Is public worship, then, a sin,That for devotions paid to BacchusThe lectors dare to run us in,And resolutely thump and whack us?Jorace
2010 Update: The Roman deity responsible for self-indulgence.
The moon is full and Bacchus dances,The cards reveal the fool is on his way.The day has come to take some chances.Uncork the bottle we stole yesterday!-Carrie Nation
I'm going to a shagger's oyster roast tomorrow which I found out consists of shucking your own oysters without killing yourself while drinking too much
I suppose this is my first homage to Bacchus here
Looks like we all are/should be ready for the weekend!
I'm sure you will all be shocked to know that Bacchus is my own personal god. (Woo, woo, Thom.)
How can you not worship someone who encourages ritual madness?
Getting Reacquainted in 55
It was great, Doug.
Hey Pia. You're going to love oyster roasts! I went to my first when I lived in Charleston. You need to buy oyster-roast accessories at any hardware store:
Hey Jim. Hav'a goodun!
(And the cards reveal the fool is on his way).
Does he serve cookies and coffee too? Hot chocolate? I'm off–kilter on my own. Don't need wine.
BACCHUS: second class god. First class gods have a coffee urn.
Baccus: a defense line!
preferably against France in tomorrow's game. Hail thee, Back Us!
Hmmm, this would be a great place to plug my not-so-short, short story about the murdering Bacchante, but I won't. Instead I should probably be out shopping for wine because Thom is on his way to our place.
I am shocke, Carrie.
The inappropriate expression of honest desire (cf. gaffe).
One of my favorite words.
You mean I could have been blaming him all this time??
He should be sent to AA.
Statistics show people with beer bellies survive car crashes more because the flab protects the inner organs like an air bag.
Grease bag, hehe...
T & I,
I am every amused, entertained and enlightened by your comments, to the point of beer belly laughs.
FABULOUS FEASTS THROUGHOUT HISTORY
The Occasion: A modern Roman orgy, the Forum of the 12 Caesars, New York City, 1960.
The Host: Movie magnate Joseph Levine, who was promoting his film Hercules Unchained.
The Menu: The several hundred guests enjoyed the following:
Pheasants of the Golden House on Silver Shields
Suckling Pigs Roasted in the Manner of Trimalchio
Pliny's Chicken in Nests with the Golden Eggs of Crassus
Lobsters of the Northern Seas (Served chilled.)
Cold Lamb in a Bouquet of Fresh Mint
The Noble Peacock in Its Imperial Plumage
Turbot Britannicus (The Roman senate actually debated which vessel was proper for cooking this magnificent fish.)
Silver Salmon Poached in Etruscan Wine
Truffle-Stuffed Quail Cleopatra, Wrapped in Macedonian Vine Leaves
Trout Bleu (A favorite sport of the old Romans was cooking live fish right at the table.)
Scotch Salmon Rolled with Caviar (Hadrian's discovery.)
Hams from the Herds of Epicurus Served with Ripe Figs
Filet of Beef with a Sauce of Red Wine, Marrow, and Onions
Young Ducklings in the Style of Apicius
Chickens and Game Hens in Clay (A favorite method of Roman cooking.)
A Tribute to Triton: A Variety of Steaming Shellfish in Falernian Wine and Cream
This is not to mention the hors d'oeuvres, or the vegetables, or the dessert courses.
Table Talk: Each guest was presented with a laurel wreath to wear, and lutes were strummed in the background. "Serving maidens" dressed in Roman togas and "live slaves" carried in the food. The lion led around the room on a chain made a few of the diners nervous.
Good ones Monica.
Tom: does the belly have to be caused by beer?
Pia, if this is your first homage to Bacchus here, it's long overdue. Have fun.
I sure am, Jim.
You're right, Nessa. I could have seen that coming.
The cards don't lie, Karen. Nice wish for Pia, thank you.
TLP, I'd bet on cookies.
Yeah, sorry about the handball match, Minka. The French have too much Bacchus.
Quilly, I hope he's bringing macadamias.
We all are, Weirsdo. A sad discovery, that was.
cf. blog, Bill.
Cooper, Bombay Bacchus?
Logo, I trust you blamed someone if not him.
Ariel, he'd hardly be anonymous there.
Icy, that's why I feel ok driving from the hood.
Karen, that sure sounds like a bacchanal.
TLP, it depends on where you want to wake up after the crash, I guess.
There once was a deity Bacchus
Whose blessing was usually raucous
The God of the grapes
One's steps crooked makes
And usually comes back to mock us
I LOVE that, Terry! Sounds like a nursery rhyme, I can even see a circle of kindergarteners, I am just not sure yet what happens to the one who is mocked at the end of the rhyme.
Well done, Terry! I suspect the holy poems were all limericks.
That's clever, Ariel. A bottle of wine forced his throat?
When I see "bacchus" I cannot help but think of that character on Gilligan's Island. Upper crust type with drink in hand.
That's strange, s'kraut. Imagery is everything, it seems. I'm now thinking of the opera gloves which Lovey Howell III wore on a three-hour tour.
Right, Sauerkraut, Jim Backus. I have the same routine misfire.
Is that what those were, Karen?
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