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| ~ Baraccus Kennedus Hilarious ~ |
Ever since Dr.
Russell Humphreys accidentally invented the Time Machine, I've been
making regular visits to the past. It's one of the most delightful
ways of relaxing, because you know, you can take as long as you want
in the past and still be back home in time for dinner.
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| Inventor of the Time Machine |
Anyhow, on my
last venture I decided to jog on down to ancient Rome, 232 AD, where
I met an official-looking guy shuffling around in front of the “White
House.” He introduced himself as Baraccus Kennedus Hilarious.
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| The White House |
“Good to meet
you! I'm Owlus,” I said, to which he responded, “Well, you look
like a barbarian!”
I was at a loss
for words.
“Oh it's all
right,” he said, “Barbarians are very welcome around here,
especially illegal ones. Of course, you'll probably want to keep
your distance from The Old Republic-ans, unless they want you to cut
their grass! They're always saying barbarians are going to handicap
our society and destroy the nation. Haha, quite the load of bumbling
hypocrites, those Old Republic-ans! Anyhow, is there anything you'd
like? Maybe I can direct you to the local welfare office. Or
perhaps you want a duty-free stay at one of my palace apartments,
complete with public bath and some ravishingly beautiful handmaidens?
Or if you're really quiet about it, I could even get you a seat in
the Senate. You may be just our sort of barbarian..."
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| Sign posted by Old Republic-ans |
“Gee, thanks
a lot,” I responded, relieved, “But I don't think I'll be staying
long. I am a little curious about the way you ancient Romans live
though.”
“Oh, I hope
you're not a spy. If you are, we may have a lot of paperwork to fill
out.”
“No, no, I'm
completely neutral.”
“Neutral?
You mean you're a eunuch? Lovely! It's getting very fashionable to
become a eunuch these days. Why, just last year this fellow Brutus
Jennerus made all the headlines for how brave he was to become a
eunuch... ahem, I should say 'she,' because he--I mean she--also
thinks he's a she... It's a little confusing, but you have to just
get used to it, you know... Don't want to risk offending anyone, at
least not when he's rich--I mean she, hahaha...”
“NO. I meant
I'm not a spy.”
“Oh!”
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| "Catalina Jennera" |
“So I was
wondering if it's true, what I've heard about parents' rights here--that they can kill their children if they want to.”
“Dear me,
that's an awfully insensitive way of putting it... But yes, every
parent is allowed to... terminate his kid, if he finds it necessary.”
“What do you
mean by 'necessary?'”
“Oh, that's a
little hard to define. But if you find it necessary in any way--you
know, in any way--we
perfectly understand.”
“Okay. How
long does this right last?”
“Why, until
the child is fully adult, of course! That's when he's legally
defined as a person, so it would be a little out-of-taste to go
killing him at that point. Unless the government decides to do it,
and that's all right, because Caesar knows best.”
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| Definitely NOT persons. |
“Gosh.
Doesn't this seem a little heartless?”
“Heartless?
Good Heavens, how can you call it heartless? Do you realize how
difficult it must be to deal with having a child? Aren't you the
one being insensitive
here? Have you ever had a
child?” He was getting a little indignant.
“Well
no, not yet, but I didn't mean to be confrontational. Tell me,” I
said, trying to change the subject, “What about the gladiators and
the wild animals in the circuses?”
“What
about them?”
“Is
it true you enjoy watching them tear each other to bits?”
He
sighed, as though exasperated by my bluntness. “They're just dumb
animals, that have no rights, and then gladiators, who aren't
people either. So it's clearly not real violence, it's virtual
violence. That's what we call it.”
“Well,
doesn't it even seem incompassionate? Bad for the rest of you?”
“What
on earth do you mean, bringing up compassion here? Violence has a completely
natural attraction for us
people; in fact, we'd be doing wrong to suppress our natural
urge to enjoy it! We need to de-stress, otherwise we'd kill each other! I mean, more than we already do.”
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| Wholesome entertainment after a long day |
This
time I sighed. “Well, what about the Christians then? Do you
think it's right to be beheading them and feeding them to the
lions, without any kind of defense at all? Or burning them like
torches at your evening orgies?”
“The
Christians are superstitious hate-criminals,
which makes them even less human than the animals! And I'm beginning
to think you're one of them!”
“But
you already have so many things you can enjoy! You can play games!
Sing! Dance! Get married! Study art and science! Write blog
posts! You don't need to go doing these other things...”
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| See, you could be doing this instead. |
“Poppycock!
You can't tell me how to live my life! If bread and circuses are
what we want, then bread and circuses are what we shall have.
Besides, it's legal
now, so there's nothing you can do about it. Next thing I know, you'll be telling me to give women citizenship, or maybe free the slaves!”
He
seemed to be in a self-righteous frenzy now.
“I
see,” said I.
And
afraid of having to tread on coals—literally--I departed back to
our own, more civilized era, where Christians aren't thrown to lions,
or cut into bits, or burned as torches.
Yet.
Except in North Korea. And elsewhere. Oh, never mind.
