Satire: literary or dramatic form in which human or individual vices, follies or abuses are examined, using burlesque, irony, parody, humour and caricature, sometimes with an intent to inspire social reform. Stories, verses, dialogues for the Satirocene Age from Vancouver Island, Canada. (Posted by F. Jardine or guests)
Sunday 24 January 2021
What's your wine order for Robbie Burns Day -- carrot or gorse?
Monday 18 January 2021
Muses File Civil Rights Complaint Against Museum
The nine classical Muses have accused the Royal British Columbia Museum of racist discrimination against their heritage and culture. “As our home (“seat of the Muses”), the Museum should be sheltering, not throwing us to the ideological wolves”, says Calliope, Chief of the Muses.
In a document crafted by Melpomene (Muse of Tragedy), Thalia (Muse of Comedy) and Polyhymnia (Muse of Rhetoric), the Muses charge that they have been victims of hate speech and ethnic cleansing.
“Clio, Muse of History, is a particular target of hate speech, not only by those who wish to eradicate her along with her mother Mnemosyne (Memory) and who have already claimed that “History Is Dead”, but also by those who charge that “History is a whore”.
“Clio is anybody's,” say these detractors, “she will change her game to suit the requirements of whatever client is most ideologically pushy.”
Clio's enemies have tried to “disappear” her, but she keeps turning up again. “History is what it was,” she assures her supporters. She leaves a trail of documents, letters, songs, memoirs, statues, gravestones, globes and charts so that scholarly detectives have so far been able to trace her, often as secret agents working under cover.
The Muses, filing their complaint with the adjudicating body, have documented rights abuses “by chapter and verse”, says Euterpe, Muse of Verse.
“We will not let the adjudicators dance around the issues,” vows Terpsichore, Muse of Dance.
"We must mutually sing our own praises," point out Erato and Melpomene, Muses of Song, Poetry and Speech.
The Muses' offspring -- lyre-playing Orpheus and the Sirens -- will mark the launch of their Nonhuman Rights Complaint with a celebratory performance at Olympus Park. The human race is invited to attend.
Friday 15 January 2021
"Have a Good Day"
Thursday 24 December 2020
Winter Solstice, and the snowflakes are out in force
Dear Father Christmas,
All I want for Christmas is attention. (And a pronoun of my own.)
I want recognition of my identity. And
validation of my neuro-difference. After all, I am a survivor. And
autistic and marginalized and BIPOC. Please keep that in mind
when you put the goods into the stockings. I'll send you a list,
okay?
You'll remember I'm two-spirited, right?
Speaking of spirit, a stocking-full of spirits would be great. Or wine. (Organic grapes.) Chocolates too if possible. (Fair-traded.) I look forward to having my needs met by your largesse, Father Christmas. After all, snowflakes are your world, right?
You can just leave the stuff by the
hearth when you do your Chimney-Dash. (But nothing triggering, okay?)
Thank you, and Happy Intersectional Multiculturally-Diverse Holidays.
(PS: I don't care for that sexist title
you use, by the way. Why not Mother Christmas, or something Trans? I
can't call you Santa Claus because “santa” means saint which
sounds Euro-centric and colonialist. You need to work on your
intersectionality, FC. In time for next year, okay?)
(PPS: Is there any way you could let me know when you're coming so I could get a photo of you giving me the stuff? Except without you in the picture, of course. I like selfies best.)
Friday 11 December 2020
Santa Clause's Retirement Letter
(From Short Humour Magazine: http://www.shorthumour.org.uk/10writersshowcase/santa.htm )
Dear World,
Boy, have things ever changed in the toy-delivery field since I started my career. Remember when people wrote letters to Santa? You didn't expect to get one from me, but here goes ... I need to give you notice of my imminent retirement. I used to deliver a sleigh-full of dolls, teddy bears, train sets, roller skates and pencil sets on every magical Christmas Eve. (Pencils! Can you imagine?) But no more. Gifts have gone electronic. It's all game-boxes now, and fit-bits, gift cards and peculiar little digital devices that fall to the floor and get lost at the bottom of the sleigh.
I used to be able to park right beside the chimney I would be slipping down. Now there are few chimneys left, only “smart heating” and roofs cluttered with solar panels. Last year, one sported a poster saying “REINDEER SLEIGHS EXPLOIT UNGULATES”.
Some houses even have notes on theirs roofs warning “mask is mandatory”. A mask, over a beard like mine?! No one needs a mask if they're already muffled by a deep thicket of white facial hair.
I used to find thoughtful treats like cookies and warm milk waiting for me beside people's hearths, but now everything they leave is stuff I'm scared to eat, like Guatemalan Keto Shark-free Spice Balls, and Dirty-Snowman Vegan Nut-free Kumquat Squares. And whatever happened to a nice cup of tea? Now I find a note advising me there's a Pomegranate Gingerbread Iced Latte in the fridge, or a Jagermeister-Curcumin Espresso Shot in the microwave.
And no one's decently in bed taking their long winter nap while I lurk in their living rooms; they're all hunkered down with smartphones and laptops. I see the light from their digital devices glowing at windows and under doors. Even the kids aren't asleep, dreaming about what might be in their stockings while visions of sugar plums dance in their heads. They're texting their friends from under the covers.
No: Christmas Eve isn't what it was when I started out, apprenticed to Great-grandfather Claus. Nor is the elf staff! Not one knows how to wield a hammer and nail. The North Pole is all immigrants and refugees now and many don't speak English. Some elves are illiterate and can't even write the lists I need, so I can't check them twice. Luckily every kid wants the same thing anyway: digital stuff. High-tech robotic amazon wares. I might as well retire, I'm beginning to feel, and be replaced by a drone. I'm just not as jolly as I used to be. I guess drones do go further and move faster than anything a bunch of reindeer would pull. They're much more efficient ... So, Tallyho-ho-ho, drones!
Still, I can't help thinking something magical is being lost.
Yours truly,
Old Man in a Red Suit
Wednesday 9 December 2020
Santa's Workshop is Hiring Seasonal Helpers
HELP WANTED
Santa's Workshop Is Hiring!
Seeking experienced reliable elves for the busy season
Must be available for weekends and overtime
Skilled craftsmen only need apply (this position is not about
building bits of carpentry and painting wood)
Certificates in Electronic Toy-Making, 3-D Printing,
Advanced Digital Design and Robotics are mandatory
(Applications from Robots also considered: we guarantee
equal-opportunity for the artificially intelligent)
HazMat, SafeShop and Group-Thought certification is mandatory
Steel-belled work-boots and tassel-topped helmets are required in the shop
Our workplace encourages neuro-diverse two-spirit applicants
We guarantee non-misgendering allyship with the elven BIPOC community
Thursday 3 December 2020
Dr. Seuss Invents Christmas-Cancel Genre
Dr. Seuss said it would happen, and he was right. It did, although everyone else had thought stealing Christmas was just a horror plot from a kids' book.
Dr. Seuss invented Christmas-Cancel lit, featuring as his main protagonist Cancel-Cultural hero The Grinch. Dr. Bonnie-Lou Who saved the day however, by leading the people of What-the-Heck-Happened-Ville in quiet renditions of “Be Safe, Be Calm, Be Kind”.
Everyone is encouraged to mask up and stand around a huge tall tree to sing it on Christmas Day. Just don't hold hands.
This story is reproduced from LITERARY YARD, www.literaryyard.com, 2024/02/10 It's a common fairy-tale theme -- imprisonment in a tower ...
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"Lionized" by the literary establishment during his/her own time, many a once-popular author is now denounced for racism, sexism, ...
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'Twas the night before Christmas … In each bedroom and hall the seniors were stirring, insomniacs all, support hose was hung by the chim...
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Handicaps are not failures, and we all have some -- physical, social, educational, circumstantial. They may even signal prowess (the...