The First Hortisexual

As most of the world knows by now, the empress of Russia, Catherine the Great, was a pleasure hound of no small appetite. What is not known is that she was, as far as we can determine, one of the world's first practicing hortisexuals. She reportedly disported in her lifetime with every known species of fruit and vegetable in addition to her many warm-blooded lovers of both two and four legs. Most notable among these was a certain potato by the name of Kartoffel of whom she was so fond that she made him a baron and elevated him to deputy ambassador to Persia, in which post he negotiated the treaty of Pupu-pa-Dup, which brought balalaika music for the first time to the Persians. The empress had a little palace built for Kartoffel inside her sleeping quarters. Dressed in the finest silks, the princely potato travelled about in a carriage pulled by three Chihuahuas. In a letter to his mother in the countryside, a leading journalist of the time provides the only surviving description of Baron Kartoffel:

"This Kartoffal (sic:) chap is nothing if not homely. He is reddish-swarthy, like an American savage, his skin is pock-marked and his eyes, of which there must be at least half a hundred, bug out from that shapeless carcass so carefully wrapped in Shantung. As for his manners, well, suffice it to say, he hails from the Ukraine. The poor tuber dances awfully, speaks little or no French, and outside of the boudoir, has no experience in the world of affairs. What, dear mama, is Russia coming to? First Peter (The Great) and his Germans, now this. It is all too depressing. I almost wish I were a Finn."

Despite society's opinion, however, Kartoffel served Catherine for many years in his official and unofficial capacities. Still, the venerable baron met a tragic end. While en route from Ashkhabad to Samarkand, the ambassador's convoy was set upon by a horde of ravenous Uzbeks, who, caring not a fig for rank, or etiquette, devoured the baron and his entourage, saber, plume and sash. Eye-witnesses report that the doughty tuber gave a good account of himself, causing one of the Uzbeks to stumble on his ceremonial sword.

Today there stands a McDonald's on the spot of that dreadful assassination to honor the brave potato who pleased an empress.