11-018
Up the Greek Without a
Paddle
Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.
Your instructor, Mr. Peffifinkle, could not be here today owing to a nasty case
of indictment. He has asked me to fill in for him and kindly provided a sturdy
shovel for that purpose.
Today's lesson was scheduled to be
units of distance, but I couldn't find a yardstick (the grass was too high in
the yard) so we will be discussing Greek mythology, instead. Please take out
your #2 iPencils and narrow-ruled iPads, and we will begin.
The Greeks were a bit paranoid, as
they were followed closely by the Romans, who had misplaced their map and
couldn't remember how to get home. Besides being a little jumpy, the Greeks
(or, as their neighbors the Etruscans referred to them, "those sandal-wearing
sissies in bed sheets") were avid theophiles. Many's the idyllic Greek
afternoon spent dreaming up new gods and goddesses to serve as patrons for
every conceivable trade, art, emotion, calling, or household pest. The Greeks
had a penchant for theogenesis (if that's not a word, it should be) that was
matched only by their penchant for bacchanalia. A casual stroll through the
streets of Athens was bound to turn up at least two or three “godmakers”
scribing furiously at wooden desks wedged between itinerant philosophers,
prolifically churning out new deities on demand. A name, a few rituals, some basic worship ground rules (fond of
salamanders, only accepts sacrifices threaded through terra-cotta napkin rings
when the moon is at quarter gibbous) and a new holy personage was ready for
veneration.
Some of them did double or even
triple duty--one goddess might be the patron, for example, of saturated fat,
farm implements, and inflamed follicles, while her twin brother (they were born
of the clandestine union between the goddess of spinach salad and a mortal
raised to demigod status after ridding the Olympus lawn of crabgrass) was the
god of down escalators and that sticky sap that sometimes oozes out of firewood
when you're trying to impress a date.
This brings us inexplicably to Greek
food, which in my experience is a curious conglomeration of little bits of
unidentifiable meat blended with too many ingredients into a sort of
sludge-like puree and then packed into rolls of stuff peeled off a tree stump. It
may also be that I haven't actually had any authentic Greek food, in which case
I invite you to ignore the preceding and just read the part about Greek gods
again.
Greek cheese and milk seem to be
made almost wholly from creatures not traditionally employed in the dairy
industry, at least in my neck of the woods, but despite this they are still
quite tasty.
We appear to have strayed somewhat
from our topic, dear students. I hope you won't hold it against me, or Mr.
Peffifinkle, God bless him. After all,
a myth is as good as a mile. Class dismissed. Please drop your fig leaves by
the door on your way out.