Wednesday, April 20, 2011


since I am a hell of a guy, I told Pete we could go to some art museums ("or some shit") to make him happy and feel like he is seeing Prague. This is as opposed to Logan's way which is sitting around, smoking cigarettes and talkinng to people.

We went to the Mucha Museum. Entrence fee, 180 CZK per adult. And, you don't get to take pictures because they want you to spend money in their fucking gift shop.

They have several signs up for 'check your bag' but I just ignored them. They (the people working there) carefully ignored me as well. If they had said, "Sir, you need to check your bag" I could have wittily countered with "I didn't want to come here in the first place - what makes you think I'd be interested in taking any of this shit home?"

Mucha is a Czech 'Art Noveau' artist. This guy seemed to enjoy painting women in robes with flowers that look like they belong on advertisements. Ironically, several were painted as advertisements so I guess that's why he's famous. The few men he painted looked effeminate. Maybe I am just a horrible person but when I looked at the men in the pictures I couldn't help but thinking they would be huge hits in the 'gay scene' of most countries.

Mucha lived in America for awhile, coming home to Czech just in time to get picked up by the Gestapo who made him sick. He then died. Let that be a lesson to any artists who are hanging out in America, hear that war may be brewing in their homeland then head back there! Bad idea. Just hang out in America or whatever 'war free zone' you're chilling in and paint pictures depicting the struggles of your brothers and sisters in your native land. Gives your side some good propeganda and you won't get picked up by the Gestapo.

This artist was apparently famous in his own time and even made money on his work unlike Vincent van Gogh who was thought to have sucked badly in his own life time.

This Mucha guy also did some photography. When it was men, it was the 'aren't I dignified' variety. With women it was either that type of the saucy 'don't I have nice breasts' type. Saucy! This guy took a (fully clothed) picture of his mistress. It could just be the long waiting of the time or some weird pose he wanted her to get in but to me, she looks really skittish about having her picture taken. Maybe she knew it would be hung up in a museum someday oggled by tons of artistic snob tourists. If I thought there would be a picture of me like that, I'd want one with me holding my crotch in one hand and flipping off the viewer with the other. Or dry humping something.

The Mucha Museum thankfully isn't that large but does lack the chairs for sitting in that I typically look for in houses of torture such as this. There were some chairs in the back where people were watching a documentary on this guys life and they all looked enraptured. This made me slightly queesy. I would have sat down anyway but mysteriously the seats were all full. The only chair I saw free was the artists' which was part of a display. Tempting, but I really don't want to spend time in a Czech jail for breaking a famous Czech artist's chair with my fat ass.

As I usually do when surrounded by art, I began to ignore it and concetrate on the other patrons of the museum. Most of them were comprised of old people who had nothing better to do with their time. There were a few single women with a self satisfied air who looked like they were (or wanted to be) intellectuals. These were the kind of horrible bitches that would force their boyfriends to endure things of this nature. There were also a couple of married couples with kids looking to inflict 'culture' on their bored brood.

Some typical examples of Mucha work are these two links. Sorry it's not much(a) but I couldn't be bothered to get more. It all blends to me anyway.

I'm sure that going through this experience my cultural awareness somehow will get raised despite my thoughts that I will forget this guy's name as soon as I'm done with this blog entry. I won't remember much(a).

I do think it would be amusing if someone reading this is yelling "But I've always wanted to go to the Mucha art gallery and you went instead and you are a heathen!"

That is my happy thought for the day.

In the key words for the post, Mucha's name appears so that we can sucker in people who like art into reading this and then they can be disdainful, yet horrified.

After I survived the art gallery, I ran across the street into the post office to take a look at that. For a post office, it was pretty nifty.

After Pete captured me, he suggested we get a beer and a smoke in a quiet sit down place so that I could rest my fat ass. I suspect it is a reward for surviving Mucha though he denies it.

So, in what is literally the leading beer drinking country in the world, I ordered beer. Pete (sometimes refered to as 'Holmes') does not like beer at all. He began going down the list and asking "Do you have this?" to which the waiter kept saying "No.". Eventually, Pete got frustrated and said "Perhaps it would be easier to tell me what you have." I wish the waiter had looked at him steadily and said "Beer." It was a bit like the cheese shop sketch.


There seems to be a great myth regarding that if you go to certain restaurants you are required to order food if you want to sit and drink. Oddly enough, we have yet to encounter one. Yet, they are rumored to abound. Both Pete and Jana have told me that it depends upon which restaurant you go to. I think they are lying to me. I also believe that if you go to a restaurant and order drinks they will be loath to kick you out, even if you don't order food. In fact, I think an easy way to play it would just be to dawdle endlessly over the menu trying to select the right food. When you are done with your drinks, announce with resignation that to your surprise you couldn't find the one thing you wanted (powdered yak is a good one as it rarely appears on menus) and you must be off to find a new restaurant that carries it and can I pay for my drinks before we depart? An air of quiet resignation rather than pointing at the waiter and laughing would probably complete the deception. That's the American way which is why our restaurants don't have such silly rules.


Tonight we are going to take a group of people to the local Hooters restaurant where I ca observe the American custom of the exploitation of women's breasts first hand. Pete wasn't initially too intrigued by my bizarre idea until other people began to express interest. Now, he is stuck with it.

The meeting point for this little adventure is a large statue of 'some guy on a horse' near the dreaded National Art Gallery. I regard this as a silly meeting spot because it is so far away from Hooters. Personally, I'd have made Hooters the meeting spot. Anyone not smart enough to find it doesn't get to see the wonders of overly tight T-shirts.

I can't help but wonder if Hooters could ever become successful in a Muslim country.


Also known by Logan as 'What the fuck is this shit?' Admission for adults (or Logan) 100 CKZ.

Again, the clientele were mostly women leading me to wonder if Travis could fake interest enough in this stuff to pick up girls here. I took some photos I will put up of this crap when my internet isn't sucking.

They have three floors of this stuff but it isn't 'tightly packed'. They had stairs to try to wear you down and guards on each floor as if they're worried about someone taking it.

You were able to take non-flash pictures which was swell.

Oddly enough, on the second floor we did find a group of teenage boys. They all had the same paper so it led me to believe they had been sent here by School, possibly for Crimes Against The State.

The funniest thing is that I was taking notes in a notebook and pictures of things. Others there must have thought I was a 'serious student of cubism'. Silly wankers.

Afterward, we went and sat down some more (my leg gives me issues) in an upscale restaurant right on the strip. Pete had a tea, I ordered a chocolate milk shake. What I got was a glass of chocolate milk. Pete claimed this was normal and for something not so thin, you had to order a 'thick shake'. It sounds to me as though he was just making words up.


If, like Pete, you burn easily in the sun, be advised that Europe seems behind the curve on sunblock. Pete recommends Australian instead as they have the 'most poisonous sun in the world'. According to Pete, Australian sunblock is the way to go. Stock up before leaving for Europe. Unless you live in Europe - then just order it online. Unless you're traveling to Australia, I suppose.

I'll let you know how Hooters went when we get back...


Giant and impressive 'Sex on the beach' drink, 763 CKz.

In Hooters, I had the worst burger I have had in my life. It tasted like soy. I mean worse than McDonald's quality. To add insult to injury, the very large burger came with one small piece of tomato and two small pieces of onion. It was enough to cover less than one fourth of the burger. Not only did the (unattractive, too much mascara) Hooter's waitress tell me 'that was the way it was' but she also brought me a picture to show me that is what it should look like. Don't go to fucking Hooter's in Prague. I swear to God, you'll be sorely disappointed. The usual shitty 'Czech service was there but dressed in a tight t-shirt. Whoopie.

I think one of the things I like about American restaurants is that if the customer isn't happy with something, they'll fix it. It may be against restaurant policy, cost them a couple more sense in condoments, whatever but they'll fix it. Here, it is 'fuck you, this is how it is'. I keep getting reminded 'you're not in America' but I feel that 'good customer service' should be a planet wide thing. A full meal for 5 at Hooters, 2050 CZK. Spend your money elsewhere.

The place irritated me enough that I abandoned my idea of getting a picture with some of the Hooter's girls. They simply irritated me.

So after Tomasch, Mariana's brother - cool guy - left, Mariana and Jana went and accousted some poor guy sitting alone. Pete had noticed that he closed his laptop when the waitress came by. Pete is an instigator. The girls went to the lengths of rifling through the poor guy's coat when he wasn't looking. I actually felt bad for him. We never did find out exactly what he was up to however.


  1. Heh, I just realized you guys will probably experience the Eastern European version of Easter Monday.

    Dunno how different Czechs do it, but in Poland, young people often celebrate it by hunting down anyone walking the streets and dumping a bucket of water on them.

  2. If you hit Czech women with a pretty obvious phallic stick, they give you eggs and chocolate. Not too hidden for a spring festival.

    The women are allowed to defend themselves by throwing water on the men after noon. Why not before is a mystery.

  3. NERO players would clean up for candy on Easter then... I have a picture of me helicoptering in a crowded square shouting 5 chocolate and women spewing candy and running to and fro....

    Unfortunately, so far it seems like the only reason you are having any fun is that you are with friends. That or if the time table were sped up a bit on the traveling it'd be more enjoyable. Most shit seems to be more expensive than it's worth. I could see having some standard PC bundles to toss around and it being better, but where isn't with that kind of cash.

  4. NERO - true.

    I think that in this post it combined up several things that I didn't really get into (art and shitty hooters service) so I can see how it might not look like fun if someone only read this post but overall this is a very interesting experience. I am ready to move on but want to spend the last few days with my friends. After that, I go at 'my own pace'.



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