In Which Crimes Against Both Humanity and Livestock are Regaled for One's Lazy Thursday Perusal
In days of yore upon the Isle of Albion, the scourge of Bird-Swindlers wreaked havoc on hopeful gift-givers, whether they be for one's nephew's saints day celebration, a way of apology to one's spouse, or for sly seduction of a fair serving wench. The occupation of Bird-Swindler involved ensnaring some local common English avian, something along the lines of a Finch or Sparrow, and then with the aids of scissors, dyes, and modified prosthetic feathers, modifying the appearance of the bird in such a way as to trick potential customers into believing that they have in front of them some rare breed of The Bird of Paradise itself. Bird-swindlery was far from the only animal related crime in England at the time, a perusal of court dockets from the past reveals numerous and original malfeasances such as fox riggery, selling a man oats intended for cattle, calculating the horoscope of an ass, wasp divination, impersonating the cry of a cuckoo, poaching the queen's cod, and introducing an eel into the anus of a horse.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
"The Dwellers in the Mirage"
In Which but a Fraction of My Astonishing History is Recalled, For Purposes of Drawing Attention to an Art Form That I Have Ever Held in High Esteem
Long ago, when I was still but a whelp of a child, I plied the trade of a ship's boy, an occupation into which I fell after the tragic circumstances1 befell the dakotan compound wherein I was born left me to fend for myself at a tender age, a misfortune that I first dealt with by working my way o'er the Boundary Waters by way of trapping and selling the hides of the great beavers which still swim through those insect infested bogs until I reached the port city of Duluth wherein a gang of be-shore-leavened sailors, little older in years than myself, but afforded ages of experience of which I had no conception of as of yet encouraged me to wager my beaver-earnings upon a series of dice games of varying honesty, whereby I ended up indentured to the lot of them and thus indirectly press-ganged onto the notorious Ophiucus3 which I was later to discover plied most of it's trade during the New Moon, if you catch the wink I am sending your way, and was later to meet a most untimely end off the Barbary Coast which was to lead to all manner of unexpected outcomes for your narrator which i must refrain from digressing into at this exact moment as this introductory passage grows to ever increasing lengths, much like unto appeared to me the great tendrils of the Kraken that beset my fondly remembered Ophiucus once upon one eternal day in the arctic sea as we had ventured into the northern waters following the direction of some strange lode stone of a curious pseudo-compass that the first mate Randolph had stolen from the carefully locked ivory4 chest of the Filipino Lass he spent one Tuvaluan week-end fucking which was later to lead us in ever decreasing concentric circles about an immense iceberg, frozen inside of which was what appeared to us a gigantic series of nested catacombs containing any number of peregrinate relics which we initially viewed a fantastic treasures but later were to understand were possible the worst degree of curse.
There were numerous entertainments to be held by a naive soul as I fancy I was at the time, mostly belonging to the aerthly realm populated by cussing, beer drinking, advanced spitting, and introductory whore-mongering. But out of all the past-times indtroduced to myself during that time, the one that remains a fond divergence even to this day is the evening enjoyment of pulp magazines. The lurid titles and eye catching (and gregariously assumed) names of the authors fed the fires of my previously rustick imagination. But this is not even to mention the prime appeal of these spirited broadsides: the salacious cover illustrations, practically begging any youth to educate himself on what thrilling and indecorous acts were to be beheld within. Now, with no further mono-logue, allow me to present to you a slim gallery of but a selection of my favorite pulp illustrations. Onwards!
1which I will speak little of at this point other than that they involved a little know even to this day clan-destine sub-division of the US Federal Government's law enforcement agencies which was rumoured to have had it's beginnings under the auspices of Cotton Mather2 and a haunting stretch of the compuound wherein only the sickliest rye grew, and that in tantalizingly and nearly geo-metric patterns...
2which may confuse those who are under the widely held impression that United States of America did not even exist as a political entity at that time, to which I say, there are many histories available to us, the ones we choose to believe as truth are typically more an issue of aesthetics than veracity.
3
4"Yet to the touch it somehow felt denser, not in terms of weight, but in, how can I say, palpability? Somewhat like the feeling one gets in a dream when some sound or touch from the waking world interjects and for some half remembered moment dream and reality co-exist as one..."
Long ago, when I was still but a whelp of a child, I plied the trade of a ship's boy, an occupation into which I fell after the tragic circumstances1 befell the dakotan compound wherein I was born left me to fend for myself at a tender age, a misfortune that I first dealt with by working my way o'er the Boundary Waters by way of trapping and selling the hides of the great beavers which still swim through those insect infested bogs until I reached the port city of Duluth wherein a gang of be-shore-leavened sailors, little older in years than myself, but afforded ages of experience of which I had no conception of as of yet encouraged me to wager my beaver-earnings upon a series of dice games of varying honesty, whereby I ended up indentured to the lot of them and thus indirectly press-ganged onto the notorious Ophiucus3 which I was later to discover plied most of it's trade during the New Moon, if you catch the wink I am sending your way, and was later to meet a most untimely end off the Barbary Coast which was to lead to all manner of unexpected outcomes for your narrator which i must refrain from digressing into at this exact moment as this introductory passage grows to ever increasing lengths, much like unto appeared to me the great tendrils of the Kraken that beset my fondly remembered Ophiucus once upon one eternal day in the arctic sea as we had ventured into the northern waters following the direction of some strange lode stone of a curious pseudo-compass that the first mate Randolph had stolen from the carefully locked ivory4 chest of the Filipino Lass he spent one Tuvaluan week-end fucking which was later to lead us in ever decreasing concentric circles about an immense iceberg, frozen inside of which was what appeared to us a gigantic series of nested catacombs containing any number of peregrinate relics which we initially viewed a fantastic treasures but later were to understand were possible the worst degree of curse.
There were numerous entertainments to be held by a naive soul as I fancy I was at the time, mostly belonging to the aerthly realm populated by cussing, beer drinking, advanced spitting, and introductory whore-mongering. But out of all the past-times indtroduced to myself during that time, the one that remains a fond divergence even to this day is the evening enjoyment of pulp magazines. The lurid titles and eye catching (and gregariously assumed) names of the authors fed the fires of my previously rustick imagination. But this is not even to mention the prime appeal of these spirited broadsides: the salacious cover illustrations, practically begging any youth to educate himself on what thrilling and indecorous acts were to be beheld within. Now, with no further mono-logue, allow me to present to you a slim gallery of but a selection of my favorite pulp illustrations. Onwards!
1which I will speak little of at this point other than that they involved a little know even to this day clan-destine sub-division of the US Federal Government's law enforcement agencies which was rumoured to have had it's beginnings under the auspices of Cotton Mather
2which may confuse those who are under the widely held impression that United States of America did not even exist as a political entity at that time, to which I say, there are many histories available to us, the ones we choose to believe as truth are typically more an issue of aesthetics than veracity.
3
4"Yet to the touch it somehow felt denser, not in terms of weight, but in, how can I say, palpability? Somewhat like the feeling one gets in a dream when some sound or touch from the waking world interjects and for some half remembered moment dream and reality co-exist as one..."
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
A Garden Path Through a Confused Grammarian's Lexicon
Whilst today one can select from the theories of Stochastic Processes, Con-Spiracies of varying degrees of malevolence, Chaotic Dynamics, or simply pure Nihilism in order to explain away the seemingly un-caring randomness of the universe, in ancient days Men had contrived Deities whose purposes seemed to be divine emodiments of capricious urges and malicious pranks1. The Norse painted their trickster god as alternately a figure of malicious rage, a cunning techno-logy innovator, or a mischievous relief side kick3; While the Coyote figure in many native american stories apprehends a more hapless stance, acting typically out of selfish urges and often suffering many comical slapstick mis-fortunes as a result of his deceits5.
The point being, that in order to console ourselves with various aspects of un-predictability, it is often helpful to Name this phenomona, a process by which we come to Know it, and accustom ourselves to it's existence. This Action of Naming suffuses our lives to such a degree that we often over-look it's omni-presence, and I consider it a part of my Duties as a Web-Logger to assist in drawing attention to this uniquely human phenomenon. Leading us by quite the elliptical garden path to today's subject at hand: unpredictability and chaos in sentence structure.
A Garden Path sentence is a grammatically correct sentence subject to multiple divergent parsings depending on how the reader chooses to interpret the various clauses. Typically this is a result of words that seem to function simultaneously as multiple forms of speech within various interpretive contexts of the sentence. Examples include:
A Paraprosdokian is a figure of speech that begins normally enough but at some point veers off course into a differing context, causing the reader to re-interpret the meaning of the first clause. Famous examples include:
Antanaclasis (or often, antistasis) are sentences wherein a key word or phrase is repeated in a way that takes advantage of a word's multiple meanings to change the expected interpretation of the sentence. Naturally, I have clarifying specimens:
Syllepsis, or semantic zeugma, is a deliberate inflection of grammatical rules generally used by lyricicists and poets (not to mention classical hard boiled noir authors and Groucho Marx) for it's disorienting yet pleasing effect. The zeugma in general is a series of phrases joined by a single common word; this semantic zeugma occurs when the fulcrum word has multiple interpretations which are exploited by the multiple phrases. And who would I be if I did not have revealing exemplifications?
I hope this linguistic gallery has been both amusing and instructional. Perhaps for purposes of merriment you can infuse one of your daily memorandums with a handful of self-constructed exemplars of the above listed sentence forms and watch the con-fusion and chaos in your life increase, secure in the knowledge that this ataxia can be laid squarely at your own doorstep.
1Einstein famously said "God does not play dice with the universe," and while it is quite clear to anyone familiar with the history and past-times of the but lately (in historical terms) promoted War-God of the Israelites that He certainly wasn't a Gamer (not in the strict "Games of Chance" context perhaps, but his antagonism with The Antagonist can certainly be interpreted as a Zero-Sum Game2 per se, it is not suitable to conclude that No God plays dice with the universe. Einstein may be forgiven for his assumption though, not being trained the methods of mystical meta-mathematics.
2see Von Neumann's Theory of Games and Economic Behavior.
3see various myths concerning the mis-adventures of Thor and Loki that appear to be the originals of the mis-matched buddy comedy genre so beloved by Shane Black and his descendants ("Someone has stolen the Thunder God's might hammer Mjolner, and to get it back he is going to have to join forces with the notorious half-Jotun4 loose cannon Loki and together go undercover as goddesses betrothed to Frost Giants" for further details see Þrymskviða...)
4essentially an ethnic minority, at least in Asgard at the time.
5not entirely unlike Chuck Jones' noted Wile E Coyote.
6"He must be praised, decorated, and tolerated."
The point being, that in order to console ourselves with various aspects of un-predictability, it is often helpful to Name this phenomona, a process by which we come to Know it, and accustom ourselves to it's existence. This Action of Naming suffuses our lives to such a degree that we often over-look it's omni-presence, and I consider it a part of my Duties as a Web-Logger to assist in drawing attention to this uniquely human phenomenon. Leading us by quite the elliptical garden path to today's subject at hand: unpredictability and chaos in sentence structure.
A Garden Path sentence is a grammatically correct sentence subject to multiple divergent parsings depending on how the reader chooses to interpret the various clauses. Typically this is a result of words that seem to function simultaneously as multiple forms of speech within various interpretive contexts of the sentence. Examples include:
The old man whistling tunes pianos.
The tomcat curled up on the cushion seemed friendly.
The cotton clothing is made of grows in Mississippi.
The man who hunts ducks out on weekends.
The Eskimos can fish in a new factory three miles away from sea.
He gave the child the dog bit a band-aid.
We painted the wall with cracks.
Fat people eat accumulates.
The prime number few.
A Paraprosdokian is a figure of speech that begins normally enough but at some point veers off course into a differing context, causing the reader to re-interpret the meaning of the first clause. Famous examples include:
"If I am reading this graph correctly, I'd be very surprised."
"I haven't slept for ten days, because that would be too long."
"She looks as though she had been poured into her clothes, and forgot to say when."
"My father said, 'I'll miss you son,' because I had broken the sights off of his rifle."
"Have you ever tried just sitting down with your children, turning the tv off, and hitting them?"
"Laudandus, ornandus, tollendus6."
"I like going to the park and watching the children run around because they don't know I'm using blanks."
Antanaclasis (or often, antistasis) are sentences wherein a key word or phrase is repeated in a way that takes advantage of a word's multiple meanings to change the expected interpretation of the sentence. Naturally, I have clarifying specimens:
"Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana."
"Your argument is sound, nothing but sound."
"We must indeed hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately."
"Those who are not fired with enthusiasm will be fired, with enthusiasm."
Syllepsis, or semantic zeugma, is a deliberate inflection of grammatical rules generally used by lyricicists and poets (not to mention classical hard boiled noir authors and Groucho Marx) for it's disorienting yet pleasing effect. The zeugma in general is a series of phrases joined by a single common word; this semantic zeugma occurs when the fulcrum word has multiple interpretations which are exploited by the multiple phrases. And who would I be if I did not have revealing exemplifications?
"Oh, flowers are as common here, Miss Fairfax, as people are in London."
"[The rat] returned in haste and flames to its original hideout."
"When he asked "What in Heaven," she made no reply, up her mind, and a dash for the door."
"You are free to execute your laws, and your citizens, how you see fit."
"You can leave in a taxi. If you can't get a taxi, you can leave in a huff. If that's too soon, you can leave in a minute and a huff."
"Monica had exploded, and I had a mystery, and pieces of her pancreas, on my hands."
I hope this linguistic gallery has been both amusing and instructional. Perhaps for purposes of merriment you can infuse one of your daily memorandums with a handful of self-constructed exemplars of the above listed sentence forms and watch the con-fusion and chaos in your life increase, secure in the knowledge that this ataxia can be laid squarely at your own doorstep.
1Einstein famously said "God does not play dice with the universe," and while it is quite clear to anyone familiar with the history and past-times of the but lately (in historical terms) promoted War-God of the Israelites that He certainly wasn't a Gamer (not in the strict "Games of Chance" context perhaps, but his antagonism with The Antagonist can certainly be interpreted as a Zero-Sum Game2 per se, it is not suitable to conclude that No God plays dice with the universe. Einstein may be forgiven for his assumption though, not being trained the methods of mystical meta-mathematics.
2see Von Neumann's Theory of Games and Economic Behavior.
3see various myths concerning the mis-adventures of Thor and Loki that appear to be the originals of the mis-matched buddy comedy genre so beloved by Shane Black and his descendants ("Someone has stolen the Thunder God's might hammer Mjolner, and to get it back he is going to have to join forces with the notorious half-Jotun
4essentially an ethnic minority, at least in Asgard at the time.
5not entirely unlike Chuck Jones' noted Wile E Coyote.
6"He must be praised, decorated, and tolerated."
Monday, March 28, 2011
"The Proper Mustard"
In Which a Brief Digression Into the History of Mustard is Made, by way of Providing a Context for an Edifying Excerpt Regarding the Origins of a Famous Phrase
The ever delightfully searing condiment known to us as mustard originated, as so many of our prized refinements, from the days of the Roman Empire. An ancient recipe book details the mixing of grape juice, known in the local tongue as Must, with ground sinapis seeds, to create a heady paste with the descriptive title Burning Must, or Mustem Ardis as the Romans would have it. The longstanding popularity of this condiment into our present day is likely due to the sheer adaptability of the bases of ground mustard seed and vinegar to most any additive one could dream up1
This is all fine and dandy, one might be apt say, yet one question yet remains: By God's Wounds, how did the expression Cut the Mustard originate? Well, my dear friends, you may cease your fretting and prepare for a silent and dignified jubilation, as I have, with the aid of Morris' fine Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins, pin-pointed the antecedents of this expressive idiom.
And that, my dear readers, is the Proper Mustard indeed.
1among many of the options one can take their mustard prepared with: cider vinegar, prickly pears, the infamous Blut Jolokia Ghost Peppers, persimmons, wasabi (or horse radish to the occidentals), figs, honey pecans, cream, tarragon, beer (a tradition orginated in the Mid-West, naturally, garlick, ginger, Maui Onions, verjuice (the "secret ingredient" in Dijon Mustards), fennel, cinnamon, turmeric, and sandillions more.
The ever delightfully searing condiment known to us as mustard originated, as so many of our prized refinements, from the days of the Roman Empire. An ancient recipe book details the mixing of grape juice, known in the local tongue as Must, with ground sinapis seeds, to create a heady paste with the descriptive title Burning Must, or Mustem Ardis as the Romans would have it. The longstanding popularity of this condiment into our present day is likely due to the sheer adaptability of the bases of ground mustard seed and vinegar to most any additive one could dream up1
This is all fine and dandy, one might be apt say, yet one question yet remains: By God's Wounds, how did the expression Cut the Mustard originate? Well, my dear friends, you may cease your fretting and prepare for a silent and dignified jubilation, as I have, with the aid of Morris' fine Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins, pin-pointed the antecedents of this expressive idiom.
cut the mustard was originally a Western expression, popular among cowboys during the late nineteenth century. If something was "the proper mustard," it was O.K., the genuine article. Andy Adams used the expression this way in his famous Log of a Cowboy , when he wrote that 'for fear the two dogs were not the proper mustard, he had that dog man sue him in court to make him prove the pedigree.' And Carl Sandburg once wrote: 'Kid each other, you cheapskates. Tell each other you're all to the mustard.' The expression cut the mustard then came into vogue, meaning to come up to expectations, to be of good quality. In one of his short stories, written around the turn of the century, O. Henry described a pretty girl in these words: 'She cut the mustard all right.' Nowadays the expression is usually used in the sense of being successful. Of a leading businessman, you might hear it said that 'he really cuts the mustard
And that, my dear readers, is the Proper Mustard indeed.
1among many of the options one can take their mustard prepared with: cider vinegar, prickly pears, the infamous Blut Jolokia Ghost Peppers, persimmons, wasabi (or horse radish to the occidentals), figs, honey pecans, cream, tarragon, beer (a tradition orginated in the Mid-West, naturally, garlick, ginger, Maui Onions, verjuice (the "secret ingredient" in Dijon Mustards), fennel, cinnamon, turmeric, and sandillions more.
Friday, March 25, 2011
An Anniversary Jubilee
While it has seemed to me to be but the merest blink of an eye from whence I began this Web-Log, perusal of my date book has revealed to me that over one whole series of lunar rhythms has since passed, days spiraling logarithmically into the the halls of time. Examination of my semblance in reflecting-glasses shows little evidence of the passage of time other than a certain new-grown shaggy-ness in and about my hair and a perhaps perceptible added degree of weariness to the dark bags under my eyes, yet as I peer out of the window of my study I can see by the now omni-present mobs of Gang-Bangers and Roust-a-Bouts lounging in informal ellipses about stoops and corners that Spring-Time has officially Sprung. I can't help but berate myself over all of the essays begun but not yet finished, or finished but not yet polished, that have accumulated in that now noted passage of time such as Gravure and Foxing, the Wasp Gun, Pornographic Daguerrotypes, the Relationship Between Curry and Combinatorics, Famed Crucifixions, the Quaternion-Vector War, Paraprosdokian, Excerpts From Hoyles Beloved "Rules of Games," and Baby Manipulation for Fun and Profit, but I can always return warmth to my heart by poring over those writings refined enough to "make the cut," so to speak, on subjects as varied as Inappropriately Placed Flowers, Eggcorns and Their Ilk, Moss Piglets, Sex Hair, Diversions of Ramanujan, Pugilistic Appellations, Tittles, Wynn and Yogh Tagas the Conductor, and many more.
In honor of this anniversary I shall return like, much like ouroborous the world serpent, to the tome who's excerpts first inspired this web-log, the ever delightful and questionable reliable "Why We Say It." Let your gaze pass o'er these edifying snippets to help soothe the passing of time as minds turn to enterprises of a week-enderly nature.
May thine week-end bless thee with fruitfulness.
In honor of this anniversary I shall return like, much like ouroborous the world serpent, to the tome who's excerpts first inspired this web-log, the ever delightful and questionable reliable "Why We Say It." Let your gaze pass o'er these edifying snippets to help soothe the passing of time as minds turn to enterprises of a week-enderly nature.
Toady. What is the original of the term "toady"?
The original "toady" was the magician's assistant who ate toads so that his master could demonstrate his magical healing powers-since at one time toads were considered poisonous. Th other duties of the "toad-eater" were very much like those of the "yes-man" of today-to prove the boss right-and so we got the word and its meaning.
Welsh Rabbit. What is the reason we call a dish made of cheese "Welsh Rabbit"?
The term is humorous. The Welsh were supposed to be so poverty-stricken that they could not afford even rabbit meat but had to substitute cheese for it.
Drunk as a Fiddler. What is the reason we use the phrase "Drunk as a Fiddler"?
The expression refers to the fiddler at wakes and weddings whose fee was often set at "all the liquor you can hold." In order to get his full fee it was necessary for him to drink long and often.
Amuck. Where did we get the phrase "running amuck"?
From Malaya. Malays under the influence of opium or a stimulant sometimes become very excited-so excited that they rush about with daggers, killing anyone they chance to meet and yelling, Amoq! Amoq!-meaning "Kill! Kill!"
May thine week-end bless thee with fruitfulness.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
In Honor of the Semi-Apsis
In Which a Celebration of Coming Warmth is Noted, and In the Interest of Actively Celebration Such, a Game of Apogee and Perigee is Presented, Followed by a Gallery of Concupiscent Vivications
Ah! Spring-time has arrived, and with it, fancies of romantickal nature spring forth in the loins of all fortunate enough to have not yet been so wearied with their existences) to the point of pudendal anæsthesia. Whether it is the glimpse of bare calves afforded by the growing tilt of the Earth towards the Sun warming the atmosphere to such a degree that young ladies throw caution to the brisk but still warm Easter winds and trade constrictive pant-a-loons in favor of less restrictive garments, or the palpable thawing of the soil that endorses the sultry emergence of such warm weather portents as the ambrosial crocus, symbols of fertility and nubility abound. In respect of the coming fecundity, to-day's web-log posting shall be of a bi-cephalic nature, with one section devoted to stimulation of purely intellectual delights, followed by another section offering a purely dionysian provocation.
Firstly, I am pleased to offer a small but amusing game to help those of you constrained within airless cubes for the duration of your day-light hours. It is a game of matching, in which first is listed a selection of cosmological bodies, and second is listed a selection of body-specific terms for apsides. The goal of the game is match the body with it's apsides. Enjoy!
Ah! Spring-time has arrived, and with it, fancies of romantickal nature spring forth in the loins of all fortunate enough to have not yet been so wearied with their existences) to the point of pudendal anæsthesia. Whether it is the glimpse of bare calves afforded by the growing tilt of the Earth towards the Sun warming the atmosphere to such a degree that young ladies throw caution to the brisk but still warm Easter winds and trade constrictive pant-a-loons in favor of less restrictive garments, or the palpable thawing of the soil that endorses the sultry emergence of such warm weather portents as the ambrosial crocus, symbols of fertility and nubility abound. In respect of the coming fecundity, to-day's web-log posting shall be of a bi-cephalic nature, with one section devoted to stimulation of purely intellectual delights, followed by another section offering a purely dionysian provocation.
Firstly, I am pleased to offer a small but amusing game to help those of you constrained within airless cubes for the duration of your day-light hours. It is a game of matching, in which first is listed a selection of cosmological bodies, and second is listed a selection of body-specific terms for apsides. The goal of the game is match the body with it's apsides. Enjoy!
Perigalacticon & ApogalacticonAnd secondly, as has become a weekly tradition of presenting smut of a refined nature, I offer without any further ado, a selection of erotic prints. Enjoy!
Periastron & Apastron
Perimelasma/Peribothra/Perinigricon & Apomelasma/Apobothra/Aponigricon
Perihelion & Aphelion
Perihermion & Apohermion
Pericytherion/Pericytherean/Perikrition & Apocytherion/Apocytherean/Apokrition
Perigee Apogee
Periselene/Pericynthion/Perilune & Aposelene/Apocynthion/Apolune
Periareion & Apoareion
Perizene/Perijove & Apozene/Apojove
Perikrone/Perisaturnium & Apokrone/Aposaturnium
Periuranion & Apouranion
Periposeidion & Apoposeidion
Perihadion & Apohadion
Neptune
Black Hole
Earth
Sun
Pluto
Saturn
Galaxy
Luna
Mercury
Jupiter
Uranus
Venus
Mars
Star
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Cardano's Betrayal
In Which a Romantic Account of a Famous Mathematical Dispute is Recounted, Motives Are Recklessly Assigned, and Dark Questions Are Raised
I find it hard to imagine that this hoary tale is not in common parlance, but such is but one of the many delusions of the amateur mathematician in these dreary days1. It is a tale of booze soaked treachery and high stakes competetion from the days when mathematics was a royal sport and the exact solving of cubics was a high stakes game that only the most strong of mind and character dared attempt.
No tale can be said to have one true beginning, if I may be forgiven for utilizing this cliche2, but I shall choose as a suitable start to introduce the character who serves as the protagonist of this affair. Niccolo Fontana Tartaglia was born in Brescia, where he obtained his last name3 as a result of a French soldier stabbing him in the mouth, inflicting a life long speech impediment upon our protagonist. As a man, Tartaglia had obtained for himself a local reputation of being both well-endowed with skills of a mathematical nature and a boastful tongue, and as was the manner of the time, found himself challenged by one Antonio Fiore to a contest of mathematical duel, in which each contestant was to produce a list of 30 problems that their opponent must solve within several days. Tartaglia put together a wide variety of intricacies, but Fiore submitted only cubics, expecting to humble his oppugnant4. After many painstaking days and nights of formulaic manipulation, Tartaglia formulated an algorithm for solving all cubics, with which he then swept through the problems like an oiled scythe through autumn dried wheat, defeating a chastened Fiore. Keeping in with the style of the times, he kept his general solution a secret and used it only for challenging other mathematicians with solving seemingly impossible cubics.
Enter Gerolamo Cardano, a character who's life accomplishments included chopping off his son's ears, undergoing a prolonged prosecution for heresy for his calculating and publishing the horoscope of Jesus, compiling the first treatise on Probability theory that helpfully included detailed methods of cheating at games of chance, and his claims that deaf people were not idiots and could in fact use their minds much like that of those endowed with aural faculties. In short, a complicated man, and not to mention a literal bastard, who's potential in the ways of abstract reasoning was only exceeded by his capacity for devious and capricious actions. Cardano had heard of Tartaglia's victories over many, and grew convinced that his fellow Italian had obtained a general method of solving the cubic. For whatever initial reason5, Cardano felt driven to apprehend this solution for himself, and thus he extended an invitation to Tartaglia under the pretenses of introducing him to the Marchese of Milan at a soiree at Cardano's abode. Accounts differ as to whether said meeting actually occurred, but by Tartaglia's account, after being plied with liquors and panegyrics by the cunning Cardano, Tartaglia finally relented and shared his algorithm with Cardano, but only after forcing him to swear the following oath:
The following day Tartaglia left Milan in some hurry, perhaps sensing what history has show us to be true: that Cardano held neither faith as a Christian nor a Gentleman.
Time passed, as it is ever wont to do, and Cardano stayed true to his oath, holding Tartaglia's Method close to his bosom in a manner unto like that of a sympathetic woman and a small injured animal. And it is possible that in a another world, Cardano could have kept his oath, except for being that in this one he took in the prodigy Ferrari as apprentice. Together they worked on any number of the celebrated abstruse intricacies of the time, towards the interest of publishing a compendium of the pair's various techniques and transformations. But then it came to pass that Ferrari, through painstaking labors, secured a method by which one could solve a certain variety of quartic equation. Including this method in their proposed mathematical epic would secure their place as the finest mathematicians of the time, yet there was one miniscule fly trapped in the proverbial ointment: Ferrari's method reduced a problem of quartics to that of cubics.
Cardano, ever wily, realized that there might yet be a path by which he could side-step his oath. Coupling his knowledge of the duel between Fior and Tartagliga with his personal estimation of Fior as an uninspired man, Cardano theorized that not only did Fior have his own cubic method, but that it was almost certainly not of Fior's derivation, but that of his tutor, Del Ferro. Armed with suspicions, Cardano and Ferrari set off to Del Ferro's estate, where by some obfuscation they managed to gain access to the now deceased mathematician's papers. In which, they found Del Ferro's cubic method clearly outlined, and with that, a loophole by which oaths sworn could be forsaken. Sparing no time, the pair published their works in quartics, cubics, and much more in the Ars Magna6 to the great outrage of Tartaglia, who then publicly denounced the pair, revealing the Oath that Cardano transgressed, and then challenged Ferrari to a mathematical duel. Perhaps justice would have dictated that The Stammerer upset The Upstart, but no man observant of the ways of our world would imply that any form of justice is inherent in such workings. Tartaglia lost, and in the face of such disgrace and ignominy, retreated from the public eye, never to be heard from again.
A fact of note in this story is that several mathematicians seem to have independently derived solutions to the cubic but kept them as deeply held secrets. Earlier, I noted that the justification for this was simply a matter of the times, but it is likely that something more kept these mathematicians in a state of allowing the results to be known but the methods to be secret. It is that all general methods of solving the cubic make allowance for the appearance of the square root of negative 1 or i as it is now known, and at the time, most gentlemen of well breeding would have declared you to be a madman for even contemplating such profanity7. Indeed, a look at works of the time divulges a distressingly puritan squeamishness to even contemplating negative coefficients in polynomials. Thus we have that it took an audacious blasphemer such as Cardano to publish any such method, his justification being that it acheived results.
Nevertheless, what are we to make of the fact that if we approach history from the view point of a vectorist, we have that multiple mathematicians almost simultaneously and independently did work that would lead to the public acknowledgement of the existence of i, being at the very least, a necessary evil among the mathematician's lexicon. What if i wanted to be discovered? What if Someone (or Some Thing) wanted i to be discovered? Dwelling in some dark recess, unknowing of time, a blinking, throbbing, nameless urge flickered when brushed by human consciousness, like the hint of stirring movement spotted peripherally in the mirror of an unlit bathroom, and knew hunger. But for who's gain? Was Cardano the self-promoting inscrupulous bastard historians have painted him as, or another in a long list of patsies in some Archon's scheme, flicked about by unseen fingers (talons? unspeakable appendages?), smirking at his people's God while Some Thing, Some Where, twisted his desires, for devious purposes unknown to men?...perhaps they have already come to pass...perhaps they yet lay on the horizon...
1Indeed, I often have to be reminded that the concept of a mathematician held by most is that of a mere calculator, idly adding and subtracting large numbers for the supposed sheer thrill of it all, as opposed to the actual goal of discovering the only truths we can prove in this universe.
2but what better way to begin a story I have already described once as hoary?
3meaning "Stammerer."
4Fiore had learned method from Scipione Del Ferro which painstakingly avoided dealing with any negative coefficients and thus avoided explicitly dealing with any negative roots(but still they lurked, between lines of calculations, like some impossible beast waiting to strike). Ferro kept his method a secret to all but two, as it was common for natural philosophers of that day to hoard their discoveries as to benefit all the more from the rarity of their knowledge. See any of numerous works on the Calculus Wars between the continental acolytes of Liebniz and Newton's co-horts in the Royal Society for more on the evolution of that world into ours.
5glory, exploration, exploitation? or was this part of some more grand devious scheme in which the individual motivations of mere men were but pieces on some multidimensional game board?
6to Cardano's merit, he at no point claims either cubic method for himself, but gives credit where credit was due
7currently and historically, mass culture's view of i is sometimes strange to the rationalist, as why one would somehow single out this entity as being somehow more fantastic and strange than other such entities that we do not come across in the percievable physical world like pi(a transcendent), root of 2(an irrational), or a circle (show me an actual circle8 ) in real life and I will show you an ellipse). likely much of this stems from the adoption of the term "imaginary" stemming from Descartes' dismissal, which might be better than Cardano's description of them as "fictitious" although quite frankly Euler's description of them as impossible numbers does not help either, nor does the forbidding term Complex numbers favored these days. When one actually considers the mathematical foundations of our current number systems (non-negative integers from the empty set9 , the integers from closure under additive inverses, the rationals from closure under multiplicative inverses, the reals from closure under the convergence of all cauchy sequences, and the complex numbers from algebraic closure of the reals, the concept of somehow considering one of these sets as more "real" or "imaginary" becomes ridiculous.
8besides x^2 + y^2 = 1, smart ass
9{}, {{}}, {{{}}},...
I find it hard to imagine that this hoary tale is not in common parlance, but such is but one of the many delusions of the amateur mathematician in these dreary days1. It is a tale of booze soaked treachery and high stakes competetion from the days when mathematics was a royal sport and the exact solving of cubics was a high stakes game that only the most strong of mind and character dared attempt.
No tale can be said to have one true beginning, if I may be forgiven for utilizing this cliche2, but I shall choose as a suitable start to introduce the character who serves as the protagonist of this affair. Niccolo Fontana Tartaglia was born in Brescia, where he obtained his last name3 as a result of a French soldier stabbing him in the mouth, inflicting a life long speech impediment upon our protagonist. As a man, Tartaglia had obtained for himself a local reputation of being both well-endowed with skills of a mathematical nature and a boastful tongue, and as was the manner of the time, found himself challenged by one Antonio Fiore to a contest of mathematical duel, in which each contestant was to produce a list of 30 problems that their opponent must solve within several days. Tartaglia put together a wide variety of intricacies, but Fiore submitted only cubics, expecting to humble his oppugnant4. After many painstaking days and nights of formulaic manipulation, Tartaglia formulated an algorithm for solving all cubics, with which he then swept through the problems like an oiled scythe through autumn dried wheat, defeating a chastened Fiore. Keeping in with the style of the times, he kept his general solution a secret and used it only for challenging other mathematicians with solving seemingly impossible cubics.
Enter Gerolamo Cardano, a character who's life accomplishments included chopping off his son's ears, undergoing a prolonged prosecution for heresy for his calculating and publishing the horoscope of Jesus, compiling the first treatise on Probability theory that helpfully included detailed methods of cheating at games of chance, and his claims that deaf people were not idiots and could in fact use their minds much like that of those endowed with aural faculties. In short, a complicated man, and not to mention a literal bastard, who's potential in the ways of abstract reasoning was only exceeded by his capacity for devious and capricious actions. Cardano had heard of Tartaglia's victories over many, and grew convinced that his fellow Italian had obtained a general method of solving the cubic. For whatever initial reason5, Cardano felt driven to apprehend this solution for himself, and thus he extended an invitation to Tartaglia under the pretenses of introducing him to the Marchese of Milan at a soiree at Cardano's abode. Accounts differ as to whether said meeting actually occurred, but by Tartaglia's account, after being plied with liquors and panegyrics by the cunning Cardano, Tartaglia finally relented and shared his algorithm with Cardano, but only after forcing him to swear the following oath:
I swear to you by the sacred Gospel, and on my faith as a gentleman, not only never to publish your discoveries, if you tell them to me, but I also promise and pledge my faith as a true Christian to put them down in cipher so that after my death no one shall be able to understand them.
The following day Tartaglia left Milan in some hurry, perhaps sensing what history has show us to be true: that Cardano held neither faith as a Christian nor a Gentleman.
Time passed, as it is ever wont to do, and Cardano stayed true to his oath, holding Tartaglia's Method close to his bosom in a manner unto like that of a sympathetic woman and a small injured animal. And it is possible that in a another world, Cardano could have kept his oath, except for being that in this one he took in the prodigy Ferrari as apprentice. Together they worked on any number of the celebrated abstruse intricacies of the time, towards the interest of publishing a compendium of the pair's various techniques and transformations. But then it came to pass that Ferrari, through painstaking labors, secured a method by which one could solve a certain variety of quartic equation. Including this method in their proposed mathematical epic would secure their place as the finest mathematicians of the time, yet there was one miniscule fly trapped in the proverbial ointment: Ferrari's method reduced a problem of quartics to that of cubics.
Cardano, ever wily, realized that there might yet be a path by which he could side-step his oath. Coupling his knowledge of the duel between Fior and Tartagliga with his personal estimation of Fior as an uninspired man, Cardano theorized that not only did Fior have his own cubic method, but that it was almost certainly not of Fior's derivation, but that of his tutor, Del Ferro. Armed with suspicions, Cardano and Ferrari set off to Del Ferro's estate, where by some obfuscation they managed to gain access to the now deceased mathematician's papers. In which, they found Del Ferro's cubic method clearly outlined, and with that, a loophole by which oaths sworn could be forsaken. Sparing no time, the pair published their works in quartics, cubics, and much more in the Ars Magna6 to the great outrage of Tartaglia, who then publicly denounced the pair, revealing the Oath that Cardano transgressed, and then challenged Ferrari to a mathematical duel. Perhaps justice would have dictated that The Stammerer upset The Upstart, but no man observant of the ways of our world would imply that any form of justice is inherent in such workings. Tartaglia lost, and in the face of such disgrace and ignominy, retreated from the public eye, never to be heard from again.
A fact of note in this story is that several mathematicians seem to have independently derived solutions to the cubic but kept them as deeply held secrets. Earlier, I noted that the justification for this was simply a matter of the times, but it is likely that something more kept these mathematicians in a state of allowing the results to be known but the methods to be secret. It is that all general methods of solving the cubic make allowance for the appearance of the square root of negative 1 or i as it is now known, and at the time, most gentlemen of well breeding would have declared you to be a madman for even contemplating such profanity7. Indeed, a look at works of the time divulges a distressingly puritan squeamishness to even contemplating negative coefficients in polynomials. Thus we have that it took an audacious blasphemer such as Cardano to publish any such method, his justification being that it acheived results.
Nevertheless, what are we to make of the fact that if we approach history from the view point of a vectorist, we have that multiple mathematicians almost simultaneously and independently did work that would lead to the public acknowledgement of the existence of i, being at the very least, a necessary evil among the mathematician's lexicon. What if i wanted to be discovered? What if Someone (or Some Thing) wanted i to be discovered? Dwelling in some dark recess, unknowing of time, a blinking, throbbing, nameless urge flickered when brushed by human consciousness, like the hint of stirring movement spotted peripherally in the mirror of an unlit bathroom, and knew hunger. But for who's gain? Was Cardano the self-promoting inscrupulous bastard historians have painted him as, or another in a long list of patsies in some Archon's scheme, flicked about by unseen fingers (talons? unspeakable appendages?), smirking at his people's God while Some Thing, Some Where, twisted his desires, for devious purposes unknown to men?...perhaps they have already come to pass...perhaps they yet lay on the horizon...
1Indeed, I often have to be reminded that the concept of a mathematician held by most is that of a mere calculator, idly adding and subtracting large numbers for the supposed sheer thrill of it all, as opposed to the actual goal of discovering the only truths we can prove in this universe.
2but what better way to begin a story I have already described once as hoary?
3meaning "Stammerer."
4Fiore had learned method from Scipione Del Ferro which painstakingly avoided dealing with any negative coefficients and thus avoided explicitly dealing with any negative roots(but still they lurked, between lines of calculations, like some impossible beast waiting to strike). Ferro kept his method a secret to all but two, as it was common for natural philosophers of that day to hoard their discoveries as to benefit all the more from the rarity of their knowledge. See any of numerous works on the Calculus Wars between the continental acolytes of Liebniz and Newton's co-horts in the Royal Society for more on the evolution of that world into ours.
5glory, exploration, exploitation? or was this part of some more grand devious scheme in which the individual motivations of mere men were but pieces on some multidimensional game board?
6to Cardano's merit, he at no point claims either cubic method for himself, but gives credit where credit was due
7currently and historically, mass culture's view of i is sometimes strange to the rationalist, as why one would somehow single out this entity as being somehow more fantastic and strange than other such entities that we do not come across in the percievable physical world like pi(a transcendent), root of 2(an irrational), or a circle (show me an actual circle
8besides x^2 + y^2 = 1, smart ass
9{}, {{}}, {{{}}},...
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Paradox and Snowflake
In Which a Breviloquent Digression Into the Exact Consistency of the Word Paradox is Ventured, Followed by an Rigorous Mathematical Example of How the Word in Question Has Been Mis-Used
From various etymological sources in my upper level athenæum where various word and name references are stored, along with a good sized collection of entaxidermied civets, genets, binturungs, and so on, a miniature model of the Ptolemaic Universe which plays a haunting melody when one turns the crank with which the various planetary epicycles are empowered, as well as a quite stunningly and accidentally achieved collection of spiders and bats who maintain an uneasy hegemony regarding the mass consumption of the variegated insects who delight in ancient book fibers and embalmed vivveridæ, I have that the word paradox comes from the Latinate "paradoxum," meaning a statement which is seemingly absurd but actually true, which itself stems from the Greek phonemes "para" meaning contrary to and "doxa" meaning opinion. If we are to take this as our definition of the term, then in modern parlance this word has been molested and mis-used to stunning degree unrealized by few words other than the unfortunate ironic. Far be it from me to berate anyone for the rampant mis-understanding of words, the challenge of correcting word usage en masse is a sport fit only for elderly men with leather elbow patches on their tweed sport coats and the young and arrogant. My opinion has always been that it is best to leave the will-fully ignorant in their blissful states. Ah yes, but back to the supposed paradox at hand, attributed to Zeno in his solipsistic attempts to prove that motion and change were but mere illusions1:"That which is in locomotion must arrive at the half-way stage before it arrives at the goal." The fundamental mis-understanding inherent in this supposed para-doxa is that a finite length can only be sub-divided into finite portions, a statement that anyone with glancing familiarity with the Real number system (quite frankly even the Rationals will do in this case) knows is an assumption fit for laughter and jeers. While I shall not force you to endure a construction of the Real number system from the basic axioms of set theory (today, that is), I shall offer a quite concise animated example of the phenomena at hand, the Koch Snowflake. It is a shape with infinite perimeter yet finite area2
Entrancing, no?
1The Dean of a prominent university invited the head of the physics department in to berate him for his department's constant budget over-runs. He cites as a positive example the mathematics department, who's budget consists only of allowances for paper and wastebaskets, or even better, the philosophy department, who's budget consists only of allowances for paper.
2One constructs the Koch Snowflake by first constructing an equilateral triangle, then affixing equilateral triangles to the midpoints of each side, and then so forth
From various etymological sources in my upper level athenæum where various word and name references are stored, along with a good sized collection of entaxidermied civets, genets, binturungs, and so on, a miniature model of the Ptolemaic Universe which plays a haunting melody when one turns the crank with which the various planetary epicycles are empowered, as well as a quite stunningly and accidentally achieved collection of spiders and bats who maintain an uneasy hegemony regarding the mass consumption of the variegated insects who delight in ancient book fibers and embalmed vivveridæ, I have that the word paradox comes from the Latinate "paradoxum," meaning a statement which is seemingly absurd but actually true, which itself stems from the Greek phonemes "para" meaning contrary to and "doxa" meaning opinion. If we are to take this as our definition of the term, then in modern parlance this word has been molested and mis-used to stunning degree unrealized by few words other than the unfortunate ironic. Far be it from me to berate anyone for the rampant mis-understanding of words, the challenge of correcting word usage en masse is a sport fit only for elderly men with leather elbow patches on their tweed sport coats and the young and arrogant. My opinion has always been that it is best to leave the will-fully ignorant in their blissful states. Ah yes, but back to the supposed paradox at hand, attributed to Zeno in his solipsistic attempts to prove that motion and change were but mere illusions1:"That which is in locomotion must arrive at the half-way stage before it arrives at the goal." The fundamental mis-understanding inherent in this supposed para-doxa is that a finite length can only be sub-divided into finite portions, a statement that anyone with glancing familiarity with the Real number system (quite frankly even the Rationals will do in this case) knows is an assumption fit for laughter and jeers. While I shall not force you to endure a construction of the Real number system from the basic axioms of set theory (today, that is), I shall offer a quite concise animated example of the phenomena at hand, the Koch Snowflake. It is a shape with infinite perimeter yet finite area2
Entrancing, no?
1The Dean of a prominent university invited the head of the physics department in to berate him for his department's constant budget over-runs. He cites as a positive example the mathematics department, who's budget consists only of allowances for paper and wastebaskets, or even better, the philosophy department, who's budget consists only of allowances for paper.
2One constructs the Koch Snowflake by first constructing an equilateral triangle, then affixing equilateral triangles to the midpoints of each side, and then so forth
Monday, March 21, 2011
Unmurmuring When Every Jar Was An Agony
In Which an Abbreviated Biography, In One Parse-able Yet Seemingly Interminable Sentence, Of the Noted British Eccentric Country Squire Lord John "Mad Jack" Mytton is Presented, With the Objective of Acquainting You, My Dear Readers, With the Type of Fantastic Bull-Shit that The English Have Accustomed Them-Selves to Putting Up With From Their Dreadfully In-Bred and Obscenely Entitled Upper Classes After Years and Years of Hereditary Aristocratic Rule.
The English Lord Jack Mytton, among other things: dressed his dogs and cats in servants livery, took his stable boys rat hunting on ice skates, once pretended to rob his house guests in highwayman's garb and then mocked them incessantly for their terror at the situation, frequently drove his carriage at high speeds for the sole purpose of crashing and/or overturning said carriage, rode his pet bear to a dinner party and upon entering the building still mounted on the bear received a nasty bite on the leg after spurring the ursine one time too many, killed a horse by forcing it to drink an entire bottle of port, cured a case of hiccups by setting his shirt on fire, would hurl his young children in the air and then toss oranges at them, was known to hunt ducks while stark naked in the dead of night in the middle of January, got elected to Parliament on a program of giving 10 pounds to anyone who would promise to vote for him, and generally behaved in a way that should have thrown the entire concept of hereditary aristocracy and inheritances into such disfavor that public hostility should have caused said practices to become abolished in his lifetime but being that this all took place in England merely resulted in him having numerous land-marks, inns, animal breeds and roads named in fond remembrance of his eccentricities.
The English Lord Jack Mytton, among other things: dressed his dogs and cats in servants livery, took his stable boys rat hunting on ice skates, once pretended to rob his house guests in highwayman's garb and then mocked them incessantly for their terror at the situation, frequently drove his carriage at high speeds for the sole purpose of crashing and/or overturning said carriage, rode his pet bear to a dinner party and upon entering the building still mounted on the bear received a nasty bite on the leg after spurring the ursine one time too many, killed a horse by forcing it to drink an entire bottle of port, cured a case of hiccups by setting his shirt on fire, would hurl his young children in the air and then toss oranges at them, was known to hunt ducks while stark naked in the dead of night in the middle of January, got elected to Parliament on a program of giving 10 pounds to anyone who would promise to vote for him, and generally behaved in a way that should have thrown the entire concept of hereditary aristocracy and inheritances into such disfavor that public hostility should have caused said practices to become abolished in his lifetime but being that this all took place in England merely resulted in him having numerous land-marks, inns, animal breeds and roads named in fond remembrance of his eccentricities.
Friday, March 18, 2011
In Belated Honor of π Day
In Which a Startling Omission is Noticed, and Thence Rectified, in Manner of Honoring a Well Known Transcendent Constant, Who's Derivation By Archimedes Very Nearly Led to The Discovery of One of The Fundamental Bases of Calculus Ages Before Liebniz or Newton Had Even Been a Mere Twinkle in their Great x 10nth Grandfathers' Eyes
Ah π! While it may not have the invasive prescense of e, the bewitching mystique of ζ(3), or the underappreciated allure of γ; there is still a place in any mathematician's heart for the first transcendental1 that they meet. Presented for purposes of both Intrigue and Felicity is Ramanujan's well known Formula for π2:
The proof is left as an exercise for the reader.
1the poetically named transcendental numbers are any element of the Complex Numbers that is not the solution of any polynomial with integer coefficients
2although one is left to wonder why he even bothered writing it down, it is such an obvious equivalence
Ah π! While it may not have the invasive prescense of e, the bewitching mystique of ζ(3), or the underappreciated allure of γ; there is still a place in any mathematician's heart for the first transcendental1 that they meet. Presented for purposes of both Intrigue and Felicity is Ramanujan's well known Formula for π2:
The proof is left as an exercise for the reader.
1the poetically named transcendental numbers are any element of the Complex Numbers that is not the solution of any polynomial with integer coefficients
2although one is left to wonder why he even bothered writing it down, it is such an obvious equivalence
Thursday, March 17, 2011
An Index of Extinct Letters
In Which Exactly and Only What Is Promised By the Title of The Post is Presented For Your Edification and Idle Amusement, With No Context, History, Explanation, Or To Be Quite Honest Any Thing Other Than The Letters In Question and Their Names Bestowed Upon You, Such Is My Esteem For Your Potential, My Dear Readers, In That I Respect Your Researching Abilities To Such A Degree That I Will Allow You To 'Fill In The Blanks' Left Vacant By the Above On Your Own Time, Should You Possess Both the Desire And Drive Necessary For The Task, Which If Not, I Can Only Shake My Head and Make a Small Sound Of Disappointment
Þ
is Thorn
Ð and ð
are Eth
Æ and æ
are Ash
Ƿ
Is Wynn
Ȝ
Is Yogh
is Thorn
Ð and ð
are Eth
Æ and æ
are Ash
Ƿ
Is Wynn
Ȝ
Is Yogh
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
The Poetic Filth of Anais Nin
In Which, In Order, An Enthralling Picto-Graph of the Authoress of the Delightful Smut at Hand Is Presented For Your Optical Enjoyment, A Description of the Common Ailment of Mid-Week Lassitude is Submitted, and A Remedy Is Suggested, All Following a Lengthy, Comma Laden Summary of What Is To Follow, As Has Become My Custom In Introducing These Essays.
As the pendulum of time measured in weeks slides to equilibrium position, those of us who find ourselves bound with the modern model of Moon's Day through Freya's Day cyclical employment can often find ourselves succumbing to Fatigue. It seems a miracle that in this day of near constant access to unimaginable quantities of (supposed) entertainments that any one of us can with any amount of honesty declare ourselves consumed with lassitude. Yet in many ways, while much of the tepid dross that Web-Editors deign to designate Content has been instigated with the very purpose of relieving said tedium, in actuality nearly the sum totalilty serves only to prolong and enhance said symptoms of lypothymy. Merely consider the miles of shallow, vapid prose detailing fabricated inanities concerning the idealized potential of your abs to verify my claims. In search of respite from this malady, many of the weaker willed amongst us turn to gratitfication of a more immediate and visceral nature, typically in navigation through the ample morass of penetrations and forced moans of pleasure easily obtainable by any with at least one finger and access to a public library(although those seeking exhilaration of a more specific nature can always turn to the binary equivilant of reams of smutty fanatical-fiction featuring the dubiously extrapolated carnal adventures of their most favored imaginary characters). Allow me to rescue you from this undesirable fate with yet another installment of intellectual smut.
Today's excerpt is from the collection Little Birds by the incomparable Anais Nin. Herself a devotee of D.H. Lawrence, Nin was a pioneer in the realm of modern female penned erotica and was herself a prominent figure in mid century artistic circles both american and continental. She is perhaps (unfortunately and unjustly) best known today for her appearance in numerous crossword puzzles and for fucking Henry Miller.
Well then.
As the pendulum of time measured in weeks slides to equilibrium position, those of us who find ourselves bound with the modern model of Moon's Day through Freya's Day cyclical employment can often find ourselves succumbing to Fatigue. It seems a miracle that in this day of near constant access to unimaginable quantities of (supposed) entertainments that any one of us can with any amount of honesty declare ourselves consumed with lassitude. Yet in many ways, while much of the tepid dross that Web-Editors deign to designate Content has been instigated with the very purpose of relieving said tedium, in actuality nearly the sum totalilty serves only to prolong and enhance said symptoms of lypothymy. Merely consider the miles of shallow, vapid prose detailing fabricated inanities concerning the idealized potential of your abs to verify my claims. In search of respite from this malady, many of the weaker willed amongst us turn to gratitfication of a more immediate and visceral nature, typically in navigation through the ample morass of penetrations and forced moans of pleasure easily obtainable by any with at least one finger and access to a public library(although those seeking exhilaration of a more specific nature can always turn to the binary equivilant of reams of smutty fanatical-fiction featuring the dubiously extrapolated carnal adventures of their most favored imaginary characters). Allow me to rescue you from this undesirable fate with yet another installment of intellectual smut.
Today's excerpt is from the collection Little Birds by the incomparable Anais Nin. Herself a devotee of D.H. Lawrence, Nin was a pioneer in the realm of modern female penned erotica and was herself a prominent figure in mid century artistic circles both american and continental. She is perhaps (unfortunately and unjustly) best known today for her appearance in numerous crossword puzzles and for fucking Henry Miller.
This woman's hair...it was the most sensual hair I have ever seen. Medusa must have had hair like this and with it seduced the men who fell under her spell...But it was not her hair alone. Her skin was erotic, too. She would lie for hours letting me stroke her, lie like an animal, absolutely quiet, languid...I used to like lying against her buttocks and caressing her, to feel the contractions of her muscles, which betrayed her responsiveness.
'Her skin was dry like some dessert[sic] sand. When we first lay in bed it was cool, then it would become warm and feverish. Her eyes-it is impossible to describe her eyes except by saying that they were the eyes of an orgasm. What constantly happened in her eyes was something so feverish, so incendiary, so intense that at times when I looked straight at her and felt my penis rising and palpitating, I also felt as if something were palpitating in her eyes. With her eyes alone she could give this response, this absolutely erotic response, as if febrile waves were trembling there, pools of madness...something devouring that could lick a man all over like a flame, annihilate him, with a pleasure never known before.
Well then.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Kid Chocolate & The Swamp Donkey
In Which a Charming Anecdote From My Childhood is Recounted For Purposes of Contextualizing the Ensuing Chronicle of Puglistic Record, as Well as a List of Names of Great Hyperbole, whose Purpose is Intended to Both Enrich the Swagger of the Bearers' and Enhance the Intimidation of Their Opposition.
Ah! the sweet sound of knuckles cracking against flesh! The scent of Iron and Calcium upon the breeze! The faint aura of pulverized bone and mists of blood misting in the atmosphere! These are but a few of the many delights to be beheld upon the viewing of two expert Pugilists practicing their science. I recall with delight the first match I glimpsed as a wee child. My father, reeking of his unique home grown blend of chewing tobacco and q'at left me unattended as he went on a mission to raise hell at the local seed co op for their multitude of insults in attempting to fend off upon him inferior brands of alfalfa as well as spreading ill-mannered rumors that his sorghum had grown a blight. I had intentions of loitering about the local pharmacy to see what manner of sweet sundries a fleet fingered child could lay claim to, but as luck would have it I was distracted by a rumbling mob gathering in the gravel, their locus point a cloud of dust obscuring violent thuds. I shoved my way through the knees of the bystanders to behold Bertram the local butcher striking Phineas O'Flannery the farrier a wild uppercut that lifted the Irishman right off the ground. From that second until the moment my father lifted me by the seat of my pants and informed me of rocks that could not wait a minute more to be plucked from a certain field I was enraptured by the spectacle. And to this day I still recall with intensity that as my father gathered me away from the melee, I heard a resounding crack from behind and almost simultaneously felt something hard and wet strike the back of my neck. Turning as I walked, I saw that the Irishman's jaw had been punched straight off with such force that it had arced all of the way to my neck, where thence it ricocheted off into the boot scuffled dust.
The art of boxing can be traced back to the gladiator matches of ancient Rome, which itself adopted the form of hand to hand combat known as Pankration from the Greek Olympic games. In these games, men fought either bare knuckled or with the aid of the cestus, a leather battle glove often enhanced by metal chains or spikes, thus having the entirely opposite effect of the modern boxing glove. Bare knuckle boxing was rediscovered during the Enlightenment's general fascination with classical past-times, and became something of a Gentleman's sport in 18th and 19th century Britain thanks to the influence of such notables as John Broughton, the man who invented many of the rules of what he named "the noble art of self-defense," and "The Rake of Rakes" Sir Barry, 7th Earl of Barrymore, who himself both patronized and participated in dust ups through out his time. In time, both Oxford and Cambridge Universities initiated their own amateur pugilists' societies, who to this day compete annually in the True Love Bowl.
One aspect of Boxing that remains unchanged from the Enlightenment on is the prominence of Personality. No famed pugilist goes without at least one nom de guerre, and many have made names for themselves by their striking manners of speech as much as their manners of striking. To "top off" this slight essay, I shall offer a brief array of distinctive aliases of but a few of my most favored of the Sweet Scientists in hope of turning yet another young mind to studying the annals of structuralized violence.
A disclaimer: In case you have not yet noticed, you are reading this on the inter-net, a veritable den of lies and numerous other such iniquities. As such, I shall refrain from offering any but the vaguest of references to any of the informations that I share with you, here or elsewhere, as any critical thinker worth his salt in this day and age should verify any information for his self. You may consider yourself warned, and enriched for the experience.
1It has been said that he actually legally changed his first name to Goofi
Ah! the sweet sound of knuckles cracking against flesh! The scent of Iron and Calcium upon the breeze! The faint aura of pulverized bone and mists of blood misting in the atmosphere! These are but a few of the many delights to be beheld upon the viewing of two expert Pugilists practicing their science. I recall with delight the first match I glimpsed as a wee child. My father, reeking of his unique home grown blend of chewing tobacco and q'at left me unattended as he went on a mission to raise hell at the local seed co op for their multitude of insults in attempting to fend off upon him inferior brands of alfalfa as well as spreading ill-mannered rumors that his sorghum had grown a blight. I had intentions of loitering about the local pharmacy to see what manner of sweet sundries a fleet fingered child could lay claim to, but as luck would have it I was distracted by a rumbling mob gathering in the gravel, their locus point a cloud of dust obscuring violent thuds. I shoved my way through the knees of the bystanders to behold Bertram the local butcher striking Phineas O'Flannery the farrier a wild uppercut that lifted the Irishman right off the ground. From that second until the moment my father lifted me by the seat of my pants and informed me of rocks that could not wait a minute more to be plucked from a certain field I was enraptured by the spectacle. And to this day I still recall with intensity that as my father gathered me away from the melee, I heard a resounding crack from behind and almost simultaneously felt something hard and wet strike the back of my neck. Turning as I walked, I saw that the Irishman's jaw had been punched straight off with such force that it had arced all of the way to my neck, where thence it ricocheted off into the boot scuffled dust.
The art of boxing can be traced back to the gladiator matches of ancient Rome, which itself adopted the form of hand to hand combat known as Pankration from the Greek Olympic games. In these games, men fought either bare knuckled or with the aid of the cestus, a leather battle glove often enhanced by metal chains or spikes, thus having the entirely opposite effect of the modern boxing glove. Bare knuckle boxing was rediscovered during the Enlightenment's general fascination with classical past-times, and became something of a Gentleman's sport in 18th and 19th century Britain thanks to the influence of such notables as John Broughton, the man who invented many of the rules of what he named "the noble art of self-defense," and "The Rake of Rakes" Sir Barry, 7th Earl of Barrymore, who himself both patronized and participated in dust ups through out his time. In time, both Oxford and Cambridge Universities initiated their own amateur pugilists' societies, who to this day compete annually in the True Love Bowl.
One aspect of Boxing that remains unchanged from the Enlightenment on is the prominence of Personality. No famed pugilist goes without at least one nom de guerre, and many have made names for themselves by their striking manners of speech as much as their manners of striking. To "top off" this slight essay, I shall offer a brief array of distinctive aliases of but a few of my most favored of the Sweet Scientists in hope of turning yet another young mind to studying the annals of structuralized violence.
Kevin Kelly: The Flushing Flash
Calvin Brock: The Boxing Banker
Scott Walker: The Pink Cat
Willie Monroe: The Worm
Michael Nunn: Second To
Andrew Lewis: Six Heads
Lew Jenkins: The Living Death, and The Sweet Swatter from Sweetwater, Texas
Peter Quillin: Kid Chocolate
Micky Walker: The Toy Bulldog
Adam Richards: The Swamp Donkey
Josh Barnett: The BabyFace Assassin
Alexis Arguello: Explosive Thin Man (or El Flaco Explosivo as he would have it)
Mike McCallum: The Body Snatcher
Bobby Watts: Boogaloo
Jonny Bumphus: Bump City
Michael Carbajal: Little Hands of Stone
Donnell Holmes: The Real Touch of Sleep
Calvin Grove: Silky Smooth
Nate Campbell: The Galaxy Warrior
Primo Carnera: The Ambling Alp
Oliver McCall: The Atomic Bull
Henry Armstrong: Homicide Hank
Benny Leonard: The Ghetto Wizard
Henry Buchanan: Sugar Poo
James Braddock: The Cinderella Man
Lance Whitaker: Goofi1
and of course, Darnell Wilson: The Ding-A-Ling Man
A disclaimer: In case you have not yet noticed, you are reading this on the inter-net, a veritable den of lies and numerous other such iniquities. As such, I shall refrain from offering any but the vaguest of references to any of the informations that I share with you, here or elsewhere, as any critical thinker worth his salt in this day and age should verify any information for his self. You may consider yourself warned, and enriched for the experience.
1It has been said that he actually legally changed his first name to Goofi
Monday, March 14, 2011
Satanic Flatulence
In Which the Various and Sundry Explications of the History of the Appellation Pumper-Nickel are Considered and Annotated
Pumpernickel is a dark and pungent loaf, typically composed of a sourdough starter and rye flour1, and baked at low temperatures for an exceedingly lengthy period of time2. The pumpernickel is a traditionally Westphalian loaf, and has a degree of controversy associated with the exact meaning of it's appellation. The OED would have us believe that the name stems from the German word for 'lout, or bumpkin,' perhaps as an etymological simile regarding the prevelance of coarsely ground flours in the bread itself, or just as a thinly veiled judgement against Westphalians3. From the annals of apocrypha we have the implausible tale of Napoleon refusing in disgust the offer of pumpernickel bread during his invasion of Germany, declaring that the bread would be fit only for his horse Nicole, or "C'est pain pour Nicole"(which the more observant amongst us will recognize as an example of soramimi). Finally, from the philologist Johann Christoph Adelung we have the charmingly crude explanation that since Pumpen was a German term for flatulence and Nickel was a form of the name Nicolas, which was often associated with minor imps, devils, or Satan himself, then pumpernickel must mean "The Devil's Fart4."
1Additionally, it often contains molasses, cocoa, or ground coffee, although pumpernickels constructed in this manner are but cheap pale reflections of the Platonic Ideal of Pumpernickel (see following note).
2The lengthy baking period is what typically results in an authentically darkened Pumpernickel. This reaction between the sugar and the amino acid causing the intense and wide degree of flavors in the pumpernickel is called the Maillard Reaction
3never cross an Oxford philogist lest you end up memorialized insultingly in the dominant Dictionary of our times. Also many are insane, and at least one author of the OED was a deranged murderer who castrated himself
4the exact interpretation of why pumpernickel bread is the devils fart is also a subject of some debate. Some say that as the bread in its traditional form can often result in indigestion one consuming the loaf would then themselves be consumed by "the devil's farts." Others say that the ripe, and often pungent smell of the loaf whilst baking is the eponymous "devil's fart." Still others claim that the term predates the bread itself and was simply a term of derision towards Westphalians that shifted towards their traditional loaf.
Pumpernickel is a dark and pungent loaf, typically composed of a sourdough starter and rye flour1, and baked at low temperatures for an exceedingly lengthy period of time2. The pumpernickel is a traditionally Westphalian loaf, and has a degree of controversy associated with the exact meaning of it's appellation. The OED would have us believe that the name stems from the German word for 'lout, or bumpkin,' perhaps as an etymological simile regarding the prevelance of coarsely ground flours in the bread itself, or just as a thinly veiled judgement against Westphalians3. From the annals of apocrypha we have the implausible tale of Napoleon refusing in disgust the offer of pumpernickel bread during his invasion of Germany, declaring that the bread would be fit only for his horse Nicole, or "C'est pain pour Nicole"(which the more observant amongst us will recognize as an example of soramimi). Finally, from the philologist Johann Christoph Adelung we have the charmingly crude explanation that since Pumpen was a German term for flatulence and Nickel was a form of the name Nicolas, which was often associated with minor imps, devils, or Satan himself, then pumpernickel must mean "The Devil's Fart4."
1Additionally, it often contains molasses, cocoa, or ground coffee, although pumpernickels constructed in this manner are but cheap pale reflections of the Platonic Ideal of Pumpernickel (see following note).
2The lengthy baking period is what typically results in an authentically darkened Pumpernickel. This reaction between the sugar and the amino acid causing the intense and wide degree of flavors in the pumpernickel is called the Maillard Reaction
3never cross an Oxford philogist lest you end up memorialized insultingly in the dominant Dictionary of our times. Also many are insane, and at least one author of the OED was a deranged murderer who castrated himself
4the exact interpretation of why pumpernickel bread is the devils fart is also a subject of some debate. Some say that as the bread in its traditional form can often result in indigestion one consuming the loaf would then themselves be consumed by "the devil's farts." Others say that the ripe, and often pungent smell of the loaf whilst baking is the eponymous "devil's fart." Still others claim that the term predates the bread itself and was simply a term of derision towards Westphalians that shifted towards their traditional loaf.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Whence the Tittle
A Most Brief but Nevertheless Densely Informative Aside Upon the Subject of Small Strokes, As Circumstances Unforeseen Prevent the Culmination of My Ever Lengthening Essay Upon the Subject of Pugilism
From the medieval Latin word titulus meaning "small stroke, or accent" we have the English word tittle, which refers to any small distinguishing mark made upon a letter. Notable tittles include the decorative dots that sit atop lower case i and j, and diacritics. But beware the distinction, and for avoidance of the placing of one's foot squarely in one's mouth and general social ostracization repeat after me: A diacritic is a tittle, but not all tittles are diacritics, as an applied diactritic results in a change of the standard pronunciation of a letter.
From the medieval Latin word titulus meaning "small stroke, or accent" we have the English word tittle, which refers to any small distinguishing mark made upon a letter. Notable tittles include the decorative dots that sit atop lower case i and j, and diacritics. But beware the distinction, and for avoidance of the placing of one's foot squarely in one's mouth and general social ostracization repeat after me: A diacritic is a tittle, but not all tittles are diacritics, as an applied diactritic results in a change of the standard pronunciation of a letter.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Would You Like to Play a Game of "Spot-The-Moss-Piglets" This Afternoon?
In which a Gallery of Astounding Creatures Adapted to Averse Conditions is Presented, For Your Viewing Pleasure
Chicago: a city once known world wide for its miles upon miles of cattle in various stages of slaughter surrounded by figurative rivers of human misery and literal rivers of animal faeces, then later known for the widespread and brazen institutionalization of democratic graft that amazed even the scores of bootleggers across the city; now known for it's enchantingly geometric deco El stations offset by the scent of transient ejaculate (even visible as wafts of steam in the seemingly eternal mid-western winters).1 As a current inhabitant of this metropolis, and as a former inhabitant of many other environmentally forbidding locales, I feel a certain kinship with those obscure species of the animal kingdom whose title itself literally translates to love of the extreme: The Extremophiles.2 Today's entry will be short on words as I believe that photographs of these confounding and eldritch creatures speak volumes. For a special prize, identify the Moss Piglet amongst the following pictographs.
Did you "Spot-The-Moss-Piglet?" If so, lightly sketch the photo you chose using soft graphite on an 8 and 1/2 by 11 sheet of manila paper, and mail to my amanuensis for consideration in this premier Fantastic Information contest. E-mail, telephone, telegraph, and "fax"-similes will, as always, be looked upon with disgust.
1also, at various times, for the slow but noticeable sinking into ooze of the entire city due to building on marshland, the "Murder Castle" of H. H. Holmes, the once upon a time tallest buildings in the world existing as paens to mail order shopping magnates, the widespread massacre of wobblies in the strike busting days, the Columbian Exposition which introduced the world to Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, Diet Soda, and Hamburgers amongst other things, reversing the flow of the Chicago River, the puzzling hero worship of John Dillinger, and having the largest collection of impressionistic paintings outside of the Louvre at it's Art Institute.
2confession: I had originally hoped to share with you my essay on pugilism today, but it appears to be growing much greater in length than I had originally planned, so I shall put off finishing it this afternoon in favor of sharing some fascinating pictures of these almost literally ephemeral animaelicules
Chicago: a city once known world wide for its miles upon miles of cattle in various stages of slaughter surrounded by figurative rivers of human misery and literal rivers of animal faeces, then later known for the widespread and brazen institutionalization of democratic graft that amazed even the scores of bootleggers across the city; now known for it's enchantingly geometric deco El stations offset by the scent of transient ejaculate (even visible as wafts of steam in the seemingly eternal mid-western winters).1 As a current inhabitant of this metropolis, and as a former inhabitant of many other environmentally forbidding locales, I feel a certain kinship with those obscure species of the animal kingdom whose title itself literally translates to love of the extreme: The Extremophiles.2 Today's entry will be short on words as I believe that photographs of these confounding and eldritch creatures speak volumes. For a special prize, identify the Moss Piglet amongst the following pictographs.
Did you "Spot-The-Moss-Piglet?" If so, lightly sketch the photo you chose using soft graphite on an 8 and 1/2 by 11 sheet of manila paper, and mail to my amanuensis for consideration in this premier Fantastic Information contest. E-mail, telephone, telegraph, and "fax"-similes will, as always, be looked upon with disgust.
1also, at various times, for the slow but noticeable sinking into ooze of the entire city due to building on marshland, the "Murder Castle" of H. H. Holmes, the once upon a time tallest buildings in the world existing as paens to mail order shopping magnates, the widespread massacre of wobblies in the strike busting days, the Columbian Exposition which introduced the world to Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, Diet Soda, and Hamburgers amongst other things, reversing the flow of the Chicago River, the puzzling hero worship of John Dillinger, and having the largest collection of impressionistic paintings outside of the Louvre at it's Art Institute.
2confession: I had originally hoped to share with you my essay on pugilism today, but it appears to be growing much greater in length than I had originally planned, so I shall put off finishing it this afternoon in favor of sharing some fascinating pictures of these almost literally ephemeral animaelicules
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Dalliance Upon the Tree of Woe
In Which a Short Introduction to the World of Wrestling Holds is Given, in the Interest of Sharing With You the Sheer Tactile Bliss of Their Sobriquets
As I may have already informed you, my faithful readers, I consider myself an exemplar of masculinity. As such, there are only two competitive spectator sports that I deign to keep myself informed upon: The Sweet Science of Pugilism, and Wrestling. In striking contrast to many of today's popular competitions which are riddled with byzantine bureaucratic tomfoolery and crass consumerism, these rivalries are notable for their strict reliance upon the participants embodying the twin ideals of physical perfection and keen strategic cunning.
Today we shall focus upon the art of Wrestling and I shall save my words on Pugilism for a future posting. Wrestling is unique in it's fusion of populist Guignol theatre with supra human feats of strength. As a gift to you, I shall share with you the titles of a few of my favorite wrestling holds, may the distinct and concise poetry of their nomenclatures in hinting at the violence of their intents enliven your day.
As a project for you at home, try but a few of these out upon a sibling, or a bemused neighbor for a chance to feel the innate poetry of the cognomens. If you are of a more meek-minded nature, construct a sonnet utilizing as many of these christenings as possible, or perhaps a series of haiku accompanied by Water Color paintings.
As I may have already informed you, my faithful readers, I consider myself an exemplar of masculinity. As such, there are only two competitive spectator sports that I deign to keep myself informed upon: The Sweet Science of Pugilism, and Wrestling. In striking contrast to many of today's popular competitions which are riddled with byzantine bureaucratic tomfoolery and crass consumerism, these rivalries are notable for their strict reliance upon the participants embodying the twin ideals of physical perfection and keen strategic cunning.
Today we shall focus upon the art of Wrestling and I shall save my words on Pugilism for a future posting. Wrestling is unique in it's fusion of populist Guignol theatre with supra human feats of strength. As a gift to you, I shall share with you the titles of a few of my favorite wrestling holds, may the distinct and concise poetry of their nomenclatures in hinting at the violence of their intents enliven your day.
Front Chancery
Camel Clutch
Fujiwara Armbar
Gogoplata (aka Hell's Gate)
Boston Crab
Seated Matchbook Pin
Pumphandle
Rivera Cloverleaf
Tiger Feint Crucifix Armbar
The Lady of the Lake
Skin the Cat
The Tree of Woe
As a project for you at home, try but a few of these out upon a sibling, or a bemused neighbor for a chance to feel the innate poetry of the cognomens. If you are of a more meek-minded nature, construct a sonnet utilizing as many of these christenings as possible, or perhaps a series of haiku accompanied by Water Color paintings.
Monday, March 7, 2011
The Dirtiest of the Greek Letters
In Which Eloquence is Forsaken in Favor of Brevity as We Consider the Nigh Erotic Curves of That Jezebel of the Greek Alphabet, the Lower-Case Mu
As a close companion is oft heard declaring, "Ponder upon it, and may thy intellect discover the hidden meanings for thyself."
As a close companion is oft heard declaring, "Ponder upon it, and may thy intellect discover the hidden meanings for thyself."
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Amongst Other Things, A Very Roundabout and Awkward Method of Obtaining A Lady's Garter
In which an idle search for a likely low level Angelic bureaucrat Turns Into a Voyage of Discovery of All Manner of Angelic Esoterica
After composing a previous article on The Rainbow Bridge, I found a question rattling around in my mind like (florid metaphor here). Said question was "What Angel is blessed with administration of this division of Heaven?" So I donned my questing cardigan and velvet soled library loafers and descended into that sub-cellar of my athenaeum which encapsulates my vast collection of various works of religious apocrypha of that I have accumulated through out the passing of years (much of it recieved during my time as a youthful acolyte in an ancient Armenian Christian mystical sect, rumored to have been passed down from Gregory the Illuminator. Unfortunately the immensity of the sect's information was stored in the memories of the society's elders, who were avid proponents of arcane mnemonic techniques, and was subsequently lost when the magnitude of the sect was either killed or captured by Turkish para-militaries on an illegal border crossing with the goal of performing an ancient Easter ressurection rite upon Mount Ararat, may their souls rest in eternal harmony). Poring through the works of Enoch, Agrippa, Dee, and many other illustrious compilers of Judeo-Christian Mysticism I discovered and re-discovered many tid-bits of Angelic lore that I felt compelled to share with you, my faithful readers.
Raziel ("Secret of God") is associated with rainbows in some literature, although as he is also the "angel of the secret regions and chief of the Supreme Mysteries," leading one to conclude that this Seraphim was likely far above the pay grade of overseeing the short term storage of domestic animals. In addition to being the author of The Book of the Angel Raziel1 "wherein all celestial and earthly knowledge is set down," Raziel was one of 9 archangels of the Briatic World, also known as the World of Creation to Kabbalists. The aforementioned book was said to have been in the possesion of Adam, Enoch (who himself was translated into heaven and became Metatron the Lesser Tetragrammaton), Noah, and Solomon.
Israfel is notable for being tetrapterous and for the fact that "3 times a day and 3 times during the night he looks down into hell and is so convulsed with grief that his tears would inundate the earth if Allah did not stop their flow." It seems he was something of a Saturnine Seraphim. He is also prophesied to be one of the 4 angels destroyed after the third horn is blown and Armeggedon takes the world, so I supposes a certain amount of Sentimentality may be forgiven in his case.
Laugh if you must, but the phrase Hocus Pocus actually derives from the appellations of a pair of angelic princes. In elder days, angels were apparently more apt to heed the summonings of mortals (if adherence to the strict set of formal guidelines was properly maintained) and there are many magical rites that specify what specific Angels one ought to beseech for a given boon. For instance one desiring to sway the heart of another would ask upon Jazar the "genius2 who 'compels love.'" One who wishes to amplify their intelligence could summon Hodniel, who's duties include "curing stupidity in man." For the procuring of a Lady's garter, one would call upon Baltazard, and so on and so on.
Tagas was the Conductor of the "Song-Uttering Choirs."
Hemah, "the angel of wrath, with dominion over the death of domestic animals" who was "500 parasangs tall and 'forged out of the chains of black and red fire'" appears to be the most likely choice, excepting for the fact that he was slain by Moses, who was quite peeved after being swallowing and then reguritated by the "angel of destruction." It is quite possible that his responsibilities were then taken up by his brother Af "a prince of wrath and ruler over the death of mortals" as mortal is quite the broad ranging term. Strangely enough, Af once swallowed Moses all of the way up to his "circumcised membrum" but was forced to expel the Lawgiver after Moses' wife performed a circumcision upon their son and by that act rejoined the graces of God.
At this point in my explorations into the minutiae of the Holy Ranks, I came aware that my supply of spiritually anodyne candles with which I illuminate my library of enlightenment was growing scarce and was forced to discontinue my research for another day. If I was a younger man I would have taken this opportunity to perform a summoning of my own and perhaps gained some minor epiphanies, but these days I find my self wearied by the stilted conversation and insipid prattle so common among the grade of Elohim that deign to expose themselves to man. Ah, such is life.
1possible earthy authors of this manuscript are Eleazer of worms, or Isaac the Blind
2in this context genius is meant to imply that this aspect of the angel is a sort of intangible intelligence. Several angels are known only to us by their titles Genius of the Contretemps and Genius of Bestial Love. The conoations of these names are left to the less cautious of summoners
After composing a previous article on The Rainbow Bridge, I found a question rattling around in my mind like (florid metaphor here). Said question was "What Angel is blessed with administration of this division of Heaven?" So I donned my questing cardigan and velvet soled library loafers and descended into that sub-cellar of my athenaeum which encapsulates my vast collection of various works of religious apocrypha of that I have accumulated through out the passing of years (much of it recieved during my time as a youthful acolyte in an ancient Armenian Christian mystical sect, rumored to have been passed down from Gregory the Illuminator. Unfortunately the immensity of the sect's information was stored in the memories of the society's elders, who were avid proponents of arcane mnemonic techniques, and was subsequently lost when the magnitude of the sect was either killed or captured by Turkish para-militaries on an illegal border crossing with the goal of performing an ancient Easter ressurection rite upon Mount Ararat, may their souls rest in eternal harmony). Poring through the works of Enoch, Agrippa, Dee, and many other illustrious compilers of Judeo-Christian Mysticism I discovered and re-discovered many tid-bits of Angelic lore that I felt compelled to share with you, my faithful readers.
Raziel ("Secret of God") is associated with rainbows in some literature, although as he is also the "angel of the secret regions and chief of the Supreme Mysteries," leading one to conclude that this Seraphim was likely far above the pay grade of overseeing the short term storage of domestic animals. In addition to being the author of The Book of the Angel Raziel1 "wherein all celestial and earthly knowledge is set down," Raziel was one of 9 archangels of the Briatic World, also known as the World of Creation to Kabbalists. The aforementioned book was said to have been in the possesion of Adam, Enoch (who himself was translated into heaven and became Metatron the Lesser Tetragrammaton), Noah, and Solomon.
Israfel is notable for being tetrapterous and for the fact that "3 times a day and 3 times during the night he looks down into hell and is so convulsed with grief that his tears would inundate the earth if Allah did not stop their flow." It seems he was something of a Saturnine Seraphim. He is also prophesied to be one of the 4 angels destroyed after the third horn is blown and Armeggedon takes the world, so I supposes a certain amount of Sentimentality may be forgiven in his case.
Laugh if you must, but the phrase Hocus Pocus actually derives from the appellations of a pair of angelic princes. In elder days, angels were apparently more apt to heed the summonings of mortals (if adherence to the strict set of formal guidelines was properly maintained) and there are many magical rites that specify what specific Angels one ought to beseech for a given boon. For instance one desiring to sway the heart of another would ask upon Jazar the "genius2 who 'compels love.'" One who wishes to amplify their intelligence could summon Hodniel, who's duties include "curing stupidity in man." For the procuring of a Lady's garter, one would call upon Baltazard, and so on and so on.
Tagas was the Conductor of the "Song-Uttering Choirs."
Hemah, "the angel of wrath, with dominion over the death of domestic animals" who was "500 parasangs tall and 'forged out of the chains of black and red fire'" appears to be the most likely choice, excepting for the fact that he was slain by Moses, who was quite peeved after being swallowing and then reguritated by the "angel of destruction." It is quite possible that his responsibilities were then taken up by his brother Af "a prince of wrath and ruler over the death of mortals" as mortal is quite the broad ranging term. Strangely enough, Af once swallowed Moses all of the way up to his "circumcised membrum" but was forced to expel the Lawgiver after Moses' wife performed a circumcision upon their son and by that act rejoined the graces of God.
At this point in my explorations into the minutiae of the Holy Ranks, I came aware that my supply of spiritually anodyne candles with which I illuminate my library of enlightenment was growing scarce and was forced to discontinue my research for another day. If I was a younger man I would have taken this opportunity to perform a summoning of my own and perhaps gained some minor epiphanies, but these days I find my self wearied by the stilted conversation and insipid prattle so common among the grade of Elohim that deign to expose themselves to man. Ah, such is life.
1possible earthy authors of this manuscript are Eleazer of worms, or Isaac the Blind
2in this context genius is meant to imply that this aspect of the angel is a sort of intangible intelligence. Several angels are known only to us by their titles Genius of the Contretemps and Genius of Bestial Love. The conoations of these names are left to the less cautious of summoners
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
A Most Brief Encyclopedia of Homophonic Misinterpretations and Conceptual Mis-Uses
In Which Confusion is Turned to Edification, the Lost and Straying are Returned to the Correct Path, and Obscured Vision is Restored Much Like Unto the Epiphany of St Paul Upon the Road to Damascus
The Gnostic Heresys would have us believe that this physical world that our fleshly forms inhabit is the creation not of a Divine Architect following some Holy Blueprints but that of the Demiurge, a blind idiot godling, stumbling in the chaos of unformed matter, strewing bits and pieces haphazardly until our universe took shape amongst the ensuing clumps. While the ontological regard of this concept remains debatable, it is plainly apparent to those with the eyes to see that among many in this world, Con-Fusion is the dominant ethos. It is in the interest of soothing this contagion of Con-Fusion that this very Informative Web-Log was formed, and thus to today's lesson: The Difference Between (and illuminating examples of) Mondegreen, Soramimi, Eggcorn, and Catachresis.
The Mondegreen is a misinterpretation of a phrase due to homophony that lends a different meaning to the general context of said phrase. The appellation comes from Sylvia Wright, who when young mis heard the last line of "The Bonny Earl O'Moray" in the following manner:
when in actuality the last line is "And Laid Him on the Green." Another famous (yet fictional) example is Holden Caulfield mis hearing a lyric from a musical version of "Coming Through the Rye" as "Gin a body catch a body/ comin through the rye." From folk collections we have examples of people "drinking themselves into Bolivia" living in a "doggy-dog world" who are "like sheep that pass in the night." The most well known examples would have to be from popular music, but as "Excuse me as I kiss this guy" and "There's a bathroom on the right" are fairly exhausted by now, we shall move onto another subject.
The Soramimi is similar to the mondegreen in that homophony results in re-interpretation, but in this case the re-interpretation is done in a different language. The term itself comes from the Nipponese, who have popular cultural institutions devoted to deriving Soramimi from English language pop music. Examples include "Yo Meth, Yo Meth, where my killer tape at" from a Wu-Tang Clan song rendered as "Daughter-in-Law! Hey hey, Daughter in law! You've got Fumakilla [a Japanese brand of insecticide] stuck to you!", "I want to hold your hand" becoming "Idiotic public urination," and the Scorpions "You give me all I need" turning into "Watching snow and masturbating." Not all soramimi need be unintentional, the French author Luis d'Antin van Rooten published a book entitled Mots D'Heures: Gousses, Rames: The D'Antin Manuscript, which while ostensibly an anthology of rediscovered medieval poetry, actually consisted entirely of nonsense poems in French that were homophonic with English nursery rhymes. For example:
The Eggcorn is another word (or phrase)substitution occurring as a result of homophony, this time (more often than not) as a result in dialectical shifts in a common tongue. The name itself comes from the example that named the phenomena, renaming acorns as "egg corns." In general, the eggcorn must not be an incredibly implausible substitution, else it would slip into the realm of malaprop1. Notable examples that many people use in day to day life are "social leopards" who tell "bold faced lies" in the "throngs of passion" who are "for all intensive purposes" "on tenderhooks" and "butt naked."
Finally the catachresis is simply a misuse of a word, often in the midst of mixed metaphors. Oration in Baroque tongue has often led to many unintentional catachreses. My personal favorite example of this phenomenon is this catachrestically dense excerpt from Joseph Heller's Catch-22: "Justice is a knee in the gut from the floor on the chin at night sneaky with a knife brought up down on the magazine of a battleship sandbagged underhanded in the dark without a word of warning."
I certainly hope you have enjoyed this excursion into the world of linguistic ephemera. Feel free to write down any examples of the above listed that you have encountered in your day to day life, keep the folded paper near to you in say a locket or a small, velvet lined box, and re-read while chuckling softly to your self on some rainy day.
1The malaprop is, naturally, an inappropriate substitution of a homophone which lends humorous meaning to the phrase as a whole. There is a vast library of examples stretching all of the way back to the plays of Shakespeare. As for more modern examples, Chico Marx based much of his career on malaprops and the novelist Gene Wolfe featured a character in his novel Free Live Free who spoke almost entirely in malaprops.
The Gnostic Heresys would have us believe that this physical world that our fleshly forms inhabit is the creation not of a Divine Architect following some Holy Blueprints but that of the Demiurge, a blind idiot godling, stumbling in the chaos of unformed matter, strewing bits and pieces haphazardly until our universe took shape amongst the ensuing clumps. While the ontological regard of this concept remains debatable, it is plainly apparent to those with the eyes to see that among many in this world, Con-Fusion is the dominant ethos. It is in the interest of soothing this contagion of Con-Fusion that this very Informative Web-Log was formed, and thus to today's lesson: The Difference Between (and illuminating examples of) Mondegreen, Soramimi, Eggcorn, and Catachresis.
The Mondegreen is a misinterpretation of a phrase due to homophony that lends a different meaning to the general context of said phrase. The appellation comes from Sylvia Wright, who when young mis heard the last line of "The Bonny Earl O'Moray" in the following manner:
Ye Highlands and ye Lowlands,
Oh, where hae ye been?
They hae slain the Earl O' Moray,
And Lady Mondegreen,
when in actuality the last line is "And Laid Him on the Green." Another famous (yet fictional) example is Holden Caulfield mis hearing a lyric from a musical version of "Coming Through the Rye" as "Gin a body catch a body/ comin through the rye." From folk collections we have examples of people "drinking themselves into Bolivia" living in a "doggy-dog world" who are "like sheep that pass in the night." The most well known examples would have to be from popular music, but as "Excuse me as I kiss this guy" and "There's a bathroom on the right" are fairly exhausted by now, we shall move onto another subject.
The Soramimi is similar to the mondegreen in that homophony results in re-interpretation, but in this case the re-interpretation is done in a different language. The term itself comes from the Nipponese, who have popular cultural institutions devoted to deriving Soramimi from English language pop music. Examples include "Yo Meth, Yo Meth, where my killer tape at" from a Wu-Tang Clan song rendered as "Daughter-in-Law! Hey hey, Daughter in law! You've got Fumakilla [a Japanese brand of insecticide] stuck to you!", "I want to hold your hand" becoming "Idiotic public urination," and the Scorpions "You give me all I need" turning into "Watching snow and masturbating." Not all soramimi need be unintentional, the French author Luis d'Antin van Rooten published a book entitled Mots D'Heures: Gousses, Rames: The D'Antin Manuscript, which while ostensibly an anthology of rediscovered medieval poetry, actually consisted entirely of nonsense poems in French that were homophonic with English nursery rhymes. For example:
Lit-elle messe, moffette,
Satan ne te fête,
Et digne somme coeurs et nouez.
À longue qu’aime est-ce pailles d’Eure.
Et ne Satan bise ailleurs
Et ne fredonne messe. Moffette, ah, ouais!
The Eggcorn is another word (or phrase)substitution occurring as a result of homophony, this time (more often than not) as a result in dialectical shifts in a common tongue. The name itself comes from the example that named the phenomena, renaming acorns as "egg corns." In general, the eggcorn must not be an incredibly implausible substitution, else it would slip into the realm of malaprop1. Notable examples that many people use in day to day life are "social leopards" who tell "bold faced lies" in the "throngs of passion" who are "for all intensive purposes" "on tenderhooks" and "butt naked."
Finally the catachresis is simply a misuse of a word, often in the midst of mixed metaphors. Oration in Baroque tongue has often led to many unintentional catachreses. My personal favorite example of this phenomenon is this catachrestically dense excerpt from Joseph Heller's Catch-22: "Justice is a knee in the gut from the floor on the chin at night sneaky with a knife brought up down on the magazine of a battleship sandbagged underhanded in the dark without a word of warning."
I certainly hope you have enjoyed this excursion into the world of linguistic ephemera. Feel free to write down any examples of the above listed that you have encountered in your day to day life, keep the folded paper near to you in say a locket or a small, velvet lined box, and re-read while chuckling softly to your self on some rainy day.
1The malaprop is, naturally, an inappropriate substitution of a homophone which lends humorous meaning to the phrase as a whole. There is a vast library of examples stretching all of the way back to the plays of Shakespeare. As for more modern examples, Chico Marx based much of his career on malaprops and the novelist Gene Wolfe featured a character in his novel Free Live Free who spoke almost entirely in malaprops.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Ennui, Vocabulary, and a Challenge
In Which Doldrums Are Turned To Delight as I Dole Out Appropriate Portions of Unique Vocabulary, Illuminating Your Lives Much in A Similar Way as did Zeus in Showing Himself to Danaë in the Form of a Shower of Gold
Late February in the Metropolitan Middle West: a bleak period of various forms of unpleasant precipitation pissing down from the heavens, when all that remains of St Valentine's gifts are chocolate smudged ridged wax papers and slowly wilting foil balloons, when the lengthening of the days grows steadily more apparent allowing one more time by which to view the piles of accumulated filth and coalesced car pollution left behind by melting snow banks. I know not how you, dear readers, while away these dredges of late winter. Perhaps you stare vacantly at high definition screens regaling you with the easily resolved mis-haps of broadly drawn stereo-types. Or may-haps you soothe your tattered souls by way of the coarse consumption of grain spirits enlivened with carbonated corn sugar, writhing away to the thumping pulse of Popular music until dervish like states of unconsciousness are obtained.
I pass these late February afternoons organizing my Shostakovich 320 gram vinyl collections firstly by year of recording, secondly by last name of conductor, thirdly by key (following the circle of fifths most naturally), fabricating word ladders that double as Amusing Ethical Parables of Possibly Ironic Nature (hubris to suffer, love to hell, math to holy, et cetera) and relaxing in my tan and blue Burberry upholstered arm chair reading my way through the Oxford English dictionary. While engaging in the latter activity, I find that when entries tickle my fancy I summon my amanuensis (a some ill bred lad who I discovered on Craig's List, literate but poorly learn'd, and whom I pay in boiled russet potatoes) hence to inscribe the very words that have delighted me, for future use in my Semi-Annual Obscure Word Jumbles. Here then is a light selection from that very list, compiled for the raising of your late winter spirits.
Ah yes, and there was to be a challenge, was there not? Concoct a viable scenario in which all of the above listed words would be appropriate to. Then with the aid of an out of work alcoholic scripting hack, put together a one act play. Find a group of like minded individuals and stage a free public production of your Play. A park would be nice, preferably not the kind filled with urinating derelicts. Those who complete this challenge may feel satisfied in that they have potentially disappointed me somewhat less than most people in this world.
Late February in the Metropolitan Middle West: a bleak period of various forms of unpleasant precipitation pissing down from the heavens, when all that remains of St Valentine's gifts are chocolate smudged ridged wax papers and slowly wilting foil balloons, when the lengthening of the days grows steadily more apparent allowing one more time by which to view the piles of accumulated filth and coalesced car pollution left behind by melting snow banks. I know not how you, dear readers, while away these dredges of late winter. Perhaps you stare vacantly at high definition screens regaling you with the easily resolved mis-haps of broadly drawn stereo-types. Or may-haps you soothe your tattered souls by way of the coarse consumption of grain spirits enlivened with carbonated corn sugar, writhing away to the thumping pulse of Popular music until dervish like states of unconsciousness are obtained.
I pass these late February afternoons organizing my Shostakovich 320 gram vinyl collections firstly by year of recording, secondly by last name of conductor, thirdly by key (following the circle of fifths most naturally), fabricating word ladders that double as Amusing Ethical Parables of Possibly Ironic Nature (hubris to suffer, love to hell, math to holy, et cetera) and relaxing in my tan and blue Burberry upholstered arm chair reading my way through the Oxford English dictionary. While engaging in the latter activity, I find that when entries tickle my fancy I summon my amanuensis (a some ill bred lad who I discovered on Craig's List, literate but poorly learn'd, and whom I pay in boiled russet potatoes) hence to inscribe the very words that have delighted me, for future use in my Semi-Annual Obscure Word Jumbles. Here then is a light selection from that very list, compiled for the raising of your late winter spirits.
bezique: a trick taking card game for two, played with a double pack of sixty-four cards, including the seven to ace only in each suit.
bilverdin: a green pigment excreted in bile.
caruncle: the red prominence at the inner corner of the eye.
festschrift: a collection of writings published in honour of a scholar.
jiggery-pokery: deceitful or dishonest behavior.
leucistic: having whitish fur, plumage, or skin due to a lack of pigment.
mugwump: a person who remains aloof or independent, especially from party politics.
pneumatophore: the gas filled float of some colonial coelenterates, such as the Portuguese-man-of-war.
subfusc: dull or gloomy.
tetrapterous: having two pairs of wings.
voussoir: a wedge shaped or tapered stone used to construct an arch.
xeriscape: a style of landscape design requiring little or no irrigation or other maintenance, used in arid regions
Ah yes, and there was to be a challenge, was there not? Concoct a viable scenario in which all of the above listed words would be appropriate to. Then with the aid of an out of work alcoholic scripting hack, put together a one act play. Find a group of like minded individuals and stage a free public production of your Play. A park would be nice, preferably not the kind filled with urinating derelicts. Those who complete this challenge may feel satisfied in that they have potentially disappointed me somewhat less than most people in this world.
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