Panem et Circenses
11 February, 2022
Gentle reader, it has come to my attention that evidently there's a rather large sporting event occurring this weekend here in the States; something to do with a bowl that is evidently super. I do hope it's a Wedgwood or Waterford!
Alright then, yes, I know it's American "football", which has nothing to do with what the rest of the world calls football. Really, it should be termed "hand-egg" since feet are rarely used aside from a "kicker", and it's usually carried or thrown, and the ball certainly isn't spherical, but is shaped more like a hen's egg. Anyway, I digress. I couldn't care less about it, nor any other sport, amateur or professional. They bore me. I feel no innate need to join with the masses in cheering over-paid athletes to run around, in those few moments of play between interminable gaps referred to as "time out". Paint dries more quickly than American football is played.
I do not yearn to don the colours of any team, nor sit in the company of hooting and screaming buffoons as their team of choice scores a point or two. The "delicacies" served at these gatherings leaves me cold. American "beer"? Please! It's little more than lightly flavoured fizzy water with a faint hint of alcohol about it. Nachos? Thank you, no. "Cheese" dip? Bah, nothing of real cheddar about it!
It is indeed the gadfly within me who echoes the words of the Roman poet Juvenal at times like these:
"Iam pridem, ex quo suffragia nulli uendimus, effudit curas; nam qui dabat olim imperium, fasces, legiones, omnia, nunc se continet atque duas tantum res anxius optat, panem et circenses."
" Already long ago, from when we sold our vote to no man, the people have abdicated our duties; for the people who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses." - Satire 10.77–81
Not much has changed from the ancient world of classical Rome. The masses still clamour for their bread and circuses (panem et circenses), rather than attend to the unpleasant realities that infect their world. Those, my dear and gentle reader, are the tasks laid at the doorsteps of curmudgeons like myself, who delight in drawing them up before the eyes of the heedless mob.
Small wonder, then, that I have such a small circle of friends. Thus, shall I sit this coming Sunday, alone but for my cats, listening to the works of Mozart and his fellow composers, as I window shop online for truly super bowls from the manufacture of Wedgwood, Waterford, and the like.
Cheers, and God bless you all - even you rabid fans of "football"!
Father P.
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