Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Hey Big Penda

Our friend 3H, inspired by Bystander, sings the praises of Offa, King of the Mercians and Hammer of the Welsh.

Despite the attractions of Welsh-hammering, I've always been more of a Penda man myself.

Penda remained a Pagan throughout his life but, by his wife, Cunewise, he fathered a large family who all became Christian: Peada, King of Middle Anglia; Wulfhere and Aethelred, eventually Kings of Mercia; Merewalh, King of Magonset; St. Cuneburga, wife of King Alcfrith of Deira and Abbess of Castor; St. Cuneswith; St. Cunethrith of Castor; St. Edith of Aylesbury; St. Edburga of Bicester; and Wilburga, wife of King Frithuwold of Surrey.

Five saints! That's got to be a record. Granted, they were only chicks, but even so - not bad for a head-banging psycho like him. We shall not see his like again.


Penda, King of Mercia, yesterday. No school like the old school…

13 comments:

Anonymous said...

More people should name their kids Wulfhere, Aethelred, and Merewalh. Where's the tradition?

Cheers.

HA HA HA said...

'bicester' eh? nugde nudge!

tat winda loouks moare arts'n'crafts then medeieveiul if u ask me. waaaay more.

Desargues said...

I've been trying to convince the g/friend to name our kids Dagobert and Guinevere -- or at least Hrostwitha and Ermeneric. She's been inexplicably uncooperative so far; but I bet Cunethrith and Cadwallon will be more to her liking. Tip of the hat to all the dilettant medievalists at Dies Irae.

On a quite unrelated note, we've been making fun of tin-pot Middle Eastern tyrants and benighted Muslim preachers. How about we take a pot shot at somebody in our own backyard for a change? That should cheer up the closet multicultis among us. Let them know that we're equal opportunity haters, if hate they want to call it.

Ivan the Terrible said...

I tried to sell the wife on Beowulf and Frideswitha, but no joy I'm afraid, Randall.

3H - you have a keen eye for arts'n'crafts, my friend. I bet you're a raffia man, am I right? I guess you don't have to be Sicilian for that anymore, either.

And Des, you have a girlfriend? That's super! Fiiiinally. Guess we won't be seeing you online so much in future, then :)

Snake charmers are not odious, btw - just dumb. I try not to mock the merely afflicted. Meth-and-cock-smoking evangelical gay-bashers on the other hand, well, bring it on, I say...

Desargues said...

Gee, thanks so much for the congrats, Ivan. She's a mighty fine 'Merikin young lass from down South (and no, she doesn't eat deep-fried Mars bars; but she did introduce me to Tennessee Moon Pies, I have to say; they're totally addictive). However, I somewhat resent the implication that I was only frequenting this blog for lack of better things to do. True, a certain commenting fury in the past might have betrayed a lack of sentimental preoccupations on my part; but, having filled that void, I won't abandon hangin' out in the blogosphere now and then.

As to our second topic, here's a small contribution. It's not very funny, but then the original situation wasn't too funny either. Gathered from Al Gore's internets:

Ted Haggard comes up to the front door of a neat looking farmhouse and raps gently on the door. When the farm owner answers, Haggard asks him, "Please, sir, could you give me a deep-tissue massage, a happy ending, and a huge sack of crank? I'm as desperate and horny as a prisoner on weekend furlough."

The owner says, "Well, that's not my thing, but I do have nephew who is a gay prostitute who deals meth on the side. And I have a chore that I need done, so maybe we can work out a deal. If you go around the back, you will see a gallon of paint and a clean paint brush. If you will paint my porch, I'll call my nephew and tell him to come over."

So Ted Haggard goes around back and a while later he again knocks on the door. The owner says, "Finished already? Good. I'll call my nephew right now."

Haggard says, "Thank you very much, sir. But there's something that I think you should know. It's not a Porsche you got there. It's a BMW."


Or, if you prefer the shorter version:


Why did Ted Haggard cross the road?

Because there was a rent-boy with an eight-ball of crank waiting for him.

Ivan the Terrible said...

I thought it would be "because his dick was stuck in a gay prostitute".

Yes, the old ones are the best. Jokes, that is, not gay prostitutes. At least, so far as I know. Oh, whatever...

Anonymous said...

No, not a record. The improbably named King Anna of Kent (7th century) sired Saints Etheldreda, Sexburga (sic), Ethelburga, Jurmin, Erconwald and Withburga (6). In addition, Anna's sister or sister-in-law was Saint Ebba. Anna's wife was Saint Hereswyda. Family gatherings must have been interesting.

Pat said...

Des : congrats - you did rather sneak that announcemsnt in and you're thinking children already. And of course it won't affect your output. I'm delighted.

Anonymous said...

I selectively bred my children for dyslexia then named them all (irrespective of gender) Cnut. They have since gone through life a vague sense of grievance which none of them can put their fingers on or adequately explain. This was part of my pedagogic program for them, which I'd gladly explain to you if you are interested.

Ivan the Terrible said...

Again with the Cnut, NCP? And what about Hardacnut, eh? Why is he always overlooked?

As for the dyslexia, if it's an anagram competition you want, let's do former Japanese Prime Minister Takeshita. I managed to get "As kite hat". Bet you can't beat that...

Desargues said...

I'm waited, with bated breath, for the moment when an American teenager, next to my table at the Japanese restaurant I go to once a week, will ask for shiitake mushrooms.

Maybe this story is actually the West's worthy response to superstitious Muslim clerics, after all?

Desargues said...

I'm waiting, I meant...

Anonymous said...

Did I mention canutes before? I must be developing an idée cnut..erm, fixe... As for Takeshita, how about Eat as Kith.

On a more serious matter, I sense you burning with curiosity about my pedagogic philosophy, though I notice you're too shy to ask me directly. It's my view that the world is in desperate need of geniuses, and it is my aim to produce some. To that end I have endeavoured to traumatize my children with hard to articulate problems and hindrances n order to spur them on to achievement. It's the Macarthur Genius Prize or prison/asylum for them I'm afraid. Early experiments with having them raised by wolves or chaining them in the basement to a commode with only reruns of Hogan's Heroes for company have so far proved unsuccessful, but my enthusiasm for the project is undimmed.