"A Sphinx-ter says, what?"
When I was in seventh grade, I read this little paperback book about Egyptologist Howard Carter discovering King Tut's tomb in 1922. For some reason, it convinced me at the time that I had lived in ancient Egypt in a former life and very possibly could have been the boy King Tutankhamun or King Tut as the newspapers nicknamed him.
It was amazing how the discovery of King Tut's tomb fueled the imagination of much of the world back in the 1920s when it was discovered. Tons of cities around the United States opened up theaters with ancient Egyptian inspired architectural themes.
One of those theaters was built in Boise. It had gotten a bit ragged around the edges by the time I started going there as a child, but it still had this unique look of an Egyptian temple that fascinated me. I loved getting there early and soaking in the atmosphere. I also liked the authentic depiction of Egyptian dancing girls on the walls (I think it was the first image of a naked breast I can remember until I discovered my older brother's stash of Playboy magazines). I was a very curious child.
There was a time shortly after my fascination with Egypt was fueled by the story of King Tut, that I pondered becoming an Egyptologist. It sounded exotic and sophisticated. But as with all the other ambitious careers I pondered growing up, someone inevitably pointed out the lack of practical applications of such a vocation in Idaho where the most exotic thing excavated at any given time was a potato.
I sometimes wish that I had been able to overcome the naysayers and actually pursued becoming an archeologist. But then again I'm sure my romaticized concept of what that actually entailed wouldn't match the drudgery of brushing dirt away from pottery fragments under a desert sun. And I imagine Indiana Jones was the exception when it came to being a super hero archeologist.
But you probably want to know more about me being the born again King Tut. I tried to confirm the fact when I was passing through my New Age phase. However, I simply could not find a psychic or astrologer who could confirm my karmic lineage. For the most part the psychic's seemed to be fascinated by the bumps on my head and the astrologers would simply shake their heads while reading my chart and tell me it gave them a headache.
Now those of you who have read my blog for any length of time (which would be mainly Shandi and Lights) may remember my obsessive ranting about thinking I had also been Edgar Allan Poe in a former life. I do not want you to think that I make a habit of proclaiming such things. After all, one of the most disillusioning things about people who claim to be reincarnated is that about 98 percent have at one time been Napoleon in a former life. But unless Napoleon's body was a revolving door for souls, having more than one person claim to have been him does throw a wrench into the validity of their claims. I do want to point out, however, that if I was King Tut, that would not preclude me from being born again as Edgar Allan Poe. I don't think there is a rule in the reincarnation book that says you can't be famous twice as your soul progresses.
Anyway, after I finally did let go of the notion that I was King Tut (which was kind of ruined for me when Steve Martin wrote and performed a song about him on Saturday Night Live years ago), I hung onto a distinct fascination with ancient Egypt. Seeing the Great Pyramids in Cairo is still on my "to do" list before I die. I also used to have "riding a camel through the Valley of the Kings in Egypt" on my list until someone who had been there pointed out that there are no rent-a-camels in the Valley of the Kings. If you want to ride a camel, you have to do it around the Great Pyramids. People are always bringing me down that way.
So, in that light, I'm toying with it being Egypt at Dizgraceland. Though I am starting to feel like the Travel Channel. But then again every week would be Las Vegas week. Regardless, I'll just play it by ear and see how many Egyptian things I can put my face on for a week or so.