How do I stir up the Cambridge Philosophy budget scoffers?

Did you solve the princess and the tiger yet? I haven't.

It amazes me what little fertile imaginations get up to.

How goilies and guys finks and fawkes when going battery-flat by Maestroll Mothmast von Detunesce cuntoins some mostful dread stuffkink een mirrorglanker wid larsis lazyuli shirt-tampered vanhaty the consequenchers of weetch iv nether reaymes nor rhymons hopphairhated wood woipe heaverie Oongleesh spooker off de phrase of the hearse.

Oh Oh Indeed.
Here's the Fat to graze the Priest's Bumpers when his troysers end his cheekbulbs changle choulera efferee time a gnat breeks a winder.Would anydoyne outslide a nutbughut beeleefy eet?Not Nero nor Narncy Mittfork hairselv would tek serially this menal and mortal deflektiffe.

spendius is in the pub 7 nights a weak from 10.20 to 11.45 (approx) BST.He is not in a fit state to post during this time,especially the secant section,due to the effect of beer on his brain being confounded by the conversation of fellow slaves which is a bit like a lump hammer being pounded on a concrete bridge support.
If Mathos has posted during the aforesaid timescale then he cannot possibly be me.

It is possible however that due to my inadvertantly letting slip my prestigious user name one time to a bunch of tossers who work in the industry we have all come to know and love I may have afforded one of the more envious ones (I did say what a fascinating forum P&D was-is)the opportunity to Google me up on a facility I was unaware of at the time.In which case I may well know Mathos but don't know who out of a range of possibilities and he knows me.I shall investigate.

But,and here is the cruncher,Mathos is a labeller like Mr Apisa (RIP).Study his posts.He has socialworkeritis and pigeonholes to slot everybody into.The opposite of myself.Label mongering denotes a personality type.Surely the difference is obvious.
It is also obvious that Mathos is a superficial reader of superficial material and a viewer of nepotism television and it is from these he derives his categories.I,on the other hand,carefully read the most refined literature and only watch television when real events are occuring such as sport and one or two other things and this results in my incapacity to pigeonhole anybody.They are all real human beings to me and they all have their problems.Mathos's pride is opposed to my grace in humility.I was very surprised to find that georgebob1 had failed to detect these fundamental differences because he is supposed to have gleaned a modicum of Jesuitical thinking from his long drawn out education..
Can you not see the frustrated interventionist in Mathos.It sticks out like a Presbyterian chapel hatpeg.It is well known,or it ought to be, that I don't give a sod.I'm a minimal state ideologist of the fundamentalist persuasion.I swallow it whole.
I eschew assertion.Mathos asserts with every beat of his heart.

Lola has perceived my lean towards the super-ego.
I am not daft enough to think I am all super-ego but I reserve ego/Id reactions for danger which I am never in.Now Mathos is 100% Ego/Id.I never read anything seriously written by anybody who is not at least as super-ego oriented as I am and Mathos would be unable to comprehend any of it.If you gave him an essay by Veblen,say,to read he would start his labelling procedures-all negative.All my favourite male writers are flat out super-egos.It is a characteristic of true maleness.
I said-here is the cruncher.
What it tells me is that certain people have not yet learned how to read properly.I am well aware that the various educational authorities have assured these certain people to the contrary but that means nothing to me.Anybody who cannot distinguish the literary productions of a super-ego oriented non-interventionist humble celibate intellectual from those of a ego/Id grunting priapic illiterate with a head the size of a mountain range and a frustrated need to run the country must still be on the picture books.
The case for the defence rests sine die.
Okay playmates?

Yes, well I think you missed my point about ambivalence (defined as: conflicting wishes, one of which is unconscious). So you could be one of those very rare types, the multiple personality (of which I have never seen in person and doubt actually exists). Or, more likely, you are having a bit of fun, which would be ok with me. Actually, it would be preferable because I am wary of people who don't value their wishes and are unaware of how they strive for gratification. However if in fact you are telling the truth, and you and our friend Mathos are not one and the same, then I count you to be a possible exception to my cautious consideration. But I've still got my eye on my back. (And don't ask me how I do that, it's not information I care to share.)



Well finally, you admit this much, you crafty devil. And I have confidence in your ability to out your pub acquaitance. Go git im..........and bring him.... drag him by his ear, here to us. Unlike you, I think the man has potential. I just love you cranky, hard-to-get-along-with types. We'll have to see if we can make a man out of him. The question is still open.

Good insights Lola - I am still with you.

Here by the way is the key section of Frank Stockton's story .... "The Lady or the Tiger"

" .....From the moment that the decree had gone forth that her lover should decide his fate in the king's arena, she had thought of nothing, night or day, but this great event and the various subjects connected with it. Possessed of more power, influence, and force of character than any one who had ever before been interested in such a case, she had done what no other person had done,--she had possessed herself of the secret of the doors. She knew in which of the two rooms, that lay behind those doors, stood the cage of the tiger, with its open front, and in which waited the lady. Through these thick doors, heavily curtained with skins on the inside, it was impossible that any noise or suggestion should come from within to the person who should approach to raise the latch of one of them. But gold, and the power of a woman's will, had brought the secret to the princess. And not only did she know in which room stood the lady ready to emerge, all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but she knew who the lady was. It was one of the fairest and loveliest of the damsels of the court who had been selected as the reward of the accused youth, should he be proved innocent of the crime of aspiring to one so far above him; and the princess hated her. Often had she seen, or imagined that she had seen, this fair creature throwing glances of admiration upon the person of her lover, and sometimes she thought these glances were perceived, and even returned. Now and then she had seen them talking together; it was but for a moment or two, but much can be said in a brief space; it may have been on most unimportant topics, but how could she know that? The girl was lovely, but she had dared to raise her eyes to the loved one of the princess; and, with all the intensity of the savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors, she hated the woman who blushed and trembled behind that silent door.

When her lover turned and looked at her, and his eye met hers as she sat there, paler and whiter than any one in the vast ocean of anxious faces about her, he saw, by that power of quick perception which is given to those whose souls are one, that she knew behind which door crouched the tiger, and behind which stood the lady. He had expected her to know it. He understood her nature, and his soul was assured that she would never rest until she had made plain to herself this thing, hidden to all other lookers-on, even to the king. The only hope for the youth in which there was any element of certainty was based upon the success of the princess in discovering this mystery; and the moment he looked upon her, he saw she had succeeded, as in his soul he knew she would succeed. Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the question: "Which?" It was as plain to her as if he shouted it from where he stood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was asked in a flash; it must be answered in another. Her right arm lay on the cushioned parapet before her. She raised her hand, and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No one but her lover saw her. Every eye but his was fixed on the man in the arena. He turned, and with a firm and rapid step he walked across the empty space. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held, every eye was fixed immovably upon that man. Without the slightest hesitation, he went to the door on the right, and opened it. ...."

I still think he should have run.
No woman is worth all that pallaver when there's millions of others thrumming with seasonal expectations.What time of year was it supposed to be.

Lola:-

I know.

Lure Mathos to a NYC meet.I'll post from here when you have him safely up on the 19th floor.He seems to like travel and you shouldn't have much trouble tempting him by the sounds of it.

Queenie thinks he's fat.

Lola:-

I did not admit anything.I hinted at a remote possibility.You and Mathos should get along very well seeing as how you jump to daft conclusions prematurely and then get married to them.

And don't forget that whoever he is he is reading this.I don't think he will take kindly to your idea of making a man out of him with its implication that he has some way to go on the point.

Well, I agree with you on this, Spendi. There are lots of excellent possibilities out there, if one doesn't work out, find another.......that's what I always say. But then the lover in this case is the innocent victim martyr and therefore is depicted as pure of heart.....so he cannot, by decree of the author, be so pathologically narcissistic.

And I didn't mean bring Mathos to us here literally. I meant, bring him to us on this thread, it was a figurative use of the word "here."

Do you think it's the distance that makes you safe?

george,

Yes I remember the story, but not the ending...........was it the tiger? If so, the lover has fulfilled the mission intended for him by the author, proof of the claim that such a person (innocent, undeserving of malice) could exist. But then.......there was that look exchanged with the other lady. So refresh my memory please. I'm just dying to know.

I am innocent of this charge. bwa ha ha.

Thge author doesn't tell us. He follows with a well-posed question and a rather tedious exposition on the human soul. --- Encapsuled thus -

"Now, the point of the story is this: Did the tiger come out of that door, or did the lady ? The more we reflect upon this question, the harder it is to answer. It involves a study of the human heart which leads us through devious mazes of passion, out of which it is difficult to find our way. ..................How in her grievous reveries had she gnashed her teeth, and torn her hair, when she saw his start of rapturous delight as he opened the door of the lady! How her soul had burned in agony when she had seen him rush to meet that woman, with her flushing cheek and sparkling eye of triumph; when she had seen him lead her forth, his whole frame kindled with the joy of recovered life; when she had heard the glad shouts from the multitude, and the wild ringing of the happy bells; when she had seen the priest, with his joyous followers, advance to the couple, and make them man and wife before her very eyes; and when she had seen them walk away together upon their path of flowers, followed by the tremendous shouts of the hilarious multitude, in which her one despairing shriek was lost and drowned! Would it not be better for him to die at once, and go to wait for her in the blessed regions of semi-barbaric futurity? And yet, that awful tiger, those shrieks, that blood! Her decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had been made after days and nights of anguished deliberation. She had known she would be asked, she had decided what she would answer, and, without the slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to the right. The question of her decision is one not to be lightly considered, and it is not for me to presume to set myself up as the one person able to answer it. And so I leave it with all of you: Which came out of the opened door,--the lady, or the tiger?

Lola:-

I just saw the picture of you.My my you are a bit of alright I must say.I will peruse my copy of The Temptation of St Anthony if I still have it.

You could be Mrs Clinton from years ago.But Doris Day or Lana Turner in her prime come to mind.Why do people argue with you?

Oh yes, I remember now........

But I think of another possibility that the author does not mention.........oh he of only two alternatives....when actually there are many.

I prefer to think she indicated the door of the lady, knowing that this would prove the innocence of her lover, and knowing further that he would, upon discovering the other lady, turn his back on the rival of his princess and climb the barriers dividing them and demand her hand. The King, having placed himself in his own corner (his tiger of sorts) can do nothing, if he is to save face with his subjects, other than agree.

It's the best outcome for an obviously oedipal situation.

Because I'm so obnoxiously bitchy. But some love me for it, and that's my test.

By heck I'm innocent.These city slickers are way over my little curly top.

Oh, so you have curly hair......a new clue.

Lola:-

That last was responding to oedipalistical ideas.

I don't think you are even slightly bitchy.Compared to some of the women who have given me the run-around you're a sweet little angel who would not be out of place on top of a Xmas tree during a rendition of Bing Crosby's famous hit.

If I were willing.

But what about the curly hair? I want to know.

But for now, I have to go. I have to conduct a telephone interview and I have to check that my recording devise is in fact still working.

See you later.

Lola:-

When I was a little lad I had a mass of black curls which all the older ladies,much to my embarrassment,could not resist fondling.When I was older some of the younger ones used to use them to pull me about in all sorts of what I then thought were random directions.Silly me.I had rosy cheeks as well.Do you know any way of restoring my rosy cheeks?

I never have my hair cut.It forms into lugs which I can pull off when they get solid.Saved me not only a fortune but the indignity of sitting in a hairdressing salon being primped.When I was in Full Metal Jacket phase I shaved the lot off.

Lola:-

So have I.That was a very pleasant afternoon.Thank you.I hope it was good for you too.