Sunday, October 25, 2015

It all sounds like the mad rantings of a crone curse

Thrice now I've gone to the toilet since waking an hour ago, each time progressively worse in output and internal damage. 

I realised it met the "rule of three" and thus could have been the result of a crone curse—"thrice you will go, 'ere the turn of a glass, and thrice thee shall cry in pain and torment." (1).

It makes sense though, being a crone and without access to a bedrock government support for the elderly, that you'd resort to the supernatural to give yourself social capital. You can't have any more kids, so if you have none around you're on you're own, and you're frail and unable to produce physical labour. Shrieking at people and denouncing them crone-style would really be your only way to access things like a half sausage or a third of a squirrel on a semi-weekly basis.

Poor fucking crones. 

In the Caroline Chisholm Centre here in Canberra, home to Human Services, there's this wall in the inner atrium that has a timeline of government support with the timeline running up to the roof. It starts at ground level with basic support at the bottom that came in at the turn of the twentieth century such as welfare for widows (insert year), old age pension (insert year), with the full list of support going up to the ceiling—a proud vertical en-rule that's not yet ended of successive governments recognising that their purpose is to help people, vulnerable people most of all. 

That's pretty cool—and a recognition that, as the Game of Thrones (TV series) says, "Some people will always need helping; it doesn't mean they're not worth helping."

Anyway, I reject the curse—I don't deserve it. But I do suspect it may have been helped along by the three squares of super milk chocolate I ate before going to bed.  Since that was the last stuff in and the horror of the thrice-output increased like the Richter scale upon each ceramic visitation—last in, last out. 

That's Mikey for you. He can combine personal introspection (offal, not head) and musings about old age support from the Middle-Ages through to the current day—toilet meets government.

WFTW.

UPDATE: Shortly after I posted this I rode SoTPC and felt much better. Plus I knocked the daily horror over early and got to enjoy my Sunday more. Thanks, epic levels of pain that forced me to medicate then exercise!

(1) Favourite TV bit featuring crone interaction is from Blackadder II—couldn't find video so below excerpt taken from script. Two scenes, both awesome.

In Putney (outside)

E:   Tell me Young crone, is this Putney?
C:   That it be, that it be.
E:   "Yes it is". Not "that it be". You don't have to talk in that stupid
     voice to me. I'm not a tourist. I seek information about a
     Wisewoman.
C:   Ah, the Wisewoman.. the Wisewoman.
E:   Yes, the Wisewoman.
C:   Two things, my lord, must thee know of the Wisewoman. First, she is
     ... a woman, and second, she is ...
E:   .. wise?
C:   You do know her then?
E:   No, just a wild stab in the dark which is incidentally what you'll
     be getting if you don't start being a bit more helpful. Do you know
     where she lives?
C:   Of course.
E:   Where?
C:   Here. Do you have an appointment?
E:   No.
C:   Well, you can go in anyway.
E:   Thank you Young crone. Here is a purse of moneys ... which I'm not
     going to give to you. 
 
In Putney (inside)
W:   Hail Edmund, lord of Adders Black.
E:   Hello.
W:   Step no nearer, for already I see thy bloody purpose. Thou plot is,
     Blackadder: thou wouldst be king and drown Middlesex in a butt of
     wine. Ah, ah, ah, ah.
E:   No, no, no, no. it is far worse than that. I'm in love with my man
     servant.
W:   Oh well, I'd sleep with him if I were you.
E:   What?
W:   When I fancy people, I sleep with them. Oh, I have to drug them
     first of course! Being so old and watty.
E:   But what about my position, my social life?
W:   Very well then. Three other paths are open to you. Three cunning
     plans to cure thy ailment.
E:   Oh good.
W:   The first is simple. Kill Bob!
E:   Never.
W:   Then try the second. Kill your self!
E:   Neu. And the third?
W:   The third is to ensure that no one else ever knows.
E:   Ha, that sounds more like it. How?
W:   Kill everybody in the whole world. Ah, ha, ha ...

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