’18 A To Z Challenge – D

Challenge '18
Letter D

 

 

 

 

 

It was inevitable, destined, pre-ordained, foretold even, that the blog post for the letter D, would be about

DESTINY

Do you believe in destiny?  Do you believe in providence, or fate?  Do you believe in prophesy or divination?  Do you believe in shwarma karma?  Do you go to astrologers, card-readers, fortune-tellers, or palm-, or tea-leaf readers?  See me early next month when I publish my F Is For Fools Alphabet Challenge post.  At the end of it, there will be a $100/ticket raffle for the Eiffel Tower.  Like Stevie Wonder said in his song, if you believe in things that you don’t understand – that’s Superstition. (Click to listen)

Like the belief in the unprovable God, I don’t believe in any of the above.  According to some of the smartest guys in the world, the flow of time is continuous and one-way only.  While a lot of con-artists people have claimed to be able to see the future, and a lot of gullible marks buy into it, no-one has ever proved that they’ve done it.

The Bible and the Christian religion are full of ‘The Prophets.’  I see a bunch of guys who made a lot of vague statements, and then took credit when something obvious occurred.  Even the Prophet(?), Elijah, who ‘predicted’ the birth of Christ, got it wrong.  He stated that the Messiah would be named Emmanuel.  He gave his ‘prophesy’ to a Hebrew king as a guarantee that he would win an upcoming battle.  Instead, the king lost the war, his city, and his life.

Ever the cynic, my Father told me that fortune-tellers made ‘predictions’ like, “You will pass water twice before you return home.”  Well, piss on that!  There are many things in life that we can’t control, but instead of paying some swindler to predict the future for us, we would all be better off getting off our tuffets, (What??  It worked for Miss Muffet.) and working toward something rewarding ourselves.  For anyone who doesn’t, I predict a destiny of poverty and disappointment.  There are profits in being prophets.

I can’t predict that all you lovely readers will return in a couple of days – but I prophesy that I sure would like it if you do.  C’mon, help me turn some profits in my stats.  😀

Note: This was published later than usual for me because of an internet outage in my area.  Please forgive me; I haven’t forsaken you, my lovely audience.

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Pint Sized

Pint

Always fascinated with the details of English word usage, I recently read a post titled Euphemisms. In it, a young female explained how the seemingly innocent words of many of the nursery rhymes we tell our children, had a much darker meaning when they were first composed.

She apparently had a real vendetta against royalty and religion. Her first story was about “Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary”, who was Queen “Bloody” Mary, trying to return now-Protestant England to the Catholic Church.  Her garden grew well, because it was fertilized with the corpses of the many that she had tortured and executed.

The writer claimed that “Three Blind Mice” were three noble men(sic) who plotted against Mary. She didn’t have them blinded, or mutilated (their ‘tails’ cut off), merely burned at the stake.  But, in reality, there were only two who plotted, and only one was a noble, the other, an Anglican Bishop.

“Goosey, Goosey, Gander” is about Catholic sympathisers hiding priests from Protestant torture and death squads. The line about grabbing them by their left leg was because priests were identified when they put their left foot forward as they genuflected.

Already cynical, she lost my belief when her mix of fact to fiction became too thin on the “Jack And Jill” story. This is word history, not political history, and something I’ve researched.

She stated that it referred to the execution of Louis XIII and Marie Antoinette. When Louis (not Jack – or even Jacques) was beheaded, he lost his ‘Crown.’  When Marie was guillotined, her head ‘came tumbling after.’  She didn’t explain why English commoners would make up rhymes about French monarchs.

This little rhyme is all about governments getting more tax income by screwing with sizes. It was something citizens were complaining about 400 years ago, and they’re still screwing us today.

A “Jack” was a leather mug, in which inns and taverns served 12 ounces of beer or cheap wine. Taxes were paid on how many ‘Jacks’ were dispensed. Suddenly, by Royal decree, the size of a Jack was reduced to 10 ounces, and taxes on beer and wine went up by 20%.

Crown

Taxes were often paid in ‘Crowns’, silver English coins. Soon both barkeeps and the drinking working man were going bankrupt (broke).  When the Jack fell down, he/it broke his ‘Crown’.

The Gill – or Jill – was a quarter of a pint, the amount of a shot of harder liquor. The Incredible Shrinking Jack trick had worked so well that the government tried it again.  A gallon had been 160 ounces, therefore a quart (quarter gallon) was 40 ounces, a pint was 20….and a quarter-pint Gill, was 5.

The gallon was reduced to 128 ounces, a quart to 32, a pint to 16. The 5 ounce Gill became 4 ounces, the tax on liquor went up 25% with the stroke of a pen, “and Jill came tumbling after.”

A later government restored the gallon/quart, etc. sizes, but the results can still be seen. The UK has ‘Imperial’, 40 ounce quarts, but the US never changed back, keeping their 32 oz. version.  The US has a Fifth (of a 128 oz. gallon = 25.6 oz.) of booze, where Canada insists that it’s a 26er.

When I was but a mere child, dairies delivered 40 oz. quart glass bottles of milk to the house. When glass yielded to cardboard cartons, the international conglomerates who now provided cow juice, did so in 32 oz. American quarts, without changing our cost.

In 1971, when Canada went metric, no-one really knew anything about metric sizes. Containers were now (34oz. approx.) liters.  Cost went up, but uncertainty kept complaints down.  40 oz. glass pop bottles became 1-liter plastic containers – at the same price.

To lull the population into happily accepting metrification, the Canadian government actually solicited poems from citizens, extolling the beauty and benefits of the Metric System. They were disappointed by the low turnout, and definitely did not publish the one that said;

When things go Metric,
Prices rise!
Surprise, surprise,
Surprise, surprise!

The Portuguese lady selling bread at the Market continues to shout, “Three bags for $5.” The old loaves of bread suitable for making trencherman farmers’ sandwiches are now so small that they’re barely big enough to make petit-fours.  The hamburger and hot-dog buns remain the same size, but the bags which used to contain a dozen buns, first slipped to 10, slid to 9, fell to 8, and, hopefully, have bottomed out at a ridiculous 7 per pack.

The only thing that I have as much left in my wallet as I used to, is lint.

Flash Fiction #50

Silo

PROMPT -© Marie Gail Stratford

THE COW JUMPED OVER THE MOON

All the corn plants were to be shredded and put into the tower as silage.  The crop was large, so ten-year-old Billy’s job was to tromp it down, so it all fit.

He brought one of their cows in through the little bottom door to help him.  For several boring hours, he and Bossy had plodded ‘round and ‘round.

Finally the level neared the top, and his Dad yelled that they were done.  “Just back out that little hatch, and climb down the ladder.”

MOOO!

“A cow??  You took a cow in there??!  How is she going to climb down??!”

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

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