Leggero Does It Right (Foto, Julja)

Dear Julja,
° Who says reading History, all bloodandgutsy and celebritymad, is a waste of time?
° (Well of course Victor Hugo does, says the only true history of humanity is the history of ideas; and just about anybody who ever read Suetonius after reading Tacitus must’ve concluded that there were two entirely discrete Roman Empires coexisting temporally and spatially; while even the dullest dullard must realise that his own morning coffee and sweetbuttered brioche with raspberry preserves holds more meaning than all the Hitlers all the Robespierres all the Inquisitors all the Prophets Priests Kings and Paris Hiltons that ever were said to have lived.)

° And yet they’re all wrong.
° For the other day, as I was putting cosmetic colouring into my history of the McLey family, I came across a recipe for what surely must be the first cocktail ever mixed, nearly a century before the Roaring Twenties.
° The vampirism of old recipes, just thirsting for resurrection . . . .

° I nabbed Leggero and Greco--he no longer looks like Steve Reeves, he only looks as Steve Reeves would’ve looked had he too shaved off his facefur--before the Saturday crush began.
° I dazed them with a learned lecture upon “rectified whisky,” “common whisky,” and “burst-head.” What really dazed them were the 1837 prices: $.40 a gallon for aged rectified, $.36 a gallon for common singling, $.20 a gallon for rotgut shipped down from Cincinnati, for distribution by candidates on Election Day, no wonder folks voted more often back then.
° I myself was dazed by the fact that everything but the loaf sugar used to be produced locally.
° One or two substitutions had to be improvised, and only the rectified whisky is still local, that and the mint, but the two lads attacked the project with the attentiveness of chemistry students warned of the effects of phosphorous. Greco raided the kitchen for simple syrup, Leggero ripped apart the mint and added the ingredients in decent order, then clapped a tumbler over the tumbler, shook, poured.
° It foamed over, for very joy at being reborn after almost two centuries of dusty oblivion. A garnish of whole mint and, ecco!

Leggero’s Rectifier

2 fingers loaf sugar syrup
1 finger peach brandy
1 finger apple brandy
1 finger cherry cordial
2 fingers rectified corn whisky

Add

Mint
Broken ice

Shake and pour.

§§§§§

° “Rectifier?”
° Yes, because after only two sips, your world‘s as right as Rousseau‘s.

° Cordially mentholated, Giac.

P. S. Simple syrup, peach brandy, apple brandy, cherry cordial, rectified whisky. A historically correct substitute for peach or apple is grape brandy, my own McLey great great grandfather distilled it just north of Overton at his vineyard.

Contents Execrable, Part I (Foto, Lad)

Dear Lad,
° I was humming Carl Orff’s setting of

Amabo, mea dulcis Ipsithilla, . . .

with a view toward improving same. Or, at least, riffing it into a more authentic metre.
° I thumbed through the text of the Catulli Carmina.
° All the way through.
° Nothing, no Ipsithilla at all.
° Then I eliminated the epithalamia and epyllion, and rethumbed.
° Nothing.
° Then I eliminated the epigrams.
° Nothing.
° Finally I opened my eyes and observed that Carmen vii followed immediately upon Carmen v.
° Aha! My 1961, Oxford University Press published edition of the poems of the most justly celebrated of all Rome’s poets had been bowdlerised.
° Censored!
° In 1961.
° Under the aegis of Oxford University Press.

° So I thought it might be worthwhile to remind ye young tigers how very wicked and dishonest were the Good Old Days. (For a return to the Good Old Days is the subtext of all the proCensorship resolutions currently before so many Redneck Legislatures).

° First, what did the 1961 Censor--”Editor” in his own mind--think fit to expurgate? ((Unbeknown to him, I also possess the 1958 Oxford University Press urtext, yes, just three years earlier.))

VI--Ad Flavium

uerum nescio quid febriculosi
scorti diligis: hoc pudet fateri . . . .
. . . . cur? non tam latera ecfututa pandas . . . .

((diseased whore; all the verbs based on futuere, fututum require only the insertion of a ck into the first syllable to translate themselves for an English reader, Italians need only a vowel shift))

XV--Ad Aurelium

((Peto ut)) conserues puerum mihi pudice,
non dico a populo--nihil ueremur
istos, qui in platea modo huc modo illuc
in re praetereunt sua occupati,--
uerum a te metuo tuoque pene
infesto pueris bonis malisque . . . .

((the inclusion of boy, that is, unfurry male youth, and Aurelius’s penis in the same sentence explains all))

XVI--Ad Aurelium

Pedicabo ego uos et irrumabo,
Aureli pathice et cinaede Furi, . . .

((Latin, unlike our own puritanical tongue, had verbs for being the oraltop, the analtop; like our own puritanical tongue, it had abundance of adjectives for effeminatebottompansyassedpooftersissyboyfaggot))

XVIII-XX

((These fragments are nonCatullan immigrants))

XXI--Ad Aurelium

Aureli, pater esuritionum,
non harum modo, sed quot aut fuerunt
aut sunt aut aliis erunt in annis,
pedicare cupis meos amores . . . .

((for one who trained a youth to be pedicated might well be said to be teaching him to be thirsty))

XXV--Ad Tallum

Cinaede Thalle, mollior cuniculi capillo
uel anseris medullula vel imula oricilla
uel pene languido senis situque araneoso . . . .

((a treasure trove of insulting references to the things a pansyassedbottom can be said to be softer than: bunnyfur (coniglio), goosedown, bonemarrow, an old man’s unviagraed penis, a cobweb . . . .))

XXVIII--Ad Verranium et Fabullum

. . . . o Memmi, bene me ac diu supinum
tota ista trabe lentus irrumasti.
sed, quantum uideo, pari fuistis
casu: nam nihilo minore uerpa
farti estis . . . .

((cf. Merrill’s unbeatable translation, “You have most scurvily abused me.” Memmius, you may have irrumared me with your “beam,” but it looks like somebody else has stuffed you full with a--well, a verpus is a circumcised male, therefore a wogsubject of a subjugated nation out East somewhere))

End of Part I, Contents Execrable

Contents Execrable, Part II (Foto, Lad)

Contents Execrable, Part II

XXXII--Ad Ipsitillam

. . . .
nam pransus iaceo et satur supinus
pertundo tunicamque palliumque.

((postprandial, dopo il pranzo, (ad)jacent, giacere, sated, saziato, borethrough, pertugio, tunic))

XXXIII--Ad Ipsitillam (but not really)

. . . . quandoquidem patris rapinae
notae sunt populo, et natis pilosas,
fili, non potes asse uenditare.

((you couldn’t sell a certain hairy portion of your posterior for a red cent; a preceding line gives birth to the Italian taunt “fanculo”))

XXXVII--Ad contubernales, Ad Ignatium

. . . .
solis putatis esse mentulas uobis,
solis licere, quidquid est puellarum,
confutuere et putare ceteros hircos?
. . . .
Egnati, opaca quem bonum facit barba
et dens Hibera defricatus urina.

((yet another word for peckers; a reference to a popular Spanish dentifrice, the principal bleaching agent known to the Romans))

XLVIII

Mellitos oculos tuos, Iuuenti,
si quis me sinat usque basiare,
usque ad milia basiem trecenta
. . . .

((miele, honeysweet eyes; how many kisses applied; the expurgation arises from the sex of the owner of the eyes . . . .))

LIV--De Octonis capite

Othonis caput oppido est pusillum,
?? ?? rustice semilauta crura,
subtile et leue peditum Libonis,
. . . .

((a garbled attack on Julius Caesar, semilavato leg))

LVI--Ad Catonem

. . . .
deprendi modo pupulum puellae
trusantem; hunc ego, si placet Dionae,
protelo rigida mea cecidi.

((how to deal with a little boy messing with your girlfriend))

LVII--Ad Catonem

Pulcre conuenit improbis cinaedis,
Mamurrae pathicoque Caesarique.
. . . .
morbosi pariter, gemelli utrique,
uno in lecticulo erudituli ambo,
non hic quam ille magis uorax adulter,
riuales socii puellularum.

((trotting out all the pansyassedpoofterwords against Caesar, and adding adulter to the list)

LIX--In Rufum

Bononiensis Rufa Rufulum fellat,
. . . .

((at last, fellatio rears its pretty head, with a soupçon of incest))

LXVII--Ad Ortalem

. . . .
‘Primum igitur, uirgo quod fertur tradita nobis,
falsum est. non illam uir prior attigerit,
languidior tenera cui pendens sicula beta
numquam se mediam sustulit ad tunicam;
sed pater illius gnati uiolasse cubile
dicitur et miseram conscelerasse domum
. . . .

((yet another common winter vegetable that a man’s “dagger” can be limper than; major league incest, that is, inhouse child sexual abuse))

LXIX--In Rufum

Noli admirari, quare tibi femina nulla,
. . . .
laedit te quaedam mala fabula, qua tibi fertur,
ualle sub alarum trux habitare caper.
. . . .

((Right Guard applied to this area would banish the fragrance of billygoat))

LXXI--In Rufum

. . . .
nam quotiens futuit, totiens ulciscitur ambos:
illam affligit odore, ipse perit podagra.

((Latin’s most useful verb again; his odour murders her, his gout murders him))

End of Part II, Contents Execrable

Contents Execrable, Part III (Foto, Lad)

Contents Execrable, Part III

LXXIV--Ad Lesbiam ((?))

. . . .
quod uoluit fecit: nam, quamuis irrumet ipsum
nunc patruum, uerbum non faciet patruus.

((sometimes the editor is right, “screws over” is all that’s meant; and anyway, it doesn’t count if it’s your uncle? or his wife?))

LXXVIII

Gallus habet fratres, quorum est lepidissima coniunx
alterius, lepidus filius alterius.
. . . .

((and of course aunt and nephew don’t count either))

LXXVIIIb--Ad Rufum

. . . .
sed nunc id doleo, quod purae pura puellae
suauia comminxit spurca saliua tua.
. . . .

((sloppy wet kisses were always sloppy and wet))

LXXIX

Lesbius est pulcer. quid ni? quem Lesbia malit
quam te cum tota gente, Catulle, tua.
. . . .

((and brother and sister don’t count, do they?))

LXXX--Ad Gellium

. . . .
nescio quid certe est: an uere fama susurrat
grandia te medii tenta uorare uiri?
sic certe est: clamant Victoris rupta miselli
ilia, et emulso labra notata sero.

((burst rectum, lips covered in slimy fluid, just Lord have mercy!))

LXXXVIII--Ad Gellium

Quid facit is, Gelli, qui cum matre atque sorore
prurit et abiectis peruigilat tunicis?
. . . .

((the editor hopefully notes, “perhaps it’s only his stepmother”))

LXXXIX--In Gellium

Gellius est tenuis: quid ni? cui tam bona mater
tamque ualens uiuat tamque uenusta soror
tamque bonus patruus tamque omnia plena puellis
cognatis, quare is desinat esse macer?
. . . .

((no, mothers and sisters and uncles and cousins do not count, but they can sure help burn the calories . . . .))

XC

Nascatur magus ex Gelli matrisque nefando
coniugio et discat Persicum aruspicium:
. . . .

((so now let’s blame it on the Persian magi, what an Epiphany!))

XCI

. . . .
et quamuis tecum multo coniungerer usu,
. . . .

((since you couldn’t seduce my mother and sister, you found a way to really hurt me . . . .))

End of Part III, Contents Execrable

Contents Execrable, Part IV (Foto, Lad)

Contents Execrable, Part IV

XCIV--In Cesarem

Mentula moechatur. Moechatur mentula? Certe.
Hoc est quod dicunt: ipsa olera olla legit.

((poor Mentula, but every language names some of its boys “Dick”))

XCVII--In Cesarem

Non (ita me di ament) quicquam referre putaui,
utrumne os an culum olfacerem Aemilio.
. . . .
quem siqua attingit, non illam posse putemus
aegroti culum lingere carnificis?

((long before Listerine was invented . . . ; how Latin resisted making this rimming action a compound verb I truly do not know))

XCVIII--In Cesarem

. . . .
ista cum lingua, si usus ueniat tibi, possis
culos et crepidas lingere carpatinas.
. . . .

((it’s not polite to make fun of folks with big tongues))

XCIX

Surripui tibi, dum ludis, mellite Iuuenti,
suauiolum dulci dulcius ambrosia.
. . . .

((this time it’s Juventius himself who’s honeysweet, so naturally a little kiss stolen from him would be sweeter than ambrosia))

CVI

Cum puero bello praeconem qui uidet esse,
quid credat, nisi se uendere discupere?

((well really, what else could it mean when you see an auctioneer with a pretty young man in tow?))

CXI

Aufillena, . . . .
sed cuiuis quamuis potius succumbere par est,
quam matrem fratres ex patruo . . . ((fragment))

((well we already established that uncle and niece don’t count, didn’t we?))

CXII--Fletus de morte fratris

Multus homo es, Naso, neque tecum multus homo ?? ??
te scindat: Naso, multus es et pathicus.

((It’s like he was writing in English, centuries before there was any such language . . . .))

§§§§§

° No great loss?
° Any verse vituperating Julius Caesar at a time when he was the new Robespierre is worth the Contrat Social itself, just ask the Ukrainians.
° The omission of the ‘Lesbius est pulcer’ makes mincemeat of the entire Clodius-Clodia-Catullus incestjealousy storyline.
° The suppression of the physical Iuventius poems falsifies the platonic Iuventius poems left in the collection.
° How many children for how many centuries have been sexslaves to their own fathers, partly because it was not “nice” to circulate information on inhouse sex abuse?
° And how, without these excised poems as tutor, could the average joe ever memorise all the sexverbs in Latin, irrumare pedicare defutuere ecfutuere futuere fellare cunnus (in aestu meientis mulae) lingere, und so weiter?
° And without a thorough knowledge of Latin sex terminology, how can priests, in the newly reLatinised Roman Church, be expected to direct their altarboys to the sweet spot?

Non maledirmi, non irrumarmi, Giac.

P. S. “Contents execrable, metre Phalaecean”? That was the verdict of Merrill’s unexpurgated 1893 edition upon the poem Amabo, mea dulcis Ipsithilla. 1893, the Good Old Days.

Caffè dell'Uovo (Foto, Sandy)

Dear Sandy,
° Industrial ceiling, pipes and ducts, pinky chocolate.
° Nonsmoking defined by subceiling slabs of blond birch.
° Smoking segregated by a fiftyfoot wall of sheer steel mesh.
° Granite slab table, half indoors, half out, weatherproof retractable glass walls.
° Private dining behind japanese sliding doors, interpreted in confectioner’s sugared metal and circleswirled fiberglass.
° Enough copper facingdown the kitchen to keep Ruby and a whole swampful of scouring rushes busy fulltime.

§

° A Guccishod man whose bespoke sports jacket fit, not because bespoke, but because his bodyparts underlay proportionally.

§

° Music alla moda, cool, ignorable.

§

° A brunette alumna of a Virginia finishing school recounting the breakup of her marriage, her codependent friends, her therapist’s plans for coping with them: “Reaction is futile.”

§

° Basted eggs atop diced peppers, onions, mushrooms, squash, all atop peasant potatoes, spiced to one’s platonic preconceptions of ideal taste.

§

° Manicured thirtysomething boytoy designer to unaging blonde client: “Then you’re okay with that chair for the library alcove?”
° “Uhhhh!”
° Desperately.

§

° On the plasma screen above the bar, alternating footage of Michael Jackson’s reconstructed nose and redandgreenyyellow Iraqi bloodandentrails splattering bystanders.

§§§§§

° La Commedia umana.

° Egging you on, Giac.

P. S. The pink grapefruit juice was superb.

Proud to be . . . (Foto, Coz)

Dear Coz,
° Proud to be . . .

1. . . . an American;
2. . . . here;
3. . . . nominated for this award.

° Yes, an English major (it was an advocate, most likely) finally took charge of Overton’s Pride manifestation. Someone who understands that words carry subtexts. Someone who was fed up with Pride . . .

1, 2, 3. . . . goeth before a fall.

Someone, perhaps, born after the heyday of Black Pride.

§§§§§

° I am not an English major, I barely managed Latin Greek German and Italian.
° But I know that as long as Gay goeth opposite Straight, the wordgame is lost.

° Psychically literate, your Cousin Giac.

Freaks (Foto, Piers)

My beloved Piers,
° I saw with my own eyes:

1. Big giant tattooed Maori females astride big giant Harleys;
2. A preoperative transsexual who will never fit into Nancy Reagan‘s Size 2 handmedowns;
3. A coven of tiedyed frizzyhaired redheaded pagans;
4. A banker waving from an open convertible;
5. The entire Overton chapter of NOW, 3 damsels;
6. I saw rodeo cowboys;
7. I saw Tira in my morning coffeescum, I saw adoptable greyhounds galore;
8. I saw Muslim women collecting freebie books, funeral parlour fans, refrigerator magnets;
9. I saw buff boys collecting free henna tattoos;
10. I saw nonTrinitarians, I saw relaxed Episcopalians, Oxy Wesley as backdrop;
11. I saw a vendor hawking icons of the great god Priapus;
12. I saw two painted women in stilettos, who weren‘t transsexual men;
13. I saw the clouded heavens open and a shaft of Berninilike light illumine Leggero in the midst of his tribe;
14. I saw folks stuffing their bellies, burning their faces and shoulders, swaying to free music;
15. I saw lots of things.

° But the only thing I saw that shocked me was:

16. I saw Presbyterians!

§

° I saw Gay Pride transformed from a political movement--there were no “God Hates Fags” signs, no “And He’s Not That Crazy about Pharisees Either” countersigns--into a gala.
° I saw Pride transformed from a Deadly Sin into a description of the phalanx of young males surrounding Leggero, like Greeks ready to take on Trojans, like an allforoneandoneforall college fraternity, like a Pride of big giant tawny jungle cats.

§§§§§

° The only thing, besides the muchmissed hecklers, I didn’t see was Freaks.
° “I never go to Pride,” had said Derrico the week before. “It’s just a freak show.”

§

° Course I’m as nearsighted as MM in How to Marry a Millionaire, so don’t go by me.

° Andando sempre fiero di te, Giac.

Suck Goats (Foto, Piers)

My beloved Piers,
° Ειμι μαντειος, and no one’s more surprised than I.
° For no sooner do I complain of our Overton rulers’ notorious bribiousness, than the SS announces the conclusion of a twoyear sting. A fake corporation registered, checks given to legislators, taperecorded promises of voting the pseudobriber’s wishes.
° 6 miscreants.
° 2 nondarkskinned miscreants.
° 4 darkskinned miscreants.

° As my Yellow Dog buddy said in the steam room yesterday morning, “If they’d tried to bribe the entire legislature, they’d’ve succeeded. How come just these six?” Asked and answered.
° But I poured oil upon troubled racial waters.
° Queried I Lincoln, all sweaty and chocolatey as he was:

1. If the corporation was fake, then the bribe was fake, wasn’t it?
2. Since the legislators couldn’t and didn’t change their votes in response to the money, then who was suckered, we their subjects, or the (fake SS) corporation?
3. Was it these 6 legislators’ crooked votes that over the past 10-15 years singlehandedly destroyed the State’s finances and wrecked its Medicaid program?
4. Or was it the inefficiency and greed of the entire unstung Legislature that over the past 10-15 years singlehandedly destroyed the State’s finances and wrecked its Medicaid program?

And last but not least:

5. How many times, Linc, sweaty and chocolatey as you are, have you heard Federal Judges, Senators and Congressmen, and White House staff say, without immediately being tarred and feathered, “It’s true I received $xxxxxx from XYZCo, but it never affected my vote.”

§§§§§

° Template revision: no honest politician ever permitted a lobbyist to buy him/her so much as a stick of gum.

§

° Final query:

Why can’t our rulers in Overton pass ethics legislation?

° Final answer:

Because nobody can figure out wording that scapegoats one without entrapping all.

° Honestly, Giac.

Rubber Panties (Foto, Coz)

Dear Coz,
° Remembrance Day at Trattoria Coloreproibito. Gaily printed Hawaiian shirts and shorts on all the staff. Tiki torches lit. Wovengrass roof over the bar. Beachballs and surfboards galore.
° Jean Petit, after long absence, returned all tricked out in Owen Wilson beachbum blondness.
° Leggero asks do I want a lay, then drapes a lei around my neck. It bears the medallion of S. Eustachio, the antlered deer with Cross--for me a remembrancer of Mentorella, the sheep, the mists, Santo. The babas au rhum, the French--o well . . . .
° Almost unasked, Leggero prepares my first Sex on the Beach, all pinky girly peachy. Effective. Quickly effective.
° On the monitors an old episode of Sex in the City.
° Well, I never had sex on the beach or sex in the city or surfed or startled giant antlered deer with luminescent Crosses sprouting from their foreheads--but I did have that one ascent to Mentorella, Santo driving like a madman . . . .

sexonthecherrybeach
sexonthebeachsex
onthebeachsex
onthebeach
sexonthe
beach
sex

§

° Fresh from a nostalgic viewing of Lipstick and Dynamite, like The Fabulous Moolah I tagged in (while the referee wasn’t looking) and continued Leggero’s conversation with Derrico.
° After five scotches--I was still in the upper third of Beach Sex, Samantha was already in overtime--Derrico expressed himself.
° “I wish I could get away sometime.”
° I said what was required to open the floodgates.
° “No, seven days a week, 5:30 every morning.” He’s principal--that is to say, sole--caregiver to two family members. One, still continent, but frail, has some chance of having his proteins recycled bimeby. Malignant diabetes, stroke.
° The other, still young, is profoundly afflicted.
° Can do nothing for herself but occasionally have “accidents.”
° The more disagreeable of the two possible accidents.
° Won’t wear Depends.
° Can’t be left alone for a minute.
° Fixing to be cut from the State’s haemorrhaging Medicaid rolls.
° Still young, entirely healthy.
° Apart from being profoundly afflicted.

§§§§§

° Socialism has a solution to the problem: a dab of extra taxes from everyone to insure everyone against the mischance of being trapped into a lifetime of slipping on rubber gloves and running a really hotwater and bleach and doubledip soap wash everyday for the rest of his natural life.
° Patriarchal Judaeochristianislamism has a solution: dump the task onto some selfless female, preferably an old maid or nonsecular nun. (Though for important people, like the former Bishop of Rome, the solution is to pull the plug on the dialysis machine. Mischief managed, problem solved.)
° Cats, birds, fish, wolves, earthworms, cows, the entire unperverted animal kingdom have a solution: Sister Turkey Buzzard.
° ((And to tell the truth, Death Most Holy did cross my mind, I just barely stopped myself from directing Derrico to the Shrine with a propitiatory candle.))

§

° But in the end, Reason triumphed.
° The solution is--

Tic tac tic tac tic tac tic . . . .

° The solution is--rubber rooms, nudism, heat lamps, soapy warm water from overhead showers rinsing the creature and flushing the floor at intervals. Everyone happy as happy can be.
° Well I’m Pisces, if I’m warm and wet, I’m happy.

° Glad it’s not me, glad it’s not you, your Cousin Giac.