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22 October 2004 Go here now. This man makes me happy. In other news, I just got back from Dublin on Monday. While I was exhausted on Tuesday morning, it was a trip well-worth it. I was there for a conference on Jonathan Swift, specifically A Tale of a Tub. Even if I'm not a Swiftian. (Do you hear that? Not a Swiftian.) It was a lovely conference though, and while I'm not an 18th century scholar, I have a very soft spot in my heart for the Drapier Dean. You just have to appreciate anyone who writes this poem: The Tale of the T--D* A Pastry-Cook once molded up a T — (You may believe me when I give my Word) With nice Ingredients of the fragrant kind, And Sugar of the best, right Doubl’ refin’d, He blends them all; for he was fully bent Quite to annihilate its Taste, and Scent. With Out-strecht Arms, he twirls the Rolling-Pin, And spreads the yielding Ordure smooth and Thin. ‘Twas not to save his Flow’r, but shew his Art, Of such foul Dough to make a sav’ry Tart. He heats his Ov’n with care, and bak’d it well, But still the Crust’s offensive to the Smell; The Cook was vext to see himself so foil’d, So Works it to a Dumpling, which he boyl’d; Now out it comes, and if it stunk before, It stinks full twenty times as much, and more. He breaks fresh Eggs, converts it into Batter, Works them with Spoon about a Wooden-Platter, To true consistence, such as Cook-maids make At Shrovetide, when they toss the pliant Cake. In vain he twirls the Pan, the more it fries, The more the Nauseous, fetid Vapours rise. Resolv’d to make it still a sav’ry bit, He takes the Pan-Cake, rolls it round a Spit, Winds up the Jack, and sets it to the fire, But roasting rais’d it’s pois’nous fumes the high’r. Offended much (although it was his own,) At length he throws it, where it shou’d be thrown, And in a Passion, storming loud, he cry’d, If neither bak’d, nor boyl’d, or roast, nor fry’d, Can thy offensive Hellish Taint reclaim, Go to the filthy Jakes from whence you came. The Moral: This Tale requires but one short Application, It fits all Upstart Scoundrels in each Nation, Minions of Fortune, Wise Men’s jest in Pow’r, Like Weeds on Dunghils Stinking, Rank, and Sour. *I have intended no connection to any current election campaigns in my quotation of this poem today. 1 October 2004 I know I haven't been keeping up. I've been busy busy busy. But now 'tis the season for the presidential debates. I love the debates, even though they're not really debates and nothing is ever said that is particularly enlightening about the policies of either candidate allowed to participate (read: Demopublicans and Republicrats). But all this is beside the point. In fact, it's part of the reason why I get so much amusement out of what might be considered a waste of 90 minutes of my life. First, the best things about the debates: Kerry's tiny mouth. Are we sure he's not really an anime character? Bush's eye roll (in about the first five minutes of the debate while Kerry was speaking.) Kerry's non-sequitor references to Vietnam. No one cares. Get over it. Bush's crooked tie. Kerry's brillo-pad hair. Bush saying moolah for mullah. This one had me cracking up on my sofa for a good five minutes. Kerry's bright red cheeks. I don't think the colour suited him. Maybe he should ask his wife before applying makeup. Bush's stumbling over his words for the rest of the debate when faced with the word "test." (Okay, so this is a little out of context, but it was still priceless.) And finally, the twinkie wives. Did anyone else notice that Laura and Theresa had on almost the SAME outfit? Faux pas! Yes, I'm petty. But when you spend 90 minutes basically listening to the same three points hammered in from each candidate regardless of the question asked, you'd find other ways to amuse yourself too. A debate should not be a laundry list of excerpts from stump speeches, state of the union addresses, convention speeches, etc. This is not argument, and it just perpetuates the inability to actually listen to and address the question posed. I really should be taping these so that when I go back to teaching freshman composition, I can use them as examples of bad argumentation, because that's what they are. As you can see, I'm harsh on Bush and Kerry. As far as I'm concerned, they both get an F minus for the first debate. I read in the Washington Times a comment that boiled down to the fact that there was not a victor in the debate. That, my friends, is a nice way of saying that both men sucked. Ain't this election year grand? |
