Birdy: The Steel Jaw

"Y'know, when the doctor, the major, told me that one of the things they had to do was give me a steel jaw, I thought, 'Great, maybe I'll be the next LaMotta or something.' Turns out a punch can actually knock the pins into my brain, so actually it's worse than a glass jaw. That's pretty funny, huh?"

- Sergeant Alfonso Columbato
(Nicolas Cage) in Birdy

The Intelligentsia and the Revolution - Aleksandr Blok

While known mostly for his (admittedly brilliant) poetry, Aleksandr Blok was also a profound essayist. If you thought Hemingway captured the ennui and detachment of the Great War, just you wait 'n see.

"What is the war like? Bogs, bogs, and bogs, overgrown with grass or covered with snowdrifts; in the west, a dreary German searchlight- groping- night after night. On a sunny day a German Fokker appears; it doggedly flies along one and the same path, as if a path could be worn and befouled even in the sky. Little puffs of smoke spread out around it, white, gray, reddish (that's us shooting at it, hardly ever hitting; like the Germans- at us). The Fokker is flustered, falters, but tries to stay on its foul little path; sometimes it methodically drops a bomb. This means that the spot it aims at has been punctured on the map by dozens of German staff officers. The bomb falls, now on a graveyard, now on a herd of cattle, now on a herd of people, but more often, of course, into a bog; that's thousands of people's rubles in a bog."

Jeez. Someone's a Debbie Downer.

"Europe has gone insane. The flower of manhood, the flower of the intelligentsia, sits for years in a bog, sits with conscious determination (isn't that symbolic?) on a narrow strip a thousand versts long, which is called 'the front.'"

I think now's a good time to mention that the Russian word for God is Бог, pronounced "bog".

"What has a people or a man to live for who... thinks that being alive 'isn't too bad but not very pleasant either,' because 'everything goes its ordained way'- the way of evolution- and that people, generally speaking, are so shoddy and imperfect that the best they can expect, God willing, is to blunder through their life span somehow, knocking together societies and states, blocking themselves off from one another with little walls of rights and obligations, conventional laws, conventional relationships."

Blok's alternate title for this piece was "Why Tristyn Bloom Should End Her Sorry Existence."

"Could even a grain of the truly precious be lost? We have loved too little if we fear for the things we love. ... A palace that is being destroyed is no palace."

Circular logic, or inspiring call to revolution? Early 20th century Russians can't tell the difference.

"The ground under the bourgeois' feet is as concrete as the muck under the hog's: family, money, position, medal, rank, God on his ikon, the Tsar on his throne. ... The intelligent has always boasted that he never had that kind of ground to stand on. ... Skill, knowledge, methods, habits, talents are nomadic, winged possessions. We are homeless, familyless, rankless, poor- what have we to lose?"

What have you to fight for?

"Proud politicking is a great sin. The longer the intelligentsia remain aloof and sarcastic, the more terror and bloodshed there will be. Dreadful and dangerous is that elastic, dry, unsavory "adogmatic dogmatics" seasoned with patronizing soulfulness. Behind the soulfulness is blood. The soul attracts blood. Only the spirit can combat horror. Why bar with soulfulness the way to spirituality? The good is hard as it is."

I have a feeling that if I wrote a script to randomly generate early Russian revolutionary tracts, the result would come out something like this.

Life of Vitellius - Suetonius

"He was a man of integrity and industry but quite notorious for his love of a freedwoman. He would even mix her saliva with honey and rub this into his throat and jaws as a remedy, not secretly or occasionally but quite publicly and every day."

Lucius Vitellius, you old rascal you. No wonder your son was such a classy guy.

"His boyhood and earliest youth he spent on Capri among the favourites of Tiberius- ever after he was branded with the nickname 'tight-bum' and it was thought that it was his physical charms which were the basis and reason for his father's rise."

And in what way could a Roman son better honor his father? You go, Aulus Vitellius.

"And when he arrived at the fields in which the fighting had taken place and some of those with him expressed their horror at the stench of the corpses, he made so bold as to offer them reassurance with the following repulsive comment: 'The smell of a dead enemy is excellent- and even better in civil war.'"

Weren't you just made emperor like five minutes ago? Rejoicing at the sight of dead Romans might not be the best way to stabilize your support, amice.

"Above all, however, he was addicted to luxury and to cruelty, always having at least three feasts, sometimes four in a day- breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a drinking party- and easily finding capacity for it all through regular vomiting.

Clearly a cry for help! If only he'd been able to write in to PostSecret.

"As for the money lenders... he spared scarcely any... It was one of these whom he committed to punishment, just as the man had come to pay his respects, then called him back. Everyone was praising this act of mercy, when he gave orders that the execution should take place in his presence, for he 'wanted his eyes to have a feast'."

Bitch with a capital B.

"When he found that it was quite deserted and those who were with him were slipping away, he put on a belt full of gold coins and took refuge in the porter's lodge, having chained up a dog at the entrance and blocked the door with a bed and mattress."

At least he went out with dignity... oh, wait...

"...with his hands tied behind his back, a noose around his neck, and his clothes torn, he was dragged half-naked into the Forum and, amid gross abuse, physical and verbal, along the whole length of the Sacred Way, his head pulled back by the hair, in the way of condemned criminals, and even his chin held up with the point of a sword, so that he should let his face be seen and not lower it. Some people threw dung and filth, calling him an arsonist and a glutton. Some of the common people even criticized his bodily defects, for he was unusually tall, his face was generally very red because of his drinking, and his belly distended. ... Finally, he was butchered on the Gemonian steps with the smallest incisions and, when he was dead, he was dragged from there with a hook to the Tiber."

A noble end to a noble reign. By the way, this is a whole eight months after he was first declared Emperor.