When in the course of human events it becomes necessary to shamelessly self-promote, and to strengthen the bands which connect one with the Internet, a decent respect to the opinions of Humankind requires that one declare the causes which impel one to the blogitation.
Seriously, the accordion work in that song is great. Call it a squeezebox, call it a concertina or a flutina, but the thing has got a real sound to it, doesn't it?
I was meandering my way through London a few years ago and had the great fortune of visiting a place that had up until then only existed in my head and on VHS. Bedknobs and Broomsticks, the 1971 Disney musical based on Mary Norton's book, had been an oft-viewed part of my childhood. It had just the right mix of fantasy (in the form of animated suits of armor) and historical something-or-other (in the form of a foiled Nazi invasion of England). I really dug watching it.
The characters in the film find themselves on London's Portobello Road, searching for magical books. I'm not sure why that's italicized; it just seemed right. Portobello Road is a huge antique market, with all kinds of cool stuff to be had. While there, I bought my mom some cool old-as-hell spinning bobbins. The Portobello Road of Bedknobs and Broomsticks was a far more fantastic place than the English flea market that I encountered, but it was rewarding nonetheless. Fabulous stuff, really.
I leave you with the text of the song and dance number:
"Portobello Road" - Robert and Richard Sherman
Portobello road, Portobello road Street where the riches of ages are stowed. Anything and everything a chap can unload Is sold off the barrow in Portobello road. You'll find what you want in the Portobello road.
Rare alabaster? Genuine plaster! A filigreed samovar owned by the czars. A pen used by Shelley? A new Boticelli? The snipper that clipped old King Edward's cigars?
"Made in Hong Kong? Two bob a dozen, would you say?"
Waterford Crystals? Napoleon's pistols? Society heirlooms with genuine gems! Rembrandts! El Greco's! Toulouse-Letrec'os! Painted last week on the banks of the Thames!
Portobello road, Portobello road! Street where the riches of ages are stowed Anything and everything a chap can unload Is sold off the barrow in Portobello road. You'll meet all your chums in the Portobello road
There's pure inspiration in every creation. No cheap imitations, not here in me store. With garments as such as was owned by a Duchess. Just once at some royal occasion of yore.
In Portobello Road, Portobello Road The fancies and fineries of ages are showed. A lady will always feel dressed a la mode In frillies she finds in the Portobello road.
"Burke's Peerage;" "The Bride Book;" "The Fishmonger's Guidebook;" A Victorian novel, "The Unwanted Son;" "The History of Potting", "The Yearbook of Yachting," The leather bound "Life of Attila the Hun."
Portobello Road, Portobello Road Street where the riches of ages are stowed Artifacts to glorify our regal abode Are hidden in the flotsam in Portobello Road You'll find what you want in the Portobello Road
Tokens and treasures, yesterday's pleasures Cheap imitations of heirlooms of old Dented and tarnished, scarred and unvarnished In old Portobello they're bought and they're sold
Portobello Road, Portobello Road Street where the riches of ages are stowed Artifacts to glorify our regal abode Are hidden in the flotsam in Portobello road. You'll find what you want in the Portobello Road
The title of this post is Ανάργυροι. In Roman letters, it's anargyroi. We are presented with the root of arg, which near as I can make sense of, relates to silver. The an on the front of it denotes a negative, or withoutness. The bit at the end, oi, means that we're talking about a group of something that relates directly to the silver-root.
Anargyroi - Those without silver
It's an old title for Saints Cosmas and Damian, who refused payment for their work in healthcare. They brought healing and solace and asked for nothing in return. How nice. Good piece from Matthew 10:8.
Δωρεάν ελάβετε, δωρεάν δότε - Freely ye have received; freely give.
Here's a cheerful picture of Cosmas and Damian getting beheaded for espousing socialist health policy.
I really do prefer to use the name "Lucifer" when referring to the Prince of Darkness. It has such a sinuous ring to it:
LOOS-IH-FUR
For being the "epicenter of evil," the name itself means "light-bringer." The name Lucy is directly related. In the original Greek, it's heosphoros, or herperus, or Ἓσπερος, which translates to "dawn-bearer." Can we then assume that Lucifer is so named because he brings light, and why would that be a bad thing? The obvious correlation is with Prometheus, who brought the "gift" of fire, and thusly, civilization, to ancient man. Did bringing light, i.e. civilization, technology, modernism, etc. to the world cheapen it? This is a question best left to others.
I prefer to view Lucifer not so much as the "bad guy," but as something more approaching the following story, retold with great care by the late, awesome Joseph Campbell:
One of the most amazing images of love that I know is Persian – a mystical Persian representation as Satan as the most loyal lover of God. You will have heard the old legend of how, when God created the angels, he commanded them to pay worship to no one but himself; but then, creating man, he commanded them to bow in reverence to this most noble of his works, and Lucifer refused – because, we are told, of his pride. However, according to this Muslim reading of his case, it was rather because he loved and adored God so deeply and intensely that he could not bring himself to bow before anything else, and because he refused to bow down to something that was of less superiority than him. (Since he was made of fire, and man from clay.) And it was for that that he was flung into Hell, condemned to exist there forever, apart from his love.
What a sad tale. I can see Lucifer's attorney (of course, lawyers) pleading his case, "His only crime was that he loved too much!" Whatever the case, it's all complicated by the cultural baggage that certain names carry. I could never get away with naming my child Lucifer (light-bringer), or even Damian (old saint of free medical care).
The name of Lucifer is sullied because of its association with ineffable evil, Damian with an evil little kid in those Omen movies.
Had an attack of the Yesterdays earlier this week. I was trying to figure out how to get back into the old Photobucket account. I haven't been there in forever. In fact, once I was in, I went to change the email contact info. It was still my old-old-old email from Aurora. Like before it was my name and was just my student number. Basically, ages ago.
There are a bunch of pictures of kittens and dictators, as well as a good one of William Shatner. But there are also a few handfuls of shots from the old apartment, mostly from January and February of 2005, when I had just moved in. There are a few from when my hair was too short to be…short…but too long to be a ponytail. One shows me with a Cubs glass of green liquid. I remember that liquid: Bacardi Gold and dnL (7UP-sidedown). It was disgusting.
It got me thinking again about the strange series of events that has brought me to where I am. I can point specifically to a few spots that, if they had happened differently, would have significantly altered things. In some cases, I can even pick out dates, or at least approximations, for when these "turns" happened.
I am certain that this is a common occurrence. Yet, in a life full of options, sometimes wondering about the "what ifs?" is terribly interesting. I try not to dwell. What is past is past, and I am terribly happy now.
I finished work on the massive research project for our Democracy in Latin America lab tonight. The final piece came out to 5,585 words, which is around what I was shooting for. It's big. The document itself is near 136kb, and it comes in at 17 pages in single-space block paragraph form. A handful of snarky footnotes and a firm unwillingness to adopt a paragraphing style that is easy on the eyes have turned the paper into something strange to look at. I footnoted the title. Who footnotes titles, anyway?
The TA will tell me soon whether or not I lived up to expectations. I certainly hope so, eh? Once it's graded and I'm sure that I can move it around, I'll post it through the blog as a Googledoc.
But damn, was it a lot of work. I still have another pile of research that never even made its way into a brief mention; there were things that I just didn't have the wherewithal to mention.
On the whole, though, I find the concept of corruption as exclusion to be a pretty damn salient point when one is discussing notions of vertical and horizontal accountability in democracy. It's possible that I will return to this paper at a later date and do some more digging. There's gotta be an answer in there somewhere, right?
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