Purification in Delos

I was just reading in "T-Diddy" (our good friend Thucydides, Book 3.104 if you want to know) how the Athenians purified Delos.

"All the remains of those that died in Delos were removed, and for the future it was commanded that no one should be allowed either to die or to give birth to a child in the island; but that they should be carried over to Rhenea" which is near to Delos.

What I'm really concerned about is that part about people not being allowed to die or give birth on the island. This raises a few questions in my mind, and I'm sure it does the same in yours. The birthing part is pretty simple, it's weird but it's simple. They just put all their maternity wards on this island of Rhenea, problem solved. Also, people generally know when they're going to have a baby. There's a few signs to look out for (but keep your guesses to yourself). So, when those signs present themselves they send them over to that other island. But what if the signs were just missed? This happens you know.

Delos Purification Authority: Excuse me maam, you aren't about to have a baby here are you?

Woman in labor: I know, I know I saw the leaflets; I'm not supposed to give birth here. But I didn't know I was, and now I am.

DPA: I'm sorry maa'm but you are going to have to go to Rhenea for that. I can't allow you to have a baby here.

Dang, shucks for her. What a hassle.

And what about people dying? There had to have been more cases of ambiguity then. I mean, after a certain age I guess they just ferried the old people to Rhenea, and the same with the sick. I'm guessing there were no beds designated as "death beds" in Delos. But what about the odd person who started dying unexpectedly.

DPA: Um. . . Sir, you look like you could die any minute now. When did this start?

Dying man: About. . . ten minutes ago. . . I can hardly breathe.

DPA: Well dying's not allowed here, you're going to have to go to Rhenea. I shouldn't have to tell you this.

DM: Rhenea? I heard it's terrible, I want to die here.

DPA: Too bad, that's the law.

I make irrelevant comments because it's late.

Read somewhere between tonight and tomorrow morning:

The remaining cells die via apoptosis (programmed cell death).

Yeah, biology textbook. Point is this:

wouldn't Programmed Cell Death be the greatest name ever for a Techno Punk Rock Band?!

I know, right? Now you can return to what actually matters in your life.

A return to definition guessing

Well, it's been a pretty long time since I've contributed anything either. You could almost say I'm in danger of becoming a non-contributor. But that would be weird wouldn't it? Who would run this sanctuary for absurdity if Kaleb and I both left? I have another post running through my head but for now I have a weird word from Mrs. Byrnes. Try to figure out what it means but don't look it up. If you figure it out you earn some flabbergasted respect.

hereism

If that's too easy and you want another one here is: lethonomia.

I need to work up to this ...

So I haven't posted on Flabbergasted in so long I can hardly even be called a contributor. Yes, you say, I know, what gives? To which I would hem, haw, and give you much of what elsewhere is called nugarum about time and my lack thereof. In any case, I figured the best thing to give you in the short time I have until Natural History would be an obituary I wrote recently. For myself. For declamations. Things you should know about this particular item: it's not serious. Not even hardly. Also, look on YouTube for "Most Interesting Man in the World." These are some of the greatest commercials of all time. Period.

Kaleb A. Trotter: Jan 2 1990 – Sep. 25, 2080.

Kaleb Trotter, explorer, art critic, Presidential candidate, and wealthy eccentric, was found on his private yacht today off the coast of Tasmania, south of Australia. His wife found him lying in bed, his favorite Irish wolfhound lying at his feet. Doctors have been unable to determine the cause of death, and when his widow was asked if she believed it was a heart attack, she replied, “his heart wouldn’t nearly be foolish enough to attack him.”

It is unknown where Trotter acquired his fortune, but black market deals in ancient artifacts were suspected ever since his expedition into Ethiopia in the early 2040’s. Before 2020, Trotter was unheard of, growing up in relative obscurity in the southern part of the United States. He became a household name almost overnight after discovering the Maasacani, a primitive tribe living near the mouth of the Congo River in West Africa. Out of supplies and having lost his entire safari due to malaria, quicksand, and the previously unknown ratus africanus, the African Swamp Rat (a rodent of rather unusual size), Trotter reportedly happened upon a tyrannosaurus rex, most likely the last of its species, which he famously claimed to have killed, “with one disarming look and a broken pocket-knife.”

After returning to America, Trotter ran for President on the Independent ticket in 2036. Though caucuses were promising, he withdrew in September of 2035, allegedly because he couldn’t stand a third interview with the aging Bill O’Reilly. Said Trotter, “you’d think the man would realize that sometimes all it takes are roguish good looks.” When asked about what an Independent candidate thought of the two party system, Trotter immediately replied, “the after-party is the one you want to attend.”

Trotter turned his attention to art next, acquiring and donating hundreds of pieces of Ancient and Neoclassical art to museums in America. Most famously, he convinced the President of Greece, Alina Nicasopolis, to allow him to break the Acropolis down and send it to the British Museum, so that he “could see the completed artwork without having to go to Greece. I don’t prefer long plane rides.” When asked how he could possibly have effected this astounding event, Trotter said, “well, I didn’t the pocket-knife. Just the look.”

Trotter faded into relative obscurity afterwards, purchasing an island in the Caribbean, formerly one of the Bahamas. Once a year he hosted the world’s elite at a legendary private New Years Eve party. Said one attendee, “things got fuzzy after I jumped into the Jack Daniels fountain, but I distinctly remember Trotter commenting on how drunk I was. Things got very quiet, and then he laughed loudly and said, ‘so that’s how an awkward moment feels. I’ve always wondered.’”

Trotter’s family could not be reached for comment, although a nephew said that the millionaire was circumnavigating the globe to make sure he hadn’t missed anything of importance. 


Absolute nonsense- nugarum

In sophomore declamations now we are given different themes to write about and we declaim in groups of 15 or 16. My last declamation I had to imitate Dr. Seuss. Here's what I came up with:

One fine sunny day I asked a guy from the tram, how many flimples will it take to feed a grown man. I’m not quite sure said the man to me, but come to my flat and we shall see. But what is a flimple? So glad you asked. It’s hard to say, but mostly they’re fast. They run hither, oh yes they run thither, they get pursuers into such a ridiculous dither. So how do you catch them? Well you have to be cautious, because if you find them asleep they’re really quite nauseous. But plug up your nose and give them a rub, they’ll drop in your hand, then give them a scrub. They’re tiny brown lice that cook ever so nice, teach them to stir, they take advice. They do everything fast, just leave them alone, they’ll sweep up your floor they’ll clean up your home.
So I open the door according to plan, and what do I find but five thousand flimples, a whole flimple clan. So I said to myself “Now I can know how many flimples it takes to feed a man full grown.” So I asked them quite nicely “could you try a meal out? I’m famished tonight, I could eat a whole trout.” Well, funny the way it all just worked out, trout’s what precisely they planned to try out. The meal that night was such a treat, it was quite a to-do, a fantastic feat. The flimples stood up on shoulders, they worked flimp-on-flimp, they cooked the fish, they constructed a blimp. Just kidding, no blimp was involved, but by working together the problem was solved. So many a flimple, six hundred flimps bold, fed one single man, and this story is told.

6000 hits

Be one of the next two people to look at this blog. Get us up to 6000 hits. Get a hypothetical donut. That's it.

Good luck!

Why I don't listen to Green Day

Yes, you read the title right. The time for hypocrisy and rebellion is at an end. I've ignored God on the issue of my music for too long. I can't fool myself anymore that Green Day's rebellion is only against what's wrong with America, the fundamentalists, and the socially dead Christians. No, theirs is the original rebellion. They have thrown out the baby with the bathwater. They have thrown out Jesus Christ.

I do not mean to say that there is no legitimate reason for anyone to listen to Green Day. There may be, I just haven't found it yet. And I don't know what others do when they are listening to Green Day, but I was rebelling against the light. I was loving darkness.

So now I repent of recommending Green Day, approving what they are doing. I still believe that God has a purpose for bands like them, but this doesn't give me a reason for listening to them.

Thank the Lord for all his tender mercies. Amen.