This is a good thing- Raku is a spastic process at times. I’ve had a few pieces explode in the kiln lately. This is an added challenge- as in some mega-sized conga drums I’ve been building of late.
(Note- I considered linking a couple of pictures here… but it’s honestly hard for me to look at these images. Google ‘rhino poaching’ and you’ll get more than you can stomach).
However, we’re really talking about the fact that rhinoceros horns are pert and erect (and admirably large) and people have a tendency to… err… ‘project’ mystical power onto such things.
The cynic might see this type of projection as similar to ‘the pathetic fallacy’- the tendency to ascribe emotion or intent to the inanimate. ‘Nature abhors a vacuum’. (‘Pathetic’ in this case drawn from the same Latin roots as ‘pathos’ – and thus related to empathy)-
Anyhow, it’s clear that there’s an extraordinary amount of desperate ‘love’ (of a sort) hurled at anything that evokes a phallus (or part of one). Even Viagra has failed to put a crimp in this trend. Yes- turtle eggs evoke certain paired, roly-poly objects. Does it follow that the thousands of Central Americans who knock them back with beer are seeing a clinical increase in their functionality?
The advertisement- by the way- is from a Mexican add campaign. It reads:
My man doesn't need turtle eggs. Because he knows that they won't make him more viral. Etc.
As noted in the New York Times, there's something a bit off-putting about using gender stereotypes to avert environmental Tom-foolery. To quote from John Sayles wonderful film 'Lone Star'... "Yeah, it's always heartwarming to see a prejudice defeated by a deeper prejudice"
Mind you, fingernails are entirely composed of beta-keratin… so they’re nutritionally useless. Rhino horn does have a calcium core… so quaffing chang laced with rhino horn could give you an energy boost. If you were calcium deficient to begin with…
In the meantime, however, it’s a pretty serious indictment on the human race if a gentle giant like Ceratotherium simum fades to black because of our obsession with beloved, ever-troublesome wing-wangs.