Catullus 16

I was recently exploring different blogs, when I came across one that, as a student, I found quite funny. Ms-Chievous writes occasionally about a horrible English teacher, and the experiences she has had with her. Now, I have little clue what University/ College this teacher is at, but I am still hoping for his/ her downfall, all because of the writings of a fellow blogger.

This all led me to think of the immortal nature of the written word. Catullus, the ancient Roman poet, knew this well. In Carmen 12, Catullus writes to an acquaintance who thinks he's being funny by filching a sentimental napkin, but really he's just being an immature jerk. Catullus tells him, "Quare aut hendecasyllabos trecentos/ exspecta, aut mihi linteum rimitte" ("Therefore, either anticipate 300 lines of verse [i.e., to be directed at you] or give me back my napkin!"). Catullus knew that his little versified-joke on Asinius Marrucinus would far outlive Asinius' little practical-joke on him. In Carmen 16, Catullus really lays it into a couple of critics of his work, and something of the sort should be said to that horrible English teacher: Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo (the translation of this is rather more obscene than any words that English has to offer, but runs something along the lines of "I will butt-f**k you, and face-f**k you, as well"). Those Romans really knew how to use profanity eloquently.

The point of this whole entry is to pontificate on how the written word transcends all boundaries of time, distance, and even culture. Long live writers who want to share their frustrations!