A Brief Tenure

Statue of Julius Caesar as a God

I have just finished reading Adrian Keith Goldsworthy’s biography, Caesar: Life of a Colossus. While not pertaining directly to the subject of his biography, Goldsworthy includes an amusing anecdote about a consul who dies on his last day in office and the consul-for-a-day who succeeds him:

When Fabius Maximus went to watch a play and was announced as consul, the audience is said to have yelled out, “He is no consul!” He died on the morning of his last day in office. Caesar received the news while presiding over a meeting of the Tribal Assembly, which was going to elect quaestors for the next year. Instead, he had the people reconvene as the Comitia Centuriata and vote for a new consul. Just after midday another of his legates from Gaul was chosen, Caius Caninius Rebilus, whose spell as consul therefore lasted no more than a few hours. A few days later Cicero joked that ‘in the consulship of Caninius nobody ate lunch. However, nothing bad occurred while he was consul—for his vigilance was so incredible that throughout his entire consulship he never went to sleep.’ At the time he is supposed to have urged everyone to rush and congratulate Caninius before his office expired.

The Cliché Is Inexperienced

One of the lesser works by science fiction writer Philip K. Dick is Galactic Pot Healer. Even in his minor works, Dick never fails to be of interest. In the first chapter, hero Joe Fernwright plays an interesting word game based on loose synonyms. Below are several examples:

The Lattice-work Gun-stinging Insect

This refers to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel The Great Gatsby. “Great” sounds like “Grate,” which is a kind of lattice-work. Thugs used to refer to guns as “Gats”; and the “Stinging Insect” is a bee. Grate Gats-bee.

The Male Offspring in Addition Gets Out of Bed

This refers to a novel by “Serious Constricting-path,” or Ernest Hemingway: The Son Also Rises. This one requires no further explanation—except perhaps in the name of the author: “Hemmed Way,” or Hemingway.

Those for Whom the Male Homosexual Exacts Transit Tax

Another work by “Serious Constricting-path”” For Whom the Bell Tolls. I presume that “Bell” here is kind of like the masculine version of “Belle” (though I could be wrong here: Dick does not explain.)

Quickly Shattered at the Quarreling Posterior

Get ready to groan. Here is Joe’s conversation with a fellow gamer named Gauk:

“Jesus,” Joe said, with deep and timid bewilderment. It rang no bell, no bell at all. “‘Quickly shattered.’ Broken, maybe. Broke, break. Quick—that would be fast. Breakfast. But ‘Quarreling Posterior’?” He cogitated quickly, in the Roman sense. “Fighting. Arguing. Spat.” In his mind no solution appeared. “Posterior.’ Rear end. Ass. Butt.” For a time he meditated in silence, in the Yoga fashion. “No,” he said finally. “I can’t make it out. I give up.”

“So soon?” Gauk inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, there’s no use sitting here the rest of the day working that one over.”

“Fanny,” Gauk said.

Joe groaned.

It is apparent that the answer to the puzzle is Breakfast at Tiffany’s or, Break Fast at Tiff Fanny.”

The Cliche is Inexperienced

Another book title: The Corn Is Green.

Dick leaves us with one more, to which he provides no clues: “Bogish Persistentisms, by Shaft Tackapple.” I nhave wrestled with that one but have not been able to decipher it.

“People Who Do Things”

American Poet and Writer Dorothy Parker (1893-1967)

Here is a funny poem from Dorothy Parker, whose work I have hereto ignored but now begin to see the light:

Bohemia

Authors and actors and artists and such
Never know nothing, and never know much.
Sculptors and singers and those of their kidney
Tell their affairs from Seattle to Sydney.
Playwrights and poets and such horses’ necks
Start off from anywhere, end up at sex.
Diarists, critics, and similar roe
Never say nothing, and never say no.
People Who Do Things exceed my endurance;
God, for a man that solicits insurance!

Eluding the Trumpster Dumpster

Notes for Those Attempting to Flee the U.S. of A.

After the November 5th election, many voters are considering the possibilities of becoming an expatriate in a country where the next President (hopefully) could not touch them. After the recent threats to Mexico and Canada, this may not work.

There are two possibilities for a safe passage away from the Trumpster Dumpster. First, choose a country that the next President does not know exists. Here are a number of possibilities:

  1. Azerbaijan*
  2. Belize
  3. Benin
  4. Bosnia and Herzegovina*
  5. Burkina Faso*
  6. Burundi
  7. Cabo Verde
  8. Comoros
  9. Djibouti*
  10. Eritrea*
  11. Eswatini*
  12. Guinea-Bissau*
  13. Kiribati
  14. Kyrgyzstan*
  15. Lesotho*
  16. Liechtenstein*
  17. Malawi
  18. Nauru
  19. Niue*
  20. Sao Tome and Principe*
  21. Tajikistan*
  22. Timor-Leste
  23. Tuvalu
  24. Vanuatu*

To provide an extra level of safety from MAGA-hatted provocateurs, select one of the above countries marked with an asterisk (*). These are countries it is not likely the next President would be able to pronounce correctly enough to be understood.

Psychological Experiments

John Cleese on Lawyers

I just finished reading John Cleese’s Professor at Large, which reprises a number of talks he gave at Cornell University while he was a visiting Professor-at-Large there over a period of some eighteen years. I broke out laughing when I read the following:

CLEESE: I had to switch to law [at Cambridge University] because there was almost nothing else I could switch to:

INTERVIEWER: So, you’re saying law is easier?

CLEESE: Well, law was kind of easier for me because I am fairly precise with my use of words and I can think in terms of categories, which is all law is—until you start practicing, and then it’s about villainy and low cunning.

I’ll tell you my favorite joke about lawyers because it actually involves universities. The psychological departments of universities are using lawyers now, instead of rats, in their experiments. There are three reasons for this. One is that there are more lawyers than rats. Second, there are some things that rats just won’t do. And thev third is is that there was a bit of a problem because sometimes the experimenters got fond of the rats. And I want you to know that joke has nothing to do with the fact that I am going through an expensive divorce at the moment.

Get Ready for Election Nite!

John King and His Magic Chart

Above all else, DON’T WATCH THE NEWS, at least until Thursday or Friday. The way that news channels make money is by instilling fear, You don’t want that. Read a good book. If you absolutely must watch television, tune in to a channel that has no news—like Turner Classic Movies (TCM).

If you have friends who like to discuss politics, AVOID THEM until the weekend. They will be agitated and all too willing to make you feel as terrible as they do.

DON’T VOTE IN PERSON. You will be in line with hundreds of agitated people; and you may run into people who openly express contempt for your political choices.

STAY AWAY FROM SOCIAL MEDIA. It’s an instrument of the devil and his tools: Zuckerberg, Musk, et al.

Be extra good to yourself and the people you love. Eat foods you like. Once you’ve voted, just distance yourself from the whole process. And whatever you do, DON’T GIVE MONEY TO POLITICIANS. It only encourages them.

Avoid posting political signs or bumper stickers. Stay away from political rallies. Don’t wear any red baseball caps made in China.

You might just want to lock yourself in the closet. It’s going to be a rough week.

A Limerick for You

English Writer and Dramatist W. Somerset Maugham

Having just finished read Somerset Maugham’s On a Chinese Screen (1922), I was delighted to find this limerick mentioning him composed by Ogden Nash:

There was a young lady of Guam
Who peddled her charms, charm by charm,
Inspired, I suppose,
By the classical prose
Of W. Somerset Maugham.

Gardyloo!

As I wrote yesterday’s blog post about proofreading computer transcriptions of two Merriam-Webster dictionaries, I remembered that one way I entertained myself in the process was collecting weird words. Three from the 7th Collegiate Dictionary were:

  • rotl. A unit of weight in the Middle East ranging from one to six pounds.
  • crwth. A Welsh stringed instrument.
  • cwm. Another Welsh vowelless wonder, meaning a steep-sided hollow at the head of a valley or on a mountain side.

Soon I started going farther afield:

  • medioxumous. Of or relating to an intermediate group of deities.
  • septemfluous. Flowing in seven streams. (Gosh, that’s a useful word.)
  • zax. A small axe used in roofing (or playing Scrabble).
  • triskaidekaphobia. Fear of the number thirteen.
  • gardyloo. In Scots, what people shouted outside their windows before emptying their bedpans in the street.
  • petrichor. The smell of rain.

That’s all I remember for now, but no doubt other examples will come to mind at a later point.

LA28: A Modest Proposal

Time to Introduce New Sports for the Next Olympics

The 2024 Paris Olympics were a smashing success. The Chinese continued their domination of track and field, while the Americans took medal after medal in platform diving. For the next Olympics in my home town of Los Angeles, it’s time to consider some new events to mix things up a bit:

SYNCHRONIZED PIZZA DOUGH TOSSING. Let’s face it: Pizza has become an international food and is due for some recognition by the Olympics.

THREE-LEGGED MARATHON RACE. I’ve always thought that Marathon runners had it too easy. I mean the only difficult thing about the 42.195 kilometer (26.219 mile) course is doing all the decimal math in your head while running.

FACEBOOK FACEPLANT. Let’s acknowledge the role of social media in our lives by having a race during which the participants must complete a series of responses to social media posts while running.

UNDERWATER GYMNASTICS. On one hand, you have greater buoyancy in the water; on the other hand, you don’t want to stretch out your routine too long.

CLIFF DIVING. For lemmings only. You dive off a cliff into a net. You can have a number of heights: 100 meters, 200 meters … the sky’s the limit.

Sardonic Old Gringo

American Writer Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914)

He was one of the two greatest writers of fiction about the Civil War, the other being Stephen Crane. His short story, “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge,” is one of my clearest memories from high school English. He also wrote some good horror stories, plus a book of sardonic definitions he called The Devil’s Dictionary (1906). As he wrote in the preface to that book: “[T]he author hopes to be held guiltless by those to whom the work is addressed—enlightened souls who prefder dry wines to sweet, sense to sentiment, wit to humor and clean English to slang.”

I thought I would present a few of my favorite entries from The Devil’s Dictionary that I found particularly witty.

ABORIGINES, n. Persons of little worth found cumbering the soil of a newly discovered country. They soon cease to cumber: they fertilize.

ABSURDITY, n. A statement or belief manifestly inconsistent with one’s own opinion.

ACTUALLY, adv. Perhaps; possibly.

COMFORT, n. A state of mind produced by contemplation of a neighbor’s uneasiness.

EVANGELIST, n. A bearer of good tidings, particularly (in a religious sense) such as assure us of our own salvation and the damnation of our neighbors.

FIDELITY, n. A virtue peculiar to those who are about to be betrayed.

LIGHTHOUSE, n. A tall building on the seashore in which the government maintains a lamp and the friend of a politician.

MONARCHICAL GOVERNMENT, n. Government.

PEACE, n. In international affairs, a period of cheating between two periods of fighting.

SELF-EVIDENT, adj. Evident to one’s self and to nobody else.

In 1914, Bierce is said to have crossed the border into Mexico during that country’s revolution and disappeared. In 1985, Mexican novelist Carlos Fuentes wrote an excellent book entitled The Old Gringo speculating what happened to Bierce during the fighting between Pancho Villa and the government forces of General Victoriano Huerta.