For Yellowbelly, part 1

An impassioned mime of his own daily whims, at daliances eager to comply in a pounce or jab, negligent by glee to unmuss his own fur.  He was always a Cheshire smile when a string was baited with a feather, a milkcap or another hobknob.  If a cat could, and a master, equally alter stationm then that soul and I were by nature completely mutuals.  1 million dollars, my father concluded often, were insufficient recompense for that cat.  “That cat will be waiting for you in heaven, just like the animals of Noah.”

He had a pouch of flesh, a yellowbelly, that in movements would dangle in waves as he paraded lion-like whenever he walked.  This prance was always the disposition of his pride, unegoless and as natural as a sunflower full-faced and erect in the fullness of the sun.  And this his confidence was infused was the motive to all his life; purring in a snug curl, kneading delight in hostage laps, stealing (most rightly) as maverick tidbit from my dinner plate, cursing, to the human ear a hiss, the dogs affronting his meal, gullible again and againto the chamber of an empty box, opening cabinets to leave them ajar by demonstration of his defiance,  nipping sharply at his tail– self-animated snake!

Obama is Latin for what?

A few days ago, Maureen Dowd, the eternally irritable op-ed columnist for the NY Times wrote a piece on McCain and Obama.  The later half of the column was translated at her request into Latin by a professor because of a recent article she read relating the resurgence of teaching Latin in classrooms.

Here is the first paragraph translated by me, more to come, maybe!

Manes Julii Caesaris paucis diebus aderant — “O, most bloody sight!” — cum Ioannes McCainus, mavericus et veteranus captivusque Belli Francoindosinini, et Sara Palina, barracuda borealis, qui sneerare amant Baracum Obamam causa oratorii, pillorant ut demagogi veri, Africanum-Americanum senatorem Terrae Lincolni, ad Republicanas rallias.

The ghost of Julius Caesar for a few days was present – “O, most bloody sight!” when John McCain, maverick and captive veteran (P.O.W.) of the Franco-indonesian War (Vietnam), and Sarah Palin, Barracuda of the North, who love to sneer at Barack Obama on account of [his] oratory, pillory the African American Senator of the land of Lincoln, at Republican rallies.

full opinion piece

If Plato hated Lawyers’ stinking guts, then so do I! Part 2

The defense lawyer followed up with, “Do you believe there are limits to science?” Mostly everyone shook their heads in agreement or replied with a small yes.  A small woman, identifying herself as a chemist looked unsure.  She did not believe that there were limits to science, but then the lawyer began his followup questions.  He was able to steer her, after some confusion, into agreeing with him that science is fallible.  I mean that almost goes without saying, right!

Apparently this game of question-mongering was intended as much to influence the rest of the jury pool as it was to disqualify certain jurors.   He continued on.

“Does an objection by the defense predispose you to think that we are hiding something?”  Everyone answered “no”, and I smirked inside, “Of course not!”

After these generalities, the lawyers went on to query specific jurors about their backgrounds and jobs.

I am a student at UCSD.

Blah, blah, blah.  What is your major?

I am a classics and philosophy major.

Who is your favorite philosopher?

Plato?

Blah, blah, blah. Why?

He achieved a level of literary grandeur and philosophical insight that moderns have not been able to duplicate.

Wasn’t Plato highly critical of the Sophists?

Yes.*

Let me explain to the members of the Jury who the Sophists were.  Blah blah blah.

Cross-questioning by the prosecution.

Mr.  Philagon, you won’t hold it against the prosecution or defense that we argue on behalf of our respective sides, will you?

No, in fact, I think the Sophists are unfairly maligned.  Recent scholarship has raised the objection in defense of the Sophists that we have very little primary material from the Sophists themselves.**

Ten minutes later.
The prosecution excuses Mr. Philagon from the jury.

*Let the record show that a lawyer himself initiated the parallels between ancient sophists and modern lawyers, not I.

**Perhaps a little too desperate here to show that I want to be included on the jury.

Point & click- gun, mouse or remote?

For Chemistry class we had to buy a $37 remote control.  The device allows the student to anonymously submit answers to the teacher, both for credit and for the teacher to assess the standing of the class.

Luckily I was able to return the neon green remote from the bookstore for a $10 remote from one of my Grecophile classmates.  Now my powerstick is neon yellow.  Point, click, periodic fabulous.

A few days ago we registered the remotes online, along with a screenname.  During class the screenname pops up on the overhead projecter to show us that our answer has been registered.

My screenname, “Xain0”, Greek for “I yawn”

I drink reclining on my spear

Here are some poems I translated from Archilochus, a lyric poet from the 7th century B.C. who hailed from the Greek isle of Paros.

I am a servant of the warlike Lord,
and know the lovely gift of the Muses.

[The gift is poetry.  The mercenary Archilochus is emphasizing the paradoxical duality of his skill in war and poetry.]

With my spear is kneaded barley cakes,
With my spear is wine of Ismarus,
I drink reclining on my spear.

[For the soldier the spear is the tool of the trade, bringing food, drink and even the peace with which to enjoy them]

Not many bows will string themselves,
not even crowded slings,
whenever Ares begins battle on the plain.
For these Euboian Lords famous for their spears are very skilled.