What do you get...?

when you combine a memorial dedicated to canine astronauts, a series of floral radiographs, and an interactive display of the mechanical details of the metaphysical practice of string manipulation?

You get the Museum of Jurassic Technology.

If you don't believe me, see it for yourself: http://www.mjt.org/

Is it a joke? Is it the result of the machinations (or whimsical fancies) of an insane mind? Is it a complex metaphorical diorama, explicating the various ways in which curious humans have had a brush with greatness because they discovered an alternative way to describe their own surroundings, but failed because they happened to be wrong? --> I can't take credit for this theory, as it was originally put forth by my sister, Marcie.

Half the fun is guessing!

We originally found the museum of jurassic techology in a tour book of the Los Angeles area. Steve mentioned that a friend had been there and thought it was strange, but worth the trip. I knew immediately that the best person to take was the folklore guru and roadside attraction aficionado, Marcie.

As luck would have it, she would be visiting in a few weeks from that day, so we made the plan official. When Marcie arrived, she continued to be the amazing shrinking woman, as she had lost substantially more weight. Somehow her body has mananged to drop some pounds in a normal fashion and shuttle others to her chestal region, making her front bigger as the rest becomes smaller. This is in sharp contrast to my recent attempt to lose fat by gaining muscle, which resulted in fat lost specifically from my breasts and muscle adding specifically to my shoulders and neck...sexy. Seriously, though, she looks great! By the way, our hair-telepathy has not been clouded by the addition of extra breasts between us.

When we arrived in Culver City, we found a strange mosaic of fancy new strip mall style shops, old neighborhood beatnik restaurants, and run-down older buildings that looked a little shady. The museum initially appeared to belong to the latter category. It was a two-story building that looked like an old house that had been turned into a business, and had since been boarded up and allowed to decay. As we approached it with minor trepidation, we agreed that if the place was too strange, or the day threatened to turn into an adventure a la the film House of Wax, http://houseofwaxmovie.warnerbros.com/, we would run away and meet back at the car.

The wooden door with ironworking looked like it hadn't been opened in years. I immediately wondered if the tour book was outdated. Then, we noticed a small sign on the door welcoming us to ring a bell for entry. I gave the door handle an experimental tug and it opened.

When our eyes adjusted, we saw a dimly lit foyer, with a pleasant and clean musuem shop, a resting tourist on a bench, and a nice looking man sitting behind a desk welcoming us with a large smile. He asked if we had been to the museum before, and pointed to the guest book. He suggested we watch the movie first. The place was quite popular and we saw many other guests, varying in their reactions from bewilderment, amusement, trepidation, and eventual acceptance. I wondered if it was a psychological experiment in how people will react to strange surroundings. This thought seemed confirmed as we made our way to the tea room, where I noticed that no one felt comfortable to accept a free drink in these unusual premises. However, people seemed more than happy to partake in the tray of cookies. As we explored the building, it soon became evident that the place was much larger inside than it appeared. Rooms snaked back and forth beyond the boundaries of the outside structure. This fact combined with the dim lighting and uneven flooring left an unsettled feeling.

I cannot say anything more because you must see it to believe it. And, I recommend it to any philosopher, adult or child. I mean that in the most basic sense: "a person who seeks wisdom or enlightenment." Although you may find neither within the walls of mjt, you will certainly enjoy looking for them.