Well, the Gormogons decided to take a quick day trip (and thanks to GorT, that covers a couple weeks) and visit the Big Apple. Manhattan had quite a lot of snow, but nothing we are not very used to. In addition to some business—we stopped in to visit our old pal, the Grand Moghul to see how his Empire of Blood project is coming along for us—we also managed to take in a few sites.

Here’s a lovely picture that GorT took of the Mandarin, the Volgi, and the Czar atop the Empire State Building. Not too many people go up on the observation deck in this cold weather, which is fortunate for them and us. They didn’t need to see ‘Puter urinating off the top rail. By the way, NYC residents may notice a strange new antenna hidden among the other masts up at the top. You, of course, saw nothing.

Returning the favor, Volgi took a nice picture of GorT in Central Park. A local guy accidentally wandered into frame, but his look was so priceless that we begged Volgi not to delete it off the camera. Turns out, it is one of the better pictures of GorT because he kept blinking.

Uh-oh, girls! ‘Puter wanted to do some skating over at Rockefeller Center. These cute girls were there, too, and they thought Volgi was taking a picture of them a little unsteady on their skates. A split-second later, ‘Puter gave them the full Trent Hunter and plowed into them. Five minutes, major for boarding!

A great time was had by all. Except the girls, who are probably still in neck braces. And, um, might be for some time.

The Czar of Muscovy

Божію Поспѣшествующею Милостію Мы, Дима Грозный Императоръ и Самодержецъ Всероссiйскiй, цѣсарь Московскiй. The Czar was born in the steppes of Russia in 1267, and was cheated out of total control of all Russia upon the death of Boris Mikhailovich, who replaced Alexander Yaroslav Nevsky in 1263. However, in 1283, our Czar was passed over due to a clerical error and the rule of all Russia went to his second cousin Daniil (Даниил Александрович), whom Czar still resents. As a half-hearted apology, the Czar was awarded control over Muscovy, inconveniently located 5,000 miles away just outside Chicago. He now spends his time seething about this and writing about other stuff that bothers him.