What's Opera, Doc?

Liberetto :

Elmer: 

Be vewy quiet. 
I'm hunting wabbits.

(spoken) 

WABBIT TWACKS!! WABBIT HOLE!!

(thrusting spear) 

KILL THE WABBIT! 
KILL THE WABBIT! 
KILL THE WABBIT!

Bugs (spoken): 

Kill the wabbit?

Elmer: 

YO HO HO! 

YO HO HO! 

YO HO...

Bugs: 

Oh mighty warrior of great fighting stock

Might I inquire to ask nyeh... What's up, Doc..?

Elmer: 

I'm going to kill the wabbit!

Bugs: 

O mighty warrior, 'twill be quite a task

How will you do it, might I inquire to ask?

E: 

I will do it with my spear and magic hewmet.

B: 

Spear and magic hewmet?

E: 

Spear and magic hewmet.

B: 

Magic hewmet?

E: 

Magic hewmet!

B (spoken, disparagingly): 

Magic hewmet....

E: 

Yes, magic hewmet, 
and I Will give you a sample!

(exit Bugs at warp speed)

E (spoken): 

That was the wabbit!

(Then a chase, followed by:)

E: 

Oh, Bwoonhilda, 

you're so wovely.

B: 

Yes, I know it, 

I can't help it.

E: 

Oh, Bwoonhilda, 

be my wove...

(A dance, then... )

E: 

Weturn, my wove... 

a fire burning inside me...

B: 

Return my luv, 

I want you always bee-side me.

E: 

Wove wike ours must be...

B: 

Made fer you, and fer me...

E: 

Return, won't you return my love... 
For my love is yours.

(As they embrace, Bug's helm falls to the ground... revealing his ears)

Elmer (spoken, outraged): 

I'll KILL the wabbit!!

E (spoken): 

North winds bwow, 
South winds bwow. 
Typhoons, 
Hurricanes...

SMOG!!!!!!

E (spoken): 

Thunder, wigtning, stwike the wabbit!!

(Lightning flashes, striking in the distance -- now moving in, we see

the limp and lifeless form of Bugs -- a drop of water clings to a

crushed flower)

E: 

What have I done?.... 
I've killed the wabbit... 
Poor wittle bunny...
Poor widdle wabbit.....

(sob)

(Bugs is carried off in Elmer's arms... )

B (spoken): 

Well, what did you expect from an opera?

A Happy Ending..?

------------------- The End... That's all Folks -------------

The Way of The Warrior

The Way of The Warrior has been misunderstood as a means to kill and destroy others.

Those who seek competition are making a grave mistake.

To smash, injure or destroy is the worst sin a human being can commit.

The real Way of The Warrior is to prevent slaughter - it is the Art of Peace, the Power of Love.

MARTOK: 

I have come for my son's d'k tahg. 

Give it to me or I will take it from you. 

WORF: 

Now that you are here, I have no further need of it. 

MARTOK: 

You robbed my son of his honour just to get my attention?!

WORF: 

You can't take away what someone does not have. 

MARTOK: 

Are you saying my son is without honour? 

WORF: 

I am saying your son is a coward and a liar. 

MARTOK: 

And what of his father? 

WORF: 

That remains to be seen. 

MARTOK: 

Tell me, what have I done to earn your disrespect? 

WORF: 

The misdeeds your troops have committed speak for themselves. 

Attacking a Cardassian tailor. 

Detaining and searching ships in neutral space without warning or provocation. 

And you, executing one of your commanders because he refused to fire on a Federation ship, 

MARTOK: 

Whatever we have done is in the best interests of the Alpha Quadrant. 

WORF: 

You must think me a fool to make your lies so transparent. 

MARTOK: 

I do not wish to quarrel with you, Worf. 

WORF: 

Nor I with you. The House of Martok is an honoured one, with a proud tradition. 

But I must know why you are here. 

MARTOK: 

I am here under the authority of Gowron himself. 

I am carrying out his orders. 

That should be all the explanation a Klingon warrior needs. 

WORF: 

You forget. I am not only a Klingon warrior, I am a Starfleet officer. And Starfleet deserves an explanation. 

MARTOK: 

They will get one soon enough. Until then, know this. 

My mission will determine the fate of the Klingon Empire. 

Interfere, and you risk destroying us all.

WORF: 

Chancellor Gowron. 
You wished to speak with me? 

GOWRON: 

Worf. Worf! It is good to see you. I always said that uniform would get you into trouble one day. 

WORF: 

It seems you were right. But I do not apologise for my actions 

GOWRON: 

Yes, yes. I know. you did what you thought was right. 

And even though you may have made some enemies, I assure you I am not one of them. 

WORF: 

I am glad. Your friendship means much to me. 

GOWRON: 

And yours to me. It has been too long since you last fought at my side. But now the time has come again. 

We will do great deeds in the coming days. 

Deeds worthy of song. 

WORF: 

You want me to go to Cardassia with you? 

GOWRON: 

What better way to redeem yourself in the eyes of your people. 
Come with me, Worf. Glory awaits you on Cardassia. 
Worf, why do you stand there like a mute d'blok.
 I have offered you a chance for glory. All you have to do is take it. 

WORF: 

If there's any glory to be won, Gowron, it'll have to be yours alone. 
I cannot come with you. 

GOWRON: 

Of course you can. It is where you belong. 

WORF: 

I cannot abandon my post. 

GOWRON: 

You no longer have a post. 
You have no place on that station, and no business wearing that uniform. 

WORF: 
I have sworn an Oath of Allegiance. 

GOWRON: 
To the Federation. 

WORF: 
You would have me break my word? 

GOWRON: 
Your word? 
What good is your word when you give it to people who care nothing for honour, who refuse to lift a finger while Klingon warriors shed blood for their protection. 

I tell you, they are without honour. 
You do not owe them anything. 

WORF: 

It is not what I owe them that matters. 

It is what I owe myself. 

Worf, son of Mogh, does not break his word. 

GOWRON: 

And what of your debt to me? Are you saying you owe me nothing? 
I gave you back your name, restored your house, gave your family a seat on the High Council. And this is how you repay me? 

WORF: 

It is true I owe you a great debt. I would give up my life for you. 
But invading Cardassia is wrong, and I cannot support it. 

GOWRON: 

Worf, I have always considered you a friend and an ally. 
And because you are my friend, I am giving you this one last chance to redeem yourself. 

Come with me. 

WORF: 

I cannot. 

GOWRON: 

Think about what you are doing. 

If you turn your back on me now, for as long as I live, you will not be welcome anywhere in the Klingon Empire. 

Your family will be removed from the High Council, your lands seized, and your House stripped of its titles. 

You will have nothing. 

WORF: 

Except my honour. 

GOWRON: 

So be it.

Uruk-Hai : People That Came Out of The Earth

To Serve in Heaven 

Or Rule in Hell..?

I don't know if you're familiar with Wagner's Ring das Nibelungen...?

Now, We - We are The Supermen, but You -

You are The Giants. 

They are wonderful creatures. 

Herr Weyland, your day is over. 

I'm afraid you fail to understand history in addition to Wagner. 

Unfortunately, Wagner must be rewritten. 

The Supermen must control The Giants. 

David, Killer of Giants

"Do you know how the Orcs first came to be? They were Elves once, taken by the Dark Lord, tortured and mutilated. A ruined and terrible form of life. And now, perfected. My fighting Uruk-hai."

—Saruman

"This is no rabble of mindless Orcs. These are the Uruk-hai, their armor thick and their shields broad..."

—Gimli

The Kurgans were an ancient people from the steppes of Russia.

For amusement, they tossed children into pits with hungry dogs to fight for meat.

The Kurgan.

He is the strongest of The Immortals.

He is the Perfect Warrior.

If he wins The Prize, mortal Man would suffer an Eternity of Darkness.

How do you fight such a savage?

Hmm. With Heart, Faith, and Steel.

In the End, There Can Be Only One.

Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan: 

They think they are bears... they want us to think they are bears... 

Hey, how do you hunt a bear? 

Weath the Musician: 

Chase it down with dogs. What...? 

Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan: 

How do you hunt a bear in Winter? 

Herger the Joyous: 

Go in its cave with spears. 

Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan: 

Where is a cave? 

Weath the Musician: [realizing] 

It's in The Earth. 

Edgtho the Silent: [Returns from scouting] 

The next glen, many fires. 

Buliwyf: 

IS THERE A CAVE?

There's always a Cave...

North amid their noisome pits lay the first of the great heaps and hills of slag and broken rock and blasted earth, the vomit of the maggot-folk of Mordor; but south and now near loomed the great rampart of Cirith Gorgor, and the Black Gate amidmost, and the two Towers of the Teeth tall and dark upon either side.

 I don’t take order from Orc-maggots.

  The White Man has waited all His life to be Greater than God.

There actually, is a Law invoked with alla' this, which is higher  than Man Law.

" For the people that are in this Core of Negativity,

We have accepted responsibility to put pressure on Them. 

that maybe They perceive themselves to be Goliath, but 

We are always reminding Them that David is within their reach -

We don't ever want Them to think that what They regard as so absolute, so evil, so grand, so royal, that can never be defeated contradicts The Law of what goes on.

And if We can accept the principle of

" You Reap What You Sow "

and if "Reap What You Sow" is True;

And one compiles years of ugly sowing...

Then, somewhere, The Seed is gonna come due -

Now, 

" Through Whom? " and " When? " will it manifest..?

And if you believe that it will never happen, then What You Believe has a crack in it.

Do you have faith, that when people fail in their opportunity to rule fairly and equitably that They will be robbed of that opportunity, when others who seek to be  - 

It's a dangerous word 

- Responsible -

arise to accept this responsibilty, to replace Those Who Lost Their Right to Rule..?

The Muslims say 

" An Eye for an Eye "

And the principle is sound.

Even an atheist say,

" What Go Around, Come Around "

Every Spoke on The Wheel has it's Day at The Top.

Tom O’ Bedlam

Tom o’ Bedlam

From the hag and hungry goblin

That into rags would rend ye,

The spirit that stands by the naked man

In the Book of Moons defend ye,

That of your five sound senses

You never be forsaken,

Nor wander from your selves with Tom

Abroad to beg your bacon,

While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,

Feeding, drink, or clothing;

Come dame or maid, be not afraid,

Poor Tom will injure nothing.

Of thirty bare years have I

Twice twenty been enragèd,

And of forty been three times fifteen

In durance soundly cagèd

On the lordly lofts of Bedlam,

With stubble soft and dainty,

Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips ding-dong,

With wholesome hunger plenty,

And now I sing, Any food, any feeding,

Feeding, drink, or clothing;

Come dame or maid, be not afraid,

Poor Tom will injure nothing.

With a thought I took for Maudlin

And a cruse of cockle pottage,

With a thing thus tall, sky bless you all,

I befell into this dotage.

I slept not since the Conquest,

Till then I never wakèd,

Till the roguish boy of love where I lay

Me found and stript me nakèd.

And now I sing, Any food, any feeding,

Feeding, drink, or clothing;

Come dame or maid, be not afraid,

Poor Tom will injure nothing.

When I short have shorn my sow’s face

And swigged my horny barrel,

In an oaken inn I pound my skin

As a suit of gilt apparel;

The moon’s my constant mistress,

And the lowly owl my marrow;

The flaming drake and the night crow make

Me music to my sorrow.

While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,

Feeding, drink, or clothing;

Come dame or maid, be not afraid,

Poor Tom will injure nothing.

The palsy plagues my pulses

When I prig your pigs or pullen,

Your culvers take, or matchless make

Your Chanticleer or Sullen.

When I want provant with Humphrey

I sup, and when benighted,

I repose in Paul’s with waking souls

Yet never am affrighted.

But I do sing, Any food, any feeding,

Feeding, drink, or clothing;

Come dame or maid, be not afraid,

Poor Tom will injure nothing.

I know more than Apollo,

For oft, when he lies sleeping

I see the stars at bloody wars

In the wounded welkin weeping;

The moon embrace her shepherd,

And the Queen of Love her warrior,

While the first doth horn the star of morn,

And the next the heavenly Farrier.

While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,

Feeding, drink, or clothing;

Come dame or maid, be not afraid,

Poor Tom will injure nothing.

The gypsies, Snap and Pedro,

Are none of Tom’s comradoes,

The punk I scorn and the cutpurse sworn,

And the roaring boy’s bravadoes.

The meek, the white, the gentle

Me handle, touch, and spare not;

But those that cross Tom Rynosseros

Do what the panther dare not.

Although I sing, Any food, any feeding,

Feeding, drink, or clothing;

Come dame or maid, be not afraid,

Poor Tom will injure nothing.

With a host of furious fancies

Whereof I am commander,

With a burning spear and a horse of air,

To the wilderness I wander.

By a knight of ghosts and shadows

I summoned am to tourney

Ten leagues beyond the wide world’s end::

Methinks it is no journey.

Yet will I sing, Any food, any feeding,

Feeding, drink, or clothing;

Come dame or maid, be not afraid,

Poor Tom will injure nothing.

Aglæca/æglæca

"Until the late 1970s, all scholarship on Grendel’s mother and translations of the phrase “aglæc-wif” were influenced by the edition of noted Beowulf scholar Frederick Klaeber. His edition, Beowulf and the Fight at Finnsburg, has been considered a standard in Beowulf scholarship since its first publication in 1922. According to Klaeber’s glossary, “aglæc-wif” translates as: “wretch, or monster of a woman.” Klaeber’s glossary also defines “aglæca/æglæca” as “monster, demon, fiend” when referring to Grendel or Grendel’s mother and as “warrior, hero” when referring to the character Beowulf.

Klaeber has influenced many translations of Beowulf. Notable interpretations of “aglæc-wif” which follow Klaeber include “monstrous hell bride” (Heaney), “monster-woman” (Chickering) “woman, monster-wife” (Donaldson), “Ugly troll-lady” (Trask)  and “monstrous hag” (Kennedy).

Doreen M.E. Gillam’s 1961 essay, “The Use of the Term ‘Æglæca’ in Beowulf at Lines 893 and 2592,” explores Klaeber’s dual use of the term “aglæca/æglæca” for the heroes Sigemund and Beowulf as well as for Grendel and Grendel’s mother.

She argues that “aglæca/æglæca” is used in works besides Beowulf to reference both “devils and human beings”. She further argues that this term is used to imply “supernatural,” “unnatural” or even “inhuman” characteristics, as well as hostility towards other creatures.

Gillam suggests: “Beowulf, the champion of men against monsters, is almost inhuman himself. [Aglæca/æglæca] epitomises, in one word, the altogether exceptional nature of the dragon fight. Beowulf, the champion of good, the ‘monster’ amongst men, challenges the traditional incarnation of evil, the Dragon: æglæca meets æglæcan.”

The Myth of Anglo-Saxons

As noted in lines 105–114 and lines 1260–1267 of Beowulf, Grendel and his mother are described as descendants of the Biblical Cain.

"I hope that the praise-worthy example you have exhibited, will rouse the dormant spirit of the great and the affluent in the Principality, and induce them so to co-operate with you, that the Genius of Cambria may awake from the slumber of ages, shake off that darkness and false taste which Gothic barbarity and tyranny imposed upon her, and re-assume her ancient and splendid greatness."

- WILLIAM PROBERT

The Myth of the Anglo-Saxons is that there are Anglo-Saxons.

There were Britons, and there were Saxons.

And Saxons are German.

The Britons fight (and defeat) The Saxons

And the Saxons were Gothic, they were Un-British - they were German.

"Just don't take any class where you have to read BEOWULF."

- Woody Allen,

An Anti-German for Reasons of his own

"Historian Michael Wood returns to his first great love, the Anglo-Saxon world, to reveal the origins of our literary heritage. 
[No, it bloody isn't.]

Focusing on Beowulf and drawing on other Anglo-Saxon classics, he traces the birth of English poetry back to the Dark Ages. 

Travelling across the British Isles from East Anglia to Scotland and with the help of Nobel prize-winning poet Seamus Heaney, actor Julian Glover, local historians and enthusiasts, he brings the story and language of this iconic poem to life."

This is horrible, brutal, beastial Klingoneseque Stuff :

"Grendel grabs a second warrior, but is shocked when the warrior grabs back with fearsome strength. 

As Grendel attempts to disengage, he and the reader both discover that Beowulf is that second warrior. 

A battle ensues, with Beowulf’s warriors attempting to aid in the melee. 

Finally Beowulf tears off Grendel’s arm, mortally wounding the creature. 

Grendel flees but dies in his marsh-den. 

There, Beowulf later engages in a fierce battle with Grendel’s mother, over whom he triumphs. 

Following her death, Beowulf finds Grendel’s corpse and removes his head, which he keeps as a trophy. "

And over time, after they had gained a dominance and dominon over the Britons, and established the House of Wessex, they assimilated British Law (Molmutine Law) into their own legal code, and began calling themselves Kings of Angle-land (England).

Not Britain.

So, Don't Say "Anglo-Saxon" - Say "German"

The Story of the Welsh Dragon

The story of the Red Dragon, ‘Y Ddraig Goch’ (literally, the red dragon), that appears on the Welsh flag goes back centuries, even to before the invasion of Britain by the Saxons.

When the Celts ruled Britain, before they were driven out of England into Wales and Cornwall, there was a legend in the Mabinogion, a collection of eleven stories, that a red dragon living in Britain had begun fighting with an invading White Dragon.

As the two fought, they wounded each other, and the cries of agony from the red dragon made crops barren, killed animals and caused pregnant women to miscarry.

King Lludd, the ruler of Britain at the time, went to visit his sibling Llefelys, who was in France. He was instructed that to stop the dragons fighting, thus ending the cries that were ruining his people, he must dig a pit large enough to contain them both in the centre of Britain. 

He must then fill it with mead and cover it in cloth.

Having done this, the dragons came and drank the mead, which made them drowsy, and they fell asleep in the pit, wrapped in the cloth. Lludd imprisoned them, and in the Mabinogion, that is the end of the matter.

Later, however, in the Historia Britonum, the dragons are still trapped in the pit and cloth, and every time King Vortigern attempts to build a castle there, the walls and foundations are destroyed overnight, though nobody knows why.

Vortigern’s advisors say that to solve the problem he must find a boy without a natural father and sacrifice him. This will stop the destruction of his castle.

When this boy is found [Merlyn], and it is revealed to him that he is to be sacrificed so that Vortigern’s castle can be built, the boy says that the advisors are wrong, and that actually the destruction is occurring because of the two dragons trapped in the pit.

So, Vortigern digs open the pit, frees the two dragons, and finally the red dragon kills the white dragon. The boy pipes up again, telling Vortigern that the Red Dragon represented the people over which Vortigern ruled, whereas the white dragon represented the Saxons.

Vortigern’s people are presumed to have been the native Britons who, although they were driven by the Saxons into only Wales and Cornwall, were never completely defeated.

 They didn’t exactly slay the white dragon as they were supposed to, however.

This article was written by Tom Sangers for Snowdonia Tourist Services, who offer a Snowdonia holiday in North Wales cottages.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Tom_Sangers

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/3128436

"Until the late 1970s, all scholarship on Grendel’s mother and translations of the phrase “aglæc-wif” were influenced by the edition of noted Beowulf scholar Frederick Klaeber. His edition, Beowulf and the Fight at Finnsburg, has been considered a standard in Beowulf scholarship since its first publication in 1922. According to Klaeber’s glossary, “aglæc-wif” translates as: “wretch, or monster of a woman.” Klaeber’s glossary also defines “aglæca/æglæca” as “monster, demon, fiend” when referring to Grendel or Grendel’s mother 

and as “warrior, hero” when referring to the character Beowulf.

Klaeber has influenced many translations of Beowulf. Notable interpretations of “aglæc-wif” which follow Klaeber include “monstrous hell bride” (Heaney), “monster-woman” (Chickering) “woman, monster-wife” (Donaldson), “Ugly troll-lady” (Trask)  and “monstrous hag” (Kennedy).

Doreen M.E. Gillam’s 1961 essay, “The Use of the Term ‘Æglæca’ in Beowulf at Lines 893 and 2592,” explores Klaeber’s dual use of the term “aglæca/æglæca” for the heroes Sigemund and Beowulf as well as for Grendel and Grendel’s mother.

She argues that “aglæca/æglæca” is used in works besides Beowulf to reference both “devils and human beings”. She further argues that this term is used to imply “supernatural,” “unnatural” or even “inhuman” characteristics, as well as hostility towards other creatures.

Gillam suggests: “Beowulf, the champion of men against monsters, is almost inhuman himself. [Aglæca/æglæca] epitomises, in one word, the altogether exceptional nature of the dragon fight. Beowulf, the champion of good, the ‘monster’ amongst men, challenges the traditional incarnation of evil, the Dragon: æglæca meets æglæcan.”

To the Cymmrarodorion Society, in London.

GENTLEMEN, 

A descendant of the old Silurians presents himself before you with becoming deference, and very respectfully dedicates his translation of the Welsh Laws to your patronage. 

You, Gentlemen, have set a noble example of patriotism and of true greatness. The efforts you are making to recover the precious, literary productions of our beloved country from decay and oblivion, demand the thanks of every Welshman.

I hope that the praise-worthy example you have exhibited, will rouse the dormant spirit of the great and the affluent in the Principality, and induce them so to co-operate with you, that the Genius of Cambria may awake from the slumber of ages, shake off that darkness and false taste which Gothic barbarity and tyranny imposed upon her, and re-assume her ancient and splendid greatness.

I am,

Gentlemen,

With all due respect,

Your obedient, humble Servant,

WILLIAM PROBERT

"Just don't take any class where you have to read BEOWULF."

- Woody Allen