Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts

Thursday 14 January 2021

WEAKNESS








No One knows him better than I do.

The Extreme Lengths to which Our Boy has gone to Make Himself Strong are powerful indicators of The Weakness he feels that he must overcome.

That Weakness is still thereinside.


-- Hurt.

Doctor Simon, Hurt.

He's Daddy's Evil Twin -- 

And Your Own.




 


"Samson’s Hair. 
Achilles’ Heel. 
The oddly elaborate gymnastic contortions that exposed the vulnerable spots of Celtic superwarriors. 

Even the greatest heroes needed a weakness
or there would be no drama, no fall or redemption.

  If nothing could hurt Superman, 
what could hurt him?

  In fact, Weisinger and his writers understood 
The Most Important Thing
about Superman: 

That His Heart 
was vulnerable
and 
His Self-Esteem 
could be fragile

The Super was just 
The Icing on The Cake, 
The sugar coating : 

These were stories about 
Man and His Role 
in A New World.

  But now that The Man of Tomorrow had achieved near-divine heights of omnipotence, The Need for some kind of convincing Physical Vulnerability was becoming greater. 

Or so goes the prevailing opinion. 

The glowing green killer mineral Kryptonite had been introduced in the 1943 Superman radio series. 

The contaminated remains of Superman’s Home Planet fell to Earth in meteor form—much more often than the debris of A Distant World might reasonably be expected to fall, and in sufficient quantities to threaten Superman’s Life on a regular basis. 

As a weapon, it had a certain symbolic resonance: 
The notion that radioactive fragments 
of Superman’s Birth World 
had become toxic to him 
spoke of The Old Country, 
The Old Ways, 
The Threat of The Failure 
to Assimilate.

 
Superman was a 
naturalised American

The last thing he needed 
were these lethal reminders of 
Where He’d Come From; 

That he, The Son of Lordly Scientists, 
had been reduced to 
Toiling in a farmer’s field or 
Minding the general store.

  Weisinger knew how his young readers’ minds worked 
and stretched the idea a little further: 

If there was Green Kryptonite, 
couldn’t there be other colors too

The prismatic splintering began 
with the invention of Red K
The Cool Kryptonite --

Possibly because it made literal 
The Master Silver Age Theme 
of Bodily Transformation. 

It was mineral LSD for Superman, 
affecting not just His Mind 
but also reshaping His Body 
into A Playground of Fleshly Hallucination.

  No two trips on Red K 
were the samein-story 
logic promised. 

Red K would affect Superman 
in a different way every time 
and theoretically might never become boring. 

So, under its influence, Superman might develop 
The Head of An Ant, scaling The Daily Planet building as 
The Commander of a Nightmarish Army of 
Giant Insects —

“BZZ-BZZZ … 
WE MUST CAPTURE LOIS LANE … 
SHE WILL BE OUR QUEEN!”

— or split into Good Clark, Bad Superman
or even become goofy for forty-eight hours.

  Red K and The Silver Age are inextricable. 

Red K was LSD for superheroes, and under its influence 
Superman could unclench 
his entire being and 
Walk The Razor’s Edge 
of Joyous Self-Abandonment 
and Ego-Annihilating Terror — 

An American Pioneer.

Red-K served equally as a handy metaphor 
for the adolescent hormonal shifts, physical changes, 
and weird moods of elation and despair 
that were being experienced by its readers.

  Other Kryptonite variants were created 
as plot mechanics demanded 
rather than with any eye to longevity

That’s Why --
Gold Kryptonite 
removes Superman’s Powers permanently
Blue Kryptonite 
affects only Bizarros, 
and 
White Kryptonite 
is deadly to plants
which makes it about as interesting 
as matches, DDTor a stout spade.

But, of course, 
Superman’s Ultimate Weakness 
was his Secret identity

Why wouldn’t shy Clark Kent 
choose to tear open his shirt 
and reveal to his unrequited love 
The Potent God-Man behind the buttons? 

Instead he hid The Truth from Lois Lane, 
devising deceptions that became so elaborate as to be cruel : 
The Ghastly Tricks of Semantics 
a Man-Boy might play on a Child-Woman, 
all in the guise of 
“Teaching Her a Lesson.”


  A story like “The Two Faces of Superman” showed the hero promising to marry Lois Lane but only if she met him at a particular time outside the church. 
When she met his conditions, 
he contrived to seal her car door with his heat vision so that she couldn’t get out. 
Unable to marry him at precisely the correct hour meant that Lois forfeited her chance. 
A relieved, chortling Superman took to the skies, having hoodwinked the predator once more.








  Like RumpelstiltskinTom Tit Tot, and the other creatures of folklore who knew that 
names held power 
and kept theirs secret, 
Superman maintained his distance 
from Clark and vice versa. 
Their paths rarely crossed

He hid His Heart in a plain suit, 
behind glasses. 

For Lois, A Girl, to know Who He Was would be The End. 

She’d only pressure him into exchanging his gaudy suit and life of adventure for something less embarrassing, more domestic. 

She would expect him to be home for dinner, when there were stricken ocean liners to rescue. 

In the end, his self-deceiving fantasies of one day carrying Lois up the aisle were just that, and if he married Lois, he’d be Clark forever

It wouldn’t matter how strong or fast he was, he’d be Clark racing around the globe to pick up groceries. "



....or making soufflés with his heat-vison



"I never drink when I fly."

** TAKES A DRINK **

** LOSES THE ABILITY TO FLY **

Sunday 27 December 2020

Son-in-Law of The Dragon



Do not kill me, Mr Bond. 
At least not until we've had a drink.
Then if you wish, I'll give you another chance.

I'm Draco of Draco Construction.

[ He throws a knife and hits a calendar behind Draco ]

But today is the 13th, Commander.

I'm superstitious.

A Martini for our guest, Olympe. 

A pleasure.

Shaken, not stirred. 

Of course.

Campari for me.

My apologies for the way you were brought here today. 
Please sit down.

I was not sure you would accept a formal invitation.

There's always something formal about the point of a pistol.

Thank you, chérie.

Olympe, we will finish our struggle later.

As you wish.

She also plays a very good game of chess.

Salute. 

Cheers.
You usually drink Corsican brandy.

What else do you know about me?

Marc Ange Draco. Head of Union Corse, one of
Europe's biggest crime syndicates in Europe.

The Biggest. 

Not quite.

An organisation known as SPECTRE operates worldwide.

However, your legitimate business fronts are more extensive.

Construction, electrical supplies, numerous agricultural holdings.

Your dossier on me is not entirely complete.

I am also Teresa's father.

Tracy?

Yes, Tracy. Tracy.

My only child.

Her mother was an English girl, romantic, who had come to Corsica to look for bandits.

Rather like those women who ventured into the desert looking for sheikhs.

She found me in the mountains.

Hiding from the police at the time.

I came to love this girl.

We married. 
The Result: Teresa.

Twelve years later my wife died. 
I sent Teresa to Switzerland to finish her education.

Unfortunately I didn't give her a proper Home.
She was without supervision.

So... she joined the fast international set. 
One scandal after another.

When I disapproved, cut off her allowance, she committed some greater folly.

To spite me.

Yet, behind her bravado, something was eating away at her soul.

This can happen to men and women.

They burn the heart out of themselves by living too greedily.

And suddenly, all is finished. 

Why are you telling me this?

Without telling me, she married. An Italian count who killed himself in a Maserati with one of his mistresses.

I gave her too much, and it brought her nothing.

Now, why did I tell you all this?

I have been informed of everything you have done for my daughter.

Everything?

Don't worry, don't worry about that.

What you did, the way you behaved, might be the beginning of some kind of therapy.

She needs Help.

Your Help.

I find her fascinating, but she needs a psychiatrist, not me.

What she needs is a Man to Dominate her.

To Make Love to her enough to make her Love him.

A Man like you.

You overestimate me, Draco.

She's very attractive, but what you ask is not for me.

Mm.

Listen to me. 
On the day you marry her,

I'll give you a personal dowry of one million pounds in gold.

That's quite an inducement.

But I don't need a million pounds.

Stupid.

And I've a bachelor's taste for freedom.

Please, just see her some more.
Who knows what will come of it?

I'm sorry, Draco, but in my profession, I can't...

What?

You have connections not open to me.
Where is Ernst Stavro Blofeld?

Blofeld?
Some of my men have recently defected to him.
I don't know where he is. 

Can you find out?

If I could, I wouldn't tell Her Majesty's Secret Service.

But I might tell my future son-in-law.

Go on.

Next week is my birthday.

For that, Teresa always comes back to me.

You understand?

Let's say I'll sleep on the idea.

You do that.




James. 
Where have you been? 


Much too far from you, darling.

Oh, same old James.
Ooh. Only more so.
Heartless brute! Letting me pine away without even a postcard.

Pine no more.
Cocktails at my place, eight-ish, just the two of us.

Oh, I'd adore that.
If only I could trust myself.

Same old Moneypenny. 
Britain's last line of defence.

You'd better go in. 
He's running a very tight ship today.

I'm relieving you from Operation Bedlam, 007.

But, sir, Blofeld's something of a must with me.

You've had two years to run him down.

Does this mean you've lost confidence in me?

I'm well aware of your talents, 007.

But a licence to kill is useless, unless one can set up the target.

Sir...

I'll find you a more suitable assignment. That's all.



Sir, under the circumstances... 

That's all. That's all.

That was a quick conference.

How do you expect a girl to keep herself alluring...

Take a memo, please, Moneypenny.

Ready, James.

Sir, I have the honour to request, if you'll accept, my resignation effective forthwith.


Resignation from what?

Her Majesty's Secret Service.

And kindly present it to that monument in there.

♪ Underneath the mango tree ♪

♪ Me honey and me come watch for the moon ♪

Sorry, ma'am.

007... James Bond here.
 
He wants you, James.

Request granted.

Request granted. Not even with regret.

What did you expect? A knighthood?

Why don't you read it?

Two weeks' leave.

Well, you didn't really want to resign, did you?

Moneypenny, what would I do without you?

My problem is that you never do anything with me.

It's a date. The moment I get back.

Where are you off to?

Oh, just some place to laze about.

Beachcombing.

What would I do without you, Miss Moneypenny? Thank you.

Hello, Miguel.

Teresa. It's so long since we see you.

- Yes, very well. - There's Tracy.

- Huh? - Tracy.

Where is she? Ah, there she is.

- Teresa. - Happy birthday, Papa.

You make it so by being here. You look marvellous.

There's someone I want you to meet. Come on.

- Salud, Olympe. How are you? - It's good to have you back.

- You look wonderful. - Thanks.

Good day. Hello.

Mr Bond, may I introduce my daughter? Teresa.

Contessa.

Mr Bond and I've already met.

But each time is a renewed pleasure.

Madame always makes one feel so welcome.

She likes you, I can see it.

You must give me the name of your oculist.

Brilliant.

I didn't know Mr Bond knew Papa.

There are many things about Mr Bond one does not know.

It would be interesting to attend night school perhaps.

Papa is up to something, I'm sure of it.

Your father loves you very much, Tracy.

Whatever he may arrange, I know it's for your happiness.

What has Papa arranged?

Ah. Mr Bond.

Thank you.

Thank you.
 
Many happy returns.

The best years are still to come, let's hope.

Oh, allow me.

What are you doing here?

Yes, wasn't it kind of your father to invite me?

Mr Bond and I are discussing a business deal, Theresa.

Really?

No woman would waste excellent champagne discussing a business deal.

Unless, of course, she happened to be part of the arrangement.

Olympe, what have you said?

Don't blame Olympe, Papa. 
I'm not your daughter for nothing.

I detect a certain family resemblance.

I suggest you revise the terms of your contract, Mr Bond.

You'll find your liability far too expensive.

There you're mistaken.

- Papa. - Yes?

Mr Bond wants some information.
 
 
What are you talking about?

You always taught me a good host supplies his guest's needs.

Huh.
And without obligation.

And then?

I'm not sure obligation is quite the right word.

Tell him, Papa.

Tell him what he wants to know.

- Now. - Please, please, Teresa.

It's only a possibility, nothing definite.

Tell him, Papa, or you'll never see me again.

All right.
All right.

There may be a connection between that man Blofeld and the lawyer

with offices in Bern, Switzerland.

- Named Gumbold. - Gumbold?

- Bern, Switzerland? - Yes, Gumbold.

So, now Mr Bond need have no further interest in me.

Another mistake.

She always was a headstrong child.

I'm sorry...

Where has he gone?

Tracy.
Tracy.

I was always taught that mistakes should be remedied.
Especially between friends.
Or lovers.

Wednesday 20 May 2020

The Ongoing Pussification of The American Superhero


“We’d spent many enjoyable hours in conversation, working out how to restore our beloved Superman to his pre-eminent place as The World’s First and Best Superhero. 

Following the lead of the Lois and Clark TV show, the comic-book Superman had, at long last, put A Ring on his long-suffering girlfriend’s finger and carried her across the threshold to holy matrimony after six decades of dodging The Issue — although it was Clark Kent whom Lois married in public, while Superman had to conceal his wedding band every time he switched from his sober suit and tie. 
 


This newly domesticated Superman was a somehow diminished figure
 

 All but sleepwalking through a sequence of increasingly contrived “event” story lines, which tried in vain to hit the heights of 
The Death of Superman
seven years previously. 

Superman Now was to be a reaction against this often overemotional and ineffectual Man of Steel, reuniting him with his mythic potential, his archetypal purpose, but there was one fix we couldn’t seem to wrap our collective imagination around: The Marriage. 

The Clark-Lois-Superman Triangle — 
“Clark loves Lois. 
Lois loves Superman. 
Superman loves Clark,”

 as Elliot S. Maggin put it in his intelligent, charming Superman novel Miracle Monday — seemed intrinsic to the appeal of the stories, but none of us wanted to simply undo the relationship using sorcery, or “Memory Wipes,” or any other of the hundreds of cheap and unlikely magic-wand plot devices we could have dredged up from the bottom of the barrel.”

- Grant Morrison,
SuperGods


“Here’s another horrifying example, an aspect of American culture, The Continued Pussification of The American Male in the form of 
Harley Davidson Theme Restaurants. 

What the fuck is going on here? 
Harley Davidson used to mean something. 

It stood for biker attitude; grimy outlaws in their sweaty mamas full of beer and crank, rolling around on Harleys, looking for a Good Time – Destroying Property, Raping Teenagers, and Killing Policemen… 
All very necessary activities by the way. 
 
 
"And I wonder, too, like how much of the antipathy towards. . . 

These are dark musings. And I would say, how much of the antipathy towards men that’s being generated by, say, college-age women is deep repugnance for the role that they’ve been designed, and a disappointment with the men. . . You know, you think of those. . . I can’t remember the culture. 

The basic marital routine was to ride into The Village and grab the bride and run away with her on a horse. 

It’s like the motorcycle gang member who rips the too-naive girl out of the bosom of her family

Paglia: Yeah, there used to be Bride Stealing. It was quite widespread. 

Peterson: Right, so I kind of wonder if part of the reason that modern university women aren’t so angry is because that fundamental Feminine Role is actually being denied to them. 

And they’re objecting to that at a really, really fundamental level. 

Like a level of Primitive Outrage.
 



“There's Two Things that the Postmodern NeoMarxists are full-scale assaulting :

One is Categorisation, because They believe that 
The Only Function of Categorisation is POWER.

The other is,
There's a War on Competence -

Because, if you admit that there are hierarchical structures that are predicated upon Competence, 
then you have to grapple with the issue of Competence, 
and you have to grapple with the issue of Valid Hierarchy.

If All Hierarchy is Power
and
All Power is Corrupt
and
All Corrupt Power is Tyranny

then, you can't admit to Competence.

But the downside is, there's a terrible price to be paid for that, because 
Every Value System Produces a Hierarchy.

So if you dispense with the hierarchy, 
You dispense with The Value Systems.



“The rise of the new feminism, the protest movements of ethnic, national and sexual minorities, the anti-institutional ecology struggles waged by marginalized layers of the population, the anti-nuclear movement, the atypical forms of social struggle in countries on the capitalist periphery — all these imply an extension of social conflictuality to a wide range of areas, which creates the potential, but no more than the potential, for an advance towards more free, democratic and egalitarian societies.”


The Point is that these new Groups of People could be Useful.

Douglas Murray,
The Madness of Crowds










[We finally find Peter lying on a mat and doing sit-ups. Ned is holding his legs in place for him.]

Ned:
Hey, can I be your 
Guy in The Chair?

Peter:
What?

Ned:
Yeah. You know how there’s 
A Guy With a Headset
Telling The Other Guy Where to Go?

[Peter’s face contorts into a weird expression. He is still doing sit-ups faster than any other student.]

Ned:
Like, like if you’re stuck in a burning building, I could tell you where to go. 

Because there’d be screens around me, and I could, you know, swivel around, and... 

‘Cause I could be your 
Guy in The Chair.

Peter:
Ned, 

I don’t need a Guy in The Chair.

Coach Wilson: 
Looking good, Parker.

[The teacher points at Peter as he passes the mat that Peter and Ned are working out on. Peter glances at him, then frowns and takes a huffing breath, trying to look as if the exercise is really taking a toll on him.]



“That’s another issue I want to bring up, because one of the things I cannot figure out is the alliance between the postmodernists and the neo-Marxists. 

I can’t understand the causal relationship.
 
Tell me if you disagree with this, okay, because I’m a psychologist, not a sociologist. 
 
So I’m dabbling in things that are outside of my field of expertise. And there is some danger in that.

But The Central Postmodernist Claim seems to me that because there’s a near infinite number of ways to interpret a complex set of phenomena - which actually happens to be the case - you can’t make a case that any of those modes of interpretation are canonical
 
And so, if they’re not canonical, and if that canonical element isn’t based in some kind of Reality, then it serves some Other Master.


And so The Master that it hypothetically serves for The Postmodernists is  
Nothing but Power
because that seems to be Everything That They Believe in. 


They Don’t Believe in Competence. 

They Don’t Believe in Authority. 

They Don’t seem to Believe in 
An Objective World
because everything is language-mediated. 

So it’s an extraordinarily cynical
perspective: that because there’s an infinite number of interpretations, none of them
are canonical


You can attribute everything to 
Power and Dominance.

Does that seem like a reasonable summary of the postmodern. . .


Paglia:
Yes, exactly. 
It’s a Radical Relativism.


Peterson:
Okay, it’s a Radical Relativism. 
Now, but The Strange Thing is, despite. . .


Okay, and so what goes along with that is the demolition of Grand Narratives. 

So that would be associated, for example, with the rejection of thinkers like Jung and Erich Neumann, because of course they’re foundational thinkers in relationship to the idea that there are embodied Grand Narratives. 

That’s never touched.

But then, despite the fact that the Grand Narrative is rejected, there’s a neo-Marxism that’s tightly, tightly allied with postmodernism that also seems to shade into this strange Identity Politics. 

And I don’t. . . Two things. 
I don’t understand 
the causal relationship there. 

The Skeptical Part of me thinks that Postmodernism was an
intellectual. . . 

It’s intellectual camouflage for the continuation of the kind of pathological Marxism that produced the Soviet Union, and has no independent existence as an intellectual field whatsoever


But I still can’t understand how The Postmodernists can make the “no grand narrative” claim, but then immerse themselves in this Grand Narrative without anyone pointing out the self-evident contradictions. 

I don’t understand that. 

So What Do You Think About That?



Gamora: 
What was that story you once told me about Zardu Hasselfrau?

Quill: 
Who?

Gamora: 
He owned a magic boat?

Quill: [long pause] 
David Hasselhoff....?

Gamora: 
Right.

Quill: 
Not a Magic Boat — 
A Talking CAR.

Gamora: 
Why did The Car talk again...?

Quill: 
To help him FIGHT •CRIME•, 
and to be •supportive•!

Gamora: 
As a child, you would carry his picture in your pocket… and you would tell all the other children… that he was your father, but that he was out of town.....

Quill: 
...shooting Knight Rider or touring with his band in Germany. 

I told you that when I was drunk. 

Why are you bringing that up now?

Gamora: 
I •love• that story.

Quill: 
I •hate• that story. It’s so •sad•...!

As a kid, I used to see all the other kids off playing catch with their dad. 

And I wanted that, more than anything in The World!

Gamora: 
That’s my point, Peter. 
What if this man is your Hasselhoff? 

If he ends up being Evil… 
We will just kill him.




Tuesday 8 January 2019

Marry! The Demons of The Punjab



Finally Got That One.

Go — Run, You Clever Girl.

And Be a Doctor.




“Can You Marry Us, Doctor?”


Marry: used in several ways _ it can introduce a statement, meaning something like, ‘listen’, or ‘I agree’, or ‘indeed’ or ‘well’. 


It’s an oath by the Virgin Mary.


Example from Shakespeare:


Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly.’ – Dogberry to Leontes, telling him about Don John’s plot. (Much Ado About Nothing)



I’m completely married, I’ve just never been wedded to anyone —


I just realised.... “Marry Me” is a REALLY Toxic request....


Marry yourself as much as you can before becoming wedded to anyone — you can’t expect them to do it for you....


Saturday 22 December 2018

The Enkidu Principle


Opposition is True Friendship

William Blake,
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell



"A Man should marry - yes, yes."

The King,
The Madness of George III

The Idiot Prince of Wales :
I am Married, Sir.

The King :
No, Sir. 
You are Not.



PICARD: 
My turn? No, I'm not much of a story teller. 
Besides, you wouldn't understand. 

Shaka. when the walls fell. 

Perhaps that doesn't matter. 
You want to hear it anyway.
There's a story, a very ancient one, from Earth. 

I'll try and remember it : 

Gilgamesh, a King. 
Gilgamesh, a king, at Uruk. 

He tormented his subjects. 
He made them angry. 

They cried out aloud, 
“Send us a companion for our King. 
Spare us from his madness.”

Enkidu, a wild man from the forest, entered the city. 

They fought in The Temple. 
They fought in The Street. 

Gilgamesh defeated Enkidu. 

They became great friends. 

Gilgamesh 
and 
Enkidu 
at Uruk


DATHON: 
At Uruk.

PICARD: 
The new friends went out into The Desert together, 
where The Great Bull of Heaven was killing men by the hundreds. 

Enkidu caught the bull by the tail. 
Gilgamesh struck it with his sword.

DATHON: 
Gilgamesh.

PICARD: 
They were victorious. 

But Enkidu fell to the ground, struck down by The Gods. 

And Gilgamesh wept bitter tears, saying, 
'He who was my companion through adventure and hardship, is gone forever.’


(And so Dathon dies.)




‘You made him, O Aruru, now create his equal;
 let it be as like him as his own reflection, 
his second self, stormy heart for stormy heart. 
Let them contend together and leave Uruk in quiet.’

So The Goddess conceived an image in her mind, and it was of the stuff of Anu of the firmament.

“Father, there is a man, unlike any other, who comes down from the hills. 

He is the strongest in the world, he is like an immortal from heaven. 

He ranges over the hills with wild beasts and eats grass; he ranges through your land and comes down to the wells. I am afraid and dare not go near him. 

He fills in the pits which I dig and tears up my traps set for the game; he helps the beasts to escape and now they slip through my fingers.’



THE COMING OF ENKIDU



GILGAMESH went abroad in The World, but he met with none who could withstand his arms till he came to Uruk. But the men of Uruk muttered in their houses, ‘Gilgamesh sounds the tocsin for his amusement, his arrogance has no bounds by day or night. No son is left with his father, for Gilgamesh takes them all, even the children; yet the king should be a shepherd to his people. His lust leaves no virgin to her lover, neither the warrior’s daughter nor the wife of the noble; yet this is the shepherd of the city, wise, comely, and resolute.’

The gods heard their lament, the gods of heaven cried to the Lord of Uruk, to Anu the god of Uruk : ‘A goddess made him, strong as a savage bull, none can withstand his arms. No son is left with his father, for Gilgamesh takes them all; and is this the king, the shepherd of his people? His lust leaves no virgin to her lover, neither the warrior’s daughter nor the wife of the noble.’ 

When Anu had heard their lamentation the gods cried to Aruru, the goddess of creation, 

‘You made him, O Aruru, now create his equal;
 let it be as like him as his own reflection, 
his second self, stormy heart for stormy heart. 
Let them contend together and leave Uruk in quiet.’

So The Goddess conceived an image in her mind, and it was of the stuff of Anu of the firmament.

She dipped her hands in water and pinched off clay, she let it fall in the wilderness, and noble Enkidu was created. 

There was virtue in him of the god of war, of Ninurta himself. 

His body was rough, he had long hair like a woman’s; it waved like the hair of Nisaba, the goddess of corn. 

His body was covered with matted hair like Samuqan’s, the god of cattle. 

He was innocent of mankind; 
he knew nothing of the cultivated land.

Enkidu ate grass in the hills with the gazelle and lurked with wild beasts at the water-holes; he had joy of the water with the herds of wild game. But there was a trapper who met him one day face to face at the drinking-hole, for the wild game had entered his territory. On three days he met him face to face, and the trapper was frozen with fear. He went back to his house with the game that he had caught, and he was dumb, benumbed with terror. His face was altered like that of one who has made a long journey. 

With awe in his heart he spoke to his father: ‘Father, there is a man, unlike any other, who comes down from the hills. He is the strongest in the world, he is like an immortal from heaven. He ranges over the hills with wild beasts and eats grass; he ranges through your land and comes down to the wells. I am afraid and dare not go near him. He fills in the pits which I dig and tears up my traps set for the game; he helps the beasts to escape and now they slip through my fingers.’

His father opened his mouth and said to the trapper, ‘My son, in Uruk lives Gilgamesh; no one has ever prevailed against him, he is strong as a star from heaven. Go to Uruk, find Gilgamesh, extol the strength of this wild man. Ask him to give you a harlot, a wanton from the temple of love; return with her, and let her woman’s power overpower this man. When next he comes down to drink at the wells she will be there, stripped naked; and when he sees her beckoning he will embrace her, and then the wild beasts will reject him.’

So the trapper set out on his journey to Uruk and addressed himself to Gilgamesh saying, ‘A man unlike any other is roaming now in the pastures; he is as strong as a star from heaven and I am afraid to approach him. He helps the wild game to escape; he fills in my pits and pulls up my traps.’ Gilgamesh said, Trapper, go back, take with you a harlot, a child of pleasure. At the drinking-hole she will strip, and when he sees her beckoning he will embrace her and the game of the wilderness will surely reject him.’

Now the trapper returned, taking the harlot with him. After a three days’ journey they came to the drinking-hole, and there they sat down; the harlot and the trapper sat facing one another and waited for the game to come. For the first day and for the second day the two sat waiting, but on the third day the herds came; they came down to drink and Enkidu was with them. The small wild creatures of the plains were glad of the water, and Enkidu with them, who ate grass with the gazelle and was born in the hills; and she saw him, the savage man, come from far-off in the hills. The trapper spoke to her: ‘There he is. Now, woman, make your breasts bare, have no shame, do not delay but welcome his love. Let him see you naked, let him possess your body. When he comes near uncover yourself and lie with him; teach him, the savage man, your woman’s art, for when he murmurs love to you the wild beasts that shared his life in the hills will reject him.’

She was not ashamed to take him, she made herself naked and welcomed his eagerness; as he lay on her murmuring love she taught him the woman’s art. For six days and seven nights they lay together, for Enkidu had forgotten his home in the hills; but when he was satisfied he went back to the wild beasts. Then, when the gazelle saw him, they bolted away; when the wild creatures saw him they fled. Enkidu would have followed, but his body was bound as though with a cord, his knees gave way when he started to run, his swiftness was gone. And now the wild creatures had all fled away; Enkidu was grown weak, for wisdom was in him, and the thoughts of a man were in his heart. So he returned and sat down at the woman’s feet, and listened intently to what she said. ‘You are wise, Enkidu, and now you have become like a god. Why do you want to run wild with the beasts in the hills? Come with me. I will take you to strong-walled Uruk, to the blessed temple of Ishtar and of Anu, of love and of heaven : there Gilgamesh lives, who is very strong, and like a wild bull he lords it over men.’

When she had spoken Enkidu was pleased; he longed for a comrade, for one who would understand his heart. ‘Come, woman, and take me to that holy temple, to the house of Anu and of Ishtar, and to the place where Gilgamesh lords it over the people. I will challenge him boldly, I will cry out aloud in Uruk, “I am the strongest here, I have come to change the old order, I am he who was born in the hills, I am he who is strongest of all.”’

She said, ‘Let us go, and let him see your face. I know very well where Gilgamesh is in great Uruk. O Enkidu, there all the people are dressed in their gorgeous robes, every day is holiday, the young men and the girls are wonderful to see. How sweet they smell! All the great ones are roused from their beds. O Enkidu, you who love life, I will show you Gilgamesh, a man of many moods; you shall look at him well in his radiant manhood. His body is perfect in strength and maturity; he never rests by night or day. He is stronger than you, so leave your boasting. Shamash the glorious sun has given favours to Gilgamesh, and Anu of the heavens, and Enlil, and Ea the wise has given him deep understanding. I tell you, even before you have left the wilderness, Gilgamesh will know in his dreams that you are coming.’

Now Gilgamesh got up to tell his dream to his mother, Ninsun, one of the wise gods. ‘Mother, last night I had a dream. I was full of joy, the young heroes were round me and I walked through the night under the stars of the firmament, and one, a meteor of the stuff of Anu, fell down from heaven. I tried to lift it but it proved too heavy. All the people of Uruk came round to see it, the common people jostled and the nobles thronged to kiss its feet; and to me its attraction was like the love of woman. They helped me, I braced my forehead and I raised it with thongs and brought it to you, and you yourself pronounced it my brother.’

Then Ninsun, who is well-beloved and wise, said to Gilgamesh, ‘This star of heaven which descended like a meteor from the sky; which you tried to lift, but found too heavy, when you tried to move it it would not budge, and so you brought it to my feet; I made it for you, a goad and spur, and you were drawn as though to a woman. This is the strong comrade, the one who brings help to his friend in his need. He is the strongest of wild creatures, the stuff of Anu; born in the grass-lands and the wild hills reared him; when you see him you will be glad; you will love him as a woman and he will never forsake you. This is the meaning of the dream.’

Gilgamesh said, ‘Mother, I dreamed a second dream. In the streets of strong-walled Uruk there lay an axe; the shape of it was strange and the people thronged round. I saw it and was glad. I bent down, deeply drawn towards it; I loved it like a woman and wore it at my side.’ Ninsun answered, ‘That axe, which you saw, which drew you so powerfully like love of a woman, that is the comrade whom I give you, and he will come in his strength like one of the host of heaven. He is the brave companion who rescues his friend in necessity.’ Gilgamesh said to his mother, ‘A friend, a counsellor has come to me from Enlil, and now I shall befriend and counsel him.’ So Gilgamesh told his dreams; and the harlot retold them to Enkidu.

And now she said to Enkidu, ‘When I look at you you have become like a god. Why do you yearn to run wild again with the beasts in the hills? Get up from the ground, the bed of a shepherd.’ He listened to her words with care. It was good advice that she gave. She divided her clothing in two and with the one half she clothed him and with the other herself; and holding his hand she led him like a child to the sheepfolds, into the shepherds’ tents. There all the shepherds crowded round to see him, they put down bread in front of him, but Enkidu could only suck the milk of wild animals. He fumbled and gaped, at a loss what to do or how he should eat the bread and drink the strong wine. Then the woman said, ‘Enkidu, eat bread, it is the staff of life; drink the wine, it is the custom of the land.’ So he ate till he was full and drank strong wine, seven goblets. He became merry, his heart exulted and his face shone. He rubbed down the matted hair of his body and anointed himself with oil. Enkidu had become a man; but when he had put on man’s clothing he appeared like a bridegroom. He took arms to hunt the lion so that the shepherds could rest at night. He caught wolves and lions and the herdsmen lay down in peace; for Enkidu was their watchman, that strong man who had no rival.

He was merry living with the shepherds, till one day lifting his eyes he saw a man approaching. He said to the harlot, “Woman, fetch that man here. Why has he come? I wish to know his name.’ She went and called the man saying, ‘Sir, where are you going on this weary journey?’ The man answered, saying to Enkidu, 

‘Gilgamesh has gone into the marriage-house and shut out the people. He does strange things in Uruk, the city of great streets. At the roll of the drum work begins for the men, and work for the women.

Gilgamesh the king is about to celebrate marriage with the Queen of Love, and he still demands to be first with the bride, the king to be first and the husband to follow, for that was ordained by the gods from his birth, from the time the umbilical cord was cut. But now the drums roll for the choice of the bride and the city groans.’ 



At these words Enkidu turned white in the face. ‘I will go to the place where Gilgamesh lords it over the people, I will challenge him boldly, and I will cry aloud in Uruk, ”I have come to change the old order, for I am the strongest here.’”

Now Enkidu strode in front and the woman followed behind. He entered Uruk, that great market, and all the folk thronged round him where he stood in the street in strong-walled Uruk. The people jostled; speaking of him they said, 

‘He is the spit of Gilgamesh.’ 

‘He is shorter.’ 

‘He is bigger of bone.’ 

‘This is the one who was reared on the milk of wild beasts. 
His is the greatest strength.’ 


The men rejoiced: 

‘Now Gilgamesh has met his match. 

This great one, this hero whose beauty is like a god, he is a match even for Gilgamesh.’

'Kick his ass!'


In Uruk the bridal bed was made, fit for the Goddess of Love. 

The bride waited for the bridegroom, but in the night Gilgamesh got up and came to the house. 

Then Enkidu stepped out, he stood in the street and blocked the way. 

Mighty Gilgamesh came on and Enkidu met him at the gate. 

He put out his foot and prevented Gilgamesh from entering the house, so they grappled, holding each other like bulls.

They broke the doorposts and the walls shook, they snorted like bulls locked together. 

They shattered the doorposts and the walls shook. 

Gilgamesh bent his knee with his foot planted on the ground and with a turn Enkidu was thrown. 

Then immediately his fury died. 

When Enkidu was thrown he said to Gilgamesh, 

‘There is not another like you in The World.

Ninsun, who is as strong as a wild ox in the byre, she was the mother who bore you, and now you are raised above all men, and Enlil has given you the kingship, for your strength surpasses the strength of men.’ 

So Enkidu and Gilgamesh embraced and their friendship was sealed.



The Various Elven Races and Tribes of Middle Earth  Exist There, and Act across Time, both Together and Individually, whilst they remain and dwell there, as essentially agents in the service of Destiny.

The Dwarves, however, are a later-Created race of Dæmon Artificers (They make and built things in subterranean mines and workshop - just in the same fashion as Santa Claus, or Leprechuns), completely hidden, unseen and unknown-of inside rocks and under moutains where none could know that they were there, or even existed, had they not so-desired to emerge from pur of The Earth itself to trade and market their crafts and handiwork to the Elves and Men of Middle Earth —