A lawsuit waiting to happen

I enjoyed this from today's column 8.

"My friend who worked on P&O ships in 1960 swears this is true,'' writes Jane Dymond, of Kiama. ''The Summer Olympics in Rome were close to starting. Standing outside the Colosseum an American woman turns to her friend and says 'It's going to be beautiful, but I don't think they'll have it ready for the Games.' I was in Pompeii recently. Staggering over the uneven, rocky ground came an American woman wearing shoes with towering stiletto heels. As she passed me she muttered, 'This place is a lawsuit waiting to happen. You'd think they would concrete it.' "

kids books

Some Friday afternoon fun, not really Latin related. I've been reading a lot of kids books lately, here are three of my favourites:

• the elephant and the balloon
• everyone is different
• all my friends are dead

And here's a short selection of kids music from They Might Be Giants, just for fun:

• Nine Bowls of Soup
• Nine Pirate Girls
• Nonagon

Reasons to Learn Latin; #3974

[The respective mayors of Sydney and London; Julius Caesar (left) and Boris Johnson]

A couple of articles for some light reading of the weekend. Firstly an entertaining and insightful piece by Boris Johnson (mayor of London) on the value of learning Latin. Here's a taste:

...there are times when a minister says something so maddening, so death-defyingly stupid, that I am glad not to be in the same room in case I should reach out, grab his tie, and end what is left of my political career with one almighty head-butt.

Such were my feelings on reading Mr Ed Balls on the subject of teaching Latin in schools...

(Thanks to Rogue Classicism for bringing this to my attention)

And closer to home Charles Purcell (of Chaser fame) imagines what Caesar would be like as benevolent dictator of Sydney.

If Julius Caesar was in charge of Sydney, we wouldn't still be arguing whether to build a cross circus maximus or integrated rail/ferry/chariot link. No longer would the scrolls and papyruses of the day have headlines like "Welcome to SnailRail", "Ferry system slow than horse-drawn buggies", "ancient Egyptians got to work quicker than Sydneysiders - study". Caesar would declare: "I came, I saw, I ordered the building of an integrated transport network." He would order construction immediately and no senator would dare object, lest he be sent to govern the barbarian provinces of Gaul (aka Mount Druitt).

The benign dictator would announce that Sydney's much-needed second airport would finally be built - in Mosman.

Don't miss the article's comments if you're a Terry Pratchett fan.

(Thanks to Lilian for bringing this to my attention)

videmus*

I stumbled across some hilarious youtube videos the other of Eddie Izzard giving some reflections both on learning Latin and on Roman history more generally. I've never really seen much of his stuff before, but as well as being very funny, he seems to be pretty intelligent. He is also very rude (don't watch these videos if you're put off by swearing).

Anyway, you can find them here:

• Pliny
• Hannibal
• more Hannibal (good material, poor quality video)

*videmus is the correct Latin plural of video, right?

liber faciei

Someone very clever has made a mock facebook page for the Aeneid. Check it out.

(Thanks to eternally cool for bringing it to my attention)

The Riddle of the Sphinx

I read some sad news the other day about Terry Pratchett, who has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. Ever since I first started reading them in high school, Pratchett's discworld novels have been my favourite comfort books- they're funny, clever, often thought-provoking, and are enjoyable to read time after time.

Here Pratchett's version of the riddle of the Sphinx, from one of my favourites, Pyramids:

'The answer is: "A Man",' said the Sphinx. 'Now, don't put up a fight, please, it releases unpleasant chemicals into the bloodstream.'
Teppic backed away from a slashing paw. 'Hold on, hold on,' he said. 'What do you mean, a man?'
'It's easy,' said the Sphinx. A baby crawls in the morning, stands on both legs at noon, and in the evening an old man walks with a stick. Good, isn't it?'
Teppic bit his lip. 'We're talking about one day here?' he said doubtfully.
There was a long embarassed silence.
'It's a wossname, a figure of speech,' said the Sphinx irritably, making another lunge.
'No, no, look, wait a minute,' said Teppic. 'I'd like us to be very clear about this, right? I mean, it's only fair, right?'
'Nothing wrong with the riddle,' said the Sphinx. 'Damn good riddle. Had that riddle for fifty years, sphinx and cub.' It thought about this. 'Chick,' it corrected.
'It's a good riddle,' Teppic said soothingly. 'Very deep. Very moving. The whole human condition in a nutshell. But you've got to admit, this doesn't all happen to one individual in one day, does it?'
'Well. No,' the Sphinx admitted. 'But that is self evident from the context. An element of dramatic analogy is present in all riddles,' it added, with the air of one who had heard the phrase a long time ago and rather liked it, although not to the extent of failing to eat the originator.
'Yes, but,' said Teppic crouching down and brushing a clear space on the damp sand, 'is there internal consistency within the metaphor? Let's say for example that the average life expectancy is seventy years OK?'
'OK,' said the Sphinx, in the uncertain tones of someone who has let the salesman in and is now regretfully contemplating a future in which they are undoubtedly going to buy life insurance.
'Right. Good. So noon would be age 35, am I right? Now considering that most children can toddle at a year or so, the four legs reference is really unsuitable, wouldn't you agree? I mean, most of the morning is spent on two legs. According to your analogy-' he paused and did a few calculations with a convenient thighbone- 'only about twenty minutes immediately after 00.00 hours, half an hour tops, is spent on four legs. Am I right? Be fair.'
'Well-' said the Sphinx.
'By the same token you wouldn't be using a stick by six p.m. because you'd be only, er, 52,' said Teppic, scribbling furiously. 'In fact you wouldn't really be looking at any kind of walking aid until at least half past nine, I think. That's on the assumption that the entire lifespan takes place over one day which is, I believe I have already pointed out, ridiculous. I'm sorry, it's basically OK, but it doesn't work.'
'Well,' said the Sphinx, but irritably this time, 'I don't see what I can do about it. I haven't got any more. It's the only one I've ever needed.'
'You just need to alter it a bit, that's all.'
'How do you mean?'
'Just make it a bit more realistic.'
'Hmm.' The Sphinx scratched it's mane with a claw.
'OK,' it said doubtfully. "I suppose I could ask: What is it that walks on four legs-'
'Metaphorically speaking,' said Teppic.
'Four legs, metaphorically speaking,' the Sphinx agreed, 'for about-'
'Twenty minutes, I think we agreed.'
'-OK, fine, twenty minutes in the morning, on two legs-'
'But I think calling it "in the morning" is stretching it a bit,' said Teppic. It's just after midnight. I mean, technically it's the morning, but in a very real sense it's still last night, what do you think?'
A look of glazed panic crossed the Sphinx's face.
'What do you think?' it managed.
'Let's just see where we've got to, shall we? What, metaphorically spekaing, walks on four legs just after midnight, on two legs for most of the day-'
'-barring accidents,' said the Sphinx , pathetically eager to show that it was making a contribution.
'Fine, on two legs barring accidents, until at least supper-time, when it walks with three legs-'
'I've known people use two walking sticks,' said the Sphinx helpfully.
'OK. How about: when it continues to walk on two legs or with any prosthetic aids of its choice?'
The Sphinx gave this some consideration.
'Ye-ess,' it said gravely. 'That seems to fit all eventualities.'
'Well?' said Teppic.
'Well what?' said the Sphinx.
'Well, what's the answer?'
The Sphinx gave him a stony look, and then showed its fangs.
'Oh no,' it said. 'You don't catch me out like that. You think I'm stupid? You've got to tell me the answer.'
'Oh, blow,' said Teppic.
'Thought you had me there, didn't you?' said the Sphinx.
'Sorry.'
'You thought you could get me all confused, did you?' The Sphinx grinned.
'It was worth a try,' said Teppic.
'Can't blame you. So what's the answer, then?'
Teppic scratched his nose.
'Haven't a clue,' he said. 'Unless, and this is a shot in the dark, you understand, it's: A Man.'
The Sphinx glared at him.
'You've been here before, haven't you?' it said accusingly.
'No.'
'Then someone's been talking, right?'
'Who could have talked? Has anyone ever guessed the riddle?' said Teppic.
'No!'
'Well, then. They couldn't have talked, could they?'
The Sphinx's claws scrabbled irritably on its rock.
'I suppose you'd better move along then,' it grumbled.
'Thank you,' said Teppic.
'I'd be grateful if you didn't tell anyone, please,' added the Sphinx, coldly. 'I wouldn't like to spoil it for other people.'

odi et...

Doing some research into Catullus recently, I discovered that the famous opening to poem 85 has been corrupted in the manuscript tradition, and that 'odi et amo' (I hate and I love) is actually an (admittedly, quite persuasive) emendation of the text by a later editor.

Here are my alternative suggestions for reconstructing what Catullus actually wrote:

odi et ammo
I hate and I own a gun

odi et emo
I hate and I wear a lot of black and listen to depressing music

odi et omo
I hate and I do laundry

odi et uno
I hate and I have only one card left

Roman First XI

With the cricket world cup in full swing, Mark Waugh has put together his "best Australian team ever". I'd like to know how they would have fared against this team, combining the best players from that powerhouse of World Cricket, the mighty Roman Empire.

1. Livy- Often unfairly typecast as a plodder, Livy was a powerful right-hander who terrorised opening bowlers on pitches around the empire, overwhelming them with the sheer force of his strokes. He could drive with enormous power, though was capable of finer touches as well. With Cicero was among Rome's most prodigous scorers, with a truly amazing output.

2. Virgil (vc)- For fluidity and style it is hard to go past the dashing left-hander from Mantua. He impressed from an early age, and comparisons with the legendary Greek batsman Homer were inevitable. He had the rare ability to score runs quickly and with minimum of effort. His timing was impeccable and he was able to guide the ball through the gaps in the field with unerring precision. He and Livy formed a formidable partnership at the top of the order with their contrasting styles.

3. Tacitus- A truly complete player, Tacitus had great variation of shots and could score fluently on both sides of the wicket, off pace or spin. Coming in at first drop he had the ability to steady the team when an early wicket had fallen, or to score quickly when a more aggressive approach was needed.

4. Juvenal- One of the greatest players of spin Rome has ever seen, Juvenal was known in particular for his elegant strokemaking square of the wicket and through the covers. He also played well off his pads, and was lightening-quick between the wickets. In the field he was an athletic fieldsman within the circle, capable of creating spectacular run-outs, and a part-time finger-spinner.

5. Cicero (c)- Cicero's early career showed him to be a daring stroke-maker with command over a wide range of shots, but when he was dropped, he removed the hook shot from his repertoire and reinvented himself as a determined and tenacious middle-order batsman, often scoring runs through sheer force of will. As captain Cicero was famous for his composure under pressure (who could forget his famous sledge against Catiline in the 63BC world cup semi final "You just dropped control over the republic, mate."- before going on to score a century), and was a handy off spin-bowler through the middle overs, until a shoulder injury cut short his career.

6. Horace- Rome's greatest finisher- and some would say her greatest ever player. Horace had a habit of coming in late in the order, under pressure, and getting the job done. Was a master of batting with the tail, and producing the best out of them. A lively infielder and useful medium-pacer, Horace was also the ultimate team man and on one occasion played through the pain of a broken thumb to secure a century for himself and victory for Rome, practising what he preached- dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.

7. Martial (wk)- Though often criticised for his unconventional technique by wicket-keeping purists, Martial brought far more to the game than simply his skill with gloves. Behind the stumps he was a master of sledging, and could put opposition batsmen off their games with a single barbed, yet elegant, elegaic couplet. He was also a powerful lower order hitter, and often came to Rome's aid in the final overs.

8. Catullus- The cheeky leg-spinner was often in trouble off the field and developed a love-hate relationship with the media, but on the field he let the ball do the talking and mystified batsmen with his stunning array of deliveries and magical control of his craft.

9. Ovid- A master of the mysterious art of swing-bowling, Ovid was lethal swinging the new ball away from right handers. A genuine pace bowler with a great yorker and deceptive slower ball, Ovid was also a handy lower order batsmen.

10. Plautus- Every team needs a prankster, and Plautus fits the bill nicely. His larrikin on-field persona and habit of tongue kissing team-mates in the ear belied a keen cricketing brain, fiercesome pace, and a ferocious bouncer.

11. Caesar- A line-and-length bowler with uncanny accuracy, Caesar had a phenomenal economy rate. He might not always take wickets, but he could tie up an end, making it hard for batsmen to score and building up the pressure in such a way that batsmen would be forced to take risks of his bowling partners. Caesar also had an annoying habit of talking about himself in the first person at post-match conferences.

Coach: Seneca- The moral philosopher was an inspiration as coach, and particularly encouraging in defeat, with his Stoic 'take-it-on-the-chin, stiff-upper-lip' attitude.