Non Fui, Fui, Non Sum, Nom Curo.

I was not; I was; I am not; I do not care. Sums up life quite simply I think. It was written by and is on the tomb of the ancient greek philosopher Epicurus. He lived from 341 B.C. to 270 B.C. which would make him, well, old, when he died. Confusing when it goes backwards in those B.C. years (before clocks I think it means). The Manager thinks he could be a good “guardian saint”, whatever that is, for The Clubhouse. But, that would require believing in some higher power. Epicurus didn’t, anymore than we do. So maybe just designated driver. The first trilemma argument (a difficult choice from three options, which we have regularly), is attributed to Epicurus and known as the Epicurean Paradox:

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On the gate to his garden, where he conducted his school were the words, “Stranger, here you will do well to tarry; here our highest good is pleasure.” The purpose of his philosophy was to attain the happy, tranquil life, characterized by ataraxia—peace and freedom from fear—and aponia—the absence of pain—and by living a self-sufficient life surrounded by friends. He taught that pleasure and pain are the measures of what is good and evil. So, even though it may be eschewed by some, we lean heavily to the side of pleasure and therefore, good.

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There are many reasons why the rest of the world seemingly has a problem with this. Puritans live with a haunting fear that somewhere, someone may be happy. Well, that’s just mean and stupid. Lighten the fuck up.

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It’s been a long time since we were described in any such manner, so I can understand the Manager’s confusion when I used the term, “the hardest working man in show business.” I told him who it was and the bastard made me look it up to prove it. It was, of course, The Godfather of Soul.

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We spent some time yesterday talking about what our parent’s parties were like. Something else we clearly shared as kids. Memories of our parents and their friends getting together for some lame reason or other for drinks (much like us today). There always seemed to be an excuse for a get together. And, if someone wasn’t having an anniversary or something, there was always bridge. We were nowhere in sight. Not allowed. Sometimes, maybe, we were brought in for some form of comic relief, like doing the twist or a pathetic magic act. Otherwise, they were there to drink, listen to Ray Conniff and have a few laughs. Not much has changed really, except we don’t play bridge and the only Ray we listen to is Charles.

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There are a couple of birthdays today, Doris Day is 89 and we actually do have her in our playlist. Also, my recently retired sister Katherine who, I’m pretty sure, is quite a bit younger. Happy Birthday Ladies!

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Oh, there’s a new rule at The Clubhouse with no rules that you should be aware of. If a Charter Member arrives as you are leaving, you must have one drink with him. Seems fair and speaking of having another, our Manager gets the quote of the day again. Appears to be the only one I wrote down anyway:

“About 11 or 12, I’m slowing it down.”

 

 


2 responses to “Non Fui, Fui, Non Sum, Nom Curo.

  • Chartered Member

    A big “Atta-Boy!” to the editor for using the word ‘eschewed’ in his post. It takes guts to use a word that most people can’t spell and even more cannot pronounce.

    Since it was me that started this Epicurean discussion, I would like to wade in a little. According to the author of ‘The Swerve’, a poem extolling the philosophy of Epicurus was uncovered by a travelling Italian book expert who-while often working for them-was not himself a cleric or a monk. He actually says that regarded most monks as selfish lazy throw-offs from wealthy families who had nothing better to do with them. The pedigree of the source of most of our history.

    Religion was -as it often was-the main reason Epicurus was suppressed. It’s a good thing a bunch of those monks over the years couldn’t read. The church had a choice and the one that most suited it at the time was to push denial, scourging, penance and suffering on a populous eager for a meaning, any meaning, of life. That didn’t leave any room for Epicurus or his crazy ideas. Think of Nazi’s burning books. It’s happened many times over the rather short life of our species on this planet.

    The Editor and the Manager are proof-positive that one book survived. Somehow, it got into their hands…….

  • Scott McCrae

    I think, when we think of Epicurus, we must ponder “what happened?”

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