I like it, said The VeloDrone. "It's nice not being a god". Obviously a man after my own heart.
Papa! said Belle et Bonne, how do you know what it's like being a god?
Of course, my dear, I don't know. But who has not, in his idler moments, considered what it it might be like to be a god?
Me, papa. I'm sure I never have.
Well, well, said The VeloDrone fondly, we are all different I suppose. Now, who is this Professor Healy and why has he written his article on a subject which he claims to know nothing about? He's written a little note here with words to that effect.
I don't know papa, I'm sure.
Very odd, said The VeloDrone. But we'll publish it, I think it's quite amusing. What have you there, my dear?
It's something that's just arrived, papa, from Professor Healey.
Ah! The same chap! What is this about? Let me see! He's very disappointed ....what?
He's very disappointed that he's had to write his article on Classics, when it's not his field. But that he's trying, and he thinks he's coming up with something interesting.
What's the matter with him? cried The VeloDrone. He can write whatever he likes as long as there's a bicycle.
Yes, papa, and look, he's given us the title.
Where, where? What's this? "Tantalus on a Tricycle"! I see a theme developing!
But that's impossible! cried Belle et Bonne.
Impossible, my dear? Oh yes, I see what you mean. A tricycle is not exactly a bicycle. But I think just this once we can let it go through.
Showing posts with label Classics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Classics. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
Ba'al on a Bicycle
Professor Healy is mystified. Why have they asked him to write about bicycle philosophy with regard to Ugaritic studies? He knows very little about Ugaritic Studies. Whereas Classics are his thing.
John, he says to himself, it's a challenge. You must see what you can do.
He googles Ugaritic studies. Ah, he says. The cuneiform tablets of the Canaanites! The ancient gods. Ba'al, Lord of the Earth and Lord of the Rain and Dew. Yes! I have it.
He begins to write:
Ba'al on a Bicycle
Ba'al, once great god of the Canaanites, rode his bicycle along an undulating country lane. He enjoyed the freedom from godhead, nearly all the time. But the ups and downs of the road were making him introspective.
Where did it go wrong? he wondered. Things were great until the time I conquered Yam. Perhaps I should have been happy with that, and not asked El my father for a house. But no, I got the house, and that was fine. Perhaps I shouldn't have had that housewarming party.
No, the party went okay. I reckon I should have invited Mot, though.
Yeah, that was it. Mot was mad as hell. I hadn't even sent him respectful presents. And then he invited me to his house in the underworld, and I couldn't refuse. And he served me mud. Eughh!
The food of death. And eating it meant I had to stay down there.
But it wasn't that bad. I even got used to the mud diet. It kept me fit.
What it really was, and I guess I should just face up to it, I never should've married my sister Anat. She came down after me, sword blazing, split Mot in two, winnowed, burned and milled him and then planted him in the ground. Yeah, not good, Anat, you were always too ferocious.
But at least she brought me back to life by doing that. I suppose I should be grateful. And Mot came back to life as well, somehow. And then we fought again. In those days we were nuts. We fought until the sun goddess whatsername separated us.
And then I got my throne back. And the land was fertile again. Yet after a while people stopped believing in me and went for Yahweh. Figure that out! I never could.
At last Ba'al came to a long downhill run. Coasting, feeling the soft wind in his hair, and remembering that it was nearly teatime, he regained his equanimity.
Aah, he thought. This is really cool. It's so much nicer not to be a god.
John, he says to himself, it's a challenge. You must see what you can do.
He googles Ugaritic studies. Ah, he says. The cuneiform tablets of the Canaanites! The ancient gods. Ba'al, Lord of the Earth and Lord of the Rain and Dew. Yes! I have it.
He begins to write:
Ba'al on a Bicycle
Ba'al, once great god of the Canaanites, rode his bicycle along an undulating country lane. He enjoyed the freedom from godhead, nearly all the time. But the ups and downs of the road were making him introspective.
Where did it go wrong? he wondered. Things were great until the time I conquered Yam. Perhaps I should have been happy with that, and not asked El my father for a house. But no, I got the house, and that was fine. Perhaps I shouldn't have had that housewarming party.
No, the party went okay. I reckon I should have invited Mot, though.
Yeah, that was it. Mot was mad as hell. I hadn't even sent him respectful presents. And then he invited me to his house in the underworld, and I couldn't refuse. And he served me mud. Eughh!
The food of death. And eating it meant I had to stay down there.
But it wasn't that bad. I even got used to the mud diet. It kept me fit.
What it really was, and I guess I should just face up to it, I never should've married my sister Anat. She came down after me, sword blazing, split Mot in two, winnowed, burned and milled him and then planted him in the ground. Yeah, not good, Anat, you were always too ferocious.
But at least she brought me back to life by doing that. I suppose I should be grateful. And Mot came back to life as well, somehow. And then we fought again. In those days we were nuts. We fought until the sun goddess whatsername separated us.
And then I got my throne back. And the land was fertile again. Yet after a while people stopped believing in me and went for Yahweh. Figure that out! I never could.
At last Ba'al came to a long downhill run. Coasting, feeling the soft wind in his hair, and remembering that it was nearly teatime, he regained his equanimity.
Aah, he thought. This is really cool. It's so much nicer not to be a god.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
The Invitations
Of course it was Belle et Bonne who opened the email. She read it once and then she read it again.
Pliny the Elder, she said to herself. Who does he think he is?
She read it a third time.
Two professors with the same name, she thought. It could be a laugh.
She consulted Madam Denis.
What do you think? she said. Should I write to them inviting them to contribute something?
Madam Denis looked dubious.
Classics! she sniffed. And Ugaritic studies! These professors are hardly philosophers.
But how do you know? And you know papa and Uncle David don't really care as long as there are bicycles. I think I will.
Perhaps you should ask your papa first.
No Marie, it will be better as a surprise.
And so it was that later that day the two professors received the following invitations:
Dear Professor John F Healy,
On behalf of Le Bon David and The VeloDrone, editors of Velosophy, it is my great pleasure to invite you to contribute a short article on the subject of bicycle philosophy, as it relates to Ugaritic studies.
Yours sincerely,
Belle et Bonne.
( for the Editors )
Dear Professor John F Healey
On behalf of Le Bon David and The VeloDrone, editors of Velosophy, it is my great pleasure to invite you to contribute a short article on the subject of bicycle philosophy, as it relates to Classical studies.
Yours sincerely,
Belle et Bonne
( for the Editors )
Only Belle et Bonne knows whether she has mixed them up on purpose.
Pliny the Elder, she said to herself. Who does he think he is?
She read it a third time.
Two professors with the same name, she thought. It could be a laugh.
She consulted Madam Denis.
What do you think? she said. Should I write to them inviting them to contribute something?
Madam Denis looked dubious.
Classics! she sniffed. And Ugaritic studies! These professors are hardly philosophers.
But how do you know? And you know papa and Uncle David don't really care as long as there are bicycles. I think I will.
Perhaps you should ask your papa first.
No Marie, it will be better as a surprise.
And so it was that later that day the two professors received the following invitations:
Dear Professor John F Healy,
On behalf of Le Bon David and The VeloDrone, editors of Velosophy, it is my great pleasure to invite you to contribute a short article on the subject of bicycle philosophy, as it relates to Ugaritic studies.
Yours sincerely,
Belle et Bonne.
( for the Editors )
Dear Professor John F Healey
On behalf of Le Bon David and The VeloDrone, editors of Velosophy, it is my great pleasure to invite you to contribute a short article on the subject of bicycle philosophy, as it relates to Classical studies.
Yours sincerely,
Belle et Bonne
( for the Editors )
Only Belle et Bonne knows whether she has mixed them up on purpose.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Obsequious
Pliny the Elder is annoyed. The two professors have deprived him of the pleasure of writing a complaining letter. Worse, they have obliged him to write to the editors of Velosophy on their behalf. He derives no joy from being obsequious. He makes a start:
Greetings to the Editors of Velosophy from Pliny the Elder!
Gentlemen, due to a series of UNFORTUNATE EVENTS I find myself in the unenviable position of seeking a favour on behalf of two professors WHOM I BARELY KNOW. One is Professor John F Healey, the Professor of Ugaritic studies at Manchester University, and the other is Professor John F Healy, Professor of Classics at the University of London.
Professor John F Healey, whom I contacted in error, thinking he was Professor John F Healy, the translator of a SELECTION OF MY WORKS ( ! ), knew of me through my contributions to your magazine, and replied asking me if I would recommend him to you as a contributor. As I felt somewhat responsible for the connection, I agreed to do so.
Professor John F Healy, whom I also contacted in error, thinking I was replying to Professor John F Healey and agreeing to recommend him to you as a contributor, received the impression that I was inviting him to contribute to your magazine. Perhaps this is understandable, but it seems to me that Professor John F Healy was somewhat PRECIPITATE in his reply.
Whatever the case I feel I have done as much as can be reasonably expected by these TWO PROFESSORS. The rest is up to you.
I would prefer you to contact the professors directly, as I am a very busy man. I feel I should warn you however, if you do, IT IS EASY TO MIX THEM UP.
Thank you gentlemen, for your attention,
Pliny the Elder.
What do you think? asked Pliny, showing me the letter.
You have skilfully avoided being obsequious, I said.
Greetings to the Editors of Velosophy from Pliny the Elder!
Gentlemen, due to a series of UNFORTUNATE EVENTS I find myself in the unenviable position of seeking a favour on behalf of two professors WHOM I BARELY KNOW. One is Professor John F Healey, the Professor of Ugaritic studies at Manchester University, and the other is Professor John F Healy, Professor of Classics at the University of London.
Professor John F Healey, whom I contacted in error, thinking he was Professor John F Healy, the translator of a SELECTION OF MY WORKS ( ! ), knew of me through my contributions to your magazine, and replied asking me if I would recommend him to you as a contributor. As I felt somewhat responsible for the connection, I agreed to do so.
Professor John F Healy, whom I also contacted in error, thinking I was replying to Professor John F Healey and agreeing to recommend him to you as a contributor, received the impression that I was inviting him to contribute to your magazine. Perhaps this is understandable, but it seems to me that Professor John F Healy was somewhat PRECIPITATE in his reply.
Whatever the case I feel I have done as much as can be reasonably expected by these TWO PROFESSORS. The rest is up to you.
I would prefer you to contact the professors directly, as I am a very busy man. I feel I should warn you however, if you do, IT IS EASY TO MIX THEM UP.
Thank you gentlemen, for your attention,
Pliny the Elder.
What do you think? asked Pliny, showing me the letter.
You have skilfully avoided being obsequious, I said.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Double Confusion
Pliny writes:
Most amicable greetings to Professor Healey, from Pliny the Elder,
Sir, I am indeed that Pliny who wrote a story that was published in Velosophy. If I recall, it was a mystery, about a disappearing bicycle, in which I featured as an amateur detective, in the process being accidentally taken for the Messiah by the singing members of the local Korean Church. I am not too modest to admit that my story was enthusiastically received. The editors of Velosophy are therefore well disposed towards me, and I shall be very pleased to put your name forward as a potential contributor. Your interest in bicycle philosophy does you great credit, sir.
I am, etc...
He sends the email. A short time later he receives a reply.
Pliny: Oh, drat and blast!
Me: What's the matter?
Pliny: I've sent it to the wrong Professor Healy! How could I do it twice?
Me: You mean you sent it to the Classics Professor Healy, the one you were going to complain to?
Pliny: Yes, and now he has replied, thanking me for the invitation to contribute to Velosophy.
Listen to this:
Dear Gaius Plinius Secundus, what a wonderful surprise to hear from you after all this time. I had not realised you were still alive! I hope you do not mind me saying so. I was delighted, if a little surprised, to be invited to write something for the magazine Velosophy. It is a great honour, I understand. Your own story, which I have not read, sounds a remarkable one. I hope I shall come up with something if not as good, at least worthy of your confidence in me as a writer. I will admit, many years have passed since I last rode a bicycle. PS. Just a small point. My name is spelled Healy.
Me: Is that it?
Pliny: What do you mean is that it? It's a disaster! I can hardly write him a complaining letter now. And furthermore I am obliged to write to the editors on behalf of two Professor Healeys or Healys, both of whom are virtually unknown to me.
Me: Are you fearful for your reputation?
Pliny: No, no. Of course not.
Most amicable greetings to Professor Healey, from Pliny the Elder,
Sir, I am indeed that Pliny who wrote a story that was published in Velosophy. If I recall, it was a mystery, about a disappearing bicycle, in which I featured as an amateur detective, in the process being accidentally taken for the Messiah by the singing members of the local Korean Church. I am not too modest to admit that my story was enthusiastically received. The editors of Velosophy are therefore well disposed towards me, and I shall be very pleased to put your name forward as a potential contributor. Your interest in bicycle philosophy does you great credit, sir.
I am, etc...
He sends the email. A short time later he receives a reply.
Pliny: Oh, drat and blast!
Me: What's the matter?
Pliny: I've sent it to the wrong Professor Healy! How could I do it twice?
Me: You mean you sent it to the Classics Professor Healy, the one you were going to complain to?
Pliny: Yes, and now he has replied, thanking me for the invitation to contribute to Velosophy.
Listen to this:
Dear Gaius Plinius Secundus, what a wonderful surprise to hear from you after all this time. I had not realised you were still alive! I hope you do not mind me saying so. I was delighted, if a little surprised, to be invited to write something for the magazine Velosophy. It is a great honour, I understand. Your own story, which I have not read, sounds a remarkable one. I hope I shall come up with something if not as good, at least worthy of your confidence in me as a writer. I will admit, many years have passed since I last rode a bicycle. PS. Just a small point. My name is spelled Healy.
Me: Is that it?
Pliny: What do you mean is that it? It's a disaster! I can hardly write him a complaining letter now. And furthermore I am obliged to write to the editors on behalf of two Professor Healeys or Healys, both of whom are virtually unknown to me.
Me: Are you fearful for your reputation?
Pliny: No, no. Of course not.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Confused and Surprised
Pliny is reading an email. He looks puzzled.
Me: Is that an answer to your complaining letter?
Pliny: Yes, but I do not understand it. It appears to be from Professor John F Healey, but he claims he is not the translator of my Natural History.
Me: How peculiar. What does he say?
Pliny: He says, Dear friend, I have just now received your letter of complaint. I fear you have sent it to the wrong man. I am Professor John F Healey, Professor of Semitic, Ugaritic and Aramaic studies at Manchester University. The man deserving of your ire is Professor John F Healy, Professor of Classics at London University. I suggest you reroute your complaint to him.
Me: Oh dear, Pliny, you seem to have sent your complaint to the wrong Professor Healy. Yes look, it's Healy not Healey. Didn't you check?
Pliny: No. Who would have thought there would be two of them?
Me: There aren't two of them. One is a Healy and the other is a Healey. And they are professors of completely different things.
Pliny: Well, no harm is done. I shall now send my complaining letter to Professor Healy. And meanwhile I have made a new acquaintance. Professor Healey is interested in continuing our correspondence. He has added a little footnote to his missive.
Me: What does he say?
Pliny: Well, it is a little strange.
Me: Why am I not surprised?
Pliny: I think you will be. Professor Healey asks if I am that same Pliny who once wrote an article for the magazine Velosophy. It seems he is a bicycle philosopher and has written something on the topic. He asks if I would care to put in a good word for him with the editors.
Me: My goodness! You're right, I am surprised.
Me: Is that an answer to your complaining letter?
Pliny: Yes, but I do not understand it. It appears to be from Professor John F Healey, but he claims he is not the translator of my Natural History.
Me: How peculiar. What does he say?
Pliny: He says, Dear friend, I have just now received your letter of complaint. I fear you have sent it to the wrong man. I am Professor John F Healey, Professor of Semitic, Ugaritic and Aramaic studies at Manchester University. The man deserving of your ire is Professor John F Healy, Professor of Classics at London University. I suggest you reroute your complaint to him.
Me: Oh dear, Pliny, you seem to have sent your complaint to the wrong Professor Healy. Yes look, it's Healy not Healey. Didn't you check?
Pliny: No. Who would have thought there would be two of them?
Me: There aren't two of them. One is a Healy and the other is a Healey. And they are professors of completely different things.
Pliny: Well, no harm is done. I shall now send my complaining letter to Professor Healy. And meanwhile I have made a new acquaintance. Professor Healey is interested in continuing our correspondence. He has added a little footnote to his missive.
Me: What does he say?
Pliny: Well, it is a little strange.
Me: Why am I not surprised?
Pliny: I think you will be. Professor Healey asks if I am that same Pliny who once wrote an article for the magazine Velosophy. It seems he is a bicycle philosopher and has written something on the topic. He asks if I would care to put in a good word for him with the editors.
Me: My goodness! You're right, I am surprised.
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