House on the Rock, Part the Seventh

Once you've left the Circus Room with its plethora of Baranger Motions, you proceed into the Galleries, which House on the Rock literature describes as a "collection of collections."

First up, weapons. There are guns and guns and more guns, as well as this charming implement of mayhem:



The weapons are followed by the "Oriental Collection," the bulk of which are Chinese ivory and cork sculptures, porcelain, and a host of skeery, skeery marionettes. Trust me on this--nightmare fodder:



Then there is the armor collection, which includes--among your standard-issue suits standing at attention--tableaux of a medieval battle



(note the mood lighting!) and of Hannibal crossing the Alps.



The Galleries also feature a collection of replicated Crown Jewels of Britain and a scale model of Buckingham Palace. Oh yeah. and another tableau of a Samurai battle.

And then--steel yourself, dear reader--the Galleries give way to the



Doll Carousel Room. Where there is not one, but TWO carousels filled with dead-eyed, staring dolls.

Catwalk ramps take you in a spiral around the larger of the hellish whirligigs, where you can be sufficiently chilled by scenes such as this:



And this:



The second carousel is smaller, and sports, in general, smaller dolls. But it's pretty creepy in its own right, what with its bevy of soiled nudie beauties adorning its upper tiers.



This visit, Jeff and I stood and pondered these dirty girls a while, it dawning on us that perhaps the dust wasn't simply due to an overwhelmed and understaffed cleaning crew, but that it might have been an actual aesthetic choice of Mr. Jordan's or of the current management. And that's just, well, ewww.

Hanging on the walls and ceiling of the Doll Carousel Room are row upon row of carousel horses.



All those horses that AREN'T on the "World's Largest Carousel" are here, surrounding the creepy, staring, dead-eye dolls.

Including the four horsemen of the apocalypse! Name them all!



Alas, your tour is nearing its end. At this point, depending on how fast or how slowly you walk, as well as how much you have stopped to ogle along the way, you've been winding your way through the House on the Rock and its attendant displays for three to four-plus hours. You're pretty much ready for a rest and a chance to buy tzotzkes. But before you go, the tour leads you back into the Carousel Room on an upper level where you can get an aerial view of the whirling carousel. And where more strange statuary reminds you that this place is about as bizarre as they come.



Before the recent expansion scheme, the tour used to spit visitors out smack dab into the gift store, and maybe that will be the case again once the construction is complete. For now, though, you will have to wend your way to a courtyard and follow inscrutable signs



to find the t-shirts and postcards and pens and souvenir books. Alas! We did not see any of the CDs of the music machines for sale as they had been on previous visits. Perhaps since the management has gone to the trouble of tuning them up (well, as best they can), they plan to re-record them? Ah, but I have all four of them already! Ha ha HAH!

And so, weary and bleary-eyed from wonder, you stumble back to your car and head off into the rolling hills of Wisconsin's Wyoming Valley. But you will always carry visions of House on the Rock with you.

The mysterious snake charmer of Moon over Mankoora:



The brass chime-players that grace the Mikado:



And all the other weird-ass stuff House on the Rock throws at the unsuspecting tourist:



Y'all come back now, y'hear?



Odds are, you will.