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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo had one of his patented bizarro dreams last evening, doubtless from a combination of giving up the grape for Lent, thinking about obscure Augustine history references (see below) and being in the midst of reading Chesterton’s Manalive when he dozed off.

LandisAnyhoo, I found myself at a lavish costume party held in some great ball room.  There was no particular theme that I remember, but rather a large assortment of historickal figures.  I, myself, was made up as Julius Caesar and wore an enormously elaborate tunic and toga.  I especially remember how vivid the red and gold were.

As I say, there was no particular theme to the party.  Nonetheless, I found myself trying to chat up a young lady dressed as a Roman matron.  (I’m inclined to think she was a very young Jessie Royce Landis (which see) because I happened to watch “To Catch A Thief” not long ago and have always liked her style of lazy humor.)  Every time I got going, however, some other fellah in Roman attire would try to horn in on us.  These weren’t just random people, either, but celebs of the old school.  I distinctly recall both Peter O’Toole and Charles Laughton among my rivals.

Somehow or other, it got to the point where we decided that the question of who was going to get the girl would be put to the vote of the Roman Senate.   (By this point, the theme obviously had declared itself.)  I found myself on the edge of a stage, listening to one of the other suitors arguing his claim and making a hash of it.  Remembering Who I Was and determining that I could do a much better job than that, when my turn was called I strode out to center stage and, in a surprisingly clear and deep voice, made the following speech (as near as I can remember):

“Senators of Rome!  I am a plain man and therefore will speak plainly to you!  I deserve the girl above all these others here!  Who among them has brought to Rome so much wealth and honor as have I?  Who has been so successful in foreign wars?  Who has ensured such domestic peace?  None of them, I say!  Therefore, as reward to me and as encouragement to others to emulate my efforts,  give her to me!”

And then, as they say, I woke up.  Dunno who won the vote.

After pausing here to let the feminist heads finish up exploding (All done?  Good.), I will simply say I have no idea what any of this means.  ‘Twas a good dream, though.

UPDATE:  Google reminds me that yesterday was the “International Day of the Woman”, whatever that may be.  Derp!


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March 2014