The word 'cynicism' comes from the Greek word 'kynos' – which is their term for those tail-wagging, barking idiots called Dogs. How dogs are associated with cynicism is beyond me: I'll have to ask Caedmon about that. In my book it should be 'cattacysm'.
Please excuse the articulation of cynicism you're about to read – I realise that it's not a characteristic normally attributed to kitty cats, but regular readers of this blog should be well used to it by now…
Here goes. It's so delightfully reassuring that the politicians and the Royal Family have such highly tuned foresight and moral principles to live by and work with. Like the prophet Moses carving a path through the open waters of the Red Sea, they too - in their own little way - blaze a moral trail for their unreflective and bovine followers to deferentially follow. With exemplars like that, we have every reason to be confident of a great future for the Kingdom of Northumbria.
I feel so much better now: it's akin to the paroxysm of relief experienced in making a long-deferred colorectal statement.
Let me explain. I'm sure you must be aware by now that the soothsayers are ceaselessly haranguing us with hideous tales of barbarity, cruelty and viciousness from the Cyrenian and Syrian despots, who are being relentlessly castigated for robustly resisting attempts to unseat them by their respective detractors, who are allegedly fighting to establish Freedom and Democratic Government in their homelands. Apparently, it's not good practice for a tribal chieftain, king or emperor to defend his position from usurpers. Perhaps they should benignly smile while allowing their opponents to plunder their realms and massacre their households.
If these rebels are fighting their fellow countrymen to establish the kind of 'democracy' enjoyed in the lovely country of Northumbria and the Holy Roman Empire (which is neither holy, Roman nor an empire), they're in for an ocean of disillusionment. But I'm not the cat to tell them; that's for them to find out by their own bitter experience.
Among the invitees to the Great Royal Wedding (and I saw this on the guest list that Feaxede liberated the other week) was the Emissary of Syria. In view of the fact that the guest list was drawn up a few weeks ago – when the first stirrings of dissent and brutal governmental suppression had manifested themselves – it's a surprising choice, but who am I to question the infinite wisdom of Those Who Matter?
Anyway. One day before the Great Weeding Wedding, it has been announced through the soothsayers that the Syrian Emissary's invitation has been withdrawn.
Hardly has the poor fellow dusted off his ceremonial robes, scimitar and turban when he's had to put them all away again. It says a lot for courtesy, doesn't it? What kind of imbeciles make invitations that they subsequently retract? No, I don't understand, either. And with forethought like that, we're really going places, folks.
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