Romeo Pug Finerman

The New York Times seems to have declared war on Pugs, denouncing the endearing little lapdogs as being designer-breed concoctions of recessive genes. Of course, you could say that the same thing about the couples in the Times’ wedding announcements. I will admit that Pugs have not retained many of their ancestral lupine traits. Even two thousand years ago, a pack of Pugs would have only hunted egg rolls dropped from the imperial banquet table.

Here is my tribute to the Pug.

It is said that owners resemble their dogs. I will never be that fortunate. As the nominal owner but actual servant of Pugs, I may yet achieve their wrinkles but Semitic inbreeding precludes the hope of a pug nose. Beyond my physical inferiority, I cannot emulate the charm and grace of a Pug. My Pugs have maintained their decorum despite the frequent queries, “Is that the dog in ‘Pocahontas’ and ‘Men in Black’?” I am the one ready to snarl.

In its creation of Percy, the obnoxious lapdog of the wicked governor of Jamestown, “Pocahontas” depicts the Pug as the embodiment of imperialism: cruel, arrogant, avaricious and corrupt. Percy combines the worst features of Cujo and Oscar Wilde. That is a slanderous representation of the Pug’s ethics and its role in history. The Pug is the most politically correct of pets, with a pedigree of liberal causes.

A Pug could hardly be a symbol of western imperialism since it happens to be Chinese. As early as 600 B.C. the Chinese aristocracy decided that Pugs made better pets than entrees. With the advent of Buddhism, the Pug also acquired a reputation for sanctity: its affable stupor was regarded as a model of Zen contemplation. Pugs often were employed as the guard pet of temples; in a culture of silk garments, a shedding dog might be a deterrent.

The encrouching Europeans of the 16th century should have appreciated the Pug. Its small size and good nature accommodated theft. Yet, the Spaniards and the Portuguese showed terrified restraint. The customs officials of the Ming Dynasty could not have been more intimidating than the Aztecs.

This raises the question: Was the Pug Anti-Catholic? One could never be too paranoid in the Age of Torquemada and Philip II. No flammable person would want to risk the curiosity of the Inquisition by importing a furry avatar of Buddha. The Pug evidently was not permitted in Iberia unless it first converted to a Saint Bernard.

Dutch mariners may not have recognized the Pug as a fellow Protestant, but they clearly saw a market for the ecumenical charmer. One merchant, hopeful for future favors or mindful of past offenses, presented one of these rare oriental dogs to Prince William of Orange. That little bribe, named Pompey, was to save William and the Netherlands.

Through a web of political marriages in the early 16th century, the Spanish royal family got the Hapsburg chin and the Low Countries. Ferdinand, Isabella and Charles V could keep themselves busy in Spain, burning anyone with a suspicious reluctance to pork; but the tax revenues from the Netherlands would justify a little myopia toward Calvinism. Philip II, however, “would rather rule over a desert than a land full of heretics.” Since the Dutch did not appreciate being kindling, they rose in a rebellion led by William of Orange.

“Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!” This does not remotely refer to the Pug, but Prince William insisted on taking Pompey along on campaigns. It was an act of self-indulgence, but so is survival; and Pompey proved a better bodyguard than the Dutch army. One night in 1572, a troupe of assassins eluded the Dutch sentries but not Pompey.

In all probability, the Pug regarded the conspirators as an audience rather than a threat, but his snorts and capers awakened William to the danger. The Prince of Orange survived and, with him, Dutch independence. Without his leadership, the Netherlands might have been reduced to being the northern parish of Belgium. Neither the Prince nor his descendants forgot their debt to Pompey: the Pug became the official dog of the House of Orange and was conferred an orange collar.

Since the English were more interested in robbing the Spaniards rather than the Chinese, there were no Pugs in England (and certainly not in Jamestown) during Pocahantas’ lifetime. The first Pugs crossed the Channel in 1688, when William III of the Netherlands became William III of England. He had been hired by Parliament to replace his uncle and father-in-law, James II, who had been ousted for being too obnoxious and too Catholic. This is remembered as the Glorious Revolution, which established the constitutional supremacy of a mean and bigoted parliament over a mean and bigoted king.

William III proved just as dislikable and not as attractive as his predecessor, but he was impeccably Protestant. Furthermore, he did not need looks or charm; his Pugs provided that. The Pugs became popular as both a loyalty oath and a fashion statement.

Europe’s intellectuals began to regard the English as a race of idiot savants, whose savoir was government. Mindful of royal censors and dungeons, they did not dare openly to espouse the English political system, but owning a Pug was a discreet way of admiring English “fashion.” The Pug developed subversive popularity as an emblem of the Enlightenment. A Masonic Lodge in southern Germany was called the Order of the Pug. In the leading salons of Paris, Pugs associated with Voltaire and Diderot, and shared mistresses with Ben Franklin.

By the mid-19th century, the Pug had lived down any blame for the French Revolution as well as its resemblance to Napoleon. The Pug arrived in America after the Civil War, imported by a Nouveau Riche in need of status symbols. In the Victorian scheme of things, the Pug served as a consolation prize for slighted wives, bored mistresses, ignored children or anyone with a trust fund instead of a life.

Today, guilt by association has left the impression that the Pug is a decadent little twit. The Duke of Windsor certainly was, but his Pugs were not. Of course, Pugs love comfort but that is not a Fascist tendency. Even if a Pug did prefer to chew Mussolini‘s Gucci rather than Mao‘s sandals, who wouldn’t? The Pug’s politics should be judged by his character. Since the Pug is good-natured, naive, defenseless and ineffectual, it obviously is a Liberal.

Part I

p.s.  And let’s address the Why in Wyoming:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/07/03/how-wyoming-got-its-name-to-its-complete-bewilderment/

July 2, 1881:  James Garfield’s Experience with American Healthcare

Shot twice by lunatic Charles Guiteau, President Garfield was rushed back to the White House and immediately attended by physicians.  As night fell, the surgeons worked both by kerosene light and the glow of their cigars.  The ashes falling into the president’s body were said to cauterize the wound.  Given the long hours, dinner was provided to the medical staff.  The scalpel served both the patient and the roast beef.  Since the President was unconscious, it was not difficult to balance the food plates on him.

The President died of an inexplicable infection 79 days later.

If it happened today….

Shot twice by radio host Charles Guiteau, President Garfield was rushed to the hospital and immediately interviewed by a registrar.  First, Garfield had to provide proof of insurance.  Upon learning that the President was a veteran, the  registrar had to explain the difference in policies between this hospital and one managed by the Veterans’ Administration.  She then asked if he would like to be transferred.  Unfortunately, the President had lapsed into a coma.  The registrar insisted the interview be continued with the executor of Garfield’s person.  Mrs. Garfield volunteered for that role; however, she first had to provide proof of her identity and a marriage certificate.  The registrar was willing to accept a fax of the document; it could be notarized in the hospital’s billing department.  However, the notary fee was not covered by insurance and would have to be paid immediately.

Once Mrs. Garfield had verified her existence, she then had to answer 100 questions about the President’s health.  She discovered that she somehow had agreed to have the President tested for allergens.  The President would be examined for any  unusual wounds in his body; should any be found then X-Rays, CAT scans, MRIs and ultrasounds would be performed.  Their findings, along with the test results from the allergist, would determine a suitable course of treatment.

Six hours later, the doctors saw that the President had two bullets in his body, an enlarged prostate but an excellent colon.  He was also allergic to shrimp and had been dead for an hour.  However, it wasn’t caused by infection.

July 1, 1916:  A Stroll in the Country

The plan of Field Marshall Douglas Haig had an undeniable logic. A week-long bombardment–1,500,000 shells of heavy artillery–along a 20-mile front in northern France would obliterate any German defenses. Then, 150,000 British soldiers would simply occupy the valley, leaving the exposed remnants of the German lines prey to three divisions of cavalry. And tally-ho Berlin! The British soldiers were told to take along their full kits–70 pounds of equipment and supplies–because this operation was really more of a relocation than an attack. Battalions were even ordered to move in formation: eight lines of troops, five yards apart. It would be good practice for so many raw recruits. That splendid procession occurred on this day–July 1–1916.

However, the procession was not quite as splendid as expected. While the British artillery had rained 1,500,000 shells on the German defenses, some logistical misunderstanding resulted in the use of shrapnel instead of high explosives. That would have been fatal to any number of German sunbathers who chose to ignore the bombardment, but it had negligible effect on the trenchworks. Furthermore, the British underestimated the quality of German engineering. They assumed that the German trenchworks were just as shoddy as the British. (On the contrary, if you like the engineering of German cars, you would really love their trenches.) So, in fact, the German fortifications were still largely extant and bristling with the finest quality machine guns. The British bombardment had only succeeded in eliminating the element of surprise.

So began the first day on the Somme.

General Haig expected 150,000 men–in three waves–to advance up to three miles, overrunning two lines of German fortifications. However, only 100,000 men participated in the attack. In some sectors, the second and third waves could not move past the dead and wounded of the first wave. Some regiments had casualties of ninety percent; in effect, they ceased to exist. Despite the odds and obstacles, moving under fire with the weight of a full kit, British troops succeeded in taking some sectors of the Germans’ first line of trenches. Some British soldiers even reached the second line of trenches; the lucky ones were captured.

General Haig expected the attack to continue the next day. The division commanders told him that it was impossible; the generals did not even know how many men they had left. It took three days to get an accurate account of the losses. Of the 100,000 men who made the attack on July 1, 20,000 were dead and 40,000 wounded. This proved to be the worst day in the history of the British army. By contrast, the German losses seemed almost frivolous: 8,000 dead and wounded, 2,000 captured.

And this was just the first day on the Somme. The slaughter would continue through November. At the cost of 620,000 casualties the Allies would gain five miles, and they never achieved the breakthrough that would end the war. But if this was a Pyrrhic victory, the Germans still had little reason to celebrate. Their casualties amounted to 450,000.

Douglas Haig was not courtmartialed, demoted or transferred as military attache to Brazil. He remained the Field Marshall of the British forces, After the war, he was made an earl and received an award of 100,000 sterling. (He did not need the money; the Haig family had a very successful distillery.) History’s judgment, however, has been less generous: “the butcher of the Somme”.

To the early Romans the month of March seemed the approximate beginning of the year.  With the advent of spring, what better time to plant a field or start a war!  So this would have been the fifth month of their calendar, and the Romans labelled it according: Quintilis–the fifth.  Even after the Romans moved the start of the new year to Januarius, Quintilis retained its name if not its numerical accuracy.   

In 44 B.C., however, the Roman Senate renamed the month Julius in honor of the very recent corpse.  It was not a tribute to Julius Caesar so much as a desperate gesture to avert a civil war.  Of course, Caesar’s death was a surprise to him, but it was nearly as much a shock to most of the senators.  There were 300 members of the Senate, but only 40 were part of the conspiracy.  Although they had not done polling or had a focus group, the plotters presumed that the majority of the Senators would either sympathize or acquiesce to the murder.  

In fact, they were stunned.  Most of the Senators had survived the past civil wars by being innocuous.  So long as they maintained their privileges, they were resigned to letting a Caesar have the burdens of power.  His death would not restore the Republic because they no longer had the interest or capacity to administer it.  Worse, they feared more civil wars.  They were already intimidated by the plebian outrage over the death of Caesar; the common people loved him.  You couldn’t ignore the masses, especially when they included legions of veterans.  Furthermore, Caesar had his partisans in the Senate.  What was Marc Antony going to do?

We may think of Antony as a dissolute, befuddled wastrel and the last years of his life would justify that image.  However, why would Julius Caesar have chosen such a dissipated playboy as his lieutenant?  No, Antony had considerable ability, and his political shrewdness would determine his survival, Caesar’s revenge, Roman history and the name of this month. 

In the aftermath of Caesar’s death, Antony correctly judged the predominant mood of the Senate.  It didn’t want civil war.  Neither did he, because he hadn’t yet amassed the legions to fight it.   The conspirators–the self-proclaimed liberators–were demanding that they be pardoned for killing a tyrant.  Antony was not prepared to condemn them or even defend Caesar’s reputation.  He did, however, raise a legal obstacle to declaring Caesar a tyrant.  If the Senate voted that denunciation, then all of Caesar’s acts would be nullified.  First, that risked massive unemployment among the patricians.  All the officials–governors, proconsuls, etc.– appointed by Caesar would be stripped of their lucrative posts.  Worse, canceling the pensions and land grants to Caesar’s veterans would likely incite a rebellion by the best soldiers in the Republic.  That was exactly what the Senate hoped to avoid.

Marc Antony offered a compromise.  Caesar would not be declared a tyrant but his killers would receive an amnesty.  And in view of the plebian cries for vengeance, the “liberators” should receive government posts as far from Rome as possible.  Cassius was named governor of Syria, at the time a very enviable form of banishment.  Brutus received Greece.  In the meantime, the Senate hoped to placate the indignant public by renaming Quintilius in honor of Julius Caesar.

So Caesar got a month, but Antony got all the time he needed–along with the legions of Italia and Gaul.  He would make use of them.

While I am on hold, waiting for a Comcast service representative to get on line, I have time to translate “War and Peace” into Romulan.  (I think that the Romulans would prefer Napoleon to win.)  I am trying to ignore Comcast’s Muzak selection–a continuous accordion rendition of “Rhinestone Cowboy”–but admiring the corporation’s subtle way of encouraging me to hang up.  It is more tasteful and effective than waterboarding.  In the meantime, let’s scan the headlines.

Sandra Bullock and Jesse James: Officially Divorced

Sandra Bullock may be a bad sport.  I have had illicit sexual affairs with every Neo-Nazi stripper I know, and my wife doesn’t mind at all.

Supreme Court extends gun rights to states, cities

It is only a matter of time before someone pulls a gun on “Jeopardy.”  In hindsight, I wish that I could have threatened Alex and demand that the daily double be in the British Monarchs category instead of “Roller Derby Champions.”  At the time, such conduct might have seemed psychopathic.  Now, thanks to the Supreme Court’s standard 5 to 4, I simply would be exercising my patriotic rights.

Kagan vows to be unbiased, deferential to Congress

Today Elena Kagan was denounced for her vocabulary.  After saying “deferential” in front of Senator Jeff Sessions, the Supreme Court nominee was attacked for “flaunting her fancy elitistic liberal big words”.  An apologetic Kagan assured the Senator that she only meant to say she’d be “real polite to the Congress.”  The Senator then condemned the nominee for saying ‘assure.’

Senator Tom Coburn was more concerned about Ms. Kagan’s promises to be unbiased.  “What do you people have against biases?  Real Americans don’t have to worry about them.”

Senator Lindsey Graham only asked her if she would like to see a movie.  “It would be good for both of our reputations.”

p.s.  Was my musical parody that bad? I thought it would be on YouTube by now.   https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2010/06/17/elana-kagans-hearing-mtv-version/

p.p.s.  And let’s not forget the historic significance of this day:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/06/28/on-this-day-in-1914-great-moments-in-public-relations/

For a beautiful, brilliant, fascinating woman, Eleanor of Aquitaine is surprisingly obscure.  Oh, historians certainly know her but Hollywood–the real arbiter of popular knowledge–has long overlooked her.  You’d think that Reese Witherspoon and Sandra Bullock would be demanding tailored-scripts to play her.  But, however long overdue, I think that Eleanor has become fashionable.  She appears–as one of the few intelligent adults–in the latest version of “Robin Hood”.  To be honest, there is no need for her in the story; the 437 previous versions of “Robin Hood” have done without her.  But the scriptwriter and director–bless them– realize that the dazzling Queen Mother was just too wonderful to leave out of the film.

For the benefit of any Hollywood producers here, let me offer this brief introduction to Eleanor.  Just her lifespan was remarkable by medieval standards:  1122-1204.  She started life as merely a duchess rather than a queen. But Aquitaine was not your standard Middle Age muck, where four huts constituted a city.  The  fertile land of Southwestern France and its proximity to Moorish Spain made the duchy the most prosperous and cultured realm in western Europe.  Eleanor was its sovereign and what a dowry that made!

At the age of 15 she was married to Louis VII of France.  He was a nice young man, dull and pious, who was infatuated with her beauty and dutifully tried to ignore her intelligence.  But Eleanor could never be ignored.  If he was going on a Crusade, she was coming along, too.  Why should she be stuck in Paris?  Constantinople and Antioch would be more her style.  He might like praying in Jerusalem, but she could appreciate the art and the history. So, off to the Crusades they went.  It was her Grande Tour and his military disaster.  Louis was never a competent soldier, but he thought that Eleanor had jinxed him.  The rumors about her and various men (her uncle, the Byzantine Emperor, Saladin. etc) must have been somewhat distracting.  Upon returning to France, Louis asked the Pope for an annulment of the marriage on the grounds of consanguinity.  Louis and Eleanor were third cousins, but he apparently had just learned that after 15 years of marriage.  The King was a gentleman not to give the real reasons; and he was disappointed that Eleanor wasn’t grateful enough to let him have the Aquitaine.  No, he got to keep the two daughters and she got to keep the duchy.

Within two months she had a second husband: the exciting–and 11 years younger–Henry of Anjou, the heir to the English throne.  There was no docile acquiescence or complacent indifference in this marriage.  The passion produced eight children and civil war.  It was X-rated for both sex and violence.  Eleanor’s ideal of maternal duty was to encourage her sons to overthrow their father.  For the last 16 years of their marriage, Henry II only felt safe when she was imprisoned.  Even then, when his favorite mistress suddenly died the king had his suspicions as to the real cause of death.  However, Henry and Eleanor never tried poisoning each other.  In a love-hate relationship, that would have been against the rules.  So, when Henry died in 1189 it really was of natural causes.

Her favorite son Richard now was King, although not much of one.  He pawned much of the realm to finance a Crusade, leaving his mother as one of his regents for England and Normandy.  Ignoring his preferences, she arranged Richard’s marriage to the Spanish princess, Berengaria of Navarre.  We are still waiting for the marriage to be consummated.  While Eleanor was trying to  perpetuate Richard’s line, her other scion John was busy plotting.  Richard had not named his gnomish, maladroit baby brother as co-regent, choosing instead a reputable bishop.  John somehow knew all the disreputable bishops and organized them into a jury to condemn and oust the regent.  The disgraced bishop fled England and John was available to take his place as regent.

Of course, Eleanor didn’t approve but she wasn’t prepared to fight a civil war with her son.  She kept busy trying to circumvent John’s plots against Richard, raising the ransom when the king was held hostage in Austria and, upon Richard’s return, protecting the incompetent usurper from his enraged brother.  When Richard died in 1199, Eleanor’s support assured John of the royal succession.  She couldn’t have had any delusions as to his ability but he was the oldest male Plantagenet available.  At least while she lived, she orchestrated political alliances to keep France at bay and England with allies.  Ironically, her dull, plodding first husband had produced in a subsequent marriage the type of son Eleanor should have had: an energetic and brilliant statesman.  Without his mother, John was no match for Philippe Auguste.  There is a reason why Normandy, Tours, Gascony and Aquitaine are called France rather than East England.  Eleanor might have averted it, but she would have had to live another 800 years to ensure it.

Now, is that a life worthy of Hollywood?  “The Lion in Winter” did Eleanor some justice but that was just one chapter in a fascinating story.

Monaco’s Prince Albert to marry Charlene Wittstock

By  AP
(The 52 year-old prince is the one on the left.)

PARIS — Prince Albert of Monaco is engaged to marry Charlene Wittstock, a former Olympic swimmer for South Africa, a union that will give this wealthy Mediterranean principality its first crown princess since American Grace Kelly died in 1982.

4th century icons of Peter and Paul found in Rome

By AP

ROME — The earliest known icons of the Apostles Peter and Paul have been discovered in a catacomb under an eight-story modern office building in a working-class neighborhood of Rome, Vatican officials said Tuesday.

The images, which date from the second half of the 4th century, were discovered on the ceiling of a tomb that also includes the earliest known images of the apostles John and Andrew. They were uncovered using a new laser technique that allowed restorers to burn off centuries of thick white calcium carbonate deposits without damaging the dark colors of the original paintings underneath.

What do you have in your basement?  I have a rowing machine, half of a Lionel train set,  not to mention the water heater and furnace.  Compare that to your average Italian basement.

“Over there, next to the sump pump, is the sarcophagus of the Emperor Alexander Severus.  I did call the Department of Antiquity asking if they’d like the tomb.  They said, ‘He was a nice young man; so not particularly interesting.’  If I had the tomb of his cousin Elagabalus–that would be different.  This basement would get immediate landmark status as a 3rd century transvestite nightclub.  But nice, normal Alexander Severus–well, there’s a back log of emperors.  So, we are stuck with it, but it actually is useful.  All that marble keeps food cold for months.”