Virge's blog

A Cheap Ride on the Bandwagon

Victoria, a bright girl, I'm sure,
should've known there'd be fan-girls galore
tempting David to stray.
When he's got room to play
he'll always find chances to score.

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Book of Keys

Here is the reading from the book of Keys, chapter 22.

And he spake this parable unto them, saying,

A son gathered books together and went out in the morning before the appointed hour of departure.

His father was yet within the home, busying himself with the duties of the morning.

The son stood outside and sneezed onto his hand, having not brought with him a nosecloth.

And the son was moved to wrath, for although the hour of departure was not yet come, he judged that he had not time to fetch a nosecloth.

The father, knowing not of his son's discomforture, called out to his son, saying "return to thy room, for thou hast not gathered thy raiments to be washed and thy mother starteth her washing."

The son rebuked him, saying "there is not time".

The father said, "there is yet time, for the hour of departure has not come and even I am not yet ready."

Then a demon entered into the boy and he flung himself headlong to his room.

Bitter Limerick

Mutilation is such a taboo,
and explicit sadism too.
In Hollywood fashion
we'll label it Passion
so fundies and children can view.

Even after all the reviews that tell people what the movie contains, some still take young kids to watch it.

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Real Life Acting

An actor by trade, Kevin Spacey
was mugged in the park, prima facie.
But if truth be known
he was
conned for his phone
and he'd altered his script to sound racy.

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Demotivation

A divine motto:

I'm too deviant
  to video a mint
    oven mat idiot
      on a vomit diet.

Avoid it, not me.

The stars made me do it

I don't know what made me click on my horoscope. Maybe I was meant to do it. It must have been written in the stars.

Sagittarius

Your natural mutable nature can usually weather many storms, but certain things can disrupt your personal energy and this is one day where this may happen. It's New Moon, in Aries once more, and the partial eclipse makes this a powerful cycle. As it stands something you started a few weeks ago is still in need of completion, and lucky for you, you have some more time available to do just that! Your desire to forge ahead is greatly increased, but bite the bit - and wait a couple of days until the eclipse energy has passed or things may get really messed up.

See the wonderful reward that lay waiting? It's a message telling me I should procrastinate! Whatever it was, I should leave it a couple more days. Can advice possibly get better than this?

What makes a confirmed skeptic click on horoscopes? I think it's the humour. A daily horoscope is a cerebral slapstick comedy where the writer shoulders his plank of text and swings it around without looking. The gullible reader cops it smack in the face, day after day but keeps getting up for more.

"under the spot"

An extract from George Bush's news conference (from Mathaba News Index):

Judy: ...You've looked back before 9/11 for what mistakes might have been made. After 9/11, what would your biggest mistake be, would you say, and what lessons have you learned from it?

THE PRESIDENT: I wish you would have given me this written question ahead of time, so I could plan for it. (Laughter.) John, I'm sure historians will look back and say, gosh, he could have done it better this way, or that way. You know, I just - I'm sure something will pop into my head here in the midst of this press conference, with all the pressure of trying to come up with an answer, but it hadn't yet.

I would have gone into Afghanistan the way we went into Afghanistan. Even knowing what I know today about the stockpiles of weapons, I still would have called upon the world to deal with Saddam Hussein. See, I happen to believe that we'll find out the truth on the weapons...

... I hope I - I don't want to sound like I've made no mistakes. I'm confident I have. I just haven't - you just put me under the spot here, and maybe I'm not as quick on my feet as I should be in coming up with one.

I admit it. I just quoted that interview because I wanted to write some limericks.

"My biggest mistakes?" you ask. How
can I answer unprep'd? I'll allow
that historians will say
"Gosh! Why not this way?"
But I'd make all those same mistakes now.

Had your question been earlier declared
I might have seemed less thought-impaired.
When you probe my mistakes
my false confidence breaks
'cause I don't have my bullshit prepared.

We apologise for this political intrusion. Normal fantasy will be resumed shortly.

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Apocalyptic Jackrabbits

I've just finished reading Robert Rankin's The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse. I enjoyed his flippant, alliterated style, his sinister take on nursery rhymes and his unexpected political poke. I've only read one or two of his books before this one, so maybe I should have expected his barb. Dedicated Rankin fans should feel free to enlighten me.

Most of our western nursery rhymes have some historic background, and because of the figurative nature of the verses there is often some disagreement about the events that inspired them. I thought that urban myths about the origins of nursery rhymes and fairy tales were a recent trend. It seems the creation of fanciful tales has been practised for a long time. Take, for example, this excerpt from The Origins of English Verse, Edward Roberts, 1941 (pp 68-70).

Little Jack Horner
Sat in a corner,
Eating of Christmas pie;
He put in his thumb,
And pulled out a plum,
And cried, "What a good boy am I!"

The traditional story about hiding a title deed in a pie is a fanciful construction. Were I predisposed to gambling I'd wager this verse was penned late in the seventeenth century. After looking at several similar rhymes from that period I conclude that Little Jack Horner is but one verse from a humorous song about Christmas pageantry. It is instructive to examine Pretty Sue Piper, a verse that has fallen from the nursery's oral tradition.

Pretty Sue Piper
Tickled her viper
Round and around the Moon;
Her fingers did miss,
And serpent did hiss,
While Jack still spoke the tune.

The relationship of the Pretty Sue Piper verse to Little Jack Horner is unmistakable in their similar metre and rhyme, and also in their references to Jack. Reading both verses as part of one song yields a completely consistent interpretation as I shall now explain.

The "Jack Horner" is the crumhorn player in a chamber ensemble and "Sat in a corner" is a position at the back, a humble position. Harsh instruments such as the crumhorn were placed to the rear of an ensemble. "Eating of Christmas pie" meant the player was full of reverent Christian piety. This further emphasised the humility of his placement. To "put in his thumb" is to mute the sound of his crumhorn and soften its characteristic sharp buzzing, while "pulled out a plum" refers to the smooth timbre he produced.

The humour of the verse is revealed in the last line--"What a good boy am I!" This is the punch line to the verse as our previously pious player becomes an insufferable braggart. The one time he and his instrument produce a soft, harmonious tone, he cannot help but shout about it.

In the related verse, "Piper" is clearly a vocation rather than a surname. "Tickled her viper" is a reference to playing a serpent horn as is evident from the fifth line.

The phrase "Round and around the Moon" has caused some confusion because of its similarity to "The cow jumped over the moon" in Hey Diddle Diddle. Since many songs of the time were performed as rounds or canons, "The Moon" is possibly a reference to the Huron Carol "'Twas in the Moon of Wintertime".

It is in the fifth line with "serpent did hiss" that the wit becomes evident. The hiss is a flatulent sound produced when a serpent (a difficult instrument at the best of times) is mis-fingered. This phrase creates a bawdy, comedic image but does so one line too early. The anticlimax of placing the spectacle on the second last line rather than the last might explain why this verse (and many of the others) didn't survive in popular culture as did Little Jack Horner.

Fictitious constructions of the origins of nursery rhymes and fairy tales have been created in the past and will continue to be created. Some people see archaic language as an open invitation to place their own interpretations on our cultural vestiges. As always, one should maintain a high degree of skepticism when reading any of these explanations.

Further reading: a traditional interpretation of Little Jack Horner, Huron Carol, Crumhorn, Serpent.

Sand

Yesterday evening I had two cubic metres of packing sand dumped in front of my garage. "Why?" I sense you asking. It's because the KnightWhoDoesn'tSayNiButStillWantsAGardenPath has been waiting too long for said path.

I made a serious mistake when designing this house. That particularly stupid design flaw lies in not providing vehicular access to the back yard. It's good for security of employment for my wheelbarrow. It's not good for my arms or for available spare time. Maybe it's good for the soul. I'll tell you one day when I work out what a soul is.

Mikelangelo and the Black Sea Gentlemen were playing their melodramatic folk melodies on my mpeg player. It put me in the mood of a merry peasant. Virge was a simple laborer for a couple of hours.

You know how a repetitive activity allows your brain to switch off? You concentrate at first, then find your body going through the motions without conscious thought. Well, by the 8th wheelbarrow load I'd switched over to auto-pilot and was allowing my mind some diversions.

It's around about now that I should remind you of a little physics. Izzy Newton once told me that a barrow-load of sand in motion tends to stay in motion unless acted upon by an external force. If you want to stop one instantaneously, forget it. It won't happen (unless of course you're walking it into a brick wall, which I wasn't 'cause that would crumple the barrow).

I probably should also mention that rose bushes have thorns. My mind wasn't the only thing wandering. It only took a slight deviation to the right side of the path to be able to brush my bare arm against a mature rose bush. The barrow kept going, in accordance with the aforementioned physical law. My arm kept going, since it was holding up a barrow handle. The thorns on the rose bush stretched from their normal positions, then decided to go no further. Some tearing of skin resulted.

I stopped the barrow to free up my hands. A thorn had gouged a 3cm divot across my forearm and its neighbours further up the stem had tried to make their own impressions. I did what any Aussie bloke would do under the same circumstances. I bled.

My blood must be thick. It formed into big blobby globules all along the gash and clotted within a few seconds. Back to work barrowing sand, Virge. My motor skills went back onto auto, but I gave that rose bush a little more safety margin from then on.

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