2655. Slavery through the ages

(Note: Continuing the politically incorrect week…)

There was great excitement among those of the town’s History Society. Sir Stephen Cavendish, the famous historian and Oxford don was coming to speak. He had asked for a topic to speak on that might interest them, and given the topicality of the subject and the fact that there were a considerable number of African Americans in the Society, they asked the Professor to speak on “The History of Slavery through the Ages”.

The Professor began: “Good evening. The first thing to note is that throughout the history of humanity the majority of slaves have been White.”

A riot ensued. The Chairwomen declared the meeting over.

2582. A very important man

David was a very important man. There was even a street named after him. His name was forever appearing here and there extolling his achievements. But today for him was quite an ordinary day. He had been standing on his front lawn looking at nothing in particular when a car pulled up at the roadside curb. A middle-aged man got out and checked both sides of the car. He had a puncture.

David stopped staring at nothing in particular and went over to the car.

“Would you like a hand?” David asked.

“You’ve no idea how I would appreciate help,” said the man.

The tire was changed in no time. “Thanks,” said the man. “Look, we don’t usually do this but I’m immensely grateful. I’m a certain type of wizard (people think we’re all the same) and if you would like it I will let you live in the future for twenty-four hours. What say you have a peek at a hundred years from now?”

David was keen. The man drove off and David was transported into the future. He was still in the same city. Some of the buildings were familiar. David went to the library. He went to the city records department. He went to the museum. He went to the family history society. He went everywhere he could during those gifted twenty-four hours. The street named after him seemed to have been replaced by an office tower.

He could find not a skerrick of a reference to himself. It was as if he had never existed. Ain’t that the case for most of us?

2467. Taking stock

Huntington Mine wasn’t a movie set; it was a real old gold-mining town. The mine had long since ceased to function and the small population maintained a livelihood by keep things exactly as they once were. Tourists would come in droves to experience “them gold-mining days”. The few shops and houses were very much of an earlier period. What a ruckus it caused when Davie in the corner store started selling polyester t-shirts! The other residents quickly put a stop to this “lack of authenticity”.

Perhaps the thing most popular with tourists was on the street just outside the mayor’s office. There stood genuine stocks. In the old days a person could be put in the stocks for wayward behaviour. These days tourists would get placed in the stocks simply for a photo opportunity.

One of the most often seen groups coming to Huntington Mine were school groups. A bus would arrive and a teacher would say, “Now class, this is exactly what it was like back in them gold-mining days.”

A class had just arrived from Gladville High. Everyone took turns to get photographed in the stocks. Except for Tatiana. She said she suffered from claustrophobia and didn’t want even for a few seconds to get locked in the stocks. The other students appreciated that, but Tatiana’s friends said if she did it they would stay with her for the short time she was photographed. Tatiana agreed.

Into the stocks she went. The lock was applied. A few photos were quickly taken.

That was when an earthquake struck and everyone ran off in a panic.

2308. Back in time

For goodness sake! I only wanted to go to the supermarket to get a few things, so I jumped into the car and set out for the few miles to get there.

I swear that every ten yards or so that the car travelled, everything went back in time by several years. The style of the houses and gardens changed; the other vehicles were ancient models. Before long there were carts being pulled by horses along a dirt track. I still seemed to be driving my modern car but no one noticed.

The style of clothing changed, as did the hair. Everyone wore hats! Good gracious! I swear that boy is wearing what I would call knickerbockers. And there is a group of children racing with hoops.

Oh but it’s changed again. The industrial factories have given way to pasture land. I must have gone back quite a few centuries by now. There goes a knight on a horse exactly like I imagined they looked like. He was possibly on his way to join the Crusades. And here is the village market in the street.

I parked my car next to the communal well and walked along the stalls. I couldn’t see what I wanted, so I asked.

“Hello,” I said, “I’m looking for a few things but I can’t find them. I need to buy peppers, tomatoes, avocados, potatoes, and possibly some teabags?”

The man looked at me as if I was from outer space. He said a few things in what sounded like a foreign language, so I said “Speak proper English, you Bonehead.”

What a fool he was. I held up a couple of carrots indicating that I wanted to buy them and gave him a two dollar note hoping that would cover things. He took one look at my money and went berserk. Other stall holders joined in. Some threw eggs at me. I barely made it back to my car.

As I travelled home the time gradually moved forward again, and as I entered into my gated community I thanked God I was once again safely ensconced in the enlightened twenty-first century.

2089. Gertrude, Professor of Philosophy

Gertrude had spent her adulthood thinking. Since early teens she had been interested in philosophy, and several doctorates later she found a job teaching at a university. She worked her way up the ladder and it didn’t take long before she was queen of the roost.

But did she rule with an iron fist! Many thoughts and philosophical insights were banned from her department. Some things are plain wrong, she said, and will not be tolerated. Socrates to start with; his name is not to be mentioned.  And indeed such sinful thoughts were not tolerated. Several lecturers lost their jobs. A number of bright students failed. We’re not here to mollycoddle notions of wrongness, she said. Those who don’t agree cannot be defined as philosophers. Philosophy exists to move the world forward in a very specific way.

The university, at her behest, banned Romeo and Juliet for sexism, Othello and The Merchant of Venice for racism, all opera sung by systemically racist Whites – except of course for Verdi’s Otello and Puccini’s Madame Butterfly if the lead parts were sung by Blacks and Asians. The university’s History Department made an attempt to win her favour. Would she lecture in History? She knew how to create facts more amenable to contemporary thought. Likewise, the School of Medicine wanted her to devise a curriculum that stuck to a Science that advanced social justice.

Anyway, one day, while walking from the staff cafeteria to the staff recreation room, she dropped dead. As Mrs. Smith of 24 Shirley Crescent in the suburbs observed: Is there a God or is there a God?

1859. A page in history

(The following is a translation of Page 276 from a history book, published in the year of what we would have at some stage numbered 2084AD. Incidentally, the translation was made and pre-posted on Word Press over two months ago!)

When President Yáng Xiùlán Qiáng discovered North America (now called New China) the voyage was based on calculations presuming the world was round. The sphericalness of the planet was initially devised by the calculations of that early Chinese mathematician, Yáng Fāng Lì, over five thousand years ago.

All hail to Yáng Xiùlán Qiáng
Who expanded the borders of the world
And brought enlightenment to the people of New China.

The statue of President Khổng Xiùlán Qiáng, which graces what was once known as the Lincoln Memorial, is a replica of his image on Mt Rushmore – once the old images on Mt Rushmore had been dynamited off. The statue in the capital, New Beijing, was erected to commemorate our great leader’s initiative in curing cancer and also being the first person to walk on Mars.

Together we will work for the common good, striving to put into practice the dictates of the United Nations: All are created equal once the world has been purged of tyranny and once those who espoused non-compliant views have been silenced.

All hail to Yáng Xiùlán Qiáng
Who expanded the borders of the world
And brought enlightenment to the people of New China.

Footnote: President Yáng Xiùlán Qiáng recently approved the erection of a giant statue of herself to replace the Washington Monument. It is to celebrate her change of name to Yáng Xiùlán Qiáng from

(continued on next page – page 277)

1425. Research

Mrs Maisie Gilliver was a wonder. She was addicted to genealogy; not just hers, but everyone else’s as well. She had discovered that the more information she uploaded onto genealogical sites, the more free research time was allotted to her. She searched the internet and copied other’s family trees at will and then placed the information on other genealogical sites.

Mrs Maisie Gilliver was marvellously flexible, for example, Great Aunt Sylvia kept on having babies for a good decade after her death; three siblings were born within four months of one another; Uncle Harold played the church organ every Sunday for eleven years without missing a Sunday and in between Sundays he traversed the world in his sailing ship.

Mrs Maisie Gilliver thought she was being helpful. In fact, she completely stuffed up the chances of other researches finding useful and accurate information on the internet. It had been junked out.

Mrs Maisie Gilliver’s next project is to upload recipes…

And hints to stay healthy…

And history…

And science…

And…

819. Emile’s pansies

Emile Etienne Metard won second prize for his pansies in the annual Palmerston North Horticultural Society’s Flower Show. He won a garden hoe.

This was in 1881. In all likelihood, Emile loved his pansies. Getting second place for his pansies in the annual Palmerston North Horticultural Society’s show of 1881 was a moment of glory. He thought of the occasion with pleasure throughout his life, especially when he used the garden hoe he had been awarded.

It is fast heading towards two centuries since Emile won second prize for his pansies in the annual Palmerston North Horticultural Society’s flower show. The hoe has done its dash. The pansies are dead. Sorry Emile Etienne Metard, but no one gives a damn.

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