Last week, I took Kay to see the King Tut exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston. I didn’t really see the need to go, ‘cause I thought we’d already been. I don’t know if it was the PBS documentary or the catalog sitting in my bookcase, but something led me to believe I had seen the thing.
Kay convinced me I was wrong. Then she explained how the Egyptians are trying to collect money from the exhibit to build a museum in Cairo so they permanently house the massive display. If we didn’t go while the exhibit was in Houston, we’d never get to see it unless we traveled to Egypt. I just don’t think I could live with myself if that happened.
No question, the exhibit was worth the expense and the effort. For two tickets and two listening devices the size of a TV remote we were out $70. Kay informed me that she had purchased the tickets back in October, so I was pretty much committed. Turns out, I’m glad I went. Interesting it was.
We didn’t need the listening devices for all the exhibits. If we had, we’d still be in there listening to stuff. It was only at the fourth display that I learned where the sound was coming out of the remote. I hate it when people assume any dope can figure something out.
Another thing that confused me a bit was all the writing attached to each display. I had read four explanations at one display before realizing that each plaque said the same thing. Sometimes I have trouble comprehending what I’m reading. Especially if someone is standing next to me. Hey, I can’t even operate the Redbox movie dispenser if someone is watching me.
After getting settled with the viewing process I ended up learning a bunch. I found out that some of the Egyptian emperors after Tut tried to chip his name off all structures and statues in an attempt to keep him from going to heaven. They believed that if a king’s name wasn’t written anywhere, he would not experience life after death.
So, Tut’s reign was a secret for many centuries after his death. What’s ironic is that once his tomb was uncovered in 1922, he became the most famous of all Pharaohs. And, that’s a good thing, ‘cause somebody sure buried him with a lot of cool stuff to occupy his time in the hereafter.
Unfortunately, some of the stuff was internal organs. Four separate smaller coffins were used to store his whatsits. One small golden container fashioned in the likeness of Tut was made to hold his stomach. They dried it out before they chunked it in there, but it was his stomach all right.
The big disappointment of the exhibit for me was the fact that the Boy King’s real mummy wasn’t there. Apparently it was too valuable and too fragile to travel, so they used a 3-D copy machine to duplicate the thing. I admire their honesty, ‘cause there’s no way anyone would’ve been able to tell that the real one from the copy.
I saw a 3D copy machine on one of those “How do they make that” shows. Fascinating. Makes me wonder why they can duplicate a mummy, but they can’t make a tuna can that makes it easier to extract the tuna. I’m just saying.
Normal people generally start out real slow in a museum -- reading everything and taking their sweet time. Halfway through they’re at a trot. “Yeah, another gold cat. Great gold necklace, granite statute… Move along!”
Well, that didn’t happen to us. I was so tired I wanted to prop my feet on Tut’s baby bed, but I hung in there like grim death. Hey, tickets were $25 a pop, and I wanted to get my money’s worth. I think I did.
I wouldn’t go again if it was free and they served peanut M&Ms, but I can now say I’ve seen the Tut exhibit.
And, I must say that I’m a bit concerned about it all. I mean if the stuff in Tut’s tomb is in Houston, Texas, what on earth is King Tut using to occupy his time in the afterlife? A lot of ancient Egyptians went to a lot of trouble to give that kid a smooth transition. If they had had the luxury of a nice tomb, they’d probably be turning over in it.
To see Brad and Mark’s review of Chi Japanese Cuisine click on picture below.