May I quote Catullus?
Carmen 69
Wonder not, Rufus, why none of the opposite sex wishes to place her dainty thighs beneath you, not even if you undermine her virtue with gifts of choice silk or the enticement of a pellucid gem. You are being hurt by an ugly rumour which asserts that beneath your armpits dwells a ferocious goat. This they fear, and no wonder; for it's a right rank beast that no pretty girl will go to bed with. So either get rid of this painful affront to the nostrils or cease to wonder why the ladies flee.
Let us be clear. It is not our intention, here at the OVM, to engage in smut. Nor do we advocate relationships with goats which may be unseemly. But, friends, it is not against this which we must struggle? The Latin poet (84-54 BC) did not begin it; it did not end with him. This anti-goat prejudice, here encapsulated in the lines of a poet – himself called goatish in his pursuit of lithe young Roman maidens – stinks to high heaven. It is the odour of anti-ovicapridism; the stench of ruminant disdain.
Friends, has this not gone on long enough? Is it not time to love the goat? To embrace, however metaphorically, the sheep? And to revel in the perfumes of our noble mammalian cousin?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
How well the genealogy of goat hatred is beginning to be mapped in this post! And look how this irrational and morally ill-advised hatred has permeated all cultural, epistemological and other contexts. "Sheep go to heaven, goats go to hell" is a theological axiom but also a song of the pop band Cake; males with partially groomed facial hair are said to be sporting "goatees"; and so on and so forth. Time to put this right.
Maybe we can fight it, Moufflon T. Maybe we can make this whole crazy, mixed-up world a better place. For goats. And maybe for all of us.
Post a Comment