Friday, 27 December 2024

A Christmas Tale: An Alternative Nativity Story


Let Us Adore Him

In those days, Caesar (Ipod Mugumbo) declared that a world census (Tipton and Dudley North) should be taken. And lo everyone should report to their ancestral home for registration. 

So Papa Flaxen the Elder went up to the 'city' of Stewpony. He went there with the incipient, Mrs. Saxon, who was greatly gravid with child. She had been impregnated by the itinerant Lugless Dugless after an ill-fated liaison in a Mazda 3. No guest rooms were available, so the child was born on the midden pit and wrapped in a swaddling shopping bag. Three filthy, thieving gypo bastards arrived from the East boroughs of Birmingham following a drone which hovered over the midden pit. When they arrived in Tipton they inquired where lieth the new king of the Tiptonites. The incumbent king, Herod the Addled, was sorely miffed and said unto the gypos. "Go find this child and report back so I can remove his bonce with my double-headed Danish war axe, 'Twat Cruncher', er I mean so I can adore him with sweetmeats and sundries akimbo including an iPhone 16 Promax". 

The three wise gypos continued their quest and found the baby Flaxen atop the Stewpony midden pit. And there they opened their treasures and gave the child a fake gold ring, a gallon of brut aftershave and a ferret called, Shagger. After the gypos left, it was noted that various items had gone a missing, including Mrs Saxon's iPhone (insert the latest iteration).

Suddenly a drunk appeared and blurted: "Yow must bugger orf to Coventry else the king will separate young Flaxen's noddle from his already well-developed shoulders". And so they fled to the east, but not before stopping off at 'Mr Khan's Kebab Shoppe and Home for Stray Tasty Animals.' There, they enjoyed a sumptuous repast of indeterminate meat.  

When the king learned he had been duped, he was mightily pissed and sent forth a gang of 'nere do wells' on a quest to put to the sword all young Tiptonites under two.

As fulfilled by the prophet, 'Eric the Inebriate', saying':

A raucous shout was heard in Merry Hill,

Wailing, bawling and grand tribulation,

Sharan bawling for her 12 kids,

No more child benefits.


And lo it came to pass wind which blew Herod down a disused mine shaft. As Herod was no more, our intrepid trio decided to return to Tipton, unabated and unsullied- excepting the new-to-be, Mrs Saxon. Virgin, my arse! More like verging on the ridiculous. Anyway, as Tipton was a shit place, they decided on a council house in Smethwick- a slightly less shit place.

Here Endeth The Tale  






Monday, 23 December 2024

Commodus Part I


 Marcus Aurelius Antoninus- 'The Philosopher King'

Commodus- Preamble

This is the first post in a series concerning the Roman Emperor Lucius Aurelius Commodus Antoninus (Commodus). I've had to split this topic into several posts, as the sweep of the subject is too grand to fit a single narrative. 

It bodes ill when your name calls forth the image of a toilet. But it is not Commodius' fault. The word 'Commode' did not appear in French until 1680. In hindsight, the young Commodus had it all. His father was the illustrious Marcus Aurelius, no less. As it turned out, Aurelius, 'The Philosopher King', would be the last of the 'Five Good Emperors'. His death in 180 AD marked the end of Rome's Golden Age. The stability and prosperity established from the time of Augustus was about to wither, dry up and flop to the side.      

The Emperor Commodus was brought forth to the popular imagination due to the film Gladiator (2000), directed by Ridley Scott. A very enjoyable film, by the way. The writing and acting were outstanding, even though historical accuracy was a little off. But that is okay; liberties were taken for viewer enjoyment and breathtaking threatre. Russell Crowe played his part well- this was Crowe at the height of his fame and acting abilities. As I recall, the plot turned on the fact that Marcus Aurelius had recognised his son's inadequacy to rule and, on his deathbed, had entrusted the empire to his general, Maximus (Crowe). In the film, Maximus would act as an interim caretaker and champion the restoration of the glorious Republic. However, Commodus forstalled his father's dream and seized the throne through his evil machinations, and poor Maximus was enslaved and doomed to fight as a gladiator. The man, Maximus, did not exist as a historical figure. In the film, this fictional character acts as a dramatic anchor on which the action turns and writhes. At this stage in Roman history, the 'Glorious Republic' was beyond restoration and twas never to be again, from Augustus until the end.

This post is rapidly turning into a commentary on Gladiator. This is not my original intention. In conclusion, I will say that the opening battle scene between the Romans and Germanic tribes was awesome and epic. Moving on. By the way, Gladioli II is not very good.

There is little doubt that Marcus Aurelius was a wise, competent and highly intelligent ruler. He would likely have divined that his son and heir was unfit to rule. That being the case, why did he put forth his son for the purple? Could it be that Commodius' character defects were not evident when young and only became apparent later under the severe strains and pressures of autocratic rule? However, as argued further on, Aurelius was in a bind when selecting an heir. Regardless, at the time of Aurelius' death (58), by plague, Commodus was eighteen and, indeed, too young to ascend to the throne as sole ruler. To have ultimate power and wealth assembled on such young shoulders was a recipe for a 'Shit Show' unless those shoulders were guided by prudent and sagacious advisers- more on this in the next thrilling instalment. The wise Aurelius had already made Commodus co-ruler when he was just sixteen. This ploy served two purposes: at the time, Aurelius and Commodus were on the western frontier fighting the pugnacious and very naughty Macromani.  In this way, Commodus received firsthand war experience and tuition from perhaps the smartest emperor Rome had ever had. Secondly, this would smooth the transmission of power at Aurelius' death. The death of the reigning emperor and the accession of the new was always a perilous time for Rome. A transition, primarily based on heredity, was generally the 'Golden Ticket' but rarely achieved. However, it is worth remembering that there was always a gaggle of ambitious and rich senators /generals crouching in the shadows, ready to usurp the position if circumstances allowed. The lure of the ultimate accolade spurred men to risk all, though most would fail. This situation would inevitably lead to much bloodshed and, on occasion, civil unrest and outright civil war. 

Perhaps Aurelius hoped that his wise counsel and 'on-the-job training' would mould his young son into a capable ruler. No doubt, he would have made sure that there were competent advisors to guide the fledging emperor in his early years of rule. His plans were derailed by his early demise. Even the wise Aurelius couldn't have foreseen this untimely problem- 'Of Mice and Men'. Of course, he could have bypassed his son entirely and appointed an emperor based on merit. This would be a recipe for war. Influential individuals would coalesce and influence a disgruntled Commodus, urging him to take the throne by force. The populace would likely support young Commodus. The mob had an uncanny knack for adhering to the children of popular Romans (for example, consider Germanicus and Caligula). Aurelius was well-loved by the common folk and ruled with a sagacious guiding hand. And there was a further problem.

Let us imagine a situation where Aurelius appointed a successor based on his knowledge, political acumen and wisdom, and the juvenile Commodus accepted this political move without rancour. Commodus would have plenty of assets to enjoy a comfortable private life. Why bother to become ruler of Rome's vast territories. It would undoubtedly involve gruelling admin work and vexatious conundrums to ponder. Better to have a quiet life on a country estate far away from the turbulent political machinations of Rome. Better to contemplate a peaceful life of idle/idyll wealth far removed from the irksome intrigues of senators and the incessant rumbling of common folk only interested in the free dole and blood-soaked arena. However, there is a manifest problem with this scenario. Political reality must intervene. There is a saying: 'A plurality of Caesars is no good thing'. Even a sagacious successor possessing a mild and compassionate temperament must be aware that the male offspring of the previous incumbent is a potential focus for future intrigue and plot. However, it cannot be denied that emperors gifted with abundant clemency and compassion will unlikely remain enthroned for long. Ruling the Roman empire was not for the meek and mild. The meek may inherit the world in a work of fiction, but not in this life.

Best to have a potential usurper removed from the political chessboard. Quietly, if possible. Accidents can be contrived and executed with skilled expediency. Do we remember Caesar's son by Cleopatra, Ceasarion (Little Caesar)? No, of course not. Caesarian was executed under the orders of the then Octavian in 30 BC; Caesarian was seventeen. Perhaps this was unnecessary, as Caesarian could never have wielded political power in Rome. Nonetheless, Octavian reasoned that a man bearing Caesar's name was too powerful a symbol to be left alive. Whatever Aurelius thought about Commodius' ability to rule Rome's vast empire, he no doubt wanted him to survive following his death. The filial bond between a father and son is beyond rational measure.

Enough rambling for now. The next post in this series will discuss the events following Commodius' succession and its immediate ramifications.         

     

Sunday, 15 December 2024

On Nature



Beautiful Bird, You Have Escaped the Eternal Struggle. No More Pain. Rest Easy, My Little Friend  

Several months ago, I wrote about an enterprising pair of blackbirds who had wisely decided to build a nest upon my outside water heater unit. I documented the progress of the hatchlings. At the time, it was early spring, and hence, a precarious time of year to raise a brood. Nonetheless, atop a water heater was the optimum choice for survival. After raising a successful brood, the parental birds left the nest to do stuff that blackbirds do. The sequel: I noticed that our god-favoured birds (perhaps Demon favoured; the distinction blurs/merges) had returned a few weeks ago to take a chance at a second brood. As a professional biologist, I took an interest in the proceedings and noted five eggs within the nest. Of the five, only three made it to the hatchling stage. Two down and three to go. I took an emotional interest in the brood and kept a weathered eye on 'my chicks'. A day later, I noticed that there were only two offspring within the confines of the nest. I searched the immediate environs, but no sign of the errant chick could be found. I could only surmise that the missing chick had spread its wings and had become one with Nature. Or perhaps a pesky ferret had taken the chance to feed its hungry brood. Shagger, are you there? The remaining chicks were becoming vocal and waxing fat. Due to personal reasons, I was subject to a hiatus (not the extended abdominal wall variety), which caused a break in the continuity of my ornithological activity. Imagine my chagrin and displeasure when I returned to the nest to discover that a single chick, clearly bereft of corporeal existence, remained. Its life essence had departed, and the ever-waiting and inevitable agent of decay, entropy, was taking its toll/toil (see pic.). I carefully removed the nest and interred the bird with its bier unto eternal rest within the wildflowers flourishing within the confines of Flaxen Saxon Estate.  

Of the five eggs spawned, only two fledglings left the nest. Of course, there is no certainty that these birds survived. It is conceivable that one or both fell from the cosy confines and succumbed to a lurking predator. At best, 40% of the eggs survived as successful independent juveniles capable of flight. And this is only the beginning.

My observations and the stark sequence of events had got me pondering. Due to my biological training, I am well versed in natural selection's role in the great 'Dance of Life', or more prosaically, Evolution. In the wild, all organisms, great and small, plant or animal, are subject to natural selection's stark, cold hand. In the early stage of life, selection is at its most apparent, and generally, this is where the most potent selection pressure is manifest. In addition, the process is necessarily and inherently cruel for sentient organisms gifted with a sophisticated neural network. 

I state that 'Nature' is cruel. This could be construed as anthropomorphism, the application of human attributes to an inanimate concept. This is a common human trait often applied to the all-encompassing idea of Nature. In objective science, the urge should be avoided. That said, in matters relating to all other endeavours in life, it can add imagery, express emotions, allow pause for thought or confer poetic nuance. Digression over.

Evolution can only occur if the majority of organisms of a species die before reproduction. This is a given in any wild biological setting. As a mechanism of species change, evolution by natural selection, is, by its very character, ruthless, fundamentally brutish and mayhap, pointless. 

For those of a religious bent who invoke the mysterious, hidden creator of ALL, this poses a problem. As a mechanism, evolution through natural selection is rather profligate in execution. This method is not energy efficient. Why not make all living things ex nihilo and leave as is. Why is change part of the process anyway? But who am I, a mere man, a creature born in sin, questioning the ineffable God?  And what's the deal with parasites anyway? 

I wonder why, in his later years, Charles Darwin stopped going to church.  

       

More God Than Man, Possibly.......


underpinned