Cassandra, Cassandra, why dost thy spirit walk to haunt the living still? Cruel Apollo (in the troubling guise of Fate) did have vengeance for his unrequited love; now thy ghost, Cassandra, stars in the dusty back rooms of the weird tragedies of the repeated falls of Troy (and others); just ask that damn peeping-tom, Schliemann, just how many times it fell.

How beautiful is thy symmetrical catharsis, O Cruel Apollo’s curse; how simple and pure and deadly thou art – O curse, indeed, begotten by bright Phoebus, god of Truth — thou, thou stark shadow, that turned bright Beauty mad.

What a bitch that Cassandra was, anyway, saddling us with this big whole damn original sin! Why didn’t she just Go with the damn god? I mean, he WAS a god, wasn’t he? She took advantage of him – she could have said no when he offered her prescience, couldn’t she? – and then went and dumped the poor guy without even having the decency to give him some Action first! Sure He got mad. Wouldn’t you? I would. It’s not like he wouldn’t’ve gotten tired of her soon enough and let her go – sans curse. So he said, better gimme back that diamond, baby, if you don’t want to work for it. Truth ain’t cheap… And if a girl ain’t fast enough says Apollo, and he ain’t the kind to play games, she might lose to someone else, like the Greeks or a bunch of donkeys in suits causing her brains to implode by sheer exuberant stupidity.

And that’s why children and politicians never listen to the warnings of their betters.

Published in: on Thursday, July 24th, 2008 at 4:47 am  Leave a Comment  

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