The two bottles on the shelve?

What about them?

Oooh, I wouldn't if I were you.

I am not sure about the one on the right either. The scholar who brought it said that it has a long history...

I was told that it's perfectly safe to open it now. But then, why take a chance, right?


  1. We didn't want a dog in the house. (Too many fleas.) So we bought this guy, house trained him, and feed him raw red meat from time to time. Since his arrival no one has broken into the house. No one even approaches the house. In fact, most of our neighbors have packed up and left. Maybe it's because he picked up a young child and bit off his head. Sorry about that. But nobody is perfect.

  2. For a minute there, I thought Quinty had found himself one of those rare priceless Kai Wren bottles.

    Knowledgeable collectors will go to inordinate lengths to obtain Kai Wren specimens for their collections. They are said to bring their owners considerable good luck---by way of wealth, good health, happiness and long life. Besides, they will keep any wine decanted into them fresh for a span greater than two normal human lifetimes. Same with cut flowers.

  3. Uh-Oh! Just got this message under "The Wulfshead" tab when I logged into my blogger account:

    "This blog has been locked due to possible Blogger Terms of Service violations. You may not publish new posts until your blog is reviewed and unlocked.

    This blog will be deleted within 20 days unless you request a review."

    Must I request a review (there is a button for me to click) or has it been taken care of already???

  4. Seems somebody got the Wulfshead in trouble with the authorities. All of a sudden I want to be here. What does that say about me? We are under surveillance. Seems our free speech is pissing off the powers that be. Who are the powers that be? And I think they actually said we are "under surveillance." Now I feel so special to be a member.

  5. Kind of creepy, I must say. My first thought upon receiving the email alert was that this was some kind of a phishing scheme, but apparently this sort of things goes on all the time. Blogger's disclaimer is that "automatic spam detection is inherently fuzzy, and occasionally a blog is flagged incorrectly."

    The other side of the coin (Blogger doesn't always volunteer the information - it's easier to lay the blame on robots) is that the following is frequently the case:
    "Your site was flagged by a reader. At the top of your blog is a tool bar that readers, if they believe you’ve posted questionable material that may be in violation of blogger’s terms of service, can notify we, at blogger, to investigate."

    The latter is always a concern as the potential for such a tool to be abused by spiteful people is great.

    Anyway, it looks like Google might have "investigated" the matter already and came to the conclusion that their bots were wrong (or the complaint--if complaint there had been--was unfounded), upon clicking the button to see what the form requesting a review was about, I was greeted with the following feedback:

    Blog is not locked

    Your blog is not locked and does not need a review.

  6. Come to think of it, this turns out to be an interesting place where this thread has landed. The two bottles and their follow-up related illustrations make for a fascinating reflection about cloud computing.

  7. There are a number of us who could bear greater scrutiny by the authorities. In fact, as I wrote elsewhere here, certain key members have disappeared without explanation. Neither Bartender nor Concierge are calming us with their usual finesse. O well, what's a good bar without an occasional raid?

    If they bust down the door, don't give your right name! Some of you know about the catacombs beneath the main chambers. They connect us to other Wulfshead outlets throughout time and space. We always can "go" there...but beware the Labyrinth.

  8. Yea, a good raid every once in a while is the tonic a good bar needs. Why, I was falling asleep at the bar once again, head down on the surface, when all the commotion began. Flashlights, shouts, screams, someone knocking the barstool out from under me. Where those catacombs? Man, do I have time to grab a bottle?