Praise of Folly

Væ, Gustatus!

Erasmus is normally loath to dive into the incestuous, self-referential mælstrom that is the infelicitously named blogosphere. But, when called out by name, as by Gustatus Superus over on the Trireme of Love today, he feels it impolite to refuse. So, herewith my contribution to this web game, the premise of which is that one should append a sentence to at least five of the following clauses, which Erasmus is editing into the counterfactual subjunctive, because he finds the verb tense incorrect.

If I were a scientist... I’d be a mad one. It’s alive! It’s alive!
If I were a farmer... I’d ride the back forty with a Winchester .45-70 lever action, keeping varmints, trespassers, and revenooers off mah land.
If I were a musician... I’d love to sit in with Lyle Lovett, the Killers, or the E Street Band. (On keyboards, I guess.)
If I were a doctor... I’d have to learn how to play golf.
If I were a painter... I’d be Rembrandt. Or Caillebotte.
If I were a gardener... I’d be Alan Titchmarsh, because I’d love to have his store of doggerel at my disposal.
If I were a missionary... I would convert the Mongols to a fighting Christian faith, we’d invade China again, and soon I’d be Prester John, baby.
If I were a chef... you would be lining up around the block for my spaghetti sauce.
If I were an architect... I’d resurrect the classical Western tradition of human scale and beauty.
If I were a linguist... I’d do Finno-Ugric or Uralo-Altaic languages. And in my spare time, work on a fantastic forgery like the Voynich Manuscript.
If I were a psychologist... I’d be so in your head, man.
If I were a librarian... I’d be Henry Armitage of Miskatonic University
If I were an athlete... I’d be an NFL wide receiver. I’ve got the hands. Really.
If I were a lawyer... I’d sue Charlize Theron for being too damn beautiful. With punitive damages payable in breathy whispers in my ear.
If I were an innkeeper... there’d always be port behind the bar.
If I were a professor... I’d travel all the freakin’ time.
If I were a writer... Aye, there’s the rub, innit? I’d combine the professionalism of Donald E. Westlake, the prose of Mark Helprin, the grandeur of Robertson Davies, and the humor of Jasper Fforde or Douglas Adams into the most readable, entertaining great novel ever written.
If I were a backup dancer... I’d shake it like a Polaroid® picture.
If I were a llama-rider... I would lead my neo-Incan army into Madrid and loot the Prado. Payback’s a bitch, amigos.
If I were a bonnie pirate... I’d hijack North Korean and Iranian ships and sell the weaponry to the U.S. government. Soon I could afford my own private archipeligo. Which I’d outfit with exclusive resorts to attract the likes of Charlize Theron.
If I were a midget stripper... I’d inevitably meet Kid Rock.
If I were a proctologist... I’d grab Gustatus Superus and put this meme ubi sol non lucet. Then I’d ask him why he signed in as “Ron Mexico.”

Erasmus is not presumptuous enough to "pass on" this game to anyone, given that he tends to assume his readership would fit comfortably (if no doubt incongrously) in the average Californian hot tub or London taxi. He would, however, love to see the answers of V.X. Stern at Outer Life, Soames at the Charlock's Shade, and Puella Nostra Chicagoensis.

Gratia!

A heartfelt gratia to Gustatus Superus, beating the drum and cracking the whip over the head of his fellow Galley Slaves over on the Trireme of Love, for the very kind notice about the Encomium there.

And welcome, too, to all you Servorum lectri who have so kindly sent the daily visitor count into the heady reaches of the three digits. Erasmus thanks you, invites you to poke around the Archives, and hopes you'll stick around for future Follies.

Salvete!

Erasmus is embarrassed

Erasmus is normally an exceedingly pains-taking writer with a particular love for grammar. So he's abashed to find numerous small errors in the back posts on this site. He will try and weed them out as he finds them, but in the meantime, he apologizes profusely for those whose reading is interrupted by those foul little annoyances. Erasmus will try to festina more lente.

Blowing some dust off

Erasmus is not dead. He knows this matters deeply to his readers, all of whom seem to be searching for summaries of the Moriae Encomium. Not here my friends. In the words of Handy, "Read a book!"

Erasmus hopes to get on the ball soon, as he has a fair stack of books about which to opine, a couple of movies, maybe an album or two, and of course, some stuff from the tube. (Erasmus remains as puzzled as all the Googlers hitting my page as to why M-M-Mr. M-M-Monk no longer has m-m-m-my Sharona, incidentally. More on that anon.)

So, those of you looking for fresh content, thanks for your patience. Those of you wondering about the WA-2000 in The Bourne Supremacy, check this out.

Erasmus redivivus

Erasmus is back from apparent Internet death. Though not quite as dead as those folks who appear to vexing the eponym of Shaun of the Dead. One wishes him well, and the phone number of a good houngan in Brixton. Or a substantial credit line at Holland & Holland and Benelli.

Erasmus apologizes yet again for the hiati in posting, and hopes that these brief updates do not provoke yawns in reaction, as well. He also apologizes for the irregular intervals at which he will likely keep updating the Encomium.

Erasmus would like to thank the singular Cinetrix (now in Cinemascope!) for her link. Visit pullquote early and often.

Erasmus is distracted

Sorry, folks.

(Or perhaps Erasmus should say "folk," given that there's likely one—at most—reader out there not hitting this page on a Google search for a summary of Moriæ Encomium. And, yes, Erasmus knows that "folk" is a collective noun. It's late, Erasmus is sleep-deprived.)

Sorry that posts have been, well, non-existent of late. Erasmus has non-web-based distractions aplenty these days. So, in passing, Erasmus will note:

• Spider-Man 2 is as good as everyone says. It's not going to surpass Casablanca, but unlike most costumed-hero flicks, it's a movie about people and their problems—one of whose problem is that he's a superhero. The character-driven story and the meditation on what one would have to give up to be a superhero are very good. The movie might have been a little shorter, but Raimi paces the slower parts well, so they're not longeurs, but quiet, realistic stretches. Erasmus's desiderata for a Sam Raimi movie were met. Bruce Campbell? Check. The Classic? Check. At least one visually spectacular dynamic detail shot? Check. (Two words: shards, eye.) The fact that they're contained in what's plausibly been described as the best superhero movie ever? Gravy. Erasmus didn't quite get why the guy with the metal exoskeleton was unaffected by powerful magnetic fields, but the science in the movie was ridiculous, though Alfred Molina's excellent, tragic performance was a welcome distraction. Erasmus has found some of the most interesting controversy on the film's central question: Being Spider-Man vs. Being Peter Parker around the Catholic blog world, where many of the more interesting bloggists are priests who saw the ending as a cop-out, that indeed, maintain heroic virtue requires giving up the attachments most take for granted. Erasmus isn't quite prepared to knock the ending that far, as he read Mary Jane's problem as simply that of the wife (or husband, nowadays) of a policeman or fireman or soldier. One must live with the fear that one's spouse won't return from his dangerous job...
• Erasmus has been meaning to push the novels of James Swain, particularly his terrific Sucker Bet, and the release of his new novel (still on Erasmus's nightstand, alas), Loaded Dice, gives him an excuse to do so. Swain is an expert on gambling, as his his series protagonist, Tony Valentine, a retired Atlantic City cop who works as a consultant helping casinos identify and catch cheats. Swain has gotten better novel after novel, a pleasure to see, and Sucker Bet is worth mentioning in the same breath with many of Elmore Leonard and Carl Hiaasen's books. (In what Dave Barry once referred to as the Bunch of South Florida Lunatics genre.) Check Swain out: they're good reads, in addition to the fascinating gambling and card-cheat trivia you pick up. Erasmus believes you'll be glad you did.
• Erasmus was put onto the dreadfully-titled Fox show Tru Calling by a friend recently. While far from the best show Erasmus has ever seen, it's worth checking into if your summer viewing doldrums could use a little X-Files cum Quantum Leap cum Early Edition pastiche.

More when life permits...