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On this day in 1517, Professor Martin Luther taught his woodshop class how to split a Church in two.  His 95 Theses, a list of questions on the issue of Indulgences, could be summarized: Is the Pope a complete moron or just a shameless thief?  For some reason, the Church declined the debate.

Why was the Church selling Indulgences?   It wanted the money, of course.  You can’t have a Renaissance on a medieval budget.  Michelangelo was not cheap, and Raphael could charge even more because he was likable.  The Church was undergoing a major redecorating binge….

And now from the video archives: here is “This Old Basilica”:

Julius II: I think that this 1200 year-old church needs some work. I am asking the best artists of the Renaissance for their advice.

Leonardo: It is a camp pastiche. A little Byzantine here, a dab Gothic there, a soupcon Romanesque and mustn’t ignore the retro classic.

Bramante: It is also collapsing.

Julius: All right. Let’s build a new one.

Michelangelo: If you want any sculpting done, fine. Otherwise, I might beat you to death.

Julius: That is a fine way to talk to the Vicar of Christ, especially when I am dying of syphilis.

Leonardo: I think that the new cathedral should fly–a transfiguration motif. I will need at least six years to come up with the right shade for the blueprints.

Julius: Leonardo. The word genius doesn’t do you justice. I believe that the Greek words schizo and phrenia might be apt.

And now that we have torn down the old basilica, I have a little surprise: we can’t afford to build a new one! Maybe you should elect some rich idiot to succeed me….

Cardinal Giovanni de Medici: Hi, I was strolling by, trying to pick up altar boys, when I noticed a job posting for Pope. Let’s see the requirements: Catholics preferred and must be willing to bribe the College of Cardinals. I think that can be arranged. So now I am—

Pope Leo X: Bramante, love your plans. I still am not sure how we can afford it.

Bramante: You’re a de Medici. God borrows money from you.

Leo: Buying a Papal election is more expensive than you’d think. I guess that I could raise money by selling indulgences. No problem there. And I suppose that I could be polite to those pyromaniac lunatics in Spain–just in case they conquer any fabulously rich civilizations in the New World. On second thought, couldn’t you guys work in wood and wallpaper?

Eugenio

Trying to justify my exorbitant cable TV bill, I recently watched “The Island.”  It was two hours of death-defying adventure, intelligence-defying plot and taste-defying product placement.  For instance, after a busy day of eluding death squads in the dystopic future, you can refresh yourself with a bottle of Aqua Fina.  And why not make your harrowing escapes in a BMW.

(BMW’s publicity was minor compared to the product placement that Mercedes Benz received in “Triumph of the Will“.  Now that was a celebrity endorsement!)

But why should product placement be limited to movies or television?   

Wouldn’t the astute corporation want the Bible, William Shakespeare and Leo Tolstoy to shill for its products?  I am pleased to announce that my new editing service–Masterpiece Marketing– can offer product placement in the greatest works of literature.

Think of the promotional opportunities in The Odyssey.  For instance, the astute sponsor could add some helpful details about the construction of the Trojan Horse.

                       “Now sing of that wooden horse,

                        the ambuscade Odysseus planned,

                        The wily Greek knew where to shop

                        For all his needs at Home Depot.”

Among other Homeric endorsers, Circe is very popular among pet-lovers, and Polyphemus would make a credible user of Visine.  And, as each member of Odysseus’ crew is devoured or drowns, his dying words could be “This wouldn’t happen on a Carnival Cruise.”

The Bible can perform miracles for your marketing.  For instance, the Ten Plagues of Egypt needs corporate sponsors.  Frogs, flies and locusts tie in nicely with Orkin; boils and the deaths of the first-born are good reasons to have Blue Cross/Blue Shield.  And why did the Magi bring gold, frankincense and myrrh?  They first checked the baby registry at Target.  We can also arrange to have your company included in the Beatitudes.

Would your company like to appear in Shakespeare?  “Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by YOUR NAME HERE.”  “Oh, brave new world that has YOUR PRODUCT in it!”  For a slight additional fee, your endorsement will be included in Cliffs Notes. 

Masterpiece Marketing also offers a multi-media package, providing product placement in a novel and its film adaptation.  For example, “Anna Karenina” offers memorable endorsements for vodka, mattresses and trains. 

Masterpiece Marketing: creative ways to improve the truth. 

The Post Office has announced the issuance of new stamps in tribute to the following:

James Stewart, for being a Republican in Hollywood. He was equally courageous in World War II, being the hero that John Wayne pretended to be.

Ella Fitzgerald, for being Dick Cheney’s favorite Rap artist.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow who, despite his name, was not a porn star. Alberto Gonzales wanted him arrested anyway.

Dumbo and Peter Pan, the Neo-Conservative intellectuals, for their brilliant contributions to American foreign policy.

Aladdin for his overwhelming gratitude to the Bush Administration.

Nature may abhor a vacuum but it was amused by Benito Mussolini.  On this day in 1922, Mussolini and his Black Shirts wore out their Guccis marching on Rome to demand control of the government.  Surprised that any Italian even cared, the government promptly (even gleefully) capitulated. 

Politically, Italy is anarchy with charm. The Italians have not had a competent government since the reign of Theodoric who died in 526…and they really don’t care. It is a tribute to Italians’ enlightenment that they prefer thieves and lunatics in government than being public nuisances on the street.  (Remember that Italian lunatics would be more endearing than American and–especially–German psychotics.)   

Mussolini is rightfully remembered as a tyrannical buffoon. To put him in our contemporary political terms, he combined a Republican’s personality with a Democrat’s competence. Yet, he might be revered as the inspiration of “reality television.”

What happens when the most ridiculous man in Italy wants to run the country? YOU LET HIM.

In the year 2000, the show obviously was syndicated in America.

Pedantically yours,

Eugene 

(In memory of Michael Servetus and to aggravate Jean Calvin, I now will pontificate on the Trinity.)

Once upon a time, there was a nice Semitic religion called Christianity. It was a form of Judaism-lite and had a user-friendly icon named Jesus. Offering an eternal retirement package, the new religion proved very popular among the meek.

Then, some Greek intellectuals joined the religion with the express intention of improving it. They felt that since religion was a matter of belief, it should be made into a metaphysical miasma that had to be taken on faith. Christianity was too important to be intelligible. They began redefining, reinventing and elaborating the religion as they soon as they joined the congregation. And being Greek intellectuals, they could bully the meek and take over the congregations. “I don’t care what Peter told you. I’m the one with a degree from Athens.”

Of course, the Greek intellectuals couldn’t agree with each other, so they were denouncing each other as heretics. They were probably squabbling in the amphitheater while it was feeding time for the lions. “Eat him; he thinks that the Son is inferior to the Father.” “No, eat him; he thinks that the Son has a similar substance but a different nature from the Father.” The lions probably thought that they were being martyred.

Constantine was both the first Christian Emperor and Church referee, trying to get the various factions to concur on anything. He coerced some agreement at the Council of Nicaea: there was indeed a Trinity and that everyone hates the Jews.

Since the Trinity was now the doctrine of the Church, the Greek intellectuals could fight over the nature of the Trinity. That would be good for about five centuries of debates, denunciations and schisms. One of the more prolonged and eventful quarrels was over the nature of Jesus.

Was his nature (or substance–yes, they did fight over the precise wording), equally human and divine, mostly divine and somewhat human, or solely divine in a human wrapping? Those who subscribed to the divine nature with a human wrapping were called Monophysites. It was the preferred interpretation among the Christians of Armenia, Syria and Egypt. But at the Council of Chalcedon in 451, a majority of bishops endorsed the idea that Jesus was equally divine and human. So, the Monophysites found themselves declared heretics. You can imagine how pleased they were.

However, the Monophysites really were too numerous to persecute; so all Constantinople could do was annoy them. A Monophysite bishop might be arrested, expelled or even executed, but a sample martyrdom did not deter the popular heresy. It just undermined any loyalty to the Byzantine Empire.

In the 640s, after years of squabbling and harassment from Constantinople, the Monophysites of Egypt were so sick of the Byzantines that they basically surrendered to the Moslems as the lesser of two evils.

Alexandria, the second city of the Empire and a walled seaport, could have withstood a serious siege. The Arabs were just a troop of cavalry on a raid; they were amazed that Alexandria surrendered to them. Imagine if you saw kids stealing your hubcabs and you ran out and handed them your house keys.

In fact, those early Arabs were less oppressive than the Byzantines. The Moslems did not distinguish between Christians; as long as they paid their infidel tax, they could interprete the Trinity anyway they wanted.

So, the Monophysite question cost Byzantium the province of Egypt. And did the Byzantines learn to be less dogmatic? No, not at all: in the ninth century, the Patriarch of Constantinople tried to excommunicate the Pope over the use of a preposition. (Is the Holy Spirit from the Father or through the Father?)

Pedantically yours,

Eygenios

On this day in 1553, Michael Servetus was burned alive for heresy–by the Protestants. No, he was not doing anything inordinately Catholic, such as singing Irish ballads or organizing bingo nights (although the Calvinists would have killed him for that, too). The distinguished physician and scholar was a free-thinker and thought that the Trinity was an unnecessary bureaucracy.

(Hello. You have reached the department of Metaphysical Resources.� Press one if you wish to pray to the Father. Press two if you wish to pray to the Son….)

Servetus knew that his views would not be appreciated in his native Spain but he imagined that the Protestants would be more tolerate. After all, they were being persecuted for their beliefs. He might have been right about the Dutch, but anywhere else he was asking to be kindling. Martin Luther didn’t like dissenters and Jean Calvin really didn’t like anyone. (Calvin’s appeal was that surly manners and stinginess were signs of divine grace; he was the pioneer of self-help motivational speakers.) Unfortunately for Servetus, he sought refuge in Geneva, the headquarters of “Rude Your Way to Heaven.”

Calvin believed in the Trinity. He probably enjoyed the idea of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit brawling with each other when they weren’t picking on mankind. However, Servetus disagree with Calvin–and therefore God. At least, the roasted Servetus was spared one indignity; the Swiss had yet to invent the fondue.

My Congressman is considered a moderate Republican:  he has yet to denounce Galileo and Darwin as New York liberals.  His prospects for reelection must be excellent because his campaign ads are few and always polite.  You will be relieved to know that he supports Veterans Hospitals.

The congressional races in adjacent districts, however, would not be mistaken for a Hallmark card.  It is remarkable how many accusations you can put in one sentence. 

Here is an example:  Terrorist-pornographer Eugene Finerman wants to tax your children’s stem cells to support gay weddings for illegal aliens. 

(This ad has been paid for by the Republican National Committee, which is not responsible for anything.)

On this day in 1415, a beleaguered CEO offered these team-building thoughts to his “stakeholders”:

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother …

Stirred by such speech, you too might well overlook the fact that your newfound brother makes 300 times more than you, and that he is the buffoon who put you in such a desperate plight.

In fact, the battle of Agincourt was decided by French incompetence, not English poetry. Outnumbering the English by approximately five-to-one, the French could have used any number of tactics to win the campaign: flanking, envelopment, siege….There was only one possible way that the French could have lost the battle of Agincourt. That would be a full-frontal cavalry assault in constricted terrain, leading to an impassable traffic jam of horses and easy shooting for English archers.

Of course, who would be that stupid? Oh, oui.

Pedantically yours,

Eugene

On this day in 1760, George III because King of Great Britain.  It could have been worse. 

But for the quality of 18th century medicine, the 13 colonies would have revolted against King Frederick I. He was the oldest son of George II and the father of George III.

Hanoverian fathers and sons tended to hate each other: George I vs. George II, George II vs. Prince Frederick. (George III was the exception. He didn’t know his father well enough to loathe him–but everyone else did.)
Whereas as George II was a lethargic figurehead content to entrust policy to his capable Whig ministers, Prince Frederick had given ample evidence of being a dynamic dolt. Just imagine him as a George Bush who kept drinking. Out of pure spite, the Prince allied himself to the Tories. Had he ascended to the throne, his rule would have been a series of tantrums. 

George III was a man of personal virtue–which evidently wasn’t hereditary–and he was the first in his dynasty who didn’t have a German accent. (After forty-six years of ruling Britain, someone had finally learned English.) However, George did have his father’s politics and obstinacy. In 15 years, he drove America to rebellion. Perhaps Frederick could have done it in 8.

Pedantically yours,

Eugene

Let’s offer a belated congratulations to Valentinian III who became the Roman Emperor yesterday in 425. He was six years old and would show consistent immaturity in the remaining 30 years of his reign. The Western Roman Empire was disintegrating while he was throwing a tantrum. At the start of his reign, he ruled over Iberia, Gaul and Italia. By the end, he still had Italia but tenuous patchs of the rest. His idea of conquests was other men’s wives. Of course, Valentinian was assassinated but–surprisingly–not by any of the husbands.

His incompetence and debauchery were not unique; yet his name denotes a rare distinction among Roman Emperors. He was related to Valentinian I and Valentinan II; in fact, he was the fourth generation of a ruling dynasty.

We all know the stereotype of the Italian male. He can impregnate a woman with just a leer. That may have been true of the Renaissance Popes but not the Roman Emperors. During orgies they evidently were at the buffet table. The imperial sterility probably encouraged assassination. It is easier to seize the throne stepping over one body than an entire dynasty. Of course, the successful usurper was usually just as impotent. Were the Roman baths a little too warm?

However, Valentinian’s family was the second-longest ruling clan on the imperial throne: 91 years. Ironically, the most successful dynasty was the first: Augustus and the kids. They lasted 95 years, and if Nero hadn’t kicked to death his pregnant wife….

Pedantically yours,

Evgenivs