I was talking to a fellow member of my cohort who was raised Catholic in a kind of small-towny environment. The priest was apparently something of a character—he had all sorts of weird affectations in his speech and insisted on making his own communion wafers (presumably this goes against some sort of rule), varying the recipe and procedure according to the process of the liturgical calendar. Occasionally he would let favored parishioners assist him in that last effort, though he was, as you might expect, a bit arbitrary as a taskmaster. He claimed to be able to detect in the finished product even the slightest deviation from the rules he had set down for the making and baking of the wafers. In one case, this student recalled, towards the end of Holy Week he had remonstrated with one of his assistants because he thought he had been blending the flour-water mixture which was to form the substrate for the wafer too rapidly, even though it was the correct speed (this assistant had helped out before) for the indifferent days of the calendar. "You don't understand", the priest had insisted, "for Festival Lenty, you must make paste slowly."
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That reminds me of a lacksadaisical billboard painter I once knew. He would spend most of his working day sitting around up on the ladder, watching the world go by, raising the brush now and again. Only as the last light of the day faded would he really get to work, quickly and poorly getting the job done. He would usually be forced to redo his work the next day, but always claimed that he nonetheless valued his many hours sitting atop the world. As he told me then, sign in haste, repaint in leisure.
Posted by: Craig | October 27, 2005 at 11:51 PM
He was right, too, you know. A stressful life, after all, only leads to trouble! In fact, your story reminds me of an Episode from History which my dear old dad once related to me. It seems that the ballad about Sir Patrick Spens gets it a little wrong. What actually happened was that the king summoned all his knights to watch him, the king, go out on the bluid-red sea, for a brand-new type of seagoing ship had just been built and the king wanted to take its maiden voyage (as is, after all, only a king's right, even if it now only survives in remote islands near the coast of northern France). Well, the king was mighty nervous about this episode, and the stress must have taken its toll on him, for he hadn't gone ten minutes, ten minutes, ten minutes but barely fifteen, when he had a heart attack right there on the boat! Seems his heart had failed to contract. The helmsmen called for the knights to drag them back to shore, and all of them, Spens among, piled into smaller rowboats and went out to get the king and succeeded in bringing him back, and thus was disaster averted.
And that was the first vassal assist!
Posted by: ben wolfson | October 28, 2005 at 12:05 AM
Hum. It seems that it was the wine the king drank in Dumferline toun that was bluid-red, and not the sea. That does make more sense.
Though we know from independent sources that the sea is wine-dark, so let's call it even.
Posted by: ben wolfson | October 28, 2005 at 12:09 AM
I had a TA once who'd been raised Catholic and whose family always strictly observed Lent. One year, while she was away at college her dad asked her what she was giving up for Lent.
Her answer: Catholicism.
Posted by: eb | October 28, 2005 at 12:22 AM
Nah, you're allowed to make your own eucharist. Usually they just buy it from Catholic supply places, though.
Posted by: bitchphd | October 28, 2005 at 06:11 AM
varying the recipe and procedure according to the process of the liturgical calendar.
A different host for a different occasion, you know.
Posted by: ben wolfson | October 31, 2005 at 09:44 AM
Are Ben's post and first comment supposed to be jokes?
Posted by: Matt Weiner | October 31, 2005 at 07:35 PM
I can't tell if you actually don't get them, Weiner, if you're just trying to say that they are utter failures. My dad liked the first one, though.
I explain the puns: 1. "festina lente" is a motto which is commonly translated "make haste slowly". 2. This is twofold. First, a vessel assist is when you get smaller boats to help your boat dock. Second, vessel asystole occurs when your heart fails to contract.
Posted by: ben wolfson | October 31, 2005 at 09:31 PM
I didn't get them, owing to unfamiliarity with the phrases. But I also think it would be a great idea to start posting long, absurd, pointless stories ending in stilted phrases that sound as though they should be puns but in fact are not. Then your faithful readers would spend all our time walking around, pronouncing the phrases several different ways, trying to figure out what was going on. It would be a new kind of troll, or shaggy dog story, or something.
Posted by: Matt Weiner | November 01, 2005 at 05:00 AM
"His heart failed to contract" is a great red herring since ordinarily those details don't have anything to do with your pun.
Posted by: Matt Weiner | November 01, 2005 at 05:18 AM
Except, of course, that failure to contract is what creates the asystole. As is explained in my comment above.
Pwned, Weiner.
Posted by: ben wolfson | November 01, 2005 at 09:30 AM
Oh, ordinarily. Right. Shit.
Posted by: ben wolfson | November 01, 2005 at 09:31 AM