Tangents Ahoy

[Pachyderm]

Found this on the old PC.

A friend and myself used to give each other little questions to answer. The title is hers, the words, mine. In return, I asked "Belgium. Why?" and got four pages about brassicas, the Spanish and trousers. And cave paintings of Mammoth hunting using carrots.

A Revisionist's examination of the existence of the Earth, outside the parameters of the collective and racial memory.

This treatise begins the onset of conscious thought by our most distant ancestors. Admittedly, this consciousness was probably aimed at the 3 fundamentals of life around this period:-

1.   Can I eat it?
2.   If not, can I mate with it?
3.   Should I, at this point be running away?

Heavy stuff indeed for someone (thing?) with the brain capacity they had.

Over the course of the development of the human race, brain size increased, cognitive power magnified, opposable thumbs were tested and found to be a good thing. (All this evolution, and for what? To spend a seventh of your week trailing behind a kind of mechanical sheep). Primitive weapons were developed. Some unsung genius discovered the value inherent in the club ( less than all the other suits, but with a longer range. And no scarring of fingers due to teeth. ). Then the exciting addition of pointy bits. This dramatically altered hunting techniques, and led to further development in the thought processes, viz:-

1.   Can I eat it?
2.   If not, can I mate with it?
3.   Why should I run away from it, for I am armed?

One of the great early thinkers, Ug of Gondwanaland postulated an extended version, with the inclusion of his now infamous Point 4.

     4. Curses and naughty words, my pointy stick is bro...........

Eventually, as human kind grew and spread out to cover the globe, thought patterns were similarly expanded, to encompass more than the satiation of instant desires and immediate gratification (although, in an infinite and varied universe, there is a place and time for anything. With, of course, the always notable exception of Liechtenstein. Which only exists to prove there are places in Austria so tedious that even the Swiss can't stand living in. Liechtenstein, the only country on the globe I traveled through and didn't realize it.)

"Nice valley. No sabre-tooths (Smilodont fatalis₁) . Bison. The wife can grow stuff near the cave. And the Jones's in the next valley have discovered fire. Must have them round to dinner...."

However, being new to the area he was fleeced by unscrupulous Neanderthals, and ended up buying the one patch of land in the entire valley the mastodons used as a lavvie.

It is believed that the last words of the long-lost Atlantean civilization, before it disappeared into myth and mystery were:

"Darling, I think I left the tap on"

Sumerian philosophy was neatly encapsulated by the most notable mind of Ancient Sumeria, Achmedbenazzer the Mildly Insane, in 4356 B.C.

"What, in the name of all the Gods and every thing Holy is all this bloody sand FOR.."

Egyptian thinking was coloured by a series of religious beliefs, most notably that when you died, it might be a good idea to sit you in salt, pull your brains out through your nose and thus ensure an eternity swigging beer with the Gods.

The idea of sitting in some secluded paradise, supping with the Immortals, is by no means exclusive to the Egyptians. Virtually every society has its version. The major difference is that societies based in hot climates generally have an afterlife of redolent luxury, in the shade of pretty trees, with plenty of wine, olives, larks tongues in aspic and nubile women with diaphanous trousers and no sense of shame.

However, Northern climes tend to an eternity of mortal combat. Anthropologists believe that this is the ultimate manifestation of the desire to be warm.

Another belief common to most societies is the Wheel of Time, Flywheel of the Gods, Dirty Great Wooden Disk of Fate, call it what you will. This is both a generative and degenerative process. It is usually seen as cyclical, never-ending and will eventually get back to the same point. Norsemen, however, have a slightly different view.

Two blind Gods sit at either end of a magic rope. One braids and slices the fibres to make the rope. The other, in a monumental fit of pique, frays and separates the fibres, dropping the remnants to the floor, where they are eventually to be incorporated once again. What this is meant to symbolize has been lost in the mists of time, but it may well indicate the mindless tedium of Norway.


1. Knife toothed killer. Some repression among the paleontologists, perhaps?

[Sibling Chatty]

As I read this, it occurred to me that it's at least as factual as what most American students are taught at school, and much better written.

[Pachyderm]

Thanks.

Found this one as well. I had been reading PG Wodehouse...

Pongo's Little Problem


Squatting uncomfortably in the dingy corner of the Marquis of Bespond's butler's hop-in "one-legged" wardrobe, Geoffrey de Mortmorency Baconjouster III decided he didn't like it. At this particular moment in time he didn't even know what it was, but he was cast-iron in his certainty that he didn't like it.

   Across the hallway in the Great Dining Cupboard (an exuberant FOUR square feet) debate raged. Well, to be honest, debate spluttered, as Pongo Snifter-Halberd desultorily argued with his conscience. The topic of the debate meandered aimlessly around the room, absent-mindedly biting at things, in a half-hearted attempt to establish whether there was actually anything edible, or if it was base calumny and vicious rumour vis-à-vis digestibility in the immediate vicinity. It also smelled remarkably like the contents of a wool jersey factory in the wettest place on the planet (somewhere in the Americas, Pongo was sure) whose unfortunate owner hadn't had the quite the required sum for the roof.

   It nudged open the bottom half of the bifurcated door with its nose, and wandered out into the hallway at exactly the correct moment to send GdMB3 sprawling.

   "I don't like it. I mean that most sincerely. I do not like it."

He pointed an accusatory finger at the unrepentant beast, and sniffed.

"What, in the name of the Sacred Knobbly Mace of Saint Elizabeth, complete, may I add, with the matching heather twin-set, is that God-awful stench? Is it that animal?"

Pongo stuck his head out, and launched into a detailed and convoluted explanation, entirely unassisted by his conscience, which kept interjecting. He had got as far as that a chap shouldn't intimate things about our faunal friends, particularly the one regarding Geoffrey with a baleful eye, when the goat realised that it had in fact been insulted. 

It stood up, and with an expression of extreme distaste matched only by the one on the Baconjouster visage, turned its back on him. Pongo snapped his head back into the room, and shut the door. Gentle whimpers were faintly audible, through the mighty ply board fascia.

Goats, as you may well be aware, are internationally (and justifiably) famous for two things, on top of the aforementioned smell. These three things are actually interconnected.

1.   Will eat anything
2.   Smell
3.   Temper

It is widely believed that 1 leads to 2, which leads to them being avoided by everything else, which leads nicely on to 3.

The Baconjouster ancestral home, Squelch House, had recently been holding a conference for the International Association of Cabbage-Related Industries, firming up the strategy for the world vegetable market domination they had conceived. Actually, the conception had been from two marketing gurus, Phil and Naomi. They were far too busy in Barbados to come. Experts in every field (literally, in some cases) of cabbage-related endeavour, from the seed producers to the farmers to the packagers and distributors had come for the "week-end of their professional life". There had also been marketing people, but they tended to be wearing flash, shiny suits, and be speaking into their ultra-cool mobile phones to someone called "Tarqs". Pongo had idly wondered just how many phones could he hold?

Due to an unfortunate logistical error (letting the marketing people organise the week-end) all the supplies brought had been cabbage. Good product placement and self-awareness, apparently.

Due to an unfortunate oversight, the entire conference (bar the marketing types) was allergic to cabbage.

The marketing people thought this was all a bit suspicious, but all the other delegates were well and truly sick of cabbages. The day was saved by the ubiquitous Tarqs, who suggested to seventeen people simultaneously the concept of home delivery.

A goat has a particularly tough and effective digestive system, due in no small part to item 1 in the aforementioned list. This particular goat had had nothing but cabbage. Admittedly, as the cook was a nice, kindly woman, cabbage done in a variety of ways, from au natural to julienne, to sauté. In retrospect, boiled may have been the mistake. The digestive system, having nothing but cabbage to work on, had decided to put in some overtime, and had really gone to town.

Pongo, from behind the now well-locked door, heard a noise not unlike a thousand cricket bats hitting a swimming pool full of jellyfish.

After a brief consultation with his conscience, he reflected that he hadn't seen his Uncle Frederick in Wogga-Wogga for a while.

[Aggie]

Another belief common to most societies is the Wheel of Time, Flywheel of the Gods, Dirty Great Wooden Disk of Fate, call it what you will. This is both a generative and degenerative process. It is usually seen as cyclical, never-ending and will eventually get back to the same point. Norsemen, however, have a slightly different view.

These day's it's the Hard Drive of Infinity, isn't it?