Pollice Verso

Once again we have the Campbell brothers’s’s progenitors in a different historic context.

Once I had sort of an idea about what I wanted to do I spent some time on the internet, looking for latin things, you know sayings and whatnot. I found this one site with a number of things that I liked and copied them down for possible use. I also used the dictionary because there’s a lot of latin mottos and stuff in the back of it. I admit to freely fudging words if they didn’t actually exist.

The front label for this red wine also contains those stupid latin jokes a lot of people know, semper ubi sub ubi, always where under where (it’s a joke, see), and nil illegitimus carborundum, don’t let the bastards grind you down. Now I’ve seen at least two different versions of that quip so I don’t really know which one is the right one, and then again I don’t really care do I.

The one translation I was really looking for, the one I really want (and not just for this) is ‘horse’s ass’, you know like dorsus equines or whatever it’s supposed to be. Let’s just say I have another use for it.

But gods, we got wordy. Alright, I got wordy. But I don’t feel that there was a heck of a lot I wanted to leave out. I got the brothers in trouble in ancient Rome, I got them out of a terrible spot, I got them out of the country, into more trouble, and I even got them into the right setting for a possible actual Campbell type clan thing, setting, storyline, that kind of thing.

And another plus is that the label got passed around (at a high school I gather) and it turns out I got some people annoyed at us for not being latin scholars in the first place, some first year latin students, or a teacher, you know someone who flaunts the little they know and take pride in deriding someone else.

Anyway, I had to spend quite a deal of time working on this one, cutting out tiny portions of images and combining them into the master, copying and shrinking the wine bottle (with the label on it I might add) to be used in the upper portion as well as in the arena. I guess I don’t have to spell out what the wine name means, do I?

Again the story on the rear of the bottle was tiny and cramped so I'll just type it here. It reads:

Ralphicus and Clonius Campbell, two disreputable wine merchants in ancient Rome, made the mistake of providing their wares of a questionable vintage to the home of the august Emperor of the Roman Empire. They made their second error in loudly demanding payment after the wine had been sampled yelling, “Monstra mihi pecuniam (Show me the money)”. They made such a commotion that they woke up the whole damn place, I mean palace.

Eventually they were brought into the presence of the emperor himself where they made their third mistake. Ralphicus suggested, “Nunc est bibendum (Now its time to drink.).”
They got the emperor so smashed and so sick on their ‘vino’ that he soiled himself, repeatedly. The emperor is reported as saying, “In vino stupidias (There is stupidity in wine.).” Thus it was that the two brothers were largely responsible for the decline and fall of the Roman emperor, who became popularly known as Incontinentine.

Ralphicus and Clonius were declared ‘Inamicus humani generis, uno et duo’ (enemies of the human race numbers one and two) which immediately created a dispute between the brothers as to who was number one. They were sent to die in the Circus Maximus but for some reason (it is surmised that they smelled so bad that no gladiator could stand getting close enough long enough to make the killing stroke and that ever the lions retched and ran for it) they stumbled from the Coliseum filthy but alive. It was in this place that Ralphicus gave his name to vomiting throughout the ages. Cloinus remarked to his brother, “Spucatum contin git. Vive com eo. (Shit happens. Live with it.).”

They wisely decided to flee Rome and stowed away on the first ship out of port, which happened to be traveling to Britannia. Upon arrival, not learning from past mistakes, they casked the contents of the bilges of the Roman fleet at anchor and, using the juice of some berries they got from a druid, dyed the liquid red. Ralphicus then sold the lot to the legion. Unfortunately this concoction not only incapacitated the entire army but it also made the Roman commander violently sick for a week. This event became forever known as ‘Hadrian’s Hangover’ and the expression ‘carpe anklii’ (seize the ankles) was born.

While in prison awaiting the commander’s recovery and their own sentencing Clonius spent his time trying to make a musical instrument from old water skins and reed flutes. Ralphicus said it would never catch on, it scared the sheep and wildlife too much.

It was decided death was too good for them and the brothers were booted north of the wall where it was expected that those blue skinned buggers would take care of them once and for all. Ralphicus turned as they were walking away from everything that was civilized and yelled back at Hadrian as he stood on the wall, “Futue te et ipsum caballum. (**** you and the horse you rode in on.).” Hadrian called back, “Id est spucatum tauri. (That is bullshit.).”

Ralphicus and Cloinus Campbellum walked away into the wilds and into history, noisily, Cloinus wailing away on his bag pipe invention. When the brothers finally managed to locate and join with a clan of the savages, Cloinus saw that the men word skirts and knew he would fit right in. He said to his brother, “Confacimus bibendus. (**** it, lets go drinking.),” and they did.

Gypsy Curse

Here was another idea from Ralph. Again it was in the historical perspective with people elements taken from his friends and clogging associates from the Port Perry area.

The story, again, is so long that I won't try to post the actual rear label (it would only cause eyestrain), I'll just include the story which is:

Does bad luck run in streaks or is it just a fact of life for those vague ancestors of the Campbells?

It was one of those nights when it was not only dark but so far beyond dark that regular dark was noon by comparison. It gave night a whole new meaning and a funny smell. Stumbling through the forest two brothers, Ralp and Coin Camell literally ran into gypsies, because the cow they were carrying did not have any windows.

The gypsies, led by Paulski the Prancing Prince and his wife Princess Karentoboggan (she couldn’t spell ski), decided to make them members of their band of traveling troubadours known as the Outhouse Stomping Troupe and Fortune Telling Extravaganza. Not only did they feel sorry for these two lost souls but they also thought steak would be a pleasant addition to their diet, a change from cabbage anyway.

Within two days of close contact with the brothers they regretted that decision.

The brothers were ultimately cast out; not because they stole one of the gypsy wagon wheels and used it to mash the ingredients for their next batch of wine (which ate away half of the steel rim), not that they then tried to sell the wheel back to them, nor was it because of the explosion caused by their infamous gaseous chili that leveled half the camp. It wasn’t even that Ralp kept trying to sell their children, or that Coin stole the gypsy treasure (7 coins, 3 earrings, a cheap necklace, and a spangly bra). Their fatal mistake was to sell the gypsies some of their new batch of wine.

The wine was made from old dead Christmas trees, jack-o’-lanterns, stinkhorn mushrooms, and left over cow parts. It wasn’t so much the foul taste or the vicious kick to the wine they objected to, but the coat of cowhide it left on their tongues, a tendency for their stomachs to moo, and runs that ran like a river.

Also, it must be admitted, it was felt that the brothers were soiling their reputations, and the tarot cards revealed the future would end badly for them all if the two stayed.

The brothers were cursed vehemently and forced to leave, without the spangly bra.

As for the curse, it actually caused an improvement to Rolp and Coin’s normal standard of living.

So try, if you dare, to sample the drink known as the Gypsy Curse.

2001 - L'ambulance and Bearhuggers Fine Wine

This year was another one of those rush production things. We actually put together the two labels and concocted the story in a single session. I think that they still came out O.K.

L'Ambulance

Here the label is the story, along the lines of Zik Puppy, this time using fake French as the inspiration, I guess a la Bugs Bunny. It might also be a point of interest to note that Ralph’s wife, Linda, is a nurse and so this label was homage to that profession, with a twist.

Here is what the bits say. Unfortunately at the present moment I can't recreate all the little accents over the vowels. I'll have to work on that.

On the front label under 'white wine' it says 'Produit du Canada. Bottlee sous protestment. La freres Campbell Winory.
750 ml
200% alc./vol.'

The rear panel has these cautions:

Une melange du peroxide d'hydrogene et vin blanc frome double cross grapes fransois avec une hint du roadkill.
Ne pas compliment des foods. Period.
Chill if desiree. Ne pas heatez vous.
Extremement alarm de biohazard.
Drinke ce la et vous ride dans l'ambulance certainment.

Bearhuggers Fine Wine

While I was putting the finishing touches on the previous label Ralph was sitting on the couch composing ideas for the label. We sourced the image of the bear on the internet, cut it out of its background and superimposed it over another image of the mountain on the back, snowfield deleted.

What I didn’t realize was the significance of the name. Ralph kinda’ snuck it by me. The name Bearhugger was borrowed from one of our favourite authors, Terry Pratchett. This had been the name of the drink of choice for, again, one of my favourite characters from the Discworld novels.

I should pay more attention.

Here's what it says:

THOSE INFAMOUS AND INFECTIOUS CAMPBELL BROTHERS, A COLLECTION OF BAD HABITS MARINATED IN ALCOHOL PRESENT...

BEARHUGGERS FINE WINE

After their last episode, the brothers have been sentenced by the Intergalactic Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Semi Intelligent Life Forms and sent back in time to help mankind progress. They arrive back as Alf and Clong, two stoned men aged.
And how do they help?
What gift do they bestow on Mankind?
Before fire, before the wheel, before even time itself, they invent hooch.
Starting from scratch (not saying what they were scratching) they gather nuts, berries, twigs and the odd rock and ferment their new concoction, the world's first oral anasthetic.
With a skin of their new brew (half consumed) they wander looking for a suitable place to get paralized in. Not paying attention they bump into the amerous claws of Ursidae Carnivora Maximus (BFB) in heat.
Much screaming, grunting and guzzling follows. After affectionate bear hugs are exchanged all agree that it is indeed a great vintage.

2000 - Gone With The Wind and Ole Black Crater

I think this is the year where we truly went around the bend. Nothing, not gravity, not history itself, could hold us back from the creation of stories and situations for our alter egos. We were (and should be?) committed to make more outlandish stories with each passing year.

Gone With The Wind

For 'Gone With The Wind' Ralph wanted to do a past history piece which incorporated some local detail like Port Perry, Ontario (near where he lives) and playing up on some of the gags of the Upschitz Creek label.

Again we may have gotten a little carried away with the story. O.K. a bit more than a little. We had to really struggle in order to cut it down to a size that we could even remotely stick on the back of a bottle.

Ralph had the wagon logo on a piece of paper from a lumber camp up north. The snowy background was taken from a painting, changed to black and white.


Here’s the story:

In the beginning… well not quite the beginning… sort of sometime in the middle really, anyway we go back to Colin and Ralph Campbell’s ancestors, Ralph and Colin Campbell. These two men, who have incidently refined inbreeding to a fine art, thought it might be fun to start a brothel. Upon reflection, however, they realized that they would have to run it by hand until they could afford girls.
They dropped that idea.
They thought they’d open a chili stand. Townspeople closed it down.
They took up bootlegging instead.
Now they hauled their highly illegal brew to bars and brothels by horse and wagon, armed with a pistol and an old shotgun.
Their horses knew the route, down gullies, up ravines, and along back roads and alleyways. With the horses doing all the work the brothers were idle during the long hours of travel. After brief discussion they decided that they should, at least, do some quality control of the product.
They found that the most dangerous part of the route was near the new sawmill at Upschitz Creek. There a tribe of vicious German squirrels resided. These resented being used as live bait for Muskie fishing, particularly by Ralph, and would throw nuts and insults (calling the brothers Zik Puppies), shaking their little rodent heads and pelting horses and brothers alike with acorns, grubs, and squirrel shit.
The brothers, in their self-induced stuporous state, tried to shoot their tormentors. The only thing they hit was a branch (a son of a beech) which snapped, fell, and dropped a whole contingent of the maddened rodents onto everything. Squirrels scratched and nipped, horses bolted and kicked, Campbells screamed, wagon broke.
Ralph ended up in the tree, Colin in the creek.
After the incident the only thing they carried loaded was themselves.
Another time they happened upon a fair being set up in Pt. Perry. Ever alert to an opportunity for making money they decided to open a back of the wagon chili and wine booth.
Ralph’s chili recipe is probably the only document in culinary art that has a warrant out for its arrest and immediate destruction. When you add the combination of the chili’s ‘special spices’ to an alcoholic distillation that itself is none too stable, the result is devastating.
As the town’s paper later reported, ‘The goode peoples, after sampling the wares of the boothe, felt ill and let flay fartes of a most foul odiousness. Many gagged and were put through severe physical discomforture, requiring the entire contents of their stomachs to be purged.’
The enraged citizenry, those that could still walk, became a lynch mob. The Campbell brothers, now well into their forth bowl and third bottle apiece, and finally aware that they were the centre of a rising tide of anger directed towards themselves, dropped their pants, aimed at the thickest part of the crowd, and let out such a gaseous cloud of foul odour that the entire main street was engulfed, allowing them to escape, barely. They left behind only two pair of travel stained trousers (at least we hope that’s all the stains were) and the now infamous bouquet. They were well and truly…
GONE WITH THE WIND.
Ralph and Colin Campbell, two men who have spent more than half a century… drunk.

Whew. The label stories by this point were almost becoming book length. We were also getting a bit more brazen about the situations we could put these brothers in, as in the next story as well.