AdamSmith

By the way...

One of Dr. Johnson's (one could address one's privy member that way) highest virtues was to be contrary. His age worshiped Milton, thus his crack. Re-reading Milton is more enjoyable than reading him the first time. For one thing, you know where the good bits are. Like in Paradise Lost, Book VIII, where Adam dares to ask Raphael whether angels have sex. Raphael, "with a smile that glowed / Celestial rosy red, Love's proper hue, answered." The answer is yes.

I likewise grew up south of the Manson-Nixon line as Robin Williams called it. We should note that all that stuff goes in the backyard only because the refrigerator and washing machine are already taking up the front porch. My grandparents' neighbor, who enjoyed his white lightning, often sat on his front porch after dark reading out loud to himself from the Good Book. Or just talking to himself. Clothed, to be sure, except when he would rise and step to the edge, to take a whizz into his azaleas.

You must not have made it clear that you would take after William Blake and his wife, who liked to read Milton aloud to each other sitting naked in the back garden.

One of the burning questions of the age! As you know: Milton, age 31, returning home from an extended tour of Europe, learns that his best friend, Diodati, has died while Milton was abroad. In response he pens "Damon's Epitaph," a pastoral elegy to Diodati written in Latin. Most English translations apply a bland Victorianizing patina, particularly to the ending. E.g.: "...Because a rosy blush, and a youth without stain were dear to you, because you never tasted the pleasure of marriage, lo! for you are reserved a virgin's honours. Your noble head bound with a glittering wreath, in your hands the glad branches of the leafy palm, you shall for ever act and act again the immortal nuptials, where song and the lyre, mingled with the blessed dances, wax rapturous, and the joyous revels rage under the thyrsus of Zion." All right as far as it goes. But some feel the Latin carries rather more red blood and other bodily fluids. This version courtesy Reynolds Price: ...Because you saved your blood of youth nor soiled, Because you did not taste the joys of bed, For virgin you they serve you full rewards: Head shining, ringed with crimson crown, Hands bearing palm-leaf shades, you thrust In endless acts of endless Hymen To song and mad harp threading choruses, Wine feasts and orgies, sprouting wands of Zion. (In fact Price's publisher found this too much, changing "thrust / In" to "last / Through" in the printed version. Hmph.)

Ain't free enterprise wonderful? Ditto many things that come out of the Rhode Island School of Design. (Double-ditto Gov. Sebelius, a Democrat who appears able to fight back the tide of far-right wingnuts without alienating moderate Republicans.) Wonder -- do jokes about situational homosexuality advance straight people's acceptance of and comfort with gay people? Or do they move things backward in insidious ways? Or can a joke be just a joke? Son of Kan. Governor Creates Board Game TOPEKA, Kan. (AP) — The son of Gov. Kathleen Sebelius is peddling a board game titled "Don't Drop the Soap," a prison-themed game he created as part of a class project at the Rhode Island School of Design. John Sebelius, 23, has the backing of his mother and father, U.S. Magistrate Judge Gary Sebelius. The governor's spokeswoman, Nicole Corcoran, said both parents "are very proud of their son John's creativity and talent." John Sebelius is selling the game on his Internet site for $34.99, plus packaging, shipping and handling. The contact information on the Web site lists the address of the governor's mansion. Corcoran said the address will change when John Sebelius moves. The game also goes on sale starting Jan. 31 at a shop called Hobbs in the college town of Lawrence. "Fight your way through 6 different exciting locations in hopes of being granted parole," the site says. "Escape prison riots in The Yard, slip glass into a mob boss' lasagna in the Cafeteria, steal painkillers from the nurse's desk in the Infirmary." The game includes five tokens representing a bag of cocaine, a handgun and three characters: wheelchair-using 'Wheelz," muscle-flexing "Anferny" and business suit-clad "Sal 'the Butcher.'" Corcoran said John Sebelius sought legal advice to be sure he followed proper requirements, and he even took out a loan to pay for the production of his work. "This game is intended for mature audiences — not children — and is simply intended for entertainment," Corcoran said. http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5jzb-oqi...7TKt0AD8UEEVI00

Lead on, O Kink Eternal! Lord, I apologize.

If humans can acquire a taste for goat's milk, I think they can stomach anything. My S.O. adores goat's-milk yogurt; I have to leave the room. There must be a Jared Diamond book to be written on this. The Sow's Teat. Or is that a pub in Hoxton & Shoreditch?

You are, again, a fund. Having the facts makes all so clear. In the north of England, they make endless jokes about the southern Scottish hillsides being populated by blue-eyed sheep.

Jawohl, Herr Doktor Professor! These notions of B&D in the akademy must be pursued more fully. Have you a riding crop?

Second the motion. Should a synonym be needed, how about: a megacolon.

...except possibly Adam. After mine own heart! ...Mere repetitions.These things at least comprise An occupation, an exercise, a work, A thing final in itself and, therefore, good: One of the vast repetitions final in Themselves and, therefore, good, the going round And round and round, the merely going round, Until merely going round is a final good, The way wine comes at a table in a wood. And we enjoy like men, the way a leaf Above the table spins its constant spin, So that we look at it with pleasure, look At it spinning its eccentric measure. Perhaps The man-hero is not the exceptional monster, But he that of repetition is most master. http://home.earthlink.net/~scofield99/data...otesSupreme.htm

Whew! E quindi uscimmo...

Stu, I love your ear. (Let people talk!) But good Christ! Is theirs to be my fate as well? Your post very nearly caused this reaction: E caddi come corpo morto cade...

lookin, your research puts us to shame. Being away from an Internet connection when the question came up, we did not get farther than, as you said elsewhere, some gedankenexperiments. Although, later that evening, the experiments went rather beyond gedanken. Our next symposium could be on koshering bush meat.

Stu: What a giveaway! You see why Ben is one of my favorite escort acquaintances in the known world. Last time together, we spent a good twenty minutes chewing over the arcana of some paper we both knew that had been published by the Society of Automotive Engineers. Before moving on to (1) varieties of bush meat, (2) why H. sapiens consumes the milk of cows and goats but not pigs, (3) etc. Where else to find such a brew? Ben: You rascal! You just derailed all hope of my getting anything useful done today. Your references compel me to restart my efforts to size the North American male escort economy. Expect a spreadsheet soon.

LOL Not that far out. My favorite escort (now retired), after a client racked up 5 paid overnights (@ $1000), gave one free. Good deal for all, I thought.

The least we should expect and hope for, most of the time. No? Especially (music upward swell) aided & abetted by competent review sites and reviewers. P.S. In serious reply to Stu's point, if an escort, to arrange the transaction, needs to know more about me than how long I want and what rate I'll pay, I cut it off. After successful first contact, I have no trouble disclosing just about anything. But not beforehand.

Covered with shame: could not find suitable rejoinder for the other one. As I've admiringly noted here before, no one with your tally of ventures into the unreviewed unknown will be without scars. We laud your risk-taking, sacrifice and, above all, unvarnished reportage. Earnestness adjourned. Back to our regularly scheduled ironies.

Has not the right escort, on occasion, raised thee from the tomb? (Given the season, especially, I apologize for the sacrilege. I agree with everything you expressed. Last weekend I had a quasi-mystical experience with an escort that even now is distorting my perceptions.)

If you worry you spend too much time and effort chasing dick or otherwise, here's a benchmark... Married man: 'I slept with 13 women this week' Dr. Gail Saltz calls a troubled man a 'sociopathic sex addict' By Gail Saltz TODAYShow.com contributor updated 4:07 p.m. ET, Wed., Dec. 19, 2007 Q. I can’t get enough of women. I have to look at every woman who walks by. I watch porn, I flirt, I keep in touch with past girlfriends, I make new ones, I browse for women online. I get up to 30 e-mails a day from women. Once I have seduced them online, they are dying to meet me and usually sleep with me on the first date. Then I find the simplest flaw and use that against them to break it off. They are devastated. They feel I have used them sexually, and they are right. The kicker is that I am married. My wife is great, beautiful, intelligent and we have a good sex life. I am 41. We have been together for 25 years. I, however, still have a constant rotation of new women. I just can’t stop seducing other women and having sex with them. Nor do I want to, because I am having the time of my life. This is affecting my job, but only because it is so time-consuming. Typically, it takes three hours a day to write to women. Then I make phone calls to those higher on the rotation. Then I e-mail again for another three hours after my wife goes to bed. Then I do a few hours of research for new women... http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/22330315/?GT1=10645

I admit to flogging a dead horse re Draker. I also admit I'm liable to do it again. If online communities have a prime directive, it is Thou shalt not post under multiple identities. I think that, at any rate. Perfect, again. Touche. This is what MC repartee is about.

P.P.S. You forgot my pickles!

Like I said! ...a new forum? Maybe simply 'None of the Above'. Anyway, what's an MC without the occasional shameless highjack? P.S. I'm not dead yet!

This is, of course, a minor tributary of Milton criticism, far from where the main stream flows. Good advice. (I would ask you to send me those words, but I would not remember them.)