How I admire Redneck Mother. I don’t raise lettuce or kids, and I haven’t raised much hell since I was about 12, but it shows to go you how very little the blogular among us really need to have in common in order to have so much in common.
For example, every now and then ma chÃ¨re MÃ¨re du cou rouge sends me a link to a news item that worms its way right up under the sensitive, fleshy part of my obstreperal lobe, where it wiggles and writhes like a mid-century Italian actress in peep-toe stilettos. Today La Redneck has done just that, with a link to a story about how archaeologists digging around in Pompeii have finally restored “the jewel of Pompeii’s libertines”, a brothel-full of pornographic frescoes.
This year-long rehab painstakingly restores to its ancient lavish glory — for the delight of tourists who enjoy raunchy murals and of lascivious Pompeiiologists alike — a prison where countless women, kidnaped from foreign lands, deprived of their humanity, were forced into sex slavery and made to service incontinent Roman jagoffs. This hellhole is euphemistically described by the Associated Press, as such things always are when writers desire to romanticize the quaint custom of slave-rape, as a “brothel.” See those scratches? That’s where the “prostitutes” and their “clients” engraved their names. See that picture above the door? That depicts the “specialty” of the kinky whore-of-yore inside. Fanciful, sweet stuff.
It will come as no great surprise to the reader that across the way from this $250K project, in the town of Herculaneum, funding for excavating the Villa of the Papyri — a library of priceless lost ancient texts including possibly unknown works by Sophocles, Aristotle, Livy– has thoroughly dried up. Despite the words of one classicist — “we owe it to the world to dig” — the Italian government says it can’t even afford to maintain the bits that have already been unearthed. Except, of course, when the bits in question are naughty.