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wisemack's LJ, here is something that might raise a chuckle. And I mean no disrespect to anyone who might have been caught up in the recent kerfuffles, I just thought that humour might be good!
Yes, as Professor Tolkien so aptly put it, there IS a difference between allegory and "applicability" and far be it from me to draw inferences from a 50+ year old piece of satire or even point out that if fandom and LJers ever feel the need for a patron saint of their very own, they have only to look to....
ST. SUPERCILIA
St. Supercilia, bornin Paris about the year 1400, was a maiden of remarkable erudition, who steadfastly refused to marry anyone who could not defeat her in open disputation. When the best scholars of all the universities in Europe had tried and failed, her unworthy father brutally commanded her to acept the hand of a man who, though virtuous, sensible, and of a good estate, knew only six languages and was weak in mathematics. At this, the outraged saint raised her eyebrows so high that they lifted her right off her feet and out through a top-storey window, whence she was last seen floating awway in a northerly direction.
St. Supercilia is the patron of pedants. Her feast, Eyebrow Sunday, falls in CACOPHONY, between Lowbrow Sunday and Derogation Day.
A SERMON FOR CACOPHONYTIDE
(Reprinted from the Schisminster Perish Magazine)
My Little Perishers:
CACOPHONY is the seedtime of the Polar Year. Not, of course, the dilatory seedtime of conquered and discredited Nature! But as from the refrigerator we cull fresh peas in December and ice cream in July, so we may plant the seeds of enmity all the year round, but especially in Cacophonytide.
Scarcely is WISHMAS over, with all its facitious heartiness and family friction, before bills and income-tax demands come in. Tempers are frayed, the weather is uniformly detestable; spiritually and physically, the mud is ready --- that rich unwholesome mud in which the Polar seeds can germinate.
Plant those seeds now. Do not be discouraged if your opportunities appear limited. The smallest dispute, the most trifling misconception may, if sown with envy, watered with complaints sprayed with clouds of verbiage and artifically heated with unrighteous indignation, grown into a lofty and isolated Pole, up which you may climb to look down upon your neighbors.
From the Pantheon Papers, a satirical series Dorthy L. Sayers wrote for Punch in 1955, featuring "the saints and celebrations of the secular society, served up in the mock scholarly manner which she did so well."
wisemack's LJ, here is something that might raise a chuckle. And I mean no disrespect to anyone who might have been caught up in the recent kerfuffles, I just thought that humour might be good!Yes, as Professor Tolkien so aptly put it, there IS a difference between allegory and "applicability" and far be it from me to draw inferences from a 50+ year old piece of satire or even point out that if fandom and LJers ever feel the need for a patron saint of their very own, they have only to look to....
ST. SUPERCILIA
St. Supercilia, bornin Paris about the year 1400, was a maiden of remarkable erudition, who steadfastly refused to marry anyone who could not defeat her in open disputation. When the best scholars of all the universities in Europe had tried and failed, her unworthy father brutally commanded her to acept the hand of a man who, though virtuous, sensible, and of a good estate, knew only six languages and was weak in mathematics. At this, the outraged saint raised her eyebrows so high that they lifted her right off her feet and out through a top-storey window, whence she was last seen floating awway in a northerly direction.
St. Supercilia is the patron of pedants. Her feast, Eyebrow Sunday, falls in CACOPHONY, between Lowbrow Sunday and Derogation Day.
A SERMON FOR CACOPHONYTIDE
(Reprinted from the Schisminster Perish Magazine)
My Little Perishers:
CACOPHONY is the seedtime of the Polar Year. Not, of course, the dilatory seedtime of conquered and discredited Nature! But as from the refrigerator we cull fresh peas in December and ice cream in July, so we may plant the seeds of enmity all the year round, but especially in Cacophonytide.
Scarcely is WISHMAS over, with all its facitious heartiness and family friction, before bills and income-tax demands come in. Tempers are frayed, the weather is uniformly detestable; spiritually and physically, the mud is ready --- that rich unwholesome mud in which the Polar seeds can germinate.
Plant those seeds now. Do not be discouraged if your opportunities appear limited. The smallest dispute, the most trifling misconception may, if sown with envy, watered with complaints sprayed with clouds of verbiage and artifically heated with unrighteous indignation, grown into a lofty and isolated Pole, up which you may climb to look down upon your neighbors.
From the Pantheon Papers, a satirical series Dorthy L. Sayers wrote for Punch in 1955, featuring "the saints and celebrations of the secular society, served up in the mock scholarly manner which she did so well."