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The Debt of Socrates

This article by Christopher Buckley in the New York Times (May 22, 2010) is a very clever piece of satire on the debt crisis in Europe.  Would that we all could be so clever.


The Debt of Socrates


By Christopher Buckley

I went down yesterday to the Piraeus with Glaucon, that I might offer up my prayers to the goddesses Brussels and Euro.  There we chanced to find among other companions Polemarchus, who was sorely vexed.


Why the long face? I asked.


He replied that his wife, a hairdresser, had just been informed by the Assembly that because of the recent calamities in the Treasury, the state will no longer recompense her an additional sum on top of her regular fee for dying her ladies’ locks with Egyptian henna.


It leaves her hands much stained, he said.  Is this the action of a just state, that it should abrogate the Handling of Possibly Dangerous Substances clause in the Hairdressers Guild Contract ... said to date to the time of the Titans?


Amid the general murmuring, Cephalus, a Retiree, began to curse so vehemently as to make Hera turn the color of pomegranate, saying that he too had been ill used by the Assembly.


Now they tell me, he said, that I may no longer have free passage aboard the state inter-island trireme for my visits to Mykonos, where I make sacrifice to Apollo Suntan Oil.  Am I to pay for transport out of my own purse?  Did I not give Athens a lifetime of service, a full ten years, licensing and dispensing the monthly bonuses to Thessalonian olive inspectors?


Indeed you did, I replied, but did the Assembly not recompense you an additional portion for knowing how to operate the bonus-tabulating counting apparatus, and another portion for speaking Phoenician?


Why should I not receive a little extra? he replied hotly.  Are the foresters not paid an extra portion for working in the forest?


Very well, I said, but let me ask you, Should a fisherman be paid extra for fishing?


Glaucon replied, Yes, that would be only fair inasmuch as fish, though beloved of Poseidon, are slimy and often stink.  Nor is catching them a pleasant business, for one must rise and take to the boat even before Helios’ chariot has climbed in the East.


Mischievous Adeimantus interjected, I suppose, Socrates, you will now ask if a philosopher should be paid extra to corrupt the youth of Athens?  This occasioned a great slapping of thighs.


I replied, Before you would increase the philosopher’s salary, Adeimantus, you must first give him a salary.  Look at my cloak.  It is not nearly as fine as that of our companion Niceratus, who as collector of fees at the Temple of Athena on the Acropolis is paid a higher hourly wage than Herakles received for cleaning out the Augean Stables.  And he gets an extra portion merely for showing up on time.  No wonder the state money-house looks as though it has been visited by the Furies.  Tell me this, Did brave Achilles demand extra compensation for slaying Hector?


He should have, asserted Cleitophon.  Under Rule 17 of the Warriors’ Guild Standard Contract, anyone volunteering for single combat during a siege more than 100 miles from Athens and lasting not less than one year is eligible for triple pay, plus retirement on full salary with payments to be continued after one’s death to female descendants up to and including the third generation.  To say nothing of lifetime trireme privileges, and thrice-annual consultations with the Oracle at Delphi.


A pretty package indeed, I said.  I may volunteer for single combat myself.  But let me ask you, Glaucon, Polemarchus and you other wise fellows: who shall pay for all these handsome emoluments, while the wind howls through the emptied Siphnian Treasury?


They murmured among themselves.  At length Thrasymachus said, Let us ask the gods.  Surely they would not leave us to the mercies of austere Brussels and flighty Euro.


By all means, I said, make your entreaties to Olympus.  But remember ... whom the gods would destroy, first they make pensioners at 40.

We Are Art

Some late night thoughts on a Sunday night as I sit in my study alone.  I just finished a couple of books on how to make your life more like an adventure and regard everything as art ... I have to suspend the naturally skeptical side of me so as not to inject so-called "negative energy" or "bad vibes" into this piece.  That would not be good.  After all, we all are artists.  Just as we all are philosophers, scientists, scholars, writers, geniuses.  


So ... now I am a artist and my life is filled with awe.  It is awe-some.  I live art.  I live out loud.  I am an explorer of the world.  I pick up dirt and examine it for the first time and see the wonderous miracle and beauty it contains.  I jot down notes randomly and they become sonorous poetry, singing to the depths of our collective souls.  My life is art.  My life is a museum.  My life is poetry.  I could say the same thing about my snot and my shit, both of which I am over-abundantly full, but I don't want to sound facetious or exude "negative energy."  Besides, there are some who might actually agree that snot could be poetic.  

At any rate, I have taken up drawing cartoons.  Mind you, they are almost stick-figures, but they amuse me.  I am the main character, of course, and I have innane conversations about non-events.  I even bought some colored pencils, and I may even take up a superficial study of art to amuse myself.  I have no pretensions.  None.  This is done solely to amuse an old man who is trying to pass time until he retires, and then after that, if I continue, to fill up time in the day, along with a dozen other things I plan to do after my "post-work" life begins.  "Artistically," of course, since I am living art.  Breathing art.  Eating art.  %$*&-ing art.  And philosophy.  Oh yes, let us not forget philosophy, the first and last mistress, demanding dominatrix that she is.

The Ghost Inside, by Broken Bells

Another video I made, The Ghost Inside, by Broken Bells.  I like the song, I like the way this video looks.  I hope you do, too.

How do I love ya? Lemme sum it up

Apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning


How do I love ya? Lemme sum it up
I love ya pretty much as far as my soul can reach,
If I had one, but I don't, so bad analogy there...
I love ya more than I love eatin' hamburgers an' fries,
An' I can tell ya, I really really love eatin' 'em!
Oh yeah, an' I love ya even when ya get all weepy and stuff
An' blame me for everything,
Which, when I think of it, is probably true,
But hey!  I'm a guy, what d'ya expect?
Yeah, I love ya even then.
And I also love ya when I'm feelin' low
'cause my TV is on the blink
And there's nothin' better to do but just talk with ya
About things ya like but that bore the hell outta me,
And stuff like that,
Yeah, even then I love ya.
And then, when I think how much I love ya and miss ya,
And I think, yeah, I could do this all my life,
Jus' lovin' ya an' lovin' ya
'Til, like they say, death do us part,
And then even after that, jus' keep on lovin' ya...
If I had a soul, that is,
Which I don't...so, I guess it's only until death, then...
Right.

Police Barred From Penis Enlargement

No, I am not making this up.  This is an actual news report from Indonesia:

Police Barred From Penis Enlargement

Jakarta

Apr 23, 2010

(Reuters) - Forget about getting a job as a police officer in Indonesia's Papua if you have had your penis enlarged. You won't get it, according to local media reports citing the Papua police chief.

An applicant "will be asked whether or not his vital organ has been enlarged," said Papua police chief Bekto Suprapto, quoted on local website Kompas.com.

"If he has, he will be considered unfit to join the police or the military."

The ban was applied since the unnatural size causes "hindrance during training," said police spokesman Zainuri Lubis in Jakarta, quoted by news portal Detik.com.

Indonesia's remote easternmost province is home to Papuan tribes, many of whom are known for wearing penis gourds.

A low-level separatist insurgency has waged in the resources-rich part of Indonesia for decades and there is a heavy police and military presence there.

Papuans use a local technique to achieve the enlargement, according to a sexologist quoted by local newspaper Jakarta Globe, wrapping the penis with leaves from the "gatal-gatal" (itchy) tree so that it swells up "like it has been stung by a bee," the expert said.

So, I wonder what an (allegedly imaginary) conversation with a potential police applicant would sound like:

Possible dialog with an applicant:

 Inspector: Mr. Tatakalataklamanbu, congratulations, you have successfully passed the written exam!

Applicant: Oh!  I am so happy!  My mother is so happy!!!  My dead grandfather is so happy!

Inspector: Just one more thing....

Applicant: What is that?

Inspector: Let me see your penis.

Applicant: ??  Say again?

Inspector: Let me see your penis.  It's part of the exam.

Applicant: Ok.  Here.

Inspector: Oh my god!!!  That's huge!!!  Sorry, you flunk!  Get out!

Applicant: Why?

Inspector: No one can have that large a penis unless it has been enlarged!  Next applicant!

Applicant: No...this is all mine!  Every inch!!

Inspector: No way!!  That's just not possible!

Applicant: In my tribe, I am considered tiny, my nickname is "he who has tiny peepee like python"....

Inspector: No, you're organ is just too big to be natural.

Applicant: Ok, let me see your penis.

Inspector: What?

Applicant: Let me see your penis!

Inspector: This isn't grade school "show and tell"...I'm the inspector here.

Applicant: I just want to know what you think a normal penis size is....so, show me.

Inspector: Well, ok...see?

Applicant: [In tears]: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!  I have never seen such a tiny pecker in all my life!!!

Inspector: [Red faced]: It's a normal-sized penis....

Applicant: No it's not.  It's like a tiny earth worm!  Did you write the penis rules?

Inspector: Me?  No.  My boss did.  What do you mean, "like a worm?"

Applicant: Your boss must have the tiniest pecker in the world!  Even tinier than yours!

Inspector: Well, rules are rules, you can't be a police officer.  Your penis is too big, and so you must have enlarged it.

Applicant: Your penis is too small...it can't be natural...You must have cut most of it off!

Inspector: Get out!  See if I show you my penis any more!

The End of the World

The End of the World....Yes, there once was a time when I believed in the Apocalypse, a fiery war. the heavens opening up, and Satan and his legions pitched in a battle with the Archangel at the end, when the world as we now know it would come screaming to a halt.

2000....Doomsday!

Back then, when I was a believer, the End of the World was going to happen in the year 2000.  All the prophecies were vaguely written, to be sure, but the "soothsayers" of the various religions had a pretty good gauge on when it was to materialize.  What better time than to have the Y2K Krisis....signaling the inevitable collapse of man's (yeah, verily, even woman's) sinful ways on this rock.  Oh yes, I believed (when I was young), fervently believed in the end of all things ... not in a rapture as such, but certainly in an apocalypse.  Even though I wanted to ascend to heaven, I also wanted to see the forces of evil duking it out with the heavenly superheroes, I wanted to see pillars of smoke, cities rendered asunder, bodies of the dead (wicked and sinful, to be sure, but unfortunately, not zombies) scattered in the streets....In short, I wanted to see a really good movie!

The movie 2012 cops out all over the place, with its preachy Christian themes and the Mayan/Incan hook that they (not the Jesus churches) predicted the end.  Still, the movie has been registering some seismic waves in society.

2012, or ????

According to a recent Pew Research Center survey, 41% of Americans now think the apocalypse will occur by or before 2050...i.e., that Jesus will return.  Evangelical Christians are more likely than other mainline Christian religions to believe in the Second Coming (60% vs. about 1/3 for mainline Protestants and Catholics).  It appears education is a factor....among Americans, only 19% with a college education believe the second coming will happen by 2050, vs 59% with a high school education or less.  And regional factors are also at work....a majority of Southerners believe this, whereas believers in the rest of the country are in a minority.

Maybe It Is 2012 After All....

2012 is when I retire.....Hey!  Maybe I am the Great Satan everyone is worried about!  Or, better yet, I will be ready for my own Second Coming!  Beware world!  For verily I have spoken!