Amadeus may be crappy history, but it is one kick-ass movie. It’s been too long since I watched it, and now I have a lust for the DVD.
The Wolves in the Walls by Neil Gaiman was very good, in a not-unexpectedly surreal way, but I think I’ll wait a year to read it to Kitten.
And that’s how I spent my Friday afternoon. In part, at least.
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The latest theory is that Mozart died of trichonosis (spelling?). The symptoms match and there is a letter to his wife telling how he was enjoying a pork sausage the correct number of days before he died.
Salieri makes a better villain than Wilbur the pig, though.