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T. Michael Barclay's "Asylum Earth" takes a slightly different look at people, places and events that shape the planet we are confined to. It's overwhelming evidence that the patients are indeed running the asylum.
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
HALLOWEEN, PART SONG* -
Turns Out, You Can’t Get Here From There . . .
For those of you that do not know that ‘song’ is the Thai word for *two, let this be a lesson. For those of you that just don’t give a rat’s ass, then just accept that this is the second part of why my 17 month old son is dressed like a frog. Taking a leap of faith that my son is indeed not a frog, I decided to take a look at how in the heck we got into this bazaar habit of Halloween traditions.
Assuming you have been waiting with baited breath, we were up to our hips in Druids when we left off and the Romans were coming. And come they did, somewhere around A.D. 43, if your plotting a time-line. Given that the Celtic’s were sort of between a Samhain and a really good hangover, they hardly noticed that the Romans hung around for just over four hundred years.
It helped that the Romans were real party animals and just combined a couple of their festivals, Feralia and Pomona, with the traditional Samhain and ended up with the ‘killer’ of all festivals to commemorate the passing of the dead and, you guessed it, ‘bobbing’ for apples.
What’s even stranger? I didn’t make that up!
Seems that the symbol for Pomona is the apple and in the process of trying to sober up enough carriage drivers to get everyone home, they would dunk their heads in large barrels filled with apples, to sort of knock some sense in them, and wouldn’t stop until they came up with an apple in their mouth.
What’s even stranger? I made all of that up . . .
Enter the Christians . . . you knew they would. In the seventh century (you know it’s the seventh century because all the years start with eight), Pope Boniface IV, in an attempt to replace the Celtic Festival of the dead, designated November 1 All Saints’ Day, a time to honor saints and martyrs. No one had the heart to tell the Pope that he missed the date of the Celtic Festival by one day and that pretty much, saints and martyrs were dead.
Not to leave bad enough just the hell alone, in A.D. 1000, the church would make November 2 All Souls’ Day, a day to honor the dead with big bonfires, parades, and dressing up in costumes as saints, angels, and devils. In later years it was determined that three straight days of celebrating the dead is what killed most of them . . .
The American tradition of “trick-or-treat” probably dates back to the early All Souls’ Day parades in England, how do I know? I wasn’t there. During these festivals, poor citizens would beg for food and families would give them pastries called ‘soul cakes’ in return for their promise to pray for the family’s dead relatives.
Given that they were just giving you food to pray for someone already dead, it didn’t take long for some enterprising fellow to figure out that he could extract all sorts of bounty if he went directly up to the house and offered to kill that pesky brother-in-law for a sandwich and a beer.
Well, they passed laws that kind of put the kibosh on that scam, but the tradition lived on as they decide to just send the kids to do the begging and to dress them up in silly outfits so you wouldn’t know which neighbor had the candy fetish.
I may have left out a couple of things about roaming spirits, ghosts and goblins, but I think I pretty much covered the important parts.
Confused? Well, maybe that’s why my son is a frog.
T. Michael Barclay
Turns Out, You Can’t Get Here From There . . .
For those of you that do not know that ‘song’ is the Thai word for *two, let this be a lesson. For those of you that just don’t give a rat’s ass, then just accept that this is the second part of why my 17 month old son is dressed like a frog. Taking a leap of faith that my son is indeed not a frog, I decided to take a look at how in the heck we got into this bazaar habit of Halloween traditions.
Assuming you have been waiting with baited breath, we were up to our hips in Druids when we left off and the Romans were coming. And come they did, somewhere around A.D. 43, if your plotting a time-line. Given that the Celtic’s were sort of between a Samhain and a really good hangover, they hardly noticed that the Romans hung around for just over four hundred years.
It helped that the Romans were real party animals and just combined a couple of their festivals, Feralia and Pomona, with the traditional Samhain and ended up with the ‘killer’ of all festivals to commemorate the passing of the dead and, you guessed it, ‘bobbing’ for apples.
What’s even stranger? I didn’t make that up!
Seems that the symbol for Pomona is the apple and in the process of trying to sober up enough carriage drivers to get everyone home, they would dunk their heads in large barrels filled with apples, to sort of knock some sense in them, and wouldn’t stop until they came up with an apple in their mouth.
What’s even stranger? I made all of that up . . .
Enter the Christians . . . you knew they would. In the seventh century (you know it’s the seventh century because all the years start with eight), Pope Boniface IV, in an attempt to replace the Celtic Festival of the dead, designated November 1 All Saints’ Day, a time to honor saints and martyrs. No one had the heart to tell the Pope that he missed the date of the Celtic Festival by one day and that pretty much, saints and martyrs were dead.
Not to leave bad enough just the hell alone, in A.D. 1000, the church would make November 2 All Souls’ Day, a day to honor the dead with big bonfires, parades, and dressing up in costumes as saints, angels, and devils. In later years it was determined that three straight days of celebrating the dead is what killed most of them . . .
The American tradition of “trick-or-treat” probably dates back to the early All Souls’ Day parades in England, how do I know? I wasn’t there. During these festivals, poor citizens would beg for food and families would give them pastries called ‘soul cakes’ in return for their promise to pray for the family’s dead relatives.
Given that they were just giving you food to pray for someone already dead, it didn’t take long for some enterprising fellow to figure out that he could extract all sorts of bounty if he went directly up to the house and offered to kill that pesky brother-in-law for a sandwich and a beer.
Well, they passed laws that kind of put the kibosh on that scam, but the tradition lived on as they decide to just send the kids to do the begging and to dress them up in silly outfits so you wouldn’t know which neighbor had the candy fetish.
I may have left out a couple of things about roaming spirits, ghosts and goblins, but I think I pretty much covered the important parts.
Confused? Well, maybe that’s why my son is a frog.
T. Michael Barclay
Thursday, October 23, 2003
HALLOWEEN –
Or, Just How Did We Get Here From There . . .
Historians would have you believe that ‘Halloween’s’ origins date back to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced sow-in).
Well . . . not so we would recognize it.
Everyone knows that ‘Celtic’ is just a fancy schmancy word for ‘Irish’ and all they did was festival. They would festival so long and hard that they would finally just pass out and it would take them a day to get over it. This became a month.
Sometimes they would festival so hard that it would take them two days to get over it and that became a month with 31 days. Once they took a collective cold shower and sobered up early, well you know all about February.
And, they pronounced these festivals ‘Samhain’, only people who could not pronounce it, pronounced it Sow-in. Sometimes after a particularly raunchy month they pronounced it ‘hangover,’ but that never really caught on.
Believing that the rest of the world’s celebration of the New Year on December 31st was pure panty waste, they celebrated their New Year on October, 31st to mark the end of summer and the beginning of a dark, cold new year that, not hard to believe for this group, became associated with human death.
Given their propensity for memory lapses, no one bothered to tell them they missed the end of summer by a good Samhain and the New Year by a Sow-in and a spectacular hangover.
Trying to get them to understand these small calendar differences actually caused ‘leap-year’ and we don’t want to chance that again.
Considering that their New Year began on November 1st, an absolute accounting nightmare, they believed that on the night before, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred, something they knew a lot about.
This gave them a pretty good reason to start a new Samhain and watch the ghosts of the dead return to earth causing considerable trouble and damage to crops, neighborhood pubs and couple of paddy wagons. This, as you know, is now a ritual practiced after sporting events in most college towns, but I digress.
Enter the ‘Druids,’ or Celtic priests, who took this opportunity to make predictions about the future to a basically incoherent mass of humanity. But, why not, the winter was long and dark and who can be expected to remember anything they promised the little a bar ‘winch’ in the heat of passion . . .
Oh, I’m sorry, the Druids, right . . .
To commemorate the event, Druids built huge sacred bonfires, where the people gathered to burn crops and animals to the Celtic deities. During the celebration, the Celts wore costumes, typically consisting of animal heads and skins, and attempted to tell each other’s fortunes. When the celebration was over, they re-lit their hearth fires, which they had extinguished earlier that evening, from the sacred bonfire to help protect them during the coming winter.
The previous paragraph was copied, word for word, from the ‘History and Customs of Halloween’ and was done so to show you how little I had to detour from the real history to come up with my version . . .
In the next addition of, “Just How Did We Get Here From There,” we visit the Romans, who knew a little about how to party hardy and saw no reason to dash the Samhain thing just because they had taken over.
We then morph into the Christian stuff where they somehow managed to blame the whole mess on a Saint with the help from, you guessed it, the Irish, who by fleeing the great potato famine of 1846 helped to popularize the celebration of Halloween on a national scale, not to mention bringing near Sainthood to Mr. Potato Head.
I can hardly wait to see how I do this . . .
T. Michael Barclay
Or, Just How Did We Get Here From There . . .
Historians would have you believe that ‘Halloween’s’ origins date back to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced sow-in).
Well . . . not so we would recognize it.
Everyone knows that ‘Celtic’ is just a fancy schmancy word for ‘Irish’ and all they did was festival. They would festival so long and hard that they would finally just pass out and it would take them a day to get over it. This became a month.
Sometimes they would festival so hard that it would take them two days to get over it and that became a month with 31 days. Once they took a collective cold shower and sobered up early, well you know all about February.
And, they pronounced these festivals ‘Samhain’, only people who could not pronounce it, pronounced it Sow-in. Sometimes after a particularly raunchy month they pronounced it ‘hangover,’ but that never really caught on.
Believing that the rest of the world’s celebration of the New Year on December 31st was pure panty waste, they celebrated their New Year on October, 31st to mark the end of summer and the beginning of a dark, cold new year that, not hard to believe for this group, became associated with human death.
Given their propensity for memory lapses, no one bothered to tell them they missed the end of summer by a good Samhain and the New Year by a Sow-in and a spectacular hangover.
Trying to get them to understand these small calendar differences actually caused ‘leap-year’ and we don’t want to chance that again.
Considering that their New Year began on November 1st, an absolute accounting nightmare, they believed that on the night before, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred, something they knew a lot about.
This gave them a pretty good reason to start a new Samhain and watch the ghosts of the dead return to earth causing considerable trouble and damage to crops, neighborhood pubs and couple of paddy wagons. This, as you know, is now a ritual practiced after sporting events in most college towns, but I digress.
Enter the ‘Druids,’ or Celtic priests, who took this opportunity to make predictions about the future to a basically incoherent mass of humanity. But, why not, the winter was long and dark and who can be expected to remember anything they promised the little a bar ‘winch’ in the heat of passion . . .
Oh, I’m sorry, the Druids, right . . .
To commemorate the event, Druids built huge sacred bonfires, where the people gathered to burn crops and animals to the Celtic deities. During the celebration, the Celts wore costumes, typically consisting of animal heads and skins, and attempted to tell each other’s fortunes. When the celebration was over, they re-lit their hearth fires, which they had extinguished earlier that evening, from the sacred bonfire to help protect them during the coming winter.
The previous paragraph was copied, word for word, from the ‘History and Customs of Halloween’ and was done so to show you how little I had to detour from the real history to come up with my version . . .
In the next addition of, “Just How Did We Get Here From There,” we visit the Romans, who knew a little about how to party hardy and saw no reason to dash the Samhain thing just because they had taken over.
We then morph into the Christian stuff where they somehow managed to blame the whole mess on a Saint with the help from, you guessed it, the Irish, who by fleeing the great potato famine of 1846 helped to popularize the celebration of Halloween on a national scale, not to mention bringing near Sainthood to Mr. Potato Head.
I can hardly wait to see how I do this . . .
T. Michael Barclay
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
WHO CUT THE CHEESE? –
Really Want to Know? . . .
Just what is it with these people? Who do they think they are and why can they not just mind their own business? Don’t we have enough daily pressures as it is without them giving us even more?
Remember when people used to just die? You remember, there the notice would be in the local paper; “Mr. So-n-So passed away last evening of natural causes” . . . period, end of sentence, not to mention Mr. So-n-So.
Natural causes, gee, what a nice way to go. No complications, no questions, just lived his life and when his time came, he folded his arms, closed his eyes and checked the hell out, thank you very much.
When it came to death, couldn’t they just leave well enough alone? Can you use ‘well’ and ‘death’ in the same sentence? Oh, never mind, I’m not the one who screwed dieing up. Leave it to a bunch of busy body medical types to keep going until they defined a thousand more types of cancer and other diseases in a well planned attack on rooting out ‘natural’ causes.
Maybe it was the newspapers who wanted to sell more ‘obituary’ advertising space. Describing two variations of ‘leukemia’ and a never known before side condition of ‘Alzheimer’s’ takes a lot more lines of news-type than just listing the cause as natural. Ever dawn on them that maybe being married to Mrs. So-n-So for 60 years would make anyone’s eyes glaze over, not to mention wanting to erase as much memory as possible?
Is this what’s gotten me so riled up against these ‘do-gooders? Not hardly! They’ve really gone off and done it this time. I was just about to accept the fact that no one died without a really well explained medical reason. But this is just too much, serious. Now they’ve crossed the line and somebody has to put an end to it all . . .
For all of time mankind has had one simple explanation for why things happen. It didn’t really matter what the event was or how exasperating the circumstances were, you could always turn to the offended person and say . . . “Well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles”.
Not any more.
No, no, no . . . leave it to the British to utilize their university system to the betterment of us all and discover exactly why the cookie crumbles. Apparently having no better use for a ‘laser,’ a doctoral student at Longhborough University, in London, trained the beam right smack on a cookie until it crumbled. Unable to say the cookie broke from natural causes, they applied a complex theorem of physics and decided that tiny deformations evolve as the cookie picks up moisture around the rim which causes the cookie to expand, while loss of moisture at the center causes it to contract.
Here’s a flash . . . we didn’t want to know!
Now just what are we supposed to say when the person you most want to offend slips and breaks their favorite pair of reading glasses? “Oh, darn, that was an incredibly complicated multiphase of chain reactions in quantum physics?”
Doesn’t really come close to mustering up that little smirk while mumbling in a loud enough tone to be heard . . . “Well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles!”
But, I guess there's no use in crying over spilt milk . . . Oh, no . . . leave it alone, we really, really don’t want to know what psychological impact crying over spilt milk might have on us or the true mathematical odds of actually doing it . . . serious, we just do not want to know!
T. Michael Barclay
Really Want to Know? . . .
Just what is it with these people? Who do they think they are and why can they not just mind their own business? Don’t we have enough daily pressures as it is without them giving us even more?
Remember when people used to just die? You remember, there the notice would be in the local paper; “Mr. So-n-So passed away last evening of natural causes” . . . period, end of sentence, not to mention Mr. So-n-So.
Natural causes, gee, what a nice way to go. No complications, no questions, just lived his life and when his time came, he folded his arms, closed his eyes and checked the hell out, thank you very much.
When it came to death, couldn’t they just leave well enough alone? Can you use ‘well’ and ‘death’ in the same sentence? Oh, never mind, I’m not the one who screwed dieing up. Leave it to a bunch of busy body medical types to keep going until they defined a thousand more types of cancer and other diseases in a well planned attack on rooting out ‘natural’ causes.
Maybe it was the newspapers who wanted to sell more ‘obituary’ advertising space. Describing two variations of ‘leukemia’ and a never known before side condition of ‘Alzheimer’s’ takes a lot more lines of news-type than just listing the cause as natural. Ever dawn on them that maybe being married to Mrs. So-n-So for 60 years would make anyone’s eyes glaze over, not to mention wanting to erase as much memory as possible?
Is this what’s gotten me so riled up against these ‘do-gooders? Not hardly! They’ve really gone off and done it this time. I was just about to accept the fact that no one died without a really well explained medical reason. But this is just too much, serious. Now they’ve crossed the line and somebody has to put an end to it all . . .
For all of time mankind has had one simple explanation for why things happen. It didn’t really matter what the event was or how exasperating the circumstances were, you could always turn to the offended person and say . . . “Well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles”.
Not any more.
No, no, no . . . leave it to the British to utilize their university system to the betterment of us all and discover exactly why the cookie crumbles. Apparently having no better use for a ‘laser,’ a doctoral student at Longhborough University, in London, trained the beam right smack on a cookie until it crumbled. Unable to say the cookie broke from natural causes, they applied a complex theorem of physics and decided that tiny deformations evolve as the cookie picks up moisture around the rim which causes the cookie to expand, while loss of moisture at the center causes it to contract.
Here’s a flash . . . we didn’t want to know!
Now just what are we supposed to say when the person you most want to offend slips and breaks their favorite pair of reading glasses? “Oh, darn, that was an incredibly complicated multiphase of chain reactions in quantum physics?”
Doesn’t really come close to mustering up that little smirk while mumbling in a loud enough tone to be heard . . . “Well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles!”
But, I guess there's no use in crying over spilt milk . . . Oh, no . . . leave it alone, we really, really don’t want to know what psychological impact crying over spilt milk might have on us or the true mathematical odds of actually doing it . . . serious, we just do not want to know!
T. Michael Barclay
Friday, October 03, 2003
DAVE BARRY IS DEAD –
Well, at least start the rumor . . .
Short of Dave Barry dying and leaving his column space to me in his will, I have less than a snowball’s chance in hell of getting a syndicated humor column of my own. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want good ole Dave to suffer, just get his affairs in order and drop dead. You know, take a dirt nap and do it on a Monday so he could be worm food by about Thursday. That way when I showed up in his column space on the next Sunday, it wouldn’t seem in such bad taste.
Well, a talent transplant would probably give me a better chance, but I’ve been on the ‘donor needed’ list since the sixth grade, so that hasn’t worked out all that well. My plan ‘C’ is to just write everything that could be written about every topic known to mankind. Then, anything he wrote would plagiarize me and I could get him the old fashion American way and just sue him out of existence. His assuming room temperature would of course make the whole process go a lot smoother and save me uttles of time. Under the circumstances, I guess I had better get started on the ‘every topic’ plan . . .
Here’s one that I bet Dave was too busy counting his money to notice . . . I’m watching television and a new Hummer2 commercial comes on, you know, the one rather loosely based on a ‘Soap Box Derby’ theme. Right there before my eyes I see a really large American corporation advertise to our nation’s youth how to cheat! To start with, the kid totally ignores the obvious SPEC for such a racer. Then, and this just completely skips logic 101, the adolescent takes blatant short cuts to win the race . . . And, everyone is jumping up and down happy about it! What race were they watching? Considering they named their vehicle after a sex act, I could have come up with a whole different approach if they really wanted to get peoples attention. See Dave, you don’t get them all . . .
And, Mr. Miami jet setter, don’t go here because I’ve already covered it . . . Judge who nixed no-call registry is on list - Seems that the federal judge that ruled the ‘National do-not-call registry’ unconstitutional, had his own office phone on the list. I’ve heard of talking to yourself, but ruling that what you just signed up for is illegal sort of takes that to a new level. The morning line around here has it 10 to 1 that he also has an unlisted home phone number. Why, doesn’t he want complete strangers calling him? Following his logic, can we have unlisted phone numbers?
Then there is the article about ‘coffins,’ ‘vaults,’ ‘graves,’ ‘hearses,’ and even the ‘scoop’ on the front-end loaders (used for grave digging), not being large enough to bury some of the 20% of overweight Americans. Just how could Mr. Funny Guy have missed that one? It seems that the funeral industry has come up with only one solution to this problem and that is to purchase larger equipment and increase the width of the grave sites. Put a lot of thought into that, did they?
Now, in our own infinite wisdom, we may have already addressed this situation. if you remember, we discussed how Ted Williams’ son had his body put in one ice cream container and his head put in another one, and he is supposed to be able to come back from the dead like that. We took the position that if they really wanted him to come back amongst the right thinking lot, both parts should be in much closer proximity. However, it would seem that if you didn’t expect them to reappear anytime soon, a little division of the anatomy and two grave sites would fix the problem. The ‘flower’ and ‘head-stone’ industries would surely back this idea.
And for the cost conscious, they could develop ‘bunk-caskets’ and just increase the depth to nine feet or so. Now you haven’t used anymore real estate and a simple ‘slash’ on the head-stone would suffice. Could it be that our Mr. ‘laugh-a-minute’ is afraid of a little controversy. Well then, stay out of the ‘Blog’ world, Mr. Fraiddy-Cat . . .
Without going into ‘the principal who pulled the plug on student cross-dressing,' I supposed I have fired a solid warning shot on the subject of who is really America’s humor columnist. I’ll give Davy enough time to sell the houses and resettle at the ‘Y.’
I out waited Will Rogers, I can out wait Dave Barry . . .
T. Michael Barclay
Well, at least start the rumor . . .
Short of Dave Barry dying and leaving his column space to me in his will, I have less than a snowball’s chance in hell of getting a syndicated humor column of my own. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want good ole Dave to suffer, just get his affairs in order and drop dead. You know, take a dirt nap and do it on a Monday so he could be worm food by about Thursday. That way when I showed up in his column space on the next Sunday, it wouldn’t seem in such bad taste.
Well, a talent transplant would probably give me a better chance, but I’ve been on the ‘donor needed’ list since the sixth grade, so that hasn’t worked out all that well. My plan ‘C’ is to just write everything that could be written about every topic known to mankind. Then, anything he wrote would plagiarize me and I could get him the old fashion American way and just sue him out of existence. His assuming room temperature would of course make the whole process go a lot smoother and save me uttles of time. Under the circumstances, I guess I had better get started on the ‘every topic’ plan . . .
Here’s one that I bet Dave was too busy counting his money to notice . . . I’m watching television and a new Hummer2 commercial comes on, you know, the one rather loosely based on a ‘Soap Box Derby’ theme. Right there before my eyes I see a really large American corporation advertise to our nation’s youth how to cheat! To start with, the kid totally ignores the obvious SPEC for such a racer. Then, and this just completely skips logic 101, the adolescent takes blatant short cuts to win the race . . . And, everyone is jumping up and down happy about it! What race were they watching? Considering they named their vehicle after a sex act, I could have come up with a whole different approach if they really wanted to get peoples attention. See Dave, you don’t get them all . . .
And, Mr. Miami jet setter, don’t go here because I’ve already covered it . . . Judge who nixed no-call registry is on list - Seems that the federal judge that ruled the ‘National do-not-call registry’ unconstitutional, had his own office phone on the list. I’ve heard of talking to yourself, but ruling that what you just signed up for is illegal sort of takes that to a new level. The morning line around here has it 10 to 1 that he also has an unlisted home phone number. Why, doesn’t he want complete strangers calling him? Following his logic, can we have unlisted phone numbers?
Then there is the article about ‘coffins,’ ‘vaults,’ ‘graves,’ ‘hearses,’ and even the ‘scoop’ on the front-end loaders (used for grave digging), not being large enough to bury some of the 20% of overweight Americans. Just how could Mr. Funny Guy have missed that one? It seems that the funeral industry has come up with only one solution to this problem and that is to purchase larger equipment and increase the width of the grave sites. Put a lot of thought into that, did they?
Now, in our own infinite wisdom, we may have already addressed this situation. if you remember, we discussed how Ted Williams’ son had his body put in one ice cream container and his head put in another one, and he is supposed to be able to come back from the dead like that. We took the position that if they really wanted him to come back amongst the right thinking lot, both parts should be in much closer proximity. However, it would seem that if you didn’t expect them to reappear anytime soon, a little division of the anatomy and two grave sites would fix the problem. The ‘flower’ and ‘head-stone’ industries would surely back this idea.
And for the cost conscious, they could develop ‘bunk-caskets’ and just increase the depth to nine feet or so. Now you haven’t used anymore real estate and a simple ‘slash’ on the head-stone would suffice. Could it be that our Mr. ‘laugh-a-minute’ is afraid of a little controversy. Well then, stay out of the ‘Blog’ world, Mr. Fraiddy-Cat . . .
Without going into ‘the principal who pulled the plug on student cross-dressing,' I supposed I have fired a solid warning shot on the subject of who is really America’s humor columnist. I’ll give Davy enough time to sell the houses and resettle at the ‘Y.’
I out waited Will Rogers, I can out wait Dave Barry . . .
T. Michael Barclay
