Saturday, October 18, 2008

Dead Ghosts Hate My Books...

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have reason to believe that my house is haunted by a ghost that is super conservative, longing to return to the good old days when we worked hard all day and all went to church. He wants to take us back to those golden days of yesteryear when we belonged to the land we farmed and lived under an impoverishing theocratic rule. This ghost, I believe, is Oliver Cromwell. He wants to take us back to the dark ages. How do I know this? Last night I dreamt (though about what, I shall never tell). I awoke suddenly to a cacophony of falling objects and thunderous thuds. At first I feared someone had perhaps fallen down the stairs while carrying something. But why would anyone else be home at that time? And from the sound of it, why would they be carrying so much stuff in one load down the steps. While searching the house for a potential thief, I found one door I could not open. Behind that door is my computer and my books. And my board games, but that's beside the point. Clearly I was dealing with a book theif, or so I thought. The room was locked except for the one door, which I discovered was blocked. With much effort, I was able to force my way into the room. The reason for the difficulty? My bookshelf had fallen directly across the door's path toward my computer desk.

I know, it's a far stretch from fallen bookshelf to medieval ghost. But not nearly as far as you may think. Let's look at the facts, shall we?
  1. A book shelf fell over.
  2. No one was in the room.
  3. The only things damaged were a bust of John Constantine, a mini of the make-up bot from Wall-E, and two wooden horses, each of which lost a leg. And the bookshelf, obviously.
  4. Other contents of the room include my computer and X-Box.
What can we interpret from these facts? First, clearly it was the work of ghosts. No one else was in the room. Further, the shelf has had a lean to it for several weeks, showing that the ghosts have actively been pushing against it for quite some time and only today succeeded in taking the shelf out.

Second, the bookshelf fell toward my computer and X-Box, which was thankfully too far away. Clearly this ghost is a ludite, a hater of technology. This suggests a foul presence from the past. The chest of board games was entirely undisturbed, which is reasonable considering the popularity of board games in the middle ages: Nine Men's Morris, Chess, and Draughts (or Checkers) to name a few.

Third, while only very few specific books were damaged, the entire bookshelf, boards cracked and splintered, is now entirely unusuable. This suggests that the ghost isn't just against certain genres. Or if he is, he hates how-to books, graphic novels, memoirs, rpgs, Germans and/or the German language, and Shakespeare; and he is not opposed to science fiction, satire, classic literature (excluding Shakespeare), histories, and pedagogy. But that seems to be a bit of a stretch. So I think the safe conclusion is that this ghost is opposed to books in general. After all, with no shelf, where am I to put these now homeless books? How does this support my theory of phantom from the past? In those days, literacy was a rare thing, typically possessed only by the ruling elite, namely the nobles, the clergy, and the occasional merchant. The majority of the population was illiterate, hence the angry protest against books. It must think me part of the oppressive upper class. This places the ghost in the middle ages, for were it to be younger, it would no I'm actually a member of the oppressive middle class bourgeoisie, which didn't exist in older days. That or perhaps said ghost recognizes my lower class origins and resents my literacy, which would make it the white oppressor. Either way, it places the ghost square in the 700-1600s, assuming it isn't a modern ghost that longs for said time period.

Fourth, other than the shelf itself, the only real damage was done to my statue of John Constantine and a figureine from the movie Wall-E. First, to the Constantine statue. No damage to the mane himself or the demons. No, the only damage was to the beer and the bar. Now, the damage was not done to the man consorting with devils, and why should it be? Men in the middle ages were amused by plays about Doctor Faustus, who sold his soul for power and tried to trick the Devil. One could argue that Constantine himself is something a modern Faustus. Naturally it would have a love for him. Likewise, the demons on the statue were unharmed, which were again very popular in the Middle Ages. They were often the favorite part of morality and mystery plays. People love to be frightened, so the demons can stay. No, the broken bit was the beer. This is a ghost for temperance who resents our twenty-first amendment. The ghost is opposed to the sordid, rough-and-tumble bar crowd found in major cities of the day, such as London, Berlin, and Paris. After all, taverns were frequented by prostitutes, actors, and theives.

Four and a half, the other broken bit was one of the robots from Wall-E. Which one, you ask? The make-up bot. That's right. Our ghost left the cleaning robot alone. He left alone the dog robot and the loving, caring robot, and he took out the one that promotes the deadly sin of vanity.

Naturally, given examination there can be only one logical conclusion. My house is haunted by a ghost, probably of Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell, a religious zealot who opposed drinking, theatre, sin, and all things immodest. And probably literacy. Given Cromwell's proclivity toward military violence, the destruction of a shelf seems a logical expression of resentment from such a ghost.

Damn you, Cromwell. You win this time, but the game is far from over.

You have been informed.

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