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Author Topic:   The Mayor Of Mondo
Dr Adequate
Member (Idle past 284 days)
Posts: 16113
Joined: 07-20-2006


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Message 1 of 10 (584472)
10-02-2010 1:10 AM


In the past, various people on these forums have posted "faith statements" explaining what they believe and why.
I guess this is mine.
It goes on for a bit. You have been warned.
---
Some Remarks On The City Of Mondo And Its Government
The existence of Mondo is one of those quirks of European geography, like Lichtenstein and Andorra, that seems to serve no purpose but to make work for cartographers. A tiny city-state tucked away in a valley of the Italian Alps, consisting in effect of one little walled town huddled picturesquely round the foot of Monte Cielo, it has few attractions to the casual tourist with the glories of all Italy awaiting him.
I myself had no particular intention of visiting the town, and would doubtless have passed it by, were it not for certain strange statements I read in the brochure issued by its tourist bureau; a brochure which, if I remember rightly, I picked up quite by chance in a Swiss railway station. What I read put such a strain on my credulity that I decided there was nothing for it but to go and see for myself.
For, as this peculiar document asserted, Mondo is the last despotism remaining in Europe, bestowing on its Mayor a constitutional absolutism that would have aroused the frank envy of le Roi Soleil. The brochure, far from concealing this anachronism, boasted of it, describing the unchecked and arbitrary power that their Mayor held over the life and death of each citizen, his utter intolerance of lse majest, the efficiency of his secret police, and so forth, all in the most unblushing of tones. It will give you some flavor of this pamphlet if I tell you that it advertised, in rapturous prose, the presence of spy-holes and listening-tubes in the walls of every hotel room.
And all this, mind you, was written with the most cheerful assurance that the people of Mondo, far from chafing under the dictatorial yoke, were enthusiastic partisans of the Mayor. It seemed almost incredible that anyone should consent to live under such a system --- and yet, I reflected to myself, could not any malcontent easily leave the town of Mondo and slip over the Italian border? I resolved, therefore, to see this strangest of polities for myself, and to discover for myself whether the Mayor was so tyrannical, or the people so acquiescent, as I was led to believe.
The situation that I found there, however, was much stranger than anything I could have imagined; indeed, there are no people like the people of Mondo, and nothing in Heaven or Earth that in the least resembles their system of government.
* * *
So it was that some days later I arrived at the little town of Mondo. Contrary to my usual practice, I had hired a courier, so as not to incur the displeasure of the municipality by some inadvertent breach of law or custom. While I was waiting for my guide outside the splendid yet tarnished gates, I employed my handkerchief, and (to be frank) some spittle, to wipe away the grime and reveal the heraldic achievements of the town. I had discovered that the escutcheon bore the noble old heraldic charges of the fasces and the fylfot, and was diligently at work on the motto, when my guide disturbed my labor by opening the gate and silently beckoning me in.
My first impression, as we made our way to my hotel, was of a sort of handsome squalor, for although the architecture was rather elegant, the streets were filthy, and many of the fine old houses were disfigured by peeling paint and streaks of grime; nor was I unconscious of a certain rancid odor that polluted the evening air. Reflecting, however, that I had come to Mondo to learn about its polity and not its santitary arrangements, I turned my attention from the dirt of the streets to my guide (whose name, as I learned, was Pietro) and led him on to talk about the Mayor of Mondo. This was, it seemed, a happy choice of subject, for my guide had much to say about him. It is true that his verbal portrait of the city's pre-eminent worthy lacked somewhat in personal detail; indeed, I was never able to discover whether the Mayor of Mondo was a tall or a short man; old or young; dark or fair. However, in the course of my guide's lengthy panegyric I was to learn that the mayor was the sum of all virtues, the wonder of the age, the polestar of his people, and in general and in fine the ne plus ultra of good governance.
"And so it is," I concluded when the voluble Pietro had fallen silent, "that you are happy to let him run every detail of your lives; but does it not seem to you ..." But my thought was never to be finished, for at this point my guide broke in. "Every detail of our lives?" he cried. "Someone must have been misleading you. Indeed, indeed, good sir, you have been sorely misled!"
"But your Constitution?" I expostulated: "I have read it carefully, and it consists of a single sentence: THE MAYOR CAN AND WILL DO WHAT HE DAMN WELL PLEASES. Perhaps I am naive, but there was something about that that suggested an iron and inflexible despotism."
"You are indeed naive," replied Pietro in a condescending tone. "It is quite true that the Constitution grants unlimited power to the Mayor; but does it follow that he must necessarily exercise that power? Not at all. Of all governments, ours is, I suppose, the most lax, the most liberal, and the most inclined to the doctrine of laisser faire."
This news put the government of Mondo in quite a different light from what I had expected, and to clear the matter up entirely I asked what powers the office of the Mayor exercised de facto and not merely de jure.
"The Mayor", Pietro explained, "has one principle care, and that is public hygiene." To this astonishing statement I could think of no adequate reply: dissent, I supposed, would be a form of lse majeste; and yet I could not find it in me to agree in any way that would not smack of sarcasm. In the end I merely repeated the words "Public hygiene?" in a somewhat stupefied tone.
"Quite so," answered my guide, as he skirted around a particularly large and noisome dunghill. "Mens sana in corpore sano, you know --- it is the Mayor's opinion that so long as the citizenry is healthy, they can be relied on of their own prudence to take care of such matters as national defense, domestic prosperity, and the like; the important thing is that they should have the health and strength to do so. And you can judge how successful the Mayor has been," he added with evident pride, "when I tell you that it is nearly a month since the last outbreak of the Black Death, and that the cholera epidemic is very nearly under control."
I reflected inwardly that this information did indeed allow me to gauge the success or otherwise of this remarkable despot; but I was saved the trouble of framing a reply by our arrival at my hotel. As it was too dark for sightseeing, I decided to turn in at once, and bidding Pietro to meet me early the next morning, I signed myself in at the desk and made my way to my room.
Here was repeated the theme of squalor to which I was becoming accustomed, with a stained and grimy sink and an inefficient toilet; nor, from what I have seen of it, would I vouch for the cleanliness of Mondinese linen. I distracted myself from my surroundings by skimming once more through my guide-book to Mondo. The monuments of the town do not compare to those of the larger Italian cities, but I could see clearly that the one building no visitor could miss was the Mayoral Palace, which stands on the very summit of Monte Cielo. The illustrations of this edifice were strangely inconsistent, one picture showing it as Oriental in mode, another as Gothic, and a third as Romanesque, yet every caption suggested that it was the most magnificent building in the town; and it was with the resolution to see this monument that I fell asleep. Indeed, I think that I dreamed of it.
* * *
So it was that after an early breakfast I asked Pietro to lead me by the quickest route towards Monte Cielo. With a dubious air, he acknowledged that we could strike out in that direction if I really wished to, and we set off towards the foot of the mountain. As we walked, I noticed that the filth of the streets became more pronounced both in its quantity and odor, until it seemed that we could proceed no further without the use of waders. When I asked my guide how it was that the citizens allowed the streets to become so squalid, he laughed abruptly and asked if I really thought the region was inhabited or even habitable; I was obliged to confess that his point was a good one.
"I hope you don't think," he continued, "that the dirt of the streets is due entirely to the negligence of the citizens. If it was only our own refuse that we had to cope with, we could keep the place reasonably clean. Indeed, our histories tell that the city was once pristine and spotless. But alas, one of our founding fathers dropped a banana peel on the street, and since then the refuse from the Mayoral palace has been flowing down on our unworthy heads as a mark of his displeasure at our slovenly ways, and ... well, you can see how the matter stands."
When I asked how, in these circumstances, we were to get to the Mayoral palace, he stared at me blankly for a moment, and then shook his head as much in wonder as negation, explaining that no-one in living memory had seen it. "As you observe," he said, "the peak is always obscured by thick clouds; and though many have tried to go up the mountain, it is a fact that no-one has ever come down. Indeed, we have lost so many fine citizens that way that we now have a law forbidding the ascent."
"So the pictures in my guide-book ...?" I hazarded, as understanding began to dawn.
"All artists' impressions," he confirmed.
"And I suppose," I said, "that this is why you can't petition the Mayor for clemency in the matter of the banana peel?" But: "Not at all", Pietro corrected me. "Every citizen", he continued proudly, "has the right to petition the Mayor on any subject: it is one of the ancient liberties of the city." When I inquired further as to the proper form of the petition, he showed some surprise. "Every child learns this in civics class," he said, "but I had forgotten that you live under an inferior form of government. Watch closely." He withdrew from his attache case a scroll of parchment or vellum and a large fountain-pen, and quickly produced the following composition:
To His Most Supreme and Puissant Grace, the Mayor of Mondo,
Since I know that the bodily welfare of Your citizens is the chiefest goal and constant care of Your enlightened administration, I hope that You will not think me impudent if I humbly beseech You to remit or at least restrain the vast tides of filth and ordure currently flooding my neighborhood. But of course You know best, so don't if You don't want to.
Your most humble and inferior servant,
Pietro.
After I had satisfied my curiosity by reading this document, he tied it up with a piece of scarlet ribbon, sealed it most elaborately, and threw it away. "It is not, then, delivered to the Mayor?" I asked.
"Have I not told you," he replied with some impatience, "that no-one can visit the Mayoral palace? But his spies are everywhere, and my petition, as with all else that happens in the city, will doubtless be drawn to his attention. Whether or not he feels I am worthy of having my petition granted," he continued in a somber tone, "now that is another matter. But he will certainly read it, and I am sure that I'm very grateful."
With rather more sincerity than I felt, I agreed that it was very good of the Mayor to expend his valuable time on the petitions of the citizens. "And how else", I asked, "does he care for the health and hygiene of his subjects?"
"I'm glad you asked,"said the worthy Pietro. "If you come with me, I shall show you the Ministry of Public Health."
"There is, then, such a Ministry?" I wondered. "I haven't seen any official garbage-men or street-sweepers or the like, and was beginning to doubt ..."
My guide shook his head sadly. "We lack the funds to do more than a little in that direction," he sighed. "The Ministry depends on voluntary donations, and once we have paid for the rent and upkeep of the Ministry and the salaries of the bureaucracy, there is little money left over for the actual work of sanitation."
"Could not the Mayor, then, using the vast powers allotted to him by the Constitution ... ?"
"The Mayor does not mollycoddle the citizens!", snapped my guide. "He has given us an exemplary set of laws, and if the citizens are too slothful and slovenly to live up to them, that is their lookout. But come," he continued in a gentler tone, "I had forgotten that you have not the inestimable privilege of being Mondinese. If you will follow me to the Ministry, I shall show you the Book Of Regulations, and you shall see what loving care the Mayor lavishes on us." So saying, he led me briskly and unfalteringly through the maze of streets.
* * *
He brought me at length to a broad handsome thoroughfare containing many large and well-appointed buildings. Above their several porticoes I could see that one declared itself the DEPARTMENT OF SANITARY WORKS, another the OFFICE OF PUBLIC HYGIENE, a third the MUNICIPAL INSTITUTE OF SANITATION, and so forth up and down both sides of the street. The profusion of design was also striking: the worst excrescences of modern architecture jostled shoulder to shoulder with minarets, domes, and spires; with the Gothic, the Roman, and the Moresque: giving the impression that although no expense had been spared, taste had been somewhat wanting.
I remarked on my surprise that even so zealous a Mayor should require so many Departments of Hygiene. However: "He needs only one," remarked my guide with a patronizing chuckle, "but the citizens don't know which one it is". With this cryptic remark he led me to one of the buildings (by no means the largest or most handsome among them) which he declared to be the authentic Ministry of Public Health.
I remarked that I was surprised to find it open on a Sunday: but my guide gave me to understand that it was only open on Sundays, explaining that as the work of this department was certainly the most important business in the city, it was closed six days out of seven. Courteously he opened the door for me, and I stepped inside.
As I entered the building, an official was just concluding a speech on the fine qualities of the Mayor: a speech which, to judge by the faces and attitude of the audience, had been both lengthy and uninspired. Nonetheless, at its termination, the audience applauded loudly, and stood up to sing a series of patriotic songs. These, to my disgust, combined graceless toadying to the Mayor with the utmost banality of melody. I translate a sample of these interminable quatrains to give you a flavor of the performance:
The Mayor is very good.
The Mayor is very great.
The Mayor protects us from disease,
So let us celebrate.
This last sentiment seemed more wishful than factual, for I could not help but notice that many of the celebrants were certainly very sick; and those that were able-bodied, I privately reflected, could quite probably do more civic good by turning out onto the streets equipped with brooms, water, and some powerful detergent.
I had not come to this office, however, to hear the music, and it was with some relief that I allowed my guide to lead me to a bookshelf on which, in splendid isolation, there sat a single book. It was a large and handsome volume, and embossed on its cover were the words:
Municipal Code of Public Health
First, Last, And Only Edition
Superseding All Previous And Subsequent Editions
Puzzling a little over this strange rubric, I took it down off the shelf and began to read.
* * *
The book contained many pieces of sensible and obvious advice on personal hygiene. Much was made of the need for regular bathing and washing of the hands, nor was the use of toothpaste neglected. The poetic panegyric on the excellence of soap was, I confess, most moving, and I only regret that I lack the artistic power to do justice to it in translation.
Other sections of the sanitary code struck me as more abstruse: there were, for example, stern injunctions not to look at goats on certain proscribed occasions, not to whistle after eating beets, and not to make casual use of the word "eglefino" (which, as I later discovered, means "haddock). The plagues that supposedly ensue from such forbidden laxity were described in some detail, but I was later to find that their symptoms corresponded to nothing known to medical science.
But by far the most astonishing feature of this volume was the vast quantity of scurrilous anecdotes it contained about the person of the Mayor. On one page he would be represended as wallowing in a pig-sty, on the next as eating ordure; and further tales so ridiculous and obscene that I cannot bring myself to repeat them. This book, compiled, as I was told, by the Mayor's own hand, seemed to be designed as a savage attack on his reputation, representing him as, quite literally, the filthiest of hypocrites: I could think of nothing better calculated to make the citizens of Mondo think the Mayor unfit for his office.
Not liking to voice my doubts directly to my guide (for he was a good fellow, and I had no wish to distress him) I raised the matter obliquely, by asking him gently if perhaps there were any citizens misguided enough as to be malcontent with the municipal government. Even as I spoke, I could see that I had perhaps gone too far, for his face took on a trouble expression, and it was only with much coaxing that he revealed, in a whisper that: "There are, indeed, some citizens who hate the Mayor".
Only after much persuasion, and repeated recourse to my wallet, did I persuade him to take me to the quarter of the town where these degenerates resided. Before setting out, my guide provided us each with several sovereign prophylactics against disease: a surgical mask, a sprig of hyssop, and a charm to hang around my neck, which I understood to be a representation, in baser metal, of the Mayoral chain of office. Thus guarded in every possible way against misfortune, we entered the ghetto.
* * *
To my surprise this quarter was if anything somewhat cleaner than the rest of the city. I attributed this at first to its distance from Monte Cielo, but as we went on I observed a number of people plying the streets with brushes, mops, and pails. This surprised me, for I had supposed that enmity towards the Mayor would spring from an irreconcilable objection to his policies. Turing to my faithful guide, I pointed out these diligent hygienists, and diffidently remarked that to me they seemed reasonably clean.
"Clean?", he shrieked, "Clean? I know perfectly well that that man has looked at a goat on a Tuesday, and that woman once said the word 'haddock' without crossing her fingers and standing on one leg" (here he suited his actions to his words) "and he" (he pointed a tremulous finger and sank his voice to a whisper) "once whistled after eating beetroot. Why, this whole neighborhood is a very cesspool of contagion!" And here he clutched anxiously at his surgical mask as though fearing that it might slip, while with his other hand he waved his sprig of hyssop as though swatting imaginary flies.
Yet I privately reflected that, to judge by their well-scrubbed complexions, most of these people seemed very much attached to soap and water. Guessing them to be less infectious than my guide averred, I moved cautiously forward to question he who whistled after eating beets, judging him by the horror of my guide to be the most diseased of their number, although his healthy countenance gave no hint of the corruption beneath the skin. My first question was an enquiry as to why he hated the Mayor.
Having heard a few political diatribes in my time, I was prepared to hear any sort of calumny from this desperate rebel, but not for the loud frank laughter that broke from the fellow's lips. When he had recovered himself, he exclaimed: "Hate the Mayor! Hate the Mayor? You might as well ask me why I hate the Plum Pudding Fairy."
"What do you mean?" I cried.
"Why," he said, gesturing broadly around him at the city, "take a good look at Mondo. Does it really look to you as though this city is in the grip of an all-powerful despot obsessed with hygiene? My friend, there is no Mayor. There is soap, there is water, there is detergent, and, above all, there is our own elbow-grease, and all these are excellent things. But the Mayor? At best he is a useful fiction."
At this, the guide at my shoulder broke in: "You only say that as an excuse to violate the Mayor's regulations, you diseased whistler-after-eating-beetroot, you befouled observer-of-goats-at-unsuitable-times! But think what sickening pestilences you will bring on yourselves and the city --- the blind stutters, the fruminous pox, the prancing dropsy ..."
At that the dissident once more laughed loud and long. "Tales to frighten children," he remarked. "The Germ Theory of Disease ..." But he got no further, for my guide then broke into a lengthy speech. In his excitement, his talk was so voluble and his Mondinese accent so marked, that I could not follow his discourse: but I made out the word "theory" repeated many times in increasing tones of disgust; and the peroration of his speech, strange to say, seemed to be a warning, delivered in all solemnity and with a grotesque relish, that those who disregarded the Mayor and his ineffably sensible regulations would most certainly suffer from the most horrible of symptoms after they were dead --- but perhaps I misunderstood him. At all events, after this tremendous remonstrance, my guide turned on his heels and left the contaminated district at such a pace that I had to scramble to follow him.
* * *
I need not, I think, tell you more of my tour of Mondo, for the piazzas and fountains were such as one may see in any small Italian town, and the many statues of the Mayor which I was so often invited to admire were remarkable only for their number and for the fact that no two sculptors could agree on his appearance.
Presenting my amiable guide with a generous but well-merited tip, I left Mondo, as I had arrived, at nightfall. Pausing outside the gates, I tried once more to make out the motto that they bore. With a little spit and polish, I revealed the archaic lettering and puzzled out its meaning in the fading light.
"Cleanliness is next to godliness", I murmured wonderingly to myself; and, turning my back on the town, I made my way up the valley to the pass as the night fell silently about me.

Replies to this message:
 Message 3 by Modulous, posted 10-05-2010 6:46 AM Dr Adequate has not replied
 Message 4 by Larni, posted 10-05-2010 7:55 AM Dr Adequate has not replied
 Message 5 by bluegenes, posted 10-05-2010 5:41 PM Dr Adequate has not replied
 Message 6 by Rahvin, posted 10-05-2010 6:25 PM Dr Adequate has not replied

  
AdminPD
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Message 2 of 10 (585022)
10-05-2010 5:57 AM


Thread Copied from Proposed New Topics Forum
Thread copied here from the The Mayor Of Mondo thread in the Proposed New Topics forum.

  
Modulous
Member
Posts: 7801
From: Manchester, UK
Joined: 05-01-2005


Message 3 of 10 (585028)
10-05-2010 6:46 AM
Reply to: Message 1 by Dr Adequate
10-02-2010 1:10 AM


Twas an excellent read and I feel a response is warranted though I'm left wondering what that response might be. The best I could do was 'sic transit gloria Mondo'.

This message is a reply to:
 Message 1 by Dr Adequate, posted 10-02-2010 1:10 AM Dr Adequate has not replied

  
Larni
Member (Idle past 164 days)
Posts: 4000
From: Liverpool
Joined: 09-16-2005


Message 4 of 10 (585037)
10-05-2010 7:55 AM
Reply to: Message 1 by Dr Adequate
10-02-2010 1:10 AM


I like the sound of Mondo and would like to move and live there: it would be nice to be able to have faith the Mayor.

This message is a reply to:
 Message 1 by Dr Adequate, posted 10-02-2010 1:10 AM Dr Adequate has not replied

  
bluegenes
Member (Idle past 2477 days)
Posts: 3119
From: U.K.
Joined: 01-24-2007


Message 5 of 10 (585078)
10-05-2010 5:41 PM
Reply to: Message 1 by Dr Adequate
10-02-2010 1:10 AM


POTM
Very well written, a pleasure to read, and a highly original way to illustrate your beliefs on a discussion board.

This message is a reply to:
 Message 1 by Dr Adequate, posted 10-02-2010 1:10 AM Dr Adequate has not replied

  
Rahvin
Member
Posts: 4032
Joined: 07-01-2005
Member Rating: 9.2


Message 6 of 10 (585083)
10-05-2010 6:25 PM
Reply to: Message 1 by Dr Adequate
10-02-2010 1:10 AM


That's the best thing I've read in at least a month. It captures the essence of the theistic divide just about perfectly.

This message is a reply to:
 Message 1 by Dr Adequate, posted 10-02-2010 1:10 AM Dr Adequate has not replied

Replies to this message:
 Message 7 by Omnivorous, posted 10-05-2010 7:08 PM Rahvin has not replied

  
Omnivorous
Member
Posts: 3978
From: Adirondackia
Joined: 07-21-2005
Member Rating: 7.3


Message 7 of 10 (585088)
10-05-2010 7:08 PM
Reply to: Message 6 by Rahvin
10-05-2010 6:25 PM


I feel I've reached the intersection of Gulliver's Travels and Candide.
Well done, Dr A, a pleasure to read--a tour de force of style and wit.

Dost thou prate, rogue?
-Cassio
Real things always push back.
-William James

This message is a reply to:
 Message 6 by Rahvin, posted 10-05-2010 6:25 PM Rahvin has not replied

  
Dr Adequate
Member (Idle past 284 days)
Posts: 16113
Joined: 07-20-2006


Message 8 of 10 (672336)
09-07-2012 12:58 AM


Modulous listed this among the best threads ever posted on this forum, so I thought I'd bump it. Yeah, I wrote it, modesty is not one of my virtues.

Replies to this message:
 Message 9 by Stile, posted 09-07-2012 8:58 AM Dr Adequate has not replied
 Message 10 by vimesey, posted 09-07-2012 9:47 AM Dr Adequate has not replied

  
Stile
Member
Posts: 4295
From: Ontario, Canada
Joined: 12-02-2004


Message 9 of 10 (672352)
09-07-2012 8:58 AM
Reply to: Message 8 by Dr Adequate
09-07-2012 12:58 AM


Didn't even notice
I didn't even notice the date of the posts until I read your last message.
Thanks for the bump, it was nice not to have missed this.

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 Message 8 by Dr Adequate, posted 09-07-2012 12:58 AM Dr Adequate has not replied

  
vimesey
Member
Posts: 1398
From: Birmingham, England
Joined: 09-21-2011


Message 10 of 10 (672353)
09-07-2012 9:47 AM
Reply to: Message 8 by Dr Adequate
09-07-2012 12:58 AM


Worldly responsibility
I think that there's an interesting parallel between the town of Mondo and recent discussions about demons, when it comes to religion and worldly responsibility.
Both Mondo, and a belief in the possession of people by demons, seem to include a degree of abdication of responsibility for your actions. And in both cases, the abdication is based in religious/spititual belief.
Good allegory.

This message is a reply to:
 Message 8 by Dr Adequate, posted 09-07-2012 12:58 AM Dr Adequate has not replied

  
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