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The Elites & De Greek
Though fortune of late seems to be beaming upon me with almost insipid sweetness to the point of making me an ‘Elite’ and giving me the feeling of a conquering hero, all is not well in paradise. It is easy for Tennyson to refer to the island-valley of Avilion where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, nor ever wind blows loudly, but the clouds have gathered on the De Greek horizon.
When I first joined the HubNuggets ‘Elite’ Team, I felt like a murderer with particularly large phosphorescent feet. Everyone is so refined and gentle here, quoting poetry at the drop of the slightest cliché that I have come to fear to open my mouth. One instinctively knows here that mere comments on the weather are not sufficient conversation starters. All the ‘Elites’ know Tennyson by heart and some even read Schopenhauer without sedatives. For myself, all the attempts of the educational authorities of yore to inoculate a Young De Greek at an early age with a love of poetry at school, had fallen flat on their faces. In consequence, I have come to feel as if I am the serpent in the ‘Elite’ Garden of Eden and I have no one to share my grief with.
Being an Elite, I am no longer allowed to hobnob with the peasantry - like you lot - no longer allowed to speak to most of my old friends and so I now have to meet them in secret. The other ‘Elites’ make an exception of Nellieanna because she is refined, and they turn a blind eye to high brow Inmates like Feline Prophet, ladyjane1 and Shalini Kagal for some odd reason, but that is where they draw the line.
They look at me in horror and shock when I mention coffee with lisadpreston, habee, MPG Narratives, Petra Vlah, VioletSun, lorlie6, Tatjana-Mihaelaakirchner, MartieCoetser, Pamela99, dianacharles and they go into hysterics when the names of Pam Roberson, ACSutliff, Tatjana-Mihaela, Gypsy Willow, msorensson, Joy At Home, geegee77, Jane Bovary, cameciob, Lee B, _cheryl_ , sunflowerbucky, drbj are mentioned, as if I am referring to the devil’s spawn! The De Greeks might be men of steel, but this is enough to make even us cry and there are times when we wonder if we might be able to endure the strain.
Even worse, I miss my male friends particularly badly. We men occasionally have the need to sit around a table with our own manly kind, with a beer in one hand and poker cards in the other. But can we now do it in comfort and security? No! Whenever the urge is upon us, we have to slink away in some little known den of depravity and iniquity, where no doubt the Sign of Four is also meeting in secret behind a little known trap door right beneath our very feet, in order for us to be allowed to be men. Dare I mention the names Shadesbreath, Christoph Reilly, tonymac04, Mentalist acer, Cris A, James A Watkins, saddlerider1, ltfawkes, Winsome, Wayne Brown, epigramman, sabu singh, manlypoetrymanto anyone in authority? No! It’s like slinking mud in the eyes of the powers-that-be .
Such powers-that-be are mainly women and they do not know that it is only after the first three or six beers and the first change of a deck of cards that we men can truly relax. That is when we are then able to reach that state when men are overpowered by that peaceful and tranquil feeling, where we blow cigar smoke at the ceiling while patting small children on the head asking them if they want to be President when they grow up.
Despite my spending a fortune on fine literature and in particular on “Poetry for Dummies” I cannot reach the ethereal standards set by the other Elites. They simply look upon me pityingly and I can feel their powerful intellects willing me on to higher and better things but they only manage to make me feel as if I am laughing in a cathedral during the memorial service in honor of a departed bishop. And my novice awe for the veterans counts for naught. One Elite in particular has finally given up on me and is now exhibiting none of the effervescent joy that a De Greek appearance usually tends to inspire, but instead seems to be more inclined to hysterics at the merest meeting. Something about the De Greek deportment seems to dive off a spring board straight into her nerve centers and to whirl about like an electric egg beater of 220 volts.
Why do I tell you this? Because I want you to know that the De Greeks may be characterized by a native vulgarity, but when we set ourselves an elevated target, we shall reach it despite insurmountable looking obstacles and from thence we must not fall. We shall not succumb to cruel Fate’s blows and shall manfully go forth; Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
Oooof – success at last; I thought that I would never get a chance to show off by quoting from ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’.