a parable for the 21st Century

Well, gang – being as it’s Saturday and I’m recovering from a drinking session with the gnomes busy at housework, I thought I’d reprise a post that I put up on another blog I started in a blog binge last month.

So, if any of you have read it on the other blog, my apologies and I’ll be back tomorrow with more gnome adventures (there’s a new member of the Gnome family!!!) and maybe even some photos of knitting.

And, JJ and I are off later today on a trip to Michael’s craft superstore.  Yippee!

Now for my little fable.  WARNING/AVERTISSEMENT/ACHTUNG: if you are a member of the Conservative Party… well, read at your peril.  And don’t whine to me that you weren’t warned!

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There is a land far, far north of where most people live, and in that land is a little fiefdom called Kanadha. Many people flocked to Kanadha, even though it was a fiefdom, because it was one of the best and brightest places in the world.

However, Kanadha mostly exists in the shadow to its neighbour to the south, Murca. Murca is far larger than Kanadha and is run by a group of dictators known as the Archconservative Party. This is their leader, Exalted Ruler Godfrey. However, Mr. Godfrey prefers to be known as “God” – and this is what most of his people call him (although some of them give him the surname “Damn” underneath their breath).

This is a rare photo of God wearing evening dress. God doesn’t like wearing tuxedos, actually, because he likes to pretend to be a man of the people. However, from time to time he finds his tuxedo a useful tool to intimidate visiting dignitaries, such as The Right Honourable Steve.

Oops, sorry – wrong photo. This is actually the Father of Confederation, Sir John Eh?. However, the new guy, Steve is the current Supreme Lord and Master of Kanadha. He spends most of his time drinking, lying to his serfs and forcing the other nobility to keep silent about whatever it is he is up to, for example, hanging out with suspicious characters:

This is his way of emulating God, with whom he pretends to be best friends. No one is sure whether he actually believes this to be the case or not.

One thing is certain though – Steve has allowed God to scare him about the possibility of harm from this man, Lucifer.

Now, no one knows very much about Lucifer at all. According to God and Steve, Lucifer is a lawless type who hates Murca and should therefore be extinguished. However, people in Kanadha and Murca are not quite sure where he lives, what he believes in, and even whether this army exists or not. (God and Steve might actually know the truth – but if they do, they certainly have not been sharing it with their people).

Despite this, lots of money is spent every year by both Murca and Kanadha to engage in combat like activity far, far away in countries where Lucifer may or may not be found.

In Kanadha, they get the money for this fighting from people like this:

This is taxpayer John Doe. He is just one of millions of Kanadhonians who pay lots of tax money every year to Steve and the rest of the lords. He doesn’t really know where all of that money goes, as that is secret information known only to Steve and his Inner Circle of other nobility.

(It should be noted that In Kanatha, there is currently no right for taxpayers like John to vote. John doesn’t really think that is a big deal because he never voted when it was allowed anyway. Having said that, he does like complaining, though.

People like John, however, typically do not complain about the people in charge, because it’s easier to blame other people like themselves for all the problems in Kanadhian society. Steve encourages this, because it distracts the people and helps them forget that they are actually living in a fiefdom.)

Here are some other taxpayers, Quack and Daisy Duck:

You may have noticed that Quack and Daisy look quite different from one another, and from John Doe. This is because Kanadha is a multicultural fiefdom, although the Lords and Masters all still look like Steve (and like God, for that matter).

Quack and Daisy are hardworking types who don’t really have a lot of time to question what is going on in the wider world. Or maybe they just don’t care.

But that’s not a very kind thing to suggest, really, because I’m sure they’re busy looking after their two kids.

First up: Tina Duck.

Tina is still a young, naive little thing who doesn’t quite understand yet how the world works. Sometimes, especially after being picked on at school because her parents look different from one another, she wonders why everyone just can’t get along.

Everyone, that is, except her and her little brother, that is:

This is Brat Duck. He’s prone to stealing Tina’s crown and running around with it for kicks. He also squawks loudly, sometimes incessantly. This makes him potentially much better suited to get on in the fierdom and the wider world than Tina, unfortunately.

And finally, there is me, your humble chronicler, (Kris)tina.

I live in a place very much like Kanadha. It’s called Trana.

In Trana, unlike in Kanatha and Murca, there is no supreme being. Oh, wait, I’m wrong: of course there is a supreme being in Trana – the Almighty D*llar.

And here I must confess that I actually misled you a bit above. In fact, the Almighty D*llar is also the Supreme Being in both Kanadha and Murca. God and Steve just pretend to be the top entities, really.

I’m not allowed to show you photos here, just as I am not allowed to type out the name in full without changing a letter. However, in Kanadha one version of the Almighty D*llar looks like this, and in Murca like this. The version that you buy things with is referred to as a “dollar”.

As you can see, the Almighty D*llar is a shapeshifter which presents Itself amongst the rulers and mortals who spend their lives in search of it in various forms. And these days, you need at least one hundred of them to buy anything that you need.)

Trana is not a fiefdom, but some – nay, most – days it’s hard for me to believe that.

So, I just content myself with fondling luxury silk yarn, smoking cigarettes and indulging in general apathy like everyone else surrounding me.

Sigh.

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… and then there were… SEVEN?!?!

Well, things have clearly gone out of control in the House of Brouhaha.

I only realised this when I got home from work yesterday, only to find JJ (who was off work) out on the balcony in a “right stushie” as he would call it (English translation: having a royal fit.)

At least, a “right stushie” as befits a calm, cool and collected Scotsman. That is to say, he was pacing up and down the grounds of his estate, muttering under his breath:

“That wee lassie has gone way oot of contrrrrol now. Ah’m starrtin to wonder aboot her, really ah am. This is just way over the top.”

(Why is it that, as household Mediterranean, I always get blamed for irrational behaviour?! Sheesh).

I had no idea what he was talking about until I approached closer and saw this:

How strange. Apparently Daisy had gone and gotten herself pregnant again. I mean, she was complaining about some stomach problems… but triplets?!?

Er… make that quadruplets. I wonder what happened to this one? Must have been all the second hand smoke in the house. Sigh.

JJ then glared balefully at me and said “Would ye get that one to shurrup, already?!?”

You see, despite being less than eight hours old, this one was already talking loudly (QUACKQUACKQUACKQUACK – I guess that’s why Daddy was looking after her – she knew daddy’s name already! How cute), not to mention glowing:

Hmm. Not so sure that Daisy’s the mother of this one, actually. Separated at birth, d’ya think?

Hmm… nah. I don’t think even Susie, fabulous as she is, could manage this feat all the way from Australia.

I guess that the little one is just a second-hand smoked out mutant. Guid to know that Health Canada hasn’t been lying to me all these years, I guess.
Sigh.

Anyway, in time honoured Brouhaha Lapsed Greek Orthodox tradition, I decided that a baptism must immediately take place. The last kid, after all, had been dunked immediately.

Father … er, Sir John Eh?

was reluctant at first. His excuse was that that it is still Lent and the Greek priests are not supposed to conduct baptisms or weddings during that time.

However, judging by the rough state of him, I think that the actual truth was that he just wanted to get in all his drinking in before Holy Week starts next week. And as regular readers will know, I’m not too big on all that stuff.

So, I simply reminded him that, as he was not actually a Greek priest but was just playing one on the blog, the usual restrictions did not apply for him. He’s a lawyer himself, but found it hard to argue with that indisputable logic.

And hence…

(The little one advised me just before the dunking that she is an atheist and that I would be offending her religious freedoms under the Charter if I forced her to go through with it. At least, I assume that’s what all that irate quacking and light show was about. An excellent point. But she earned herself the name Quack Junior after her proud father for her troubles.

So, I have a little pagan mutant on my hands. This should be interesting. Hmm.)

And the names of the other three? That, in fact, is why they needed a quick baptism – it’s bad luck in the Greek culture to use their names beforehand.

Introducing, from left to right (with photos of their namesakes beneath):

James…Sparrow…

and Liz.

Where was the nouna (godmother) by the way?

Aphrodite was there OK, just standing by. She couldn’t fit on the counter next to the sink. But check her out dressed in all her finery: not one but two Brouhaha lace creations. Obviously a woman with impeccable taste.

(There was an honourary godmother as well, unbeknownst to her: Clarabelle. This is because by happy coincidence the postman brought me a lovely week package from the UK this morning!

This is my first skein of cobweb weight [or “eye-strain weight”, as Clarabelle put it] yarn – by Posh Yarns [I’ve posted a link although it’s apparently hard to come by and Clarabelle will now most likely come over the pond to kill me in my sleep when she can’t get hold of any because of the flood of orders from the millions of people who read this blog]. It’s a 50-50 silk/cashmere blend.

The colourway is simply amazing: Mulberry. This photo does not do it justice, I can assure you.

Thanks, Clarabelle! And you even included your address, so I know where to send the bill for the trifocals that I will need to upgrade [downgrade?!] to when I get addicted to cobwebbing. Sigh.)

When the baptism was over, the festivities commenced…
… but I soon noticed Bubbles, back home from Queen’s University for the occasion (man, they grow quickly, don’t they? I don’t know where the time flew. Sniff. Sob) pouting in the corner.

Now, as you know, I’m new at this parenthood thing (or is it grandparenthood? Hmm) but I’ve heard that kids can be jealous when a new arrival shows up.

(I do hope my mother doesn’t take this opportunity to post a photo of the first photo of me with my squalling, screaming, ugly little brother. But maybe if she’s reading this she could scan it in and Email it to me, just for a laugh. My mother, by the way, having just learned how to use a computer a few years ago, now has more tech gadgets than me, including a scanner. How embarrassing!)

I guess I should have picked up that something was wrong when I saw Bubbles glowering earlier at the babbies (as JJ would call them) earlier.

So, I asked what was wrong. Man, that Bubbles is a real drama queen, I must say. Hir issues:

(a) they got a bigger baptismal font than he did:

(KB’s INSIDE VOICE: there were three of them, dammit!!! What the $#*@$&^@#*& do you expect?!)

(b) they got a bigger candle than he did. And it was silver coloured.

(KB’s INSIDE VOICE: but you got my all time favourite purple candle. Bloody ingrate.)

I managed to explain this to Bubbles in a more or less rational way. But s/he still insisted on whining:

(c) they got hats and s/he didn’t!!

Actually, good point – but easily solved.

I even threw in hir favourite fruit for good measure.

But this still wasn’t good enough. Guess I caved too easily on the hat issue. S/he wheedled, begged and whined about the fact that hir little sibling got a gun too:

FINE. JJ, just to shut hir up, donated his pigeon-chasing implement:


Man, this grandparenting thing is difficult. But all is quiet this morning – I guess everyone’s content, thank goddess. And I can just toss them in a drawer if they act up, I guess. Hmm.

Happy Wednesday!

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