Sunday 30 November 2014

dramaturgy or meme-base

An aspiring thespian and student of Aristotle named Theophrastus devised a list of archetypal and stock-characters. While it may not be predictive of every aspect of human nature—as their ought to be as well a generic Misogynist, the Fan-Boy and the Xenophobe—and alternately, many positive qualities that probably are not very exciting are absent, it seems to be pretty complete, same-otherwise, and you could certainly apply the same template to a lot of modern means of expression, though the Greek makes the caricatures sound especially harsh:

The Insincere One (Eironeia, irony) The Flatterer (Kolakeia, the shit-sayer) The Garrulous One (Adoleschia, the Sophomoric One)


The Boor (Agroikia, the Skeptic) The Complacent One (Areskeia, the Inactive One) The One without Moral Feeling (Aponoia, the Psychopath)
The Talkative One (Lalia, Chatty-Cathy) The Fabricator (Logopoiia, the Wordsmith) The Shamelessly Greedy One (Anaischuntia, shunning society)


The Pennypincher (Mikrologia, Scrooge)
The Offensive One (Bdeluria, who sides towards delusion)
The Hapless One (Akairia, the Unlucky One)


The Officious Man (Periergia, just like a Boss)
The Absent-Minded One (Anaisthesia, the Selective One)
The Unsociable One (Authadeia, the Loner)


The Superstitious One (Deisidaimonia, the staunch conventionalist)
The Faultfinder (Mempsimoiria, the vulnernable one with something to prove)
The Suspicious One (Apistia, the conspiracy theorist)
The Repulsive One (Duschereia, poor hygiene)
The Unpleasant One (Aedia, the jaded, the scapegoat)
The One with Petty Ambition (Mikrophilotimia, the vain)
The Stingy One (Aneleutheria, the ungrateful child)
The Show-Off (Alazoneia, the dare-devil)
The Arrogant One (Huperephania, the by-stander)


The Coward (Deilia, the nostalgic soul)
The Oligarchical One (Oligarchia, the Untouchable)
The Late Learner (Opsimathia)
The Slanderer (Kakologia)
The Lover of Bad Company (Philoponeria)
The Basely Covetous Man (Aischrokerdeia)

orchard kebob

H got to take a cooking class one evening not too long ago and his team’s contribution to the meal was an exquisite mango and kidney bean variation on the classic Dรถner (shawarma) sandwich. He repeated the creation a few nights later and it was really easy to prepare and had a deliciously unique fusion of tastes. For four big sandwiches, one needs the following:

  • One can of kidney beans (200 grams)
  • One flat-bread—Dรถner or Gyro bread would be best but any similar loaf (like pita, tandoori) would do 
  • A small onion, one or two cloves of garlic
  • A large mango
  • One large chunk of fresh mozzarella, 200 grams of soft ricotta cheese 
  • Some rocket (Rucola) for garnish, about 100 grams

Pulse the kidney beans, garlic and onion together with a food-processor, season with a pinch of salt, pepper and chili power, and combine with ricotta to form a purple paste. Slice the bread and apply the spread liberally to both to the top and bottom of the bun. Chop up the mango and mozzarella and arrange it on the bread with some rocket and toast the sandwiches, either with a sandwich-press or alternatively in the oven, under the weight of a casserole dish, until the bread has browned and the two halves stick together. A tsatsiki or yogurt sauce would compliment these nicely.

Saturday 29 November 2014

tinker and tanker

Remember Richard Scarry’s picture book Busy, Busy Town that illustrated what people do all day? Tom-the-Dancing-Bug cartoonist Ruben Bolling brings the Butcher and Baker into more contemporary times. What do you think? The commentary strikes me as far from cynical.  What occupation would you include, with most traditional trades being out-sourced or endangered by machines?  

six-penny or landed-gentry

Absent Roman influence and insular trading practices, the British Isles were relative late-comers to fiat currency, which perpetuated the tradition role of kingship that had existed among the Germanic tribes even as kingdoms grew beyond the tribal clan. Essentially without coinage—though some charters did exist for so called moneyiers to produce crude blanks of specie for trading purposes, the old ways of the continental Saxons held with the king collecting tribute from peasants, whom were otherwise free, in the form of conscription and an annual food tax, figured on the size and arability of their parcel of land. Of course being a French term, the farmers in Britain did not pay taxes, though the concept is pretty universal, but rather a mol or male—which incidentally is the source of the idea of blackmail, given that there were bullying vigilantes who tried to supplement the king’s army and forced individuals to pay up for extra protection—blaichmol, protection rent, rather than the alledged latter day practise of posting letters of extortion in darkly coloured envelopes so the receiver did not know where the stamp was canceled. Matters, however, began to change for England with the Norman Invasion, who reintroduced economic policy and a currency over barter system that they had inherited from the Romans. The Normans, through the Franks, also employed some housekeeping methods that the Romans had failed to comprehend, which led to hyper-inflation and the eventual collapse of the Empire. Though Emperor Diocletian had made a good-faith effort to round up all the destructive and worthless currency he could managed, these gestures fell short.
The Franks and later the English, however, were more savvy about the face-value of coins, and began to issue legal-tender with an expiration date that better ensured that there would be no runaway inflation. Say shepherd Dagofirรพ had earned sixty shillings—twelve pence (the penny being named for former uniting force Penda, with no relation to the Welsh dynasty of Pendragons from Arthurian lore) to a shilling and twenty shilling to a Pound (£ being a symbol for libre pondo from the Latins) having derived from the French style of twelve denier to the solidus (being the wage a soldier) and twenty of these to a livre—and in order to keep what he earned current, he must redeem his coins after three years at the counting-house of his liege, King ร†รพelฦนorn. Dagofirรพ, however, might be surprised to find he is only getting back, say, three-and-fifty shillings in the new, up-to-date coinage, minus some administrative costs of mining and minting the silver in ร†รพelฦนorn’s good name, plus as a mechanism for market-corrections if, say, there had been a poor grain harvest or royal ransoms to pay. It was clever and responsible on the part of the government to cast such bounds over money, but after its introduction, matters escalated rather quickly. Pretty soon, Dagofirรพ could not manage to keep up with his obligations to his family with his devalued coin, and so so luckier personage, a apiarist who had connections perhaps with that blackmailing crowd, named Beวทofief, graciously steps in and offers to help Dagofirรพ in his plight. Beฦofief will be responsible for the shortcomings (and profit) in exchange for holding title to the land Dagofirรพ was working for ร†รพelฦนorn directly. Many of Beวทofief’s peers got keen to this scheme as well, and soon the an aristocratic class of landed-gentry was formed, that alienated the worker from his king and keep and came to be called the feudal system. A hierarchy of counts, dukes, earls, barons was soon established that all compounded this estranging effect and put more distance between the monarch and subject.  Rich with actual money that resembled coinage encountered elsewhere, England soon entered in the world stage as a trading partner, with suppliers pleased to receive legitimate-looking money in exchange instead of pledges, rough-hewn coins, or bushels of perishable turnips. This success, however, was also soon to attract the notice of their former neighbours, the Vikings occupying lands adjacent in Scandinavia, from whence the Anglo-Saxons vacated, and soon summoned raiding parties from across the seas, thinking these wealthy lands might be easy targets.

Thursday 27 November 2014

lycanthrope or heutoscopic

I had always thought that the majority of the corporeal menagerie of beastly creatures could be chalked-up to dull glances and keen imaginations, like witnessing the novelty of horseback riding and constructing the centaur—to be later embellished with a mythological pedigree and literary tradition.
I am learning, however, that chimera—and not just to philosophically quizzical kind from Greek lore (like our old friend, poor sad Cyclopes, whom was just a normal oafish giant until he traded one eye for the ability to see into the future—however, that gift of foresight was limited to being able to see his time of death), often carry a pretty heady cerebral burden as well, which may not have followed too long after or may well be the manifestations our mental-constructs were looking to project.  I had believed that werewolves and were-bears (Beowulf means bee-hunter or rather honey-bear) were frightened hearsay from survivors who had encountered fierce warriors who dressed in animal skins and head-dresses, and while that may be the original inspiration from an outside perspective, there was also something highly ritualistic and complex going on for those who donned and doffed the pelts themselves. Like the game-face of the brutal Achaean fighter Ajax, the ancient Vikings also had a tradition of working themselves into a frenzied rage before going into battle, making themselves berserk.

These possessed Berserkers were named after the bear-shirts that the wore and fought with super-human strength. From the psychological perspective of the Germanic peoples, however, the warrior was not transformed into an animal—at least not in a straightforward manner. These people put stock in the belief of out-of-body experiences and though the human soul, which was taken to be a shadow of its corporeal self—a Doppelgรคnger, would vacate the body to allow an animal spirit to inhabit it and the displaced human soul popped up somewhere else, usually as one of the relief crew sleeping through the first phase of the skirmish while its Berserker-self was engaged in the fight. Heutoscopy is the clinical term for seeing one’s divided self. It was a very bad omen to encounter one’s own evil twin, and usually the strength was sapped from both.

Wednesday 26 November 2014

mad dogs and englishmen

Writing for The Daily Beast, Tom Sykes mourns the loss of the nutty aristocrat, a class gradually being replaced by a dull and drab and socially-conscience set who if not our betters then also not reproving, cautionary cases nor charming eccentrics neither. The article includes many anecdotes and one can delve further into these mostly harmless and often truly obliging and passionate oddities. I enjoyed finding out more about the interview subject of the column, William Sitwell, who definitely has a priceless streak of unconventionality galloping in the family—but has sadly accepted the fate of self-exile as a celebrity judge in television land. As Oscar Wilde once quipped, “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”