Prof
09-26-2004, 01:25 PM
2004.09.26 18:50(gmt+2)
Dear members, following is parts of a ditty I am currently attempting to embody. Being obliged to severely trim that regarding our main characters' interaction with some of the major philosophers, and other adventures,
I shall sorely appreciate any honest comments and advice, even though such might well be "negative."
Sincerely your's,
Prof.
TREATISE ON LIFE
**************"
"We are being followed," Piph observes.
I turn my head, and sure enough, not even fifty meters behind us the can-can girls, followed by a drooling emperor, followed by the praetorian guards, followed by the geriatric old-timers, followed by the populace of Rome, and all of the civilised world, followed by a stray goat are goose-stepping in tune to our own triotic rhythm.
The goat? It puzzles me to no end. For, what is it that a goat reckons it should know, but does not? As far as I know they are fairly uncomplicated animals, whose sole purpose in life is to eat as much as possible as soon as possible. The confusion causes me to drastically increase the tempo of my goose-stepping.
I nudge Piphius with my left elbow. "Hey, have you noticed the old goat?"
"Profius, it is not safe to talk about the emperor in this manner."
"No, no!, not that one! The real goat!, the one right at the back of the congregation. Maybe we should call a halt and investigate?"
"Profius, there is enough sh*t going around as it is. Please, let lying dogs sleep?"
As usual I adhered to the admonishment of the great master, Oscarius Wildius: "The only thing to do with good advice is to pass it on, as it is seldom of use to oneself."
I nudged her with my right elbow. "Blondie, pass it on: If a dog is lying, do not wake it up."
"Don't you think we should include goats?"
"Please, no philosophising, just pass on the message."
"Hey, girls, if your dog is waking up, do not lie to it!" At least her intention is good.
In unision the can-can girls turn their pretty heads, shouting "Caesar, when you wake up, do not lie about having a dog! Pass it on!"
Caesar seems rather unperturbed. Turning around, goose-stepping backwards, he hollers: "Guards, If I hear anyone lying to his dog, he better catch a wake-up! Pass it on!"
As a single entity the guards saluted, goose-stepping with their spears clutched in their left hands, bellowing towards the old-timers; " Morons, stop eyeing the emperor's dog, and shape up!"
Which they repeat to the populace of Rome as: "People, you must cease frying dogs, rather bake it!" Until the message finally reaches the stray goat, whom had no-one to repeat it to, but having received instructions, it decides that the safest course of action is to follow orders. Vigorously it goose-steps for 2 minutes, discounting the possibility of passing it back to those whom dispensed it to him. In triple time he then moves towards the front.
Confidentially putting his paw on my shoulder, he whispers into my ear: "Profius, to Napoleon every man is a dog."
"Halt!" I cry, and the whole world comes to a sudden standstill... In awe they stare at my self and the goat whilst we warily eye one another, tentatively formulating methods of approach. "Declare yourself, and your intentions!"
"Why, I am none other than the goat called Judas, following orders!"
"Hmmm, someone ordered you to follow us?"
"No, only to give you the message which I did. I am following you because I need a friend. Would you please be my friend?"
"Sure, no problem. Here, have a banana."
"You do not mind befriending a talking goat?"
"Can't be worse than some of the fools I have befriended of late. Say, do you know any wise sayings?"
"Lots. How about "always count the perforations of your toilet paper."
"You call that wise?"
"Absolutely. In life one must make sure that you are not short-changed. One of the slyest tricks ever is to add an extra hole to every row of perforations in each roll of toilet paper. This way the manufacturers score an extra roll with each 10 000 supplied. Now, equate that with the population of greater Rome, and you will notice that they cheat the empire to the tune of enough paper for 20 girlie magazines per month!
In fact, I am sure that within 2 thousand years or so the devious suppliers will be able to improve their cheating to such an extent that a toilet roll will consist of only perforations. I tell thee not, soon the private citizens will follow suit, and before we know it moral values, goodwill, kindness, compassion, honesty, and everything else will mainly consist of perforations. Why, perforations will become such a menace that it will even appear in the heavens, where it will be known as black holes."
"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! What a pity that you have to be sacrificed."
"Sacrificed! What on earth for?!"
"Well, first of all you are different, and secondly it will deflect any unwelcome attention away from myself. Here, let me stab you with my sword."
"Back stabber! You only befriended me in order to procure a sacrifice!"
"My dear Judas, are you ever so wrong! According to the great master, Oscarius Wildius "true friends stab you in the front." Come on, do not turn your back on me at such a historical moment! Surely we can not have a talking goat upsetting the norm, now can we? At the least this will set a precedent which will cement your name in the annals of mankind:" The scapegoat Judas! "
"Sounds ok to me. Go right ahead, friend."
"First you must sign this handwritten contract, which states that, as your manager I am entitled to any and all income which might derive from your repeated demise. Furthermore, all costs incurred are for the conscience of mankind. In return I personally guarantee that in commemoration of this momentous occasion, we shall conscientiously stage numerous re-runs of your demise. May the best man win."
The goat co*ked me a beamer, took the pencil of Isocrates, and scrawled his mark.
"You may have a final word."
"Baaa-aa-a-aaah!"
Swishing my sword madly, I almost chop his head off, but timeously recall that tradition requires death by stabbing. However, with him cowering it is nigh impossible to do thus from the front, so I executed a hefty kick, which results in him somersaulting head over heels. An opening presents itself, and I thrust my trusty sword towards his throat. Such is the beginning of many a grand tradition: a hefty kick and some good old-fashioned front stabbing.
But tradition, being so grave weighs heavily on one's conscience, and I stand here riveted by all its consequences. What is life all about?, and does everything in the universe serve a purpose? Ipso facto: is the death of Judas then of any avail? How I wish life, the universe, and everything is less of a mystery! If only I had some answers, right now!
'Piphius, I need to ask you a question."
"My dear Profius, I would rather that you do not. If you were not in such a hurry to kill the Judas goat, you could have asked him."
"Look, the lady Macbethius quite clearly stated that what is done can not be undone. Besides, forcing me to live with the consequences of my decision is unfair, for it denies me the opportunity to blame it on someone else. What I need from you is not condemnation, but justification. Just answer me this one question, and I promise never to ask you for anything ever again. Besides ***, that is."
"Ok, go ahead."
"My dear Piphius, if hyenas mate only once every seven years, then why do they laugh so much?"
'Pig, all you men ever think about is ***!"
"Not, so. I remember once, many years ago, when I thought about buying a new chariot. But answer me this question then: Will we ever find the secret to life, the universe, and everything?"
"Hmm, this is really deep. Give me a bit of time to think it through, will you?"
"Ok, how long do you need."
"Two seconds should do it."
"Sure."
"Here you are then. After some profound deliberation, I have an answer ready for you. But, to cover my a**, I shall give you three: Yes, no, or maybe."
"That's it?"
"Look, be practical. The whole issue is somewhat problematic, especially since there are too many answers, and not enough questions. Ask any sane citizen, and they will give you a different answer to the same question, every other day. We do not have another day, so I did you a favour by consulting with my alter egos. However, for a fourth opinion do feel free to consult the nearest talking hyena, if you can find one."
Not being to clear about it all, I commence goose-stepping, rapidly picking up speed in the direction of the old elm tree. With a companion on each arm, and the whole world in tow.
It must have been 4 leagues further when Piphius remarked: "Profius, I see the elm tree; we better slow down."
"My dear lady, all I see is a huge billboard."
Yes, and right behind it is the elm tree."
"Look, there is something written on it! What can it be? Maybe it is a message from the strangers whom arrived in the peculiar silver bird!
"Profius, I tell thee, if it is a message from the strangers, it might contain information so sensitive that we best keep it to ourselves."
"Hmm, I think you are right. Blondie, move towards the rear, and tell everyone to close their eyes."
"But then they won't see where they are going!"
"Now is not the time to argue, and besides, most citizens I have come across do not know where they are going in any case, ipso facto never knowing when they arrive. The tree is obscured by the billboard , so they probably can not see it yet. Rather tell them that it has been abducted by some Gaul poachers whom plans to sell it to the nearest nursery, and that I respectfully request them to head the criminals off at the pass."
"But there is no pass within 20 miles!"
"Look, let us not argue the technicalities, just do as you are told."
Dear members, following is parts of a ditty I am currently attempting to embody. Being obliged to severely trim that regarding our main characters' interaction with some of the major philosophers, and other adventures,
I shall sorely appreciate any honest comments and advice, even though such might well be "negative."
Sincerely your's,
Prof.
TREATISE ON LIFE
**************"
"We are being followed," Piph observes.
I turn my head, and sure enough, not even fifty meters behind us the can-can girls, followed by a drooling emperor, followed by the praetorian guards, followed by the geriatric old-timers, followed by the populace of Rome, and all of the civilised world, followed by a stray goat are goose-stepping in tune to our own triotic rhythm.
The goat? It puzzles me to no end. For, what is it that a goat reckons it should know, but does not? As far as I know they are fairly uncomplicated animals, whose sole purpose in life is to eat as much as possible as soon as possible. The confusion causes me to drastically increase the tempo of my goose-stepping.
I nudge Piphius with my left elbow. "Hey, have you noticed the old goat?"
"Profius, it is not safe to talk about the emperor in this manner."
"No, no!, not that one! The real goat!, the one right at the back of the congregation. Maybe we should call a halt and investigate?"
"Profius, there is enough sh*t going around as it is. Please, let lying dogs sleep?"
As usual I adhered to the admonishment of the great master, Oscarius Wildius: "The only thing to do with good advice is to pass it on, as it is seldom of use to oneself."
I nudged her with my right elbow. "Blondie, pass it on: If a dog is lying, do not wake it up."
"Don't you think we should include goats?"
"Please, no philosophising, just pass on the message."
"Hey, girls, if your dog is waking up, do not lie to it!" At least her intention is good.
In unision the can-can girls turn their pretty heads, shouting "Caesar, when you wake up, do not lie about having a dog! Pass it on!"
Caesar seems rather unperturbed. Turning around, goose-stepping backwards, he hollers: "Guards, If I hear anyone lying to his dog, he better catch a wake-up! Pass it on!"
As a single entity the guards saluted, goose-stepping with their spears clutched in their left hands, bellowing towards the old-timers; " Morons, stop eyeing the emperor's dog, and shape up!"
Which they repeat to the populace of Rome as: "People, you must cease frying dogs, rather bake it!" Until the message finally reaches the stray goat, whom had no-one to repeat it to, but having received instructions, it decides that the safest course of action is to follow orders. Vigorously it goose-steps for 2 minutes, discounting the possibility of passing it back to those whom dispensed it to him. In triple time he then moves towards the front.
Confidentially putting his paw on my shoulder, he whispers into my ear: "Profius, to Napoleon every man is a dog."
"Halt!" I cry, and the whole world comes to a sudden standstill... In awe they stare at my self and the goat whilst we warily eye one another, tentatively formulating methods of approach. "Declare yourself, and your intentions!"
"Why, I am none other than the goat called Judas, following orders!"
"Hmmm, someone ordered you to follow us?"
"No, only to give you the message which I did. I am following you because I need a friend. Would you please be my friend?"
"Sure, no problem. Here, have a banana."
"You do not mind befriending a talking goat?"
"Can't be worse than some of the fools I have befriended of late. Say, do you know any wise sayings?"
"Lots. How about "always count the perforations of your toilet paper."
"You call that wise?"
"Absolutely. In life one must make sure that you are not short-changed. One of the slyest tricks ever is to add an extra hole to every row of perforations in each roll of toilet paper. This way the manufacturers score an extra roll with each 10 000 supplied. Now, equate that with the population of greater Rome, and you will notice that they cheat the empire to the tune of enough paper for 20 girlie magazines per month!
In fact, I am sure that within 2 thousand years or so the devious suppliers will be able to improve their cheating to such an extent that a toilet roll will consist of only perforations. I tell thee not, soon the private citizens will follow suit, and before we know it moral values, goodwill, kindness, compassion, honesty, and everything else will mainly consist of perforations. Why, perforations will become such a menace that it will even appear in the heavens, where it will be known as black holes."
"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! What a pity that you have to be sacrificed."
"Sacrificed! What on earth for?!"
"Well, first of all you are different, and secondly it will deflect any unwelcome attention away from myself. Here, let me stab you with my sword."
"Back stabber! You only befriended me in order to procure a sacrifice!"
"My dear Judas, are you ever so wrong! According to the great master, Oscarius Wildius "true friends stab you in the front." Come on, do not turn your back on me at such a historical moment! Surely we can not have a talking goat upsetting the norm, now can we? At the least this will set a precedent which will cement your name in the annals of mankind:" The scapegoat Judas! "
"Sounds ok to me. Go right ahead, friend."
"First you must sign this handwritten contract, which states that, as your manager I am entitled to any and all income which might derive from your repeated demise. Furthermore, all costs incurred are for the conscience of mankind. In return I personally guarantee that in commemoration of this momentous occasion, we shall conscientiously stage numerous re-runs of your demise. May the best man win."
The goat co*ked me a beamer, took the pencil of Isocrates, and scrawled his mark.
"You may have a final word."
"Baaa-aa-a-aaah!"
Swishing my sword madly, I almost chop his head off, but timeously recall that tradition requires death by stabbing. However, with him cowering it is nigh impossible to do thus from the front, so I executed a hefty kick, which results in him somersaulting head over heels. An opening presents itself, and I thrust my trusty sword towards his throat. Such is the beginning of many a grand tradition: a hefty kick and some good old-fashioned front stabbing.
But tradition, being so grave weighs heavily on one's conscience, and I stand here riveted by all its consequences. What is life all about?, and does everything in the universe serve a purpose? Ipso facto: is the death of Judas then of any avail? How I wish life, the universe, and everything is less of a mystery! If only I had some answers, right now!
'Piphius, I need to ask you a question."
"My dear Profius, I would rather that you do not. If you were not in such a hurry to kill the Judas goat, you could have asked him."
"Look, the lady Macbethius quite clearly stated that what is done can not be undone. Besides, forcing me to live with the consequences of my decision is unfair, for it denies me the opportunity to blame it on someone else. What I need from you is not condemnation, but justification. Just answer me this one question, and I promise never to ask you for anything ever again. Besides ***, that is."
"Ok, go ahead."
"My dear Piphius, if hyenas mate only once every seven years, then why do they laugh so much?"
'Pig, all you men ever think about is ***!"
"Not, so. I remember once, many years ago, when I thought about buying a new chariot. But answer me this question then: Will we ever find the secret to life, the universe, and everything?"
"Hmm, this is really deep. Give me a bit of time to think it through, will you?"
"Ok, how long do you need."
"Two seconds should do it."
"Sure."
"Here you are then. After some profound deliberation, I have an answer ready for you. But, to cover my a**, I shall give you three: Yes, no, or maybe."
"That's it?"
"Look, be practical. The whole issue is somewhat problematic, especially since there are too many answers, and not enough questions. Ask any sane citizen, and they will give you a different answer to the same question, every other day. We do not have another day, so I did you a favour by consulting with my alter egos. However, for a fourth opinion do feel free to consult the nearest talking hyena, if you can find one."
Not being to clear about it all, I commence goose-stepping, rapidly picking up speed in the direction of the old elm tree. With a companion on each arm, and the whole world in tow.
It must have been 4 leagues further when Piphius remarked: "Profius, I see the elm tree; we better slow down."
"My dear lady, all I see is a huge billboard."
Yes, and right behind it is the elm tree."
"Look, there is something written on it! What can it be? Maybe it is a message from the strangers whom arrived in the peculiar silver bird!
"Profius, I tell thee, if it is a message from the strangers, it might contain information so sensitive that we best keep it to ourselves."
"Hmm, I think you are right. Blondie, move towards the rear, and tell everyone to close their eyes."
"But then they won't see where they are going!"
"Now is not the time to argue, and besides, most citizens I have come across do not know where they are going in any case, ipso facto never knowing when they arrive. The tree is obscured by the billboard , so they probably can not see it yet. Rather tell them that it has been abducted by some Gaul poachers whom plans to sell it to the nearest nursery, and that I respectfully request them to head the criminals off at the pass."
"But there is no pass within 20 miles!"
"Look, let us not argue the technicalities, just do as you are told."