched the emperor's belly during lovemaking, and it had resulted in a very angry Napoleon (and we all know he could get pretty angry) and a completely taken aback mistress.&lt;br /&gt;Now, Napoleon almost never apologized, but Corvisart explained it to her later.&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone know this too? I believe I'm the only one, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It kind of makes sense to me though. His belly was his weakest spot, so no wonder he might&lt;br /&gt;have been more protective over it. Or she might have been a bit too rough and accidentally hurt him (I'll kill that bitch)&lt;br /&gt;Frankly, I don't think I could restrain myself from softly touching it if I had been that mistress. But I just have something with the man's belly.&lt;br /&gt;And I would be very careful not to hurt him, poor thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-3154019809267208374?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/3154019809267208374/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/forbidden-area.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3154019809267208374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3154019809267208374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/10/forbidden-area.html' title='Forbidden area.'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-1522365814831385103</id><published>2009-09-30T11:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T11:45:26.918-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What the?..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsOnGXHsTWI/AAAAAAAAAA4/-4u9KRbyG3A/s1600-h/shulzh3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387333306992577890" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 158px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 252px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsOnGXHsTWI/AAAAAAAAAA4/-4u9KRbyG3A/s320/shulzh3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one more for the collection of Retarded Napoleon Pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was made by a Russian (of course..) artist, but I forgot his name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Found it somewhere on the internet, and I was like...wow, what the? O_o'&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... Ahum...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My apologies to His Majesty for posting this, though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-1522365814831385103?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/1522365814831385103/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/09/what.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1522365814831385103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/1522365814831385103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/09/what.html' title='What the?..'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsOnGXHsTWI/AAAAAAAAAA4/-4u9KRbyG3A/s72-c/shulzh3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624104336491103609.post-3520134297776183897</id><published>2009-09-30T03:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T03:14:13.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>St.Helena</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMvZFuH3VI/AAAAAAAAAAw/0CHDA0MLVDk/s1600-h/napoleon-bonaparte-exil-sainte-helene-oscar-rex.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387201687344110930" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMvZFuH3VI/AAAAAAAAAAw/0CHDA0MLVDk/s320/napoleon-bonaparte-exil-sainte-helene-oscar-rex.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, this will be my first post, and I have something great to announce! My father is thinking about taking me to St.Helena for my 20th birthday. I turn 20 in January, but he will take me in the summer break. It's friggin expensive to go there, and frankly, I'm not waiting for a 16 days during cruise on board of a mail boat, lol But St.Helena is thinking about building an airport, probably at sea, so it would get cheaper than.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, it would be awesome! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624104336491103609-3520134297776183897?l=theemperorandi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/feeds/3520134297776183897/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/09/sthelena.html#comment-form' title='2 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3520134297776183897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624104336491103609/posts/default/3520134297776183897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theemperorandi.blogspot.com/2009/09/sthelena.html' title='St.Helena'/><author><name>MissElisabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06380498515471499876</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMqt6g2VyI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RA9NTpro4zk/S220/pg_65.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d0jctNmE3cw/SsMvZFuH3VI/AAAAAAAAAAw/0CHDA0MLVDk/s72-c/napoleon-bonaparte-exil-sainte-helene-oscar-rex.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
