It was a lovely moon this evening. It's when the moon is just on the gibbous side of the first quarter that you can almost sense its spherical rather than circular nature - it feels 3D. And Jupiter's nearby presence is quite striking.
But it's also a reminder of why we have a small sect amongst us, the Moon Gibbon folk. It was a mis-hearing about a "Gibbous moon" many years ago that made them think the moon was populated by a divine gibbon - a malevolent being who slays Wombles at the time of lunar eclipses and eats the moon every month.
They're an odd bunch, but on the bright side their theology is almost completely taken-up with trying to understand the origin, dietary habits and size of the Moon Gibbon. This stops them being the kind of unutterable busybodies they might be if they thought the Moon Gibbon cared about their earthly lives. Instead they just muddle along like the rest of us, with the slight difference that they get hysterical at the the time of the new moon.
Showing posts with label Gibbon Moon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gibbon Moon. Show all posts
Monday, 2 January 2012
Wednesday, 3 August 2011
Gibbon half a chance
A sad ending today.
The Moon Gibbon Folk, hearing our celebrations of Grinling Gibbons, wondered if he were some relation. We informed them that he was famous for carving wood, but was now dead.
So what, they asked, of Stanley Gibbons, the famous stamp collector? And we explained that Edward Stanley Gibbons, the famous stamp collector, was, like Grinling, great in his time - but now he's dead.
Dead? They asked. Yes - dead, we replied. Like we all must be. Everything that is now alive will now be dead.
They're not a terribly cheerful bunch, the Moon Gibbon Folk. Especially at New Moon. And even more especially when it's overcast, so there's no chance of them seeing a sliver of the New Moon even if it's there to see. There's sobbing all over the Great House tonight (not outdoors - it's too wet). It's a hard life, is life. But there's a bright promise the other side of it. Or, at least, there is if you're not convinced the whole world is going to be swallowed by a huge angry Gibbon.
The Moon Gibbon Folk, hearing our celebrations of Grinling Gibbons, wondered if he were some relation. We informed them that he was famous for carving wood, but was now dead.
So what, they asked, of Stanley Gibbons, the famous stamp collector? And we explained that Edward Stanley Gibbons, the famous stamp collector, was, like Grinling, great in his time - but now he's dead.
Dead? They asked. Yes - dead, we replied. Like we all must be. Everything that is now alive will now be dead.
They're not a terribly cheerful bunch, the Moon Gibbon Folk. Especially at New Moon. And even more especially when it's overcast, so there's no chance of them seeing a sliver of the New Moon even if it's there to see. There's sobbing all over the Great House tonight (not outdoors - it's too wet). It's a hard life, is life. But there's a bright promise the other side of it. Or, at least, there is if you're not convinced the whole world is going to be swallowed by a huge angry Gibbon.
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
Once in a New Moon
Oh boy, what a day.
A bad combination of Hnaef's early-morning habit of reading the Daily Office, Drayton's fundamentalist tendencies and that bunch of delusional, impressionable losers - the Moon Gibbon Folk.
Hnaef, being possessed of a love of the well-turned phrase, was much taken with Hosea 5:7 - "Now the new moon shall devour them along with their fields." He took to musing on the verse at breakfast, and then set it to the tune "Lydia".
Drayton caught on to this most interesting of verses, and expounded upon it at great length to a small group of Moon Gibbon people he met in the Upper Meadow. He explained how the attack of the New Moon was a punishment for the whoredom and adulteries of the People Called Beaker.
Of course, this was disastrous for the confidence of the Moon Gibbon folk. They were already convinced that, once a month, the Moon disappeared after being eaten by a giant Moon Gibbon. And now Drayton has persuaded them that, at God's specific command, the New Moon roams the earth looking for sinners to consume in its turn. And what chance do we have, they ask? After all - a cosmic Gibbon you can see coming, you've got a chance. But a ravenous New Moon - it's invisible, by definition. Or, at the least, it's so slender it can catch you by sneaking up sideways.
I've tried to reason with them. I've said it's a poetic way of explaining that whatever bunch of people God was angry with at that stage in the Bible had a month before disaster befell them. But you know how it is with some people. My arguments were nuanced, subtle, respectful of context and poetic licence. Whereas they had the plain words to consider. I wasn't going to win that one. And it didn't help when Drayton announced that actually he'd got it wrong all along. Having checked the King James Version, it turns out that what God originally said was "now shall a month devour them with their portions" - and that's really bothered them. Now they're terrified of a whole month, but they don't know which month it is they're supposed to be scared of, and how exactly it's going to eat them. Or their portions. I tell you, the combination of fundamentalist certainty and millennial confusion is making it a nightmare to live round here. And March is certainly looking quite hungry.
A bad combination of Hnaef's early-morning habit of reading the Daily Office, Drayton's fundamentalist tendencies and that bunch of delusional, impressionable losers - the Moon Gibbon Folk.
Hnaef, being possessed of a love of the well-turned phrase, was much taken with Hosea 5:7 - "Now the new moon shall devour them along with their fields." He took to musing on the verse at breakfast, and then set it to the tune "Lydia".
Drayton caught on to this most interesting of verses, and expounded upon it at great length to a small group of Moon Gibbon people he met in the Upper Meadow. He explained how the attack of the New Moon was a punishment for the whoredom and adulteries of the People Called Beaker.
Of course, this was disastrous for the confidence of the Moon Gibbon folk. They were already convinced that, once a month, the Moon disappeared after being eaten by a giant Moon Gibbon. And now Drayton has persuaded them that, at God's specific command, the New Moon roams the earth looking for sinners to consume in its turn. And what chance do we have, they ask? After all - a cosmic Gibbon you can see coming, you've got a chance. But a ravenous New Moon - it's invisible, by definition. Or, at the least, it's so slender it can catch you by sneaking up sideways.
I've tried to reason with them. I've said it's a poetic way of explaining that whatever bunch of people God was angry with at that stage in the Bible had a month before disaster befell them. But you know how it is with some people. My arguments were nuanced, subtle, respectful of context and poetic licence. Whereas they had the plain words to consider. I wasn't going to win that one. And it didn't help when Drayton announced that actually he'd got it wrong all along. Having checked the King James Version, it turns out that what God originally said was "now shall a month devour them with their portions" - and that's really bothered them. Now they're terrified of a whole month, but they don't know which month it is they're supposed to be scared of, and how exactly it's going to eat them. Or their portions. I tell you, the combination of fundamentalist certainty and millennial confusion is making it a nightmare to live round here. And March is certainly looking quite hungry.
Tuesday, 21 December 2010
Good and bad news on the Moon Gibbon
Well, quite a Solstice, all things considered. So far, remembering it's not actually solstice till round about midnight and so we're going to have to get up tomorrow and do it all again. But tonight's "Darkness fear" was very moving. Indeed, some of the more impressionable Beaker People are still quivering with terror under the chairs in the Moot House.
As to the Lunar eclipse: the layer of white cloud prevented us seeing the colour of the moon, blood red or otherwise. And that kept the Moon Gibbon folk quite calm. I thought I'd calmed their fears that the Moon Gibbon, enraged, was causing the moon to run red with clanger blood.
And then I came out for a tour of the grounds round about 9am, to find a dead clanger laying on the ground. I got the wombles to bury it, which had a good side - it kept the news from the Moon Gibbon people - and a bad side. The bad side being that the wombles have declared war on the Moon Gibbon, and are trying to gather enough litter to build a rocket. My "non-existence" line on the Moon Gibbon is starting to look a little shaky.
As to the Lunar eclipse: the layer of white cloud prevented us seeing the colour of the moon, blood red or otherwise. And that kept the Moon Gibbon folk quite calm. I thought I'd calmed their fears that the Moon Gibbon, enraged, was causing the moon to run red with clanger blood.
And then I came out for a tour of the grounds round about 9am, to find a dead clanger laying on the ground. I got the wombles to bury it, which had a good side - it kept the news from the Moon Gibbon people - and a bad side. The bad side being that the wombles have declared war on the Moon Gibbon, and are trying to gather enough litter to build a rocket. My "non-existence" line on the Moon Gibbon is starting to look a little shaky.
Monday, 20 December 2010
Lunar Eclipse Total Gibbon Melt-down
Much stress among the Moon Gibbon people as they prepare for tomorrow morning's lunar eclipse. And it's not like I've not worked hard here. I've been telling them all about it for weeks.
It's a really odd thing. I've told them it's all a matter of physics and numbers. Very rational. I've drawn them diagrams of the moon and the earth and the sun, and how they all relate. I've explained all about the plane of the ecliptic. I've told them how light is refracted. I've explained how red light scatters a little and blue a lot, so only the red light gets to the moon.
And do you know what? They hear the words "red" and "moon", they decide that this is because it is going to run with the blood of 1,000 clangers, and they run around screaming.
So I wait till they calm down. It normally takes about three days. And then I say to them, listen. This isn't a matter of mythology - it's science. The maths is proven. This is why we can calculate it in advance. It's not a shock when it happens. It's not turning to blood. I can tell you, through my calculations, that it's going to be tomorrow morning. And then they call me a prophet. But even if they think I'm a prophet they won't really listen to me. And then they start running around screaming again.
They're out in the doily shed at the moment, building themselves a fallout shelter while wearing hard hats and knee pads. They say if the great Lunar War breaks out, and the Moon Gibbon starts throwing dead clangers about the place, it's best to make sure you're well protected.
It's a really odd thing. I've told them it's all a matter of physics and numbers. Very rational. I've drawn them diagrams of the moon and the earth and the sun, and how they all relate. I've explained all about the plane of the ecliptic. I've told them how light is refracted. I've explained how red light scatters a little and blue a lot, so only the red light gets to the moon.
And do you know what? They hear the words "red" and "moon", they decide that this is because it is going to run with the blood of 1,000 clangers, and they run around screaming.
So I wait till they calm down. It normally takes about three days. And then I say to them, listen. This isn't a matter of mythology - it's science. The maths is proven. This is why we can calculate it in advance. It's not a shock when it happens. It's not turning to blood. I can tell you, through my calculations, that it's going to be tomorrow morning. And then they call me a prophet. But even if they think I'm a prophet they won't really listen to me. And then they start running around screaming again.
They're out in the doily shed at the moment, building themselves a fallout shelter while wearing hard hats and knee pads. They say if the great Lunar War breaks out, and the Moon Gibbon starts throwing dead clangers about the place, it's best to make sure you're well protected.
Tuesday, 16 November 2010
Of waxing and waning gibbons
[Link removed as the site may damage your soul]
If you're going to put out a website regarding occult implications of the phases of the moon, it is worth remembering that gibbons are a kind of monkey. "Gibbous", a Latin word meaning hunch-backed, indicates a moon that is more than half-full. It's an easy mistake to make, but that's no excuse for making it. Sorry to bang on, but we had a whole new religion founded on this mistake round here.
And "magic" doesn't have a "k" in it, either. That's just an affecktation.
If you're going to put out a website regarding occult implications of the phases of the moon, it is worth remembering that gibbons are a kind of monkey. "Gibbous", a Latin word meaning hunch-backed, indicates a moon that is more than half-full. It's an easy mistake to make, but that's no excuse for making it. Sorry to bang on, but we had a whole new religion founded on this mistake round here.
And "magic" doesn't have a "k" in it, either. That's just an affecktation.
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
The Warning Gibbon
As the moon passes the Full and starts once again to shrink towards new, we reach the condition of the Waning Gibbons Moon.
Now we had enough trouble over the Moon Gibbon in the first place, not to mention the unpleasant activity of Waxing Gibbons that someone inflicted on the Community.
But now we are in the phase known as the Warning Gibbon. As the Moon Gibbon starts once again to eat the moon, so the ancient writings of the now-defunct Moon Gibbon people* tell us, the Warning Gibbon tells his smaller friends. Then the smaller Gibbons cluster onto the diminishing side of the Moon. At New, they are consigned into space. Some hover around until the Moon returns - while others, with no visible means of support, fall to earth where they become shooting stars or, if they survive their entry into the atmosphere, contestants on "Eggheads".
Yet more people have claimed that the Warning Gibbon is itself a mis-hearing - referring to the "Whining Gibbon", who has a Brummie accent and sits on the Moon complaining that there's nothing to do in Edgbaston. Or the "Weaning Gibbon" - the Moon Gibbon's mother, who refuses to have anything else to do with him. Or the Raining Gibbon - the vindictive primate godling who causes foul weather to fall on anyone holding a picnic.
No matter who you listen to, one thing's for sure. There's a lot more gibbons around than you imagine.
* They all ended up blue and shivering when they were called "Forward in Ferns" and are now known as "Frozen in Furze".
Now we had enough trouble over the Moon Gibbon in the first place, not to mention the unpleasant activity of Waxing Gibbons that someone inflicted on the Community.
But now we are in the phase known as the Warning Gibbon. As the Moon Gibbon starts once again to eat the moon, so the ancient writings of the now-defunct Moon Gibbon people* tell us, the Warning Gibbon tells his smaller friends. Then the smaller Gibbons cluster onto the diminishing side of the Moon. At New, they are consigned into space. Some hover around until the Moon returns - while others, with no visible means of support, fall to earth where they become shooting stars or, if they survive their entry into the atmosphere, contestants on "Eggheads".
Yet more people have claimed that the Warning Gibbon is itself a mis-hearing - referring to the "Whining Gibbon", who has a Brummie accent and sits on the Moon complaining that there's nothing to do in Edgbaston. Or the "Weaning Gibbon" - the Moon Gibbon's mother, who refuses to have anything else to do with him. Or the Raining Gibbon - the vindictive primate godling who causes foul weather to fall on anyone holding a picnic.
No matter who you listen to, one thing's for sure. There's a lot more gibbons around than you imagine.
* They all ended up blue and shivering when they were called "Forward in Ferns" and are now known as "Frozen in Furze".
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
Swine Flu, NASA and Bobby Davro
Judging by our online poll, the jury is very much out on the existence or otherwise of the Moon Gibbon. The new sect that arose last night, Gibbon Folk against the Shadow Proclamation, are convinced that the Gibbon is at this time fighting a war on behalf of Dr Who against the Cybermen. Speaking as one who has seen many causes go agley over the years, I'd be less surprised to hear the Gibbon was actually fighting the Ood.
But many people appear convinced that the the Gibbon was killed by NASA. This upsurge seems not entirely unconnected with a sudden influx of Gruaniad readers, which has thankfully since calmed down again. But the option is very open - "NASA killed him". We did not specify whether the Gibbon was murdered, whether NASA attempted to "wing" him but sadly took him completely out by mistake, or whether the Moon Gibbon was simply the unfortunate bystander who took a bullet when NASA really was trying to find water on the Moon. In other words - was it first, second or third degree gibbocide?
In another rather odd side-conspiracy, some Moon Gibbon Folk are claiming that the Gibbon died because NASA were in fact firing Swine Flu virus at the moon, in an attempt to determine whether human - Moon Gibbon transmission was possible. I'm inclined to think that this is a conspiracy theory too far, myself.
Meanwhile we find in a remarkable co-incidence that we appear to have for sale 2,012 pairs of "his and hers" tealights in the shape of Bobby Davro and Anthea Turner. Perfect as a Christmas present, or to light after going to see aforementioned minor celebs in panto in Bedford this year.
But many people appear convinced that the the Gibbon was killed by NASA. This upsurge seems not entirely unconnected with a sudden influx of Gruaniad readers, which has thankfully since calmed down again. But the option is very open - "NASA killed him". We did not specify whether the Gibbon was murdered, whether NASA attempted to "wing" him but sadly took him completely out by mistake, or whether the Moon Gibbon was simply the unfortunate bystander who took a bullet when NASA really was trying to find water on the Moon. In other words - was it first, second or third degree gibbocide?
In another rather odd side-conspiracy, some Moon Gibbon Folk are claiming that the Gibbon died because NASA were in fact firing Swine Flu virus at the moon, in an attempt to determine whether human - Moon Gibbon transmission was possible. I'm inclined to think that this is a conspiracy theory too far, myself.
Meanwhile we find in a remarkable co-incidence that we appear to have for sale 2,012 pairs of "his and hers" tealights in the shape of Bobby Davro and Anthea Turner. Perfect as a Christmas present, or to light after going to see aforementioned minor celebs in panto in Bedford this year.
Thursday, 29 October 2009
Human Rights and Waxing Gibbons
Now you couldn't get a group of people more interested than the Husborne Crawley Beaker Folk when it comes to human rights. From dawn to dusk we are watching anxiously to ensure that no-one's rights are infringed by anyone else's, no matter how much the rights concerned may appear to conflict. For example, when Bildad's right to play the banjo at 3am clashed with my right to have a good night sleep, we were able to encourage Wilpo's right to smash banjos to resolve the issue.
But today I had a lawyer turned up on the doorstep. She said that by locking Bloodwort and Ludwick up in the Gulfing Room for nine hours, we were interfering with their rights to be bullying, fascist bores and that she would see us in court.
Naturally, I took the opportunity to show her the Gulfing Room so she could see that nothing untoward happens in there. Nine hours later she came out burbling something about butterflies. She was last seen sitting on the lawn, singing "Orinoco Flow" while looking up at the waxing gibbous moon.
On the subject of gibbous moons, we still haven't heard anything from the breakaway Gibbon Moon People. Apparently their negotiations with the Guinea Pig Folk of Stewartby have broken down on the important question of whether they've actually got to keep the rules they're agreeing to, or whether it's all just pretend like being in the Church of England. I get the feeling they're in for a shock.
Sunday, 11 October 2009
A Clash of Ideologies
It's been a disappointing weekend for our latest group of pilgrims, as they pack their weekend bags into their Shoguns and head off in the rain for Junction 13.
This was our fourth "Encountering the Silence of the Night" weekend. Friday night they were to be standing in awe in the Orchard, feeling the quiet and the darkness and receiving them as balm to the soul. This was ruined by the sound of wailing from the Gibbon Moon people as they mourned the possible death of their god in the landing of the NASA moonshot. It's hard to feel that the universe is beneficent and friendly when all you can hear are cries of "It's so unfair! He was only 4 billion years old!"
This was our fourth "Encountering the Silence of the Night" weekend. Friday night they were to be standing in awe in the Orchard, feeling the quiet and the darkness and receiving them as balm to the soul. This was ruined by the sound of wailing from the Gibbon Moon people as they mourned the possible death of their god in the landing of the NASA moonshot. It's hard to feel that the universe is beneficent and friendly when all you can hear are cries of "It's so unfair! He was only 4 billion years old!"
By 3am the Gibbon Moon people had finally gone off for some sleep. Silence fell, I am told, for 5 minutes. Then the place started to resound to the sounds of the Wiccan Drum Ensemble, trying to scare off evil spirits. Not a good first night all round. And not the best double-booking we could have made, in retrospect.
The following day, our pilgrims should have had the chance to get some sleep after their long night. Instead they were kept awake by a worshop* that Hnaef had organised - "The Spirituality of Brass Bands for the Tone Deaf".
Last night, a group of sleep-deprived and generally grumpy pilgrims headed out to the Moot House for what they hoped would be a quiet yet challenging meditation on "listening to your inner owl". And what did they get? Drayton Parslow and Siousie doing a three-hour set with their Kirsty MacColl tribute concert, "Electric Landmine".
We are in favour of respect between religions, mutual discourse and learning from one another. But maybe in future we'll keep everybody apart instead.
* Worshop - a Worship Workshop.
Sunday, 5 July 2009
Gibbon Moon People go mad in Bedfordshire
This fear of the Moon Gibbon really must stop. The schismatic tendencies of this community have often been recorded, but to see the panic in the Moon Gibbon people is a real shock this month.
Traditionally, the Moon Gibbon people have started panicking as the moon wanes after the full moon. This is - within their own warped frame of reference - quite logical. After all, the moon is getting smaller. The belief that a gigantic extra-terrestrial primate is consuming the moon is completely logical. That is, if you believe that the moon is really getting smaller, that there are such things as enormous astral gibbons, that the Apollo mission was a giant hoax, that the alleged Moon Gibbon can exist in a vacuum, etc.
We do not judge. We respect all people's rights to their views - however cracked.
But surely the whole point of the Moon Gibbon is that it is scary after the full moon? Before the full moon, the Moon Gibbon people are generally happy, optimistic, joys-of-spring people. Why this month did they choose to run screaming into the woods while the moon is still waxing? Apart from anything else, it's ruined the weekend for the Fertility Beaker Folk. They were looking forward to a long weekend of what they do best, when a bunch of hysterical fundamentalists ran into the woods and hid behind the trees.
A note to the Moon Gibbon People. Please get a grip. Be rational. The Gibbon's not going to start eating the moon for a good three days yet.
Thursday, 30 April 2009
May Madness
I'm glad to say that all preparations for Beltane are complete. The bonfire, made of a whole mountain of pallets, is ready to go at 10pm sharp tonight. And thanks to a loophole, burning them for religious purposes is defined as "recycling or re-use" and entitles us to an Eu grant.
Beltane is an important and ancient festival. Naturally, since the ancient Beaker Folk didn't leave anything in writing, we don't know much about it. But we reckon it was probably something to do with fertility. These things mostly were. In ancient times (eg Hardy novels) the young people of the village would head into the woods on May Eve and not come back until the morning. Which explains why the Beaker Fertility Folk have been looking forward to this evening for months. The Jack in the Green, burnt after the Samhain festivals the previous autumn, would be recreated in the fresh leaves of the coming season and readied for another summer of dancing. The 'obby Oss would race around the settlement, harrassing maidens (or men - the ancient Beaker Folk were an equal opportunities religion). We reckon.
The pebbles piled up in the Orchard are for throwing at the Morris Dancers. Please don't mis-use them for religious purposes.
The Maypole is an ancient fertility symbol and to be treated with respect. Shouting "ooh-er missus - what a whopper" is unacceptable.
When we are singing "Summer is i-cumen in", chasing after Burton Dassett with armfuls of willow, matches and a wild look is also wrong.
For this year's Mead Tasting, competitors will strictly limited to one small glass per sample. The shameful events of last year, when Selwy ended up laying on the ground shouting that she was channeling the spirit of a bee, are not to be repeated.
Saturday, 29 November 2008
Moon Gibbon Victorious?
What a horrible night for Saluting the Moon. The first glimpse of the crescent moon was completely invisible in the fog; the orange glow from Milton Keynes created a kind of miasma over the whole village. It was so cold that even the Fertility Beaker Folk called off their scheduled dances on Aspley Heath, and joined us in the Dining Room for mulled Irn Bru and cheese toasties.
And then we heard the screams from the Orchard. It turned out that the Church of the Order of the Moon Gibbon had convinced themselves that the fog was the direct result of the work of the Moon Gibbon, and that the Moon would be blotted out forever. By the time we got out there, they were laying on the ground hyperventilating and had to be restored by a series of brisk slaps to the face.
I just pray that we get a clear night some time soon...
And then we heard the screams from the Orchard. It turned out that the Church of the Order of the Moon Gibbon had convinced themselves that the fog was the direct result of the work of the Moon Gibbon, and that the Moon would be blotted out forever. By the time we got out there, they were laying on the ground hyperventilating and had to be restored by a series of brisk slaps to the face.
I just pray that we get a clear night some time soon...
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