Valentines Day – Official History

Dead love

Catholic Martyrologies and Hagiographies list no less than 11 Saint Valentines, but it is one Saint Valentius of Narnia (l kid you not) that has come to symbolize ‘Romantic Love’, quite possibly due to the reason for his gruesome execution in Rome, way back in the year 269 -on the 14th February coincidentally.

Whilst delivering his weekly sermon to the good people of Narnia,
a town in Umbria, Valentius couldn’t help slipping the word Jesus into his homilies from time to time,(Yes, the very same J.C. who has since become a household word) a bad habit to get into, as it turns out. The mere mention of this word made the local judge, one Autuaro Asterius, prick up his ears. (if you will pardon the expression)
Valentius was put under house arrest – in the judge’s own house –as was the custom of the day. Yet again, the excitable Valentius couldn’t help blurting out that word. Now Artie explained patiently to young Vali(they were on a first name basis by now) that he was under strict instructions from ‘The-Powers-That-Be’ to have him beaten to death with a blunt instrument –publically, ( there was no television in those days) if he some much as whispered that word. But being the kindly old sock that he was, he gave young Vali one last chance to redeem himself. The judge had a beautiful daughter who was as blind as a bat. If Vali could restore her sight he would be spared the gruesome death that awaited him. Vali duly laid his hands on the girl’s eyes and spoke that word several times, (soto voce, of course) the girl opened her eyes and for the fist time in her life she saw the world in all its radiant beauty. A Miracle!
Young Vali had ticked the first box on the Application for Sainthood. Judge Arty not only revoked Vali’s imminent death warrant but became an instant devotee of the unspeakable messiah and so did his gracious daughter, of course.
Things were going swimmingly for young Valentius, so well in fact that he ventured to chance his luck in the big city, the biggest of them all, the seathing, bustling metropolis of Rome, no less, the Capital of the world. But as luck would have it, the-powers-that-be in the cauldron of power would not be quite so malleable as the folksy folk of Umbria.
As was to be expected, Vali could not refrain from mentioning the unmentionable word that brought instant ire to all good law abiding Pagans. From whispering his heresy in the darkest corner of the tavern his hubris told him to shout it from the soap box in the city square.
Emperor Claudius Gothicus himself, no less, soon pricked up his ears, and he could be a particularly prickly fellow at the best of times.
Valentius was placed once more under house arrest – in Claudius’s very own house, as was the Roman custom, and yet again, on a good day, as luck would have it, when the notoriously prickly Claudius was wasn’t feeling such a prick, he was offered one last chance to escape is grisly fate. Claudius had a comely wife; one Clitimnestra, who refused to bare him an air, though not through lack of trying. If Valentius could induce his barren wife to conceive a bouncing baby boy, all would be forgiven. This was no walk in the park, but but one more miracle would make his sainthood a ‘lay-down-messiere’. After exhaustive investigations, over many private sessions with the vivacious Clitimnestra, she got pregnant. The emperor was overjoyed, as any prospective father would be, and vowed to set Valentius free the very next day, but first he felt the urge to rewarded his fertile wife with his greatest gift; the fruit of his loins, a gift she embraced with open arms, with fervour and with gusto. But alas and alak, as luck would have it, at very height of her exaltation she raised her comely eyes to the heavens and cried out, in a guttural moaning wail:
“ooooooh Jesus.”

Epilogue
Thus his fate was sealed. Young Valentius of the golden tongue, met his grisly end; beaten to death with a club, beheaded and paraded around the square on a pointy stick, as was the custom of the day. (no T.V. remember) But he ‘took-it-on-the-chin’, as we say in Rome’, knowing his martyrdom had ticked the last box. glorious martyrdom awaited- plus the added bonus of a hero’s welcome in Heaven.
And that is why, to this very day, on this very day, we celebrate his death as an undying symbol of romantic love.

Ben Laycock 2016

Mandy Rice-Davies

Clitimnestra

INVASION DAY Homily

Cook-Cairns-Hitler
We see ourselves as peace loving, generous, tolerant people yet is that how the world sees us? The rest of the world sees a country constantly at war. We have been at war in Afghanistan for 14 years now, and no end in sight. We here in Sleepy hollow may have forgotten about those wars but I can assure you the people of Afghanistan have not.
The rest of the world sees a nation hell bent on denying asylum to some of the most desperate people on earth, fleeing conflicts half of which we have created, while we debate whether to tow their boats back out to sea and use them for target practice.
The rest of the world sees a nation that treats its Indigenous people like shit. Always has and always will. We may believe we are trying really hard to ameliorate their endless suffering, but the world, I’m afraid sees only our complete and utter failure to do so. Why do we treat them so? Is it punishment for making us feel guilty?
We are one of the wealthiest nations on earth yet we sit back and watch our nearest neighbour Papua New Ginea descend into barbarism. We attempt to diddle our other neighbour East Timor out of their oil. We turn away Pacific Islanders desperately seeking somewhere to live once their countries disappear under the rising seas. A problem we have helped to create and are unwilling to fix.
Maybe it is time to administer a few drops of Optical Viagra and have a good hard look at our selves.

Ben Laycock 2010

Fridgehenge

Return of the Druids
The Druids, creators of Stonehenge, have been persecuted mercilessly throughout history, surviving only as a secret underground society. This is all about to change. New henges are cropping up all over the place. The resurgent Druid movement has formed an alliance with the microbes to regain their rightful place as leaders of the free world.
This short promotional sound bite will explain all:

Druid close up

Radio Roundup Friday 12th June

This week:
Hockey’s thought bubble on house price bubble
Refugees: Is Mr. Rabbot paying budgie smugglers?
Julie Bishop calls war ‘foreign aid’.
Mr. Rabbot finds wind farms a pain in the arse.
+
Gay Marriage:
Can the pink dollar poke the economy out of its slumber?

Part 1

Part 2

2Big Foot-Web

The year is 2101. The world is run by The Sisterhood of Anarchist Collectives, mentored by a steering committee of wise elders. Peace, harmony and joy have reigned over the land since time immemorial.

Whilst working in the ochre pits, a group of young diggers unearths a giant foot, surrounded by all manner of strange objects made of unknown materials and having no conceivable use.

The wise elders are summoned to decipher the mystery.

“ You have unwittingly stumbled across a ‘Landfill’ – Sacred Burial Ground of The Cult of Consumerism.” According to folklore passed down from generation to generation, sometime long, long ago, the cult spread like wildfire across the entire globe, devouring all in its path, leaving nothing but a trail of devastation in its wake. Monolithic centres of worship known as ‘Shopping Malls’ were erected in every town. The Mall was a place for devotees to satiate their spiritual cravings. People crammed every corner of their palatial homes with religious icons. The most revered deity of the cult was Imelda – the Goddess of Stuff; a semi-mythical being that loved the poor and downtrodden and was said to posses a pair of shoes for every day of the year. The story goes that on a lofty hill above The Sacred Burial Ground, a magnificent statue was erected in her honor.

Some say the cult was fueled by strange substances extracted at great expense from deep within the earth, but this cannot be verified as no trace of these elements has ever been found.

A mystery yet to be explained by all the eminent scientists with letters after their names.

‘Big Foot’ has been painstakingly preserved and placed on The Cultural Heritage Register.

Access to the relic is normally restricted to eminent anthropoligists with letters after their names, but for a limited time only, you the proletariat, have been given access to this marvel.

Ben Boyang

Cultural Heritage Officer – City of Lianganook

‘Bog Foot’ can be viewed as part of The Great Mandala, an exhibition of 80 contemporary sculptures at Toyota Community Spirit Gallery, Toyota Australia, 155 Bertie Street, Port Melbourne, Victoria.

Gallery Hours: Mon – Fri, 9am to 5pm (closed public holidays)

Website:

http://www.watcharts.com.au/toyota.html