This is the testimony John gave when they sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem. He replied and said,
"I really believe I'm going the whole way here. You've got to keep me in because this is my dream."
They said to him, "Are you Elijah?", he said "No".
They said to him, "One of the Prophets, then?" He said "No."
Then they said to him "who are you?"
He said to them, "I'm the one whose sandals you're not fit to tie.This is my destiny. I'm gonna make it as big as Moses. I'm gonna be King of the World. As long as I win the Final phone-in."
And so they put John in an advert along with the other Fore-runners, and they all recorded the Christmas single knowing that, if they won, they'd be Number 1 for Christmas.
Twelve months later, nobody could remember John the Baptist.
Saturday, 10 December 2011
The Flagellants
Don't know what made me think of this, but I've just remembered the Mediaeval group known as the Flagellants.
The Flagellants seem to have arisen as a form of self-mortification, normally in response to some kind of natural disaster. In Perugia, they started whipping themselves in response to famine, while generally they seem to have become popular when the Plague broke out.
Although they thought that their self-punishment would bring God's favour, the irony was that, by wandering around the continent in the way they did, they could actually spread the very disease they thought that they were curing through their flagellation.
You could say they united Europe in its suffering.
Although the problem originated in the Mediterranean countries, Flagellants became a very popular movement across Europe. Especially in Germany, it seems, where strong punishments for national misdeeds were particulalrly popular. The countries of the British Isles, wisely, stayed out of the whole thing.
As I say, I've no idea why this occurs to me today. Just capturing the passing thought.
World's oldest mattresses found
The History Blog notes that the world's oldest mattresses have been found in South Africa, dating from c 77 thousand years ago.
I'm afraid they've missed one of the key findings. At about halfway down the archaeologists found the remains of the world's oldest teenager - those remains being a pizza box and a can of cola. When the scientists reached this layer, the teenager himself mumbled "yes, all right - I'll get up in a minute", and went back to sleep.
I'm afraid they've missed one of the key findings. At about halfway down the archaeologists found the remains of the world's oldest teenager - those remains being a pizza box and a can of cola. When the scientists reached this layer, the teenager himself mumbled "yes, all right - I'll get up in a minute", and went back to sleep.
Friday, 9 December 2011
An Ancient Race of Priests
It is said that, back in olden days, a strange and mystic religion dominated the southern half of Britain. The shadowy priests of that religion, it is claimed, knew prayers for asking their god to change the weather, to end famine, to prevent plagues or to curse religious offenders. Today we have only the remains of their stone houses of worship. Yet their beliefs influence the names of many of our towns and villages to this day.
The Church of England.
It is said that their "vicars" had to undergo various special rituals to be fit for their tasks. Their houses were specially designed to be freezing cold, to instil discipline. They had to get up specially early on Sunday mornings - probably in the hope that the degree of sleep deprivation they suffered encouraged them to experience religious hallucinations. They had to learn to speak an ancient language which nobody understood, but everyone liked to hear. Both of their holiest books were written in this language. These days we have forgotten the names of those two books - only the letters "BCP" remain. We believe this may have been a technical term - "Basic Common Parlance", perhaps.
The "vicars" were expected to lead their religious rituals in their "churches". Churches were also a kind of memory-house of the community as, when the followers of the religion found that their furniture was wearing out, or they were putting new pieces of carpet into their houses, the old items would be taken to the church and "laid up" in one of the back-rooms as a remembrance.
As far as we can tell from tradition, the priests were expected to be telepathic. However we only have this from a degree of anecdotal evidence, on those occasions when they failed to discern by magic what their followers were feeling. Certainly when this happened the priest was deemed to have failed, and the follower would often move to follow another priest who might be more capable of spiritual discernment. And this tension was further repeated in the repeated jokes that their followers played on the priests. As far as we can understand, their followers would request that the priests held rituals every day in the morning and evening, but then never turned up themselves. This must have been some kind of "holy joke" as surely the priests would have spotted that the laugh was on them in the end.
We are also aware that the Church of England held a kind of Saturnalian festival every midwinter. In a kind of debauched ritual of the "Lord of Misrule" kind, round about the 27th of December, the religious communities were left in the care of the lay people. Meanwhile the priests went to the seaside for a fortnight.
From those priests whose bodies were conveniently preserved through the over-application of incense or port, we have an idea of the kind of special clothing that they were expected to wear. In the case of men, these were tweedy jackets of a kind that had died out among the rest of the population in the 1950s; while the women seem to have been expected to wear clothes that were mostly made of paisley. The highest-ranking male priests appear to have worn purple shirts, but so far we have been unable to find any evidence of what their female equivalents may have worn.
The last priests were wiped out from these islands by the invasion of the "New Atheists". Facing the unaccustomed new weapons of satire, scorn and the terrifying "straw men", there was no way the priests could resist. 500 years ago their ancestors had stood firm despite the fires of Oxford and Smithfield - but now the weakened race could not resist. Tradition has it that the last priests tried to turn the weapons of the New Atheists against them, arguing that "deep down all paths lead to the same place, and in a very real sense I think you'll find we're violently agreeing."
These days, of course, some cutting-edge Archaeologists argue that the "Church of England" never really existed. But I like to think there is something in the old legends. I know we find it hard to understand what their beliefs were. But then so, I suspect, did they.
The Church of England.
It is said that their "vicars" had to undergo various special rituals to be fit for their tasks. Their houses were specially designed to be freezing cold, to instil discipline. They had to get up specially early on Sunday mornings - probably in the hope that the degree of sleep deprivation they suffered encouraged them to experience religious hallucinations. They had to learn to speak an ancient language which nobody understood, but everyone liked to hear. Both of their holiest books were written in this language. These days we have forgotten the names of those two books - only the letters "BCP" remain. We believe this may have been a technical term - "Basic Common Parlance", perhaps.
The "vicars" were expected to lead their religious rituals in their "churches". Churches were also a kind of memory-house of the community as, when the followers of the religion found that their furniture was wearing out, or they were putting new pieces of carpet into their houses, the old items would be taken to the church and "laid up" in one of the back-rooms as a remembrance.
As far as we can tell from tradition, the priests were expected to be telepathic. However we only have this from a degree of anecdotal evidence, on those occasions when they failed to discern by magic what their followers were feeling. Certainly when this happened the priest was deemed to have failed, and the follower would often move to follow another priest who might be more capable of spiritual discernment. And this tension was further repeated in the repeated jokes that their followers played on the priests. As far as we can understand, their followers would request that the priests held rituals every day in the morning and evening, but then never turned up themselves. This must have been some kind of "holy joke" as surely the priests would have spotted that the laugh was on them in the end.
We are also aware that the Church of England held a kind of Saturnalian festival every midwinter. In a kind of debauched ritual of the "Lord of Misrule" kind, round about the 27th of December, the religious communities were left in the care of the lay people. Meanwhile the priests went to the seaside for a fortnight.
From those priests whose bodies were conveniently preserved through the over-application of incense or port, we have an idea of the kind of special clothing that they were expected to wear. In the case of men, these were tweedy jackets of a kind that had died out among the rest of the population in the 1950s; while the women seem to have been expected to wear clothes that were mostly made of paisley. The highest-ranking male priests appear to have worn purple shirts, but so far we have been unable to find any evidence of what their female equivalents may have worn.
The last priests were wiped out from these islands by the invasion of the "New Atheists". Facing the unaccustomed new weapons of satire, scorn and the terrifying "straw men", there was no way the priests could resist. 500 years ago their ancestors had stood firm despite the fires of Oxford and Smithfield - but now the weakened race could not resist. Tradition has it that the last priests tried to turn the weapons of the New Atheists against them, arguing that "deep down all paths lead to the same place, and in a very real sense I think you'll find we're violently agreeing."
These days, of course, some cutting-edge Archaeologists argue that the "Church of England" never really existed. But I like to think there is something in the old legends. I know we find it hard to understand what their beliefs were. But then so, I suspect, did they.
Virtually Worship
Note for all Beaker Folk: tomorrow we're going back to real-life, face-to-face Pouring out of Beakers.
Thought yesterday's "virtual" worship, where one poor schmuck poured out Beakers while everyone else stayed in the comfort of their rooms and listened in on "Radio Husborne Crawley", was very successful. But I was aware that the flow of - for want of a better word - liturgy was all one way.
So today we tried video conferencing via Beaker People's laptops. I even turned the electricity on to help.
The concept of "video conferencing" was clearly lost on Barwig, who joined in via his smartphone. From the bath. And forgot which side of his HTC the camera is.
So as I say we're all back to normal tomorrow. But we will be offering counselling today, at least till lunchtime and possibly longer.
Thursday, 8 December 2011
Bookie Event Horizon
The late, great, sainted Douglas Adams hypothesised a "shoe event horizon". This was the point at which the only shops on the high street would be shoe-shops.
But now I see that this was hopelessly optimistic. Because, when all is said and done, shoes are some kind of product - something you make. Something where human ingenuity is involved.
But no. It's not shoes that are taking over the horizon. It's bookies.
I don't want to agree with Harriet Harman, but it does seem a bit much.
To restate the "shoe event horizon" theorem. In a depression, increasingly the only shops left on the horizon are bookies. And so the only people with any money are bookmakers and those who work in bookies shops.
But when a bookie's employee comes out of the bookie, the only shops available are bookmakers. So they order a pizza and while away their time in the bookies. Who returns the compliment the following day waiting for a pizza himself.
In the end all that is left of the economy are the bookies, and the dole. The taxman takes a percentage of the profits off the bookies, and gives it to the unemployed. Who, desperate at the low rates of dole being paid, gamble it in the hope of enough to live on. It's a game of diminishing returns, where the only person who gets rich is Ray Winstone.
One day, the laws of economics determine that the only person with any money at all is Ray Winstone. Who discovers there are no food shops left. And the last pizza place just closed. And he's just an animated head.
At which point it all kind of grinds to a halt. And you can't even buy a pair of shoes.
But now I see that this was hopelessly optimistic. Because, when all is said and done, shoes are some kind of product - something you make. Something where human ingenuity is involved.
But no. It's not shoes that are taking over the horizon. It's bookies.
I don't want to agree with Harriet Harman, but it does seem a bit much.
To restate the "shoe event horizon" theorem. In a depression, increasingly the only shops left on the horizon are bookies. And so the only people with any money are bookmakers and those who work in bookies shops.
But when a bookie's employee comes out of the bookie, the only shops available are bookmakers. So they order a pizza and while away their time in the bookies. Who returns the compliment the following day waiting for a pizza himself.
In the end all that is left of the economy are the bookies, and the dole. The taxman takes a percentage of the profits off the bookies, and gives it to the unemployed. Who, desperate at the low rates of dole being paid, gamble it in the hope of enough to live on. It's a game of diminishing returns, where the only person who gets rich is Ray Winstone.
One day, the laws of economics determine that the only person with any money at all is Ray Winstone. Who discovers there are no food shops left. And the last pizza place just closed. And he's just an animated head.
At which point it all kind of grinds to a halt. And you can't even buy a pair of shoes.
The Dangers of "Green" Energy
I don't know. They don't work when there's no wind. They're switched off when it's too windy. And when it's really, really windy - this happens. That's quite a carbon footprint.
Social Media Hacking Scandal Continues
I'm really embarrassed by this. Fancy me being the latest victim of the social media hacking affair that has engulfed Facebook.
Somebody has posted my photos of Manchester that I took last week. I still can't work out how they got hold of them.
Somebody has posted my photos of Manchester that I took last week. I still can't work out how they got hold of them.
Dark Morning Prayer
It's cold dark and vile. So this morning's worship will be broadcast, Radio Maplin style, through the Community PA.
Please respond at the right points. And when you hear the sounds of Beakers being poured out, be assured that it's the quality of the transmission that's the problem. And not just me turning the taps on and off because I can't face the hike across to the Moot House.
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
New Performance Monitoring Methods
I'm pleased to announce the new Beaker Performance Monitoring Methods, based on the Government's revolutionising of the NHS.
Under the old scheme, which we inherited from Archdruid Brown of the Tupperware Folk of Tebworth, the performance of neo-coenobitic communities was measured through a set of targets for the way in which we treated weekend pilgrims. These included:
a) Time from first arrival to being greeted by a grinning welcome-hippy in a daisy chain.
b) Number of leaflets offered to newcomers in the first hour.
c) Number of people attending each Occasion.
d) Souvenirs bought in the Beaker Bazaar.
e) The overall response score on a questionnaire.
This old method was symptomatic of the control-freakishness and top-down management associated with Archdruid Brown. And so we are scrapping the targets, and instead concentrating on religious outcomes. These religious outcomes will be based on responses to the following questions we will ask all departing pilgrims:
a) How quickly on first arrival were you greeted by a grinning welcome-hippy in a daisy chain?
b) How many leaflets were you offered in the first hour of your visit?
c) How busy would you say each Occasion was that you attended?
d) How many souvenirs did you buy from the Beaker Bazaar?
e) On a scale of 1 to 5, how positive was your stay?
I think it's all a massive improvement on the old scheme, and I'd hope that Beaker Folk would fall behind this new method of monitoring performance. Instead of picketing the Moot House, which is what they're currently doing. On the bright side, they're disturbing the bats - so I'm hoping to call the police to bring the demo to an end fairly rapidly.
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