Here is my all-time favorite mass transit story, and it’s even true!
My English professor rode the bus every day. He rode the bus in from White Rock. It took long hours.
Sorry, channelling Hemingway; it’s the English major in me.
Anyway, on the bus, he met many an interesting character, as one does. He met so many, in fact, that he eventually decided to stop meeting anyone at all, and began reading on the bus.
This was not a successful solution, for lo the world is never short of those with an opinion or two to spare on the subject of a total stranger’s taste in books (to the point where I used to use a book cover that said “I want YOU…to leave me alone”).
One day, he was reading a book, as I think I have explained was his wont, which I suppose means what he wonted to do, and the book just happened to be the Iliad (in translation; he was no showoff). Well, onto the bus lumbers and BAM! down into the seat next to him sits a huge, hulking biker of much black leather, clanking chains, and many a fierce and prison-made tattoo.
Great, thinks the mild-mannered and moderate-bodied English professor. Try to be invisible, he thinks.
He fails.
POKE goes the biker’s finger into the book.
Da Iliad! he shouts. I love dat book! Rumble in Troy, eh! Ah, it’s all women, man. All da trouble in da world: It’s always all about da fuckin’ women.
Which Greek Warrior From The Iliad Are You?

Agamemnon: You are the king of Mycenae…and assholery. I’m telling you, sacrificing your daughter to fuel your ambitions doesn’t win you too many friends.
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Thersites: You’re ugly and opinionated, but at least you see that everyone around you is an idiot.
Odysseus: Always remembered as the clever one. Fortunately for you, everyone seems to overlook your hypocrisy in staying faithful to your wife.
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I’d have still preferred to be Clytemnestra.
I`ve always seen Thersites as a romantic idealist. I do love meeting an amusing poor person Rudyard kipling does a nice line in”Working class” accents ” often setting them in hilarious juxtaposition with classical works. I think the technique is called bathos.
WHEN ’Omer smote ’is bloomin’ lyre,
He’d ’eard men sing by land an’ sea;
An’ what he thought ’e might require,
’E went an’ took—the same as me!
The market-girls an’ fishermen,
The shepherds an’ the sailors, too,
They ’eard old songs turn up again,
But kep’ it quiet—same as you!
They knew ’e stole; ’e knew they knowed.
They didn’t tell, nor make a fuss,
But winked at ’Omer down the road,
An’ ’e winked back—the same as us!
A good addition to the genre R
Cheerio
Moi….?
What language is that in? Celtic? You people have such funny accents.