-Thomas Lovell Beddoes, Death's Jest-book (1829), II.i.1-7
Of whom I spoke, turned towards the cedar forest,
And, as they went in, there rushed forth a lion
And tore their captain down. Long live the lion!
We'll drink his tawny health: he gave us wine.
For, while the Moors in their black fear were flying,
I crept up to the fallen wretch, & borrowed
His flask of rubious liquor. May the prophet
Forgive him, as I do, for carrying it!
This for to-day: to-morrow hath gods too,
Who'll ripen us fresh berries, & uncage
Another lion on another foe.
Therefore wine, hostess, ale & brandy. My legs hate walking on this stupid dead earth. I'm born to roll thru life, & if the world won't under me tumble & toss, why, I must e'en suck up a sort of marine motion out of the can.
Contacts with this being [the divine] can be strengthened & the inspiration multiplied,
either thru interior withdrawel & fasting,
or thru ecstasy & intoxication.
-Klaus Koch, The Prophets I: The Assyrian Period (1978), pg. 9
For sweet consolation to church I did fly;
I found that old Solomon proved it fair,
That a morning mimosa's a cure for all care.
I once was persuaded a venture to make;
A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck;
But the pursy old landlord just waddl'd up stairs
With a glorious mimosa that ended my cares.
-two verses from the Official Theme song for the Mimosa's Witnesses,
adapted from Robert Burns.
Do you know any famous poets who can write us epic Mimosa odes?
Doesn't the poet laureate live in New Hampshire?
Do you know him? You should start your canvassing at his house.
From: Mimosa's Witnesses
Date: Sep 25, 2006 12:33 PM
Subject Mimosa's Wake
I am proud to announce the success of the first Mimosa's Witnesses "Service". Three starry-eyed converts - Mark, Jamie, & Galin - feasted for hours on fresh organic fruit, fresh bread & fine cheeses, gourmet quiche with heirloom tomatoes, &, of course, bottle after bottle of champaigne. The conversation ranged from fine films to "John Denver's legacy", veered dangerously into politics (luckily, there was a general liberal consensus), we discussed the un-Christlike nature of modern Christians, & I attempted to promote a philiosphy of using infinitely recyclable plastics instead of tree-products. (Are you aware that the male English hedge sparrow will pick a rival's semon out of his mate's you-know-what? I had no idea!) There was no evangelical canvassing, but we did hit the flea market with our newly bubbly percepts.
However, this was only a trial run in microcosm. All are invited next Sunday Morning, the First Of October, say 10:30ish, for a feast of a larger scale. No-regrets only! No regrets, you lazy fiends of the bedchamber! The dress should be between business-casual to ironic-elegant. Please bring a bottle of cheap-ass champaigne &/or something like a muffin or strawberries, to add to our booty-horde. Please do not arrive by car! It's the end of the age of fossil-fuels, destructive bellicose-Saracens! (Unless you're coming from Tahoe, or the like). So, with a BART-price of $6 & a bottle of bubbly around $4, I'm inviting you to a gallant party with a minimal impact on the pockets.
The Archpope of Transubstantiation