Brian, Borges & Bioy

To be immortal is commonplace; except for man, all creatures are immortal, for they are ignorant of death; what is divine, terrible, incomprehensible, is to know that one is immortal.

I am god, I am hero, I am philosopher, I am demon and I am world, which is a tedious way of saying that I do not exist.

Brian Cowen, Taoiseach, March 25th, 2009

Blimey!!!!!

No.

Sorry.

This was a certain Jorge Luis Borges, quoted by Mr. Chris God-free Morell who, by the way, has nothing to do with a certain Seňor Morel, protagonist in Seňor Adolfo Bioy Casares' novel "La invención de Morel".

Well, yes, Seňor Casares had something to do with Seňor Borges.

No, none of the seňores had anything to do with any Taoiseach.

P.S. Sorry for any inconvenience: First the title, then the story.

The Taoiseach's New Clothes II

"But he hasn't got anything on," a little child said.

"Did you ever hear such innocent prattle?" said its father. And one person whispered to another what the child had said, "He hasn't anything on. A child says he hasn't anything on."

"But he hasn't got anything on!" the whole town cried out at last.

The Taoiseach Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, "This procession has got to go on." So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn't there at all.

Why would I spontaneously come to think of Hans-Christian Andersen's tale The Emperor's New Clothes (a short version to be found here), and why is Andersen rotating with laughter in his dwelling six feet under?

Well, Brian Cowen, Ireland's Taoiseach (Prime Minister) may have shivered like Andersen's Emperor; and so may his entourage when watching this on RTE.



And why not? It's not necessarily great fun to get hit by the shifts of (ribald) satire. Ask Mohammed.
So far it's been a modern adaption of Andersen's tale, varying only in so far as there was no child saying "But he hasn't got anything on!" but a clever (?*) chap gracing the (toilet-) walls of two museums with drawings of a Taoiseach who hasn't got anything on.
*- I'll come back to this point.

But then:



Pardon?!
Pain for the Taoiseach and his family?
Did the Taoiseach get tortured in Guantanamo, in a Chinese, Iranian or Syrian prison? Waterboarding, and so on?
Disrespect of his office?!?!
Mind you, it's honourable to demonstrate or even feel pity with one's boss when he's getting mocked, but: Are there 'tea-shocking' paintings of the Taoiseach's naked entourage, be they with member or without, gracing the walls of Dublin's toilets?
Didn't RTE tell all?

End of the beforegoing.

When telling him the above, my friend Tetrapilotomos, currently busy with finishing his encyclopaedia of pre-assyrian philately, did not even look up, but just murmured: "And there are medical scientists still discussing when a human being is braindead."

As mostly I did not understand. Until I stumbled via the best Egg in the blogosphere upon this:

The Taoiseach's New Clothes
with thanks to Allan Cavanagh

... and this:

126 seconds artwork
with thanks to Fustar

... and Damien Mulley

... and many many others

... and ...

... who knows what will happen when Bock the Robber has finally moved to his new server ...


... to be continued.

The Taoiseach's New Clothes

Recently Jams O'Donnell Esq. exhibited artist Uglow's euphemising painting of an ugly woman (photo above). Would any Bobby have interfered? No. Neither has the painting been confiscated, nor's an investigation into the matter under way. Well, the English police might have other things to do.

Same with the German physicist who would unfortunately give up her job in order to become Chancellor.
Neither has the police confiscated umteen millions of euphemising Barbie-Angelas nor any other more realistic art work.


One might wonder what (other things), but anyway, like the English police the German police seem to have other things to do.

Not so the Irish police. They have - as everybody knows - absolutely nothing to do except of calming down the enthusiasm of the plain Irish people when it comes to celebrate their beloved leaders' altruism and wisdom.
Well, another evidence you might draw from yesterday's post.

Which is why today the BBC could tell the rest of the world that, apparently alarmed by the authorities (sic) of the Royal Hibernian Academy in Dublin* there is an investigation [...] under way, according the provenience of two paintings that for lack of knowing its official title I tend to introduce as The Taoiseach's New Clothes.


Glad to learn the Irish police after all seem to feel they have something worthwhile to do, after clicking the 'publish'-button I shall start to count my Zimbabwian Dollars, as I am determined to buy the 'The Taoiseach's New Clothes' which happened to be found gracing a wall of the toilet inside the National Gallery.

* Interesting, by the way, to have a glimpse at the BBC's url: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/northern_ireland/7960997.stm


Follow-ups:

The Taoiseach's New Clothes II

Brian, Borges & Bioy

Want a T(aoiseach)-Shirt?

Physiognomy of fine gentlemen

The Impossible Fact (Variation)

When authorities have no authority

Within less than seven minutes, in February German TV-vievers this feature of Limerick learnt (a lot), for instance this:

With 1 (in words: one) boat the Irish custom authorities [by the way, an interesting word, authorities] is determined to control 6,000 kilometres coast.

Confiscating cocain amounting to 500 million Euro is thought to be one tenth of the total amount that's being smuggled.

You will see a member of the so-called Dundan Clan (Jimmy Collins), brashly giving an interview, boasting about that 'police can't stop us'.
Obviously, as there happen more murder per capita than in any other town in Europe.

You will see the coffin of Shane Geoghegan who was 'accidently' murdered.
To learn more I commend to read Bock the Robber's posts and their echoes in the comment-section(s).

You will see a lawyer saying "They {the police] don't know who is going to get killed next. The clans are very powerful." The homes of people who would go to police and make an accuse use to be burnt out and their families terrorised. "Its better to keep one's mouth closed than to end up in a grave."

What a shame.


PS: While writing this I hear that the Russian mafia has ousted the German pimps in most German cities, that their bosses f.e. in Berlin are celebrating in Five star SUPERIOR (sic!) hotels with their worldwide 'business partners'; that politicians in Europe and especially in Germany do not underestimate this threat, but just don't have any clue what's going on.

Now, if that's not comforting. The decent people of Limerick don't stand alone.

Good night, and good luck.

Say Paganini

Seems to be a classic night, hm?

Voilà, here's Fazil Say, again. Enjoy.

Modest tribute to Mussorgsky

It's the gentleman's 170th birthday.

The Rite of Spring

Here's - not only :) - to the spring.

Fazil Say playing four hands on an electronic Boesendorfer 290SE piano.

Sabbat Shalom ...

... to those who have moral and courage to speak out!

"I don't think he felt too bad about it, because after all, as far as he was concerned, he did his job according to the orders he was given. And the atmosphere in general, from what I understood from most of my men who I talked to ... I don't know how to describe it .... The lives of Palestinians, let's say, is something very, very less important than the lives of our soldiers. So as far as they are concerned they can justify it that way," he said.

Quote from this Haaretz-article.

Just a thought 007

Following the spirit that always negates is obviously easier than offering proposals how to change "things" for the better.
May be it's due both to the dominance of our laziness gene and - to the devil in the details.

PS: As it would have taken too long, and not to multiply the complexity, for a beginning I did not mention the intelligence matter. :)

A hint as subtle as ...*

Ladies, gentlemen, friends,

may I attract your attention to The Wife of Bath.

I had forgotten to press the publish button the other day; and - as it would 'sound' strange to read on the 19th a 'yesterday' refering to the 15th, hm? :) - I decided to keep the chronological order.

Hence this subtle hint.


* feel free to insert the metaphor of your choice. :)

Happy Pubs' Day

As it's the same procedure as last year, rather than writing a lenghty post I can prepare myself mentally for what I shall whisper to my first 'only man' tonight.

So, here's Tetrapilotomos' 17th-of-March-opening-groaner, to which* - in my borderless clemency as always I contributed the 'stupid questions'.

Tiny tip: To give yourself the thrilling illusion of reading Omnium's Breaking News!, all you have to do while reading is, replacing 'Wednesday' by Thursday.

In a minute or so, I shall receive a message like this one.

That's it. May the snakes bite me, if I tried to keep my esteemed Irish readers any longer away from the magic spirits.

In this sense: A nice (pub-?)crawl, everybody!

May the black magic source never run dry, may your landlord's drawing-power never weaken.

Sláinte!

Wife of Bath

Yesterday, on the Ides of March, and thus 2055 years after Caesar rattled "Et tu, Brutus?" and three years after Bock the Robber wrote his first post; 93 years after Austria-Hungary declared war to Portugal, 83 years after the first telephone-line between London and Berlin started to work, 53 years after the first performance of "My Fair Lady" in New York and on the 102nd Birthday of Zarah Leander who once sang "Ich weiß, es wirrrd einmal ein Wunnn...derrrrr gescheh'n ..." (I know there will once happen a wonder ...), and one year after I went down in history, out of the blue I felt fancy to enjoy re-reading Chaucer's Wife of Bath. Well, and this morning I found myself typing Chaucer Wife of Bath youtube and, although it was ... hm ... not exactly what I had hoped to find, after about nine minutes I thought 'Nice idea, anyway' and decided to share it.




Enjoyed a bit?
Fine. And now to the main course.
At least in case you have not enjoyed the pleasure, yet, you should switch to the original.
As an exception from the rule - if you were I you'd always prefer to feel the book in your hands - here are the links to both the .... [writing all adjectives would take too long] ... Prologue and the Tale.

Paraskavedekatriaphobia?

Here's good news for all those who suffer from Triskaidekaphobia [fear of the 13] and even more from Paraskavedekatriaphobia [fear of Friday 13th]: 209 years ago, on March 13th, 1800 which happened to be a Friday, the great-grandparents of my grandfather (photo/1898) exchanged wedding-vows and ... ... never got divorced since. Now, if that's not a reason, with thanks to the fairies and leprechauns to raise one's glass. Happy anniversary, dear great-great-great-grandmother, and dear great-great-great-grandfather!