In days of old, Gods lived like men, but much better. For entertainment and sport, they toyed with men and women as if on a chess board. And of course, as they took time for pleasure and sleep, so they had their tiny combatants do likewise. Such is was in the contest between the Greeks and Teucri as fought for some ten years in about1184 B.C. Sidi J. Mahtrow brings the story to a modern time and setting, as did Thomas Brydges in 1700. This selection from the Iliad as published in the fourth edition in 1791, concerns the battle between Greeks [Republicans] and Trojans [Democrats] and how the [Trojans] Democrats seizing the misspoken [Lord] Lott by the tongue, whanged him about in the press. Explanation of the roles played is bracketed (as shown above). Feel free to change the participants and the action as you see fit and if you like, reread Homer to see if the roles are proper.
Homer’s Iliad
His squire and he[Senator Lott and aid] rush’d forth to battle;
And, as they harried to begin,
Their buff-coats made a dreadful din:
As when the scavengers you meet,
Prepar’d with brooms to scour the street,
With gentle pace at first they sweep,
And a slow lazy motion keep,
Till wave on wave creates a flood
Of cabbage leaves and kennel mud;
But when the shovel [news people] plays its part,
It mounts aloft, and fills the cart [news]:
So the Greek [Republican] ragged bands move on,
The hindmost [conservatives] drive the front along;
No sound thro’ all the ranks you hear,
Except the general chance to swear:
March and be d—d, the chief [President Bush] would say,
And silent all the troops obey.
Not so the Trojan’s [Democrats] empty skulls,
Their noise exceeded Basan’s [Wall Street] bulls;
So many diff’rent shires, when squabbling
Like Welch [lawyers] and Scotch [unions], must make rare gabbling,
To it they fall: a Heathen sprite
Heartens each army to the fight.
Mars [Barbra S.] backs the Trojans[Democrats], Pallas [Pat B.] seeks
To help her [his] dear-beloved Greeks [Republicans];
Discord and Terror rage in fight,
Attended by that spectre Flight [prejudice].
Discord, the curse of Christian nations,
But most the bane of corporations;
When born, tho’ smaller than a fly,
In half an hour she’ll grow so high
Her head will almost touch the sky.
Too often at a lord mayor’s [Strom’s] feast
She comes, a most unwelcome guest;
Too often drags both great and small
In heat of blood to Wranglers’ Hall (Westminster Hall) [Congress hall]
Where half their wealth is from ‘em lugg’d,
Before they find themselves humbugg’d:
Affliction brings both sides to think;
So down they friendly sit and drink.
Vex’d they’re drawn in to be employers
Of thieves, solicitors, and lawyers.
Now bloody blows by scores are struck,
Yet not a man was seen to duck;
A noise of shouts and grumbling spreads,
From luckless knaves with broken heads:
With blood of noble captains wounded
Ten million ants and grubs [causes and budgets] were drowned.
As from a brewer’s sink [budget committees], a torrent
Comes with a most prodigious current [of red ink],
And roaring with amazing force
Bears down in its resistless course
Stale radishes, bruis’d mint, and fennel [special interest all],
Nor stops till it ?as reach’d the kennel [floor for house and senate action];
So these two crowds each other jostle,
And ‘twixt ‘em make a dreadful bustle.
The bloody fray is first begun
By chatt’ring Nestor’s [Rubin] saucy son;
Echepolus [ONeal] by chance was nigh,
At whom he let his broomstick fly;
Upon the nob it hit him full,
Spoil’d his best hat, and crack’d his skull.
Down on the ground he [Paul O.] tumbled souse,
Like tiles from Whitfield’s meeting-[green flies in an out] house;
Or like an ancient country steeple [stock market of old],
That tumbling frights both priest [brokers] and people;
When Elpenor [C. Rangel], a crack’d-brain’d fellow,
Whose coat was red, and waistcoat yellow,
A staring, gaping, hair-brained prig,
Attempts to steal his hat and wig:
But as he ventur’d forth his hand
To draw the plunder off the sand,
Agenor’s [Watts] broomshaft reach’d his pluck:
His potlid left his side unguarded,
And so the puppy got rewarded:
He falls, and sprawls about in blood,
And fills his mouth with dirt and mud.
Now Greeks [Republicans] and Trojans [Democrats] round him flock,
And lend each other many a knock;
The sharpest weapon foremost put,
And strive to rip [out] each other’s gut.
Simoisius [Al G.], a lovely boy,
As any you shall find in Troy [democrat party]:
On Ida’s[Green’s party] side his mother bore
The bantling, near Simois’ [Potomac] shore;
And from that river, now so fam’d,
Her darling Simoisius [Al so] nam’d:
Great Ajax [Billy Bob] took him for his mark,
And quickly chaunch’d the luckless spark.
For shame, you lubber! Thus to catch
A harmless boy not half your match!
But honest Ajax [Bill] ever thought,
‘Twas all the same, if he but fought:
Let him but go, away he stalks,
And strikes at reeds as well as oaks.
Thus the unlucky younker fell,
But how, he never yet could tell.
Like a tall tree, that Farmer Bates [G. Davis]
Cuts down to mend his rotten gates [budget],
With a huge squash its branches all
Get sorely rumpled by the fall;
So this poor boy [Al baby], in tumbling down,
Lost a good wig, and bruis’d his crown.
At Ajax [Bill C.] then Antiphus [Gary of Christian Leadership fame] throws
His staff; but how, he hardly knows:
In such a hurry are some widgeons [hawks],
They kill jack-daws [message] instead of pigeons [carrier]:
Such a strange blund’ring fellow this is [Gary];
He lam’d the fav’rite of Ulysses [Queen Hillary],
Just as he stooping to catch
Poor Simmey’s [Albert’s] potlid and his watch.
Ulysses [Hill] was confounded mad,
To see his [her] fav’rite fare so bad:
He [She] swore a little, that’s the truth,
Look’d mighty big, and froth’d at mouth;
Then sudden from the ranks steps out,
Arm’d with a broomshaft firm and stout:
He [Sharpton Al] makes a feint to fetch a stroke,
But first he turns with cautious look;
Then cries, Have at your whoring gullets;
I wish ’twas twenty ton of bullets.
Away the massy broomstick goes,
And carries dread to all the foes [on both sides of the aisle]:
It reach’d a huge fat-gutted fellow,
For, all the world like Punchinello [Dennis H.];
He was [not] old Priam’s [D. Gephart’s] jolly son,
Too good a mark for sword or gun;
For, as a treble place he fill’d,
‘Twas three to one he must be kill’d.
Down tumbled he, with such a thwack,
He made, with his amazing back,
The earth just like a nutshell crack;
And shook the globe to th’ center so,
Old Pluto [Dan R.] sent a sprite to know
The reason why these sons of men
Disturb’d him in his sooty [TV] den?
For nodding on his red-hot throne [Majority Leader Lott],
They’d like to’ve brought him headlong down.
The Trojans [Democrats] look’d a little black,
And ‘gan to shew the Greeks [Republicans] their back;
E’en Hector’s [Tom D.] self, with sullen pace,
Retreats, bum foremost, from his place:
The rest all tumble helter-skelter,
And run just where they could for shelter;
Whilst the victorious Greeks [Republicans] press on,
And pick their pockets when they’re down,
When Phoebus [Nancy P.] saw them run this pace,
He[She] quick unmask’d his [her] fiery face;
And hollo’ing from the Trojan [Democrat’s side] wall,
As loud as ever he [she] could bawl.
Cries, Halt, ye whelps! And strive to save
The little credit that you have:
Turn back, and make the Grecians [Republicans] feel
They are not made of brass or steel:
Achilles [Joel L.] swears he’ll fight no more,
For Gen’ral Rouge [Bill] or Madam Whore [Hill];
Then what the devil makes ye run [for office],
Unless to get well drubb’d for fun?
What scurvy knave could thus amuse ye,
When scarce a single soul pursues ye?
Thus Phoebus [Nancy P.], from the Trojan [democrat party] walls,
Their almost fainting hearts recalls:
Pallas [J. Carville] hears all, and quickly starts up,
To back the Greeks [Democrats], and keep their hearts up.
Diores [Ted K.], next; the sun can’t shine
Upon a nobler than his line:
A lord he was, or earl, or duke,
But which, I have not time to look;
Yet could not all his titles rare
Defend him from the chance of war:
One Pirus [Limbaugh] threw a ragged stone,
Which sorely bruis’d his huckle-bone;
Depriv’d of power to make resistance,
He begs of all his peers assistance:
But, amongst all the valiant rout,
The de’il a man durst venture out;
‘Cause they were wanted at a pinch,
No single soul would stir an inch.
But whilst they wrangled which should go,
My lord [T. Lott] got pelted by the foe.
Had he been driving all before him,
As surely as his mother bore him,
With eager haste these valiant souls
Had back’d his good success in [Mussel] shoals [Alabama]:
But when they saw he could not stand,
Not one would lend a helping hand:
And ever since this rule is held
'Mongst lords at court, tho’ not i’ th’ field.
Thoas [Nichols] beheld this Thracian [party] chief
Looking as fierce as roast bull-beef [dead meat]:
Thinks to himself, Younger gentleman [that I am],
A knock I’ll fetch you, if I can.
He then a well aim’d broomstick throws,
Which bruis’d his [Lott’s] breast, and broke his nose:
With such a rattle was it thrown,
It quickly brought the varlet down.
The Thracian [Greek] buffs [followers], their leader tumbled,
In a great passion fought and grumbled,
And kept up such a woeful racket,
That Thoas [Nichols] durst not steal his jacket:
And tho’ he cast a-squint his eyes,
He trudg’d away without his prize.
Thus fell two knights, the one of Thrace [Mississippi],
The other of some other place [Where actually is Al G from]
.
Bu fate of war, most strangely jumbled,
The conqu’rors with the conquer’d jumbled,
Had you been hung up by a thread,
But fifty yards above their head,
Or plac’d behind a good strong wall
In which there was a little hole,
The art of war you might have seen,
And wiser than before have been.
Thus fought the troops with might and main;
Some fell, some stood to fight again.
(Thus ends Book IV of Homer’s Iliad, by Thomas Brydges, vol. 1, pp 208 Homer’s Travestie, (usually referenced as “A Burlesque Translation of Homer), Thomas Brydges, G. G. and J. Robinson, London, 1797)
Joe Wortham’s Home Page, About Joe Wortham, Directory of Web Pages
Questions? Comments? [email protected]