Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Harper harpy

This one's for you, Scout.


Anonymous said...

niiiiiiiiice! i'll have this framed in gaudy filligre. it'll go above the diningroom table, should offset the 'everyday' table setting of great-grandma's silver and goldleaf plates. i'll keep the silver, pheasant serving platter to the right, for the guest of honour, and wait for the harper to cross the road.

why did harper cross the road? because he could.

Havril said...

You draw gooder than me. Oops. More gooder.

Bazz said...

"No viler monstrosity than they, no pest more atrocious did ever the wrath of god conjure up out of hell's swamp. Bird-bodied, smug-faced things they are; abominable their droppings, their hands are talons, their faces haggard with hunger insatiable. When we had made our landfall and entered port, we observed abundant herds of cattle dotted over the vale and goat flocks browsing there without any goatherd by them. We slaughtered some; we invited Jove [Zeus] and the other gods to take their share of the spoil. Then by the winding shore seated on makeshift benches, we are most richly feasting. But, the next moment, we hear a hoarse vibration of wing-beats - the Harpyiae are on us, horribly swooping down from the mountains. They tear the banquet to pieces, filthying all with their bestial touch, and shrieking about same-sex marriage and the necessity of doing what George Bush tells us to. Hideous the sounds, nauseous the stench about us. We choose a secluded spot under an overhanging crag, enclosed by trees and their shifting shadows, to set up our tables again and light a fire on a new altar. Again from their hidden lairs, flying in from different angles, that noisy coven claws at the feast, hovering around it, their mouths tainting the meal (because, after all, they are the party of small government). So then I order my friends, stand to arms, for we must fight this damnable brood." From Book III of the Aeneid, with additions.

Alison said...

Bazz! Ha! That's great.

"From Parliament Hill with hideous cry,
And secret agendae, the hungry Harpies lie:
And snatch the Laws, defiling all they find,
And ruling, leave a loathsome stench behind."

~ DRYDEN, BOOK III, with substitutions.

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