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For insight into the culture which supported the last great era of popularity for the corrida, you might try the extended and detailed biography "Or I'll Dress You in Mourning," of the famous matador Manuel Benitez Perez "El Cordobes."
El Cordobes was the Matador of the moment in his time. Nevertheless, to many aficionados El Cordobes was a "showboat." Probably the greatest period of the Corrida in Spain in our lifetime was the rivalry between famed matadors Luis Miguel Dominguin and Antonio Ordonez. During 1959, Luis Miguel Dominguin and Antonio Ordonez were involved in a bitter rivalry in the Corrida. Ernest Hemingway chronicled that rivalry in his book entitled "The Dangerous Summer," which still makes good reading today.
Bill
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And the end of the fight is a tombstone white, With the name of the late deceased, And the epitaph drear, "A fool lies here, Who tried to hustle the East."
The Corrida is a spectacle that justifies itself to the aficionados in Spain in the same way that the Super Bowl justifies itself to fans in the U.S.
Bill
An apt analogy.
The majority of players in the Super Bowl are people who are athletes because other paths to fame and fortune have historically been effectively closed to members of their race or economic stratum. They risk serious injury, and it now appears they are almost certain to suffer brain damage. But the tiny percentage who make it to the NFL make a lot of money and have a chance at becoming famous.
Similarly, in Spain matadors have been from economic backgrounds that range from poor to desperate, and many of the greats have been gitanos. But the tiny fraction who make it to the big time, and escape disabling injury or death, partake of wealth and fame.
And as I said, when we admire Agujetas we don't think of the shirt tail kid begging for leftover bread crusts as he learned his trade. We admire the great artist. But would we have the artist, and his art, without the discrimination and oppression he and his antecedents suffered?
For insight into the culture which supported the last great era of popularity for the corrida, you might try the extended and detailed biography "Or I'll Dress You in Mourning," of the famous matador Manuel Benitez Perez "El Cordobes."
El Cordobes was the Matador of the moment in his time. Nevertheless, to many aficionados El Cordobes was a "showboat."
Bill
I saw Ordoñez at Las Ventas and at the Maestranza in Sevilla, Arruza at the old Plaza Mexico off Insurgentes south of downtown when I was ten years old, and Dominguin there in the 1950s. They were the most memorable of the dozens I saw from boyhood through my mid-thirties. I haven't been to a corrida in more than 40 years.
I never saw El Cordobes in the flesh, though from films I was inclined to agree with the "showboat" tag. So I didn't read the book when it came out and enjoyed considerable popularity.
Last year in Oaxaca I was given a well worn copy by a person whose taste I admire and respect. After a few weeks I looked into it and was immediately interested. The protagonist's time of fame and fortune forms only a small part of the book.
Instead the authors concentrate on the desperate poverty of Benitez's childhood, and his irrepressible drive to escape from his circumstances and to "be somebody." He spent years walking from one village corrida, in an improvised ring in the town square, to the next, because he was too poor to travel any other way. He and his best buddy sneaked into ranches and caped bulls by moonlight to learn the trade. More often than not they slept under the stars, or in the wind and rain, and frequently subsisted on fruit stolen from roadside orchards.
El Cordobes was far from alone in his pursuit of wealth and fame via the corrida. In those days there was an entire subculture of young men afoot on the roads of Spain, seeking the same goal.
The authors don't hold out El Cordobes as a great artist of the corrida. They emphasize his determination, which enabled him to survive itinerant poverty, and the tremendous risks he took in the ring, which propelled him to fame.
Regardless of what you may think of Benitez as a matador, the book was to me a great account of a slice of Spanish culture of the times.
To my understanding all good posts, other than Morante´s.
Regarding the "righteous hate brigade" ... if it only were that easy. As I learned today me belongs to what is being named "flexitarian". People who have enough empathic skills to realize what their consumption of animal product is causing, yet have not brought themselves to entirely quit it.
Actually, I did when about 3 or 4 years, after realizing that the wonderfully smelling dish had originally been a living chicken. It shocked me to understand that there would be a killing, and only just for meal (that day me realized first time what death is). Don´t know how long the renunciation lasted, but my old lady brought me to eating meat again a while later (obviously worried about my nutrion).
With exception of sporadic festive events, me remained a small consumer. But am having about one egg daily, little of occasional butter and what I expect to be under 5 kg of meat, poultry and fish per year. In most years supposedly considerably less. (But I am due to schlepping about 30 kg of chicken waste per month for the dogs, since nearly 7 years now. -Foro pals will remember the sheltering of stray puppies. And my former single cats will have meant quite some amounts of animal protein consumption too.)
Still, it doesn´t help with escaping remorse. It is kind of like say feeling for fellow humans while eating them.
And it is why I am enthusiastically awaiting times of artificial meat (since the seventies actually, when first attempts were taken).
The point being that a consequential thinking person cannot hide before himself and before basic principle. Only fools can.
One should always be prepared to live through / endure the custom one accepts. Other than that would be indifference / perfidy.
Or as the primary thought in my life: "What you would not like to be done to you, you should neither be doing to others".
And "others" self-evidently including creatures that are of similar capability to humans with sensing pain and sorrow. Hence all higher developed beings on this planet.
The western world in practice is still way lagging behind its intellectual achievements and civil state.
There still is physical approach to conflict among people, and cruelty against fellow creature. There are billions of daily cases of animal torture behind apartment doors and those of sheds.
Most constitutions still do not include animal rights. The least of countries request qualification for pet holding (let alone parenthood) and voluntary webcams in sheds are very scarce.
And in our western breeding stations and slaughtering houses linger a number of torturing monsters that is not small at all. They cause needless horror to the creatures that exceeds our imagination.
That are conditions in the western hemisphere still, which albeit has seen history of thinkers´ legacy of advocacy for association, deconstructive attitude and empathetic behavior.
Still host of daily horror to billions of exposed creatures. Not to mention vast of Asian and African realm, where even the philosophy of consideration has not occurred, if not cruelty being considered as manly feature.
Events like corrida, cock and dog fighting are the epitome of contra productivity with the matter of animal abuse. They legitimize the ogre being and push forward the legacy of the crude.
Hemingway spoiled his progressive being with his unfeeling against fellow creature, and his literature has encouraged the preservation of archaism in the western world a great deal.
Similar to Descartes. Such a bright mind and pioneer, and on the other hand the greatest disservice to fellow creature ever done in the western world.
Being cold-blooded and dismissive is neither achievement of any kind nor cool in any way. It is simply just idiotic (in its literal sense) and perfidious. -
Conclusion
I detest indifferent amnesty for culture in ways promoted these day as PC. It is just as wrong like hegemony and chauvinism that were in place before.
Culture, (including the own, no need to mention) needs to be sighted and dissected like any human behavior. And regardless of whether wrong doing was maintained since ancient times or popping up just recently, it must be considered as the act that it is, just as positive achievement would be ranked correspondingly.
What makes a difference between human and animals is not what the academies postulated as makeshift until just years ago.
Unlike formerly claimed, the difference is not with ability to play, to think, to anticipate, to feel, or to be having self-awareness. These capabilities can all be found in the animal world as well.
What makes the difference with humans is the ability to distinguish between deeming (subjectivity) and entity (objectivity), and to prior the latter.
It means that you can´t just set your (comforting) estimation as to how an object might be or not be sensing your dealings with it, and be done with it. It means your obligation to sincerely ensure for no needless harm to be coming from you. -
Did you know that dog´s perceivement of temperatures varies a great deal? Right, the average specimen feels alright between +5° and +25° C. But many are much more sensible to the cold (and heat), and some just as sensible like humans.
Can you imagine what only just this unknown circumstance means to billions of yard dogs? They are freezing their butts of just like we would, either in the open or in ridiculous dog houses that do not isolate a freaking single grade. Hour after hours, day after day, night after night, all winter season through. Regular unintentional torture across the globe (regarding owners who´d care at all to start with). Same goes for summer heat.
Our deeming that the dogs (for an example) be alright as is though, won´t help them a bit. Not for an hour, a day or a season. It only helps us and our self-comforting indifference. Which again is worth no actual dime to dependents. To the opposite.
I'd quite like to see one of the shows where they do acrobatics over the bulls without killing them.
Torn on what to make of the ethics. I'm an outsider. I probably looked the same during my motorcycling years or mixed martial arts- doing a pointlessly dangerous barbaric activity. But nobody was taking part against their will.
Hemingway's A Dangerous Summer is a good read whther you're into toros or not. Although, like most of his writing, it could do with a damned good pruning.
A documentary showing a place inside a slaughtering house. There is a wall, maybe of chest height and about 2 meters long. Parallel to the main wall. Kind of like an open cabin.
A man comes in with a horse. The horse is obviously depressed, but peaceful, actually devote. It keeps its head down close to the ground, but walks aside the man slowly and obediently.
The man leads it into the cabin and fastens the rope at a metal ring. Then he goes behind the little wall looking from up there down to the horses head. Then he calls it quietly and the horse lifts its head up instantly, so that it is right next to his. You can see that it counts with the man´s care. That it trusts.
The man holds the stud welding tool at the horses head and the horse leans against it. The man pulls the trigger. The horse collapses asap.
I never saw El Cordobes in the flesh, though from films I was inclined to agree with the "showboat" tag.
I saw El Cordobés several times and have also seen Ordoñez. The Spanish term for "showboat" is "tremendismo" and Cordobes certainly practised it. But beneath the flash was a matador with genuine knowledge of the toros, a decent technique and mucho valor.
It is often the case that people who achieve wide popularity are deprecated by the purists: it seems you cannot be popular and authentic at the same time.
I have seen Ordoñez as well, very smooth, but working as far away from the horns as possible. He is also famous for the "rincon de Ordoñez", a form of estoque bajo which is very effective, but avoids the danger of going in over the horns.
Styles are very personal and most of them are valid. Best I have seen were El Viti and Paco Camino.
Just had a copy of blasco Ibanez "arènes sanglanges". Didn't find it very interesting, so I jumped towards the end.
The horse butchery described here is more disgusting than everything. In War literature you can find them horses strumbling over their own guts. But here, they stick the peaces together in order to send them back into the arena.
Part of the problem is that efficiency and humaneness sometimes collide. Today's slaughterhouses are (dis)assembly lines. The bolt pistol is meant to render the animal unconsciousness, not kill it. The killing per se is done by blood-letting. Videos of cows still mooing and attempting to fight their way off the chain they're tied to (upside to) at the blood-letting state show very clearly that sometimes the bolt gun doesn't do its job, perhaps because of human error. But efficiency of the assembly line matters more than humaneness, so even if the animal is still conscious, they don't stop. After all, some slaughterhouses have to process up to 1,000 animals a day and work on very tight schedules. Efficiency over humaneness. Whether this occurs only every so often or whether it is common, I do not know. The testimony of some former workers on the kill floor suggests it happens all the time.
Efforts are done to minimize suffering, but it seems hardly enough. My understanding is that farmers work on the assumption of an expected loss rate during transport, because even that phase can be stressful enough to kill off the weakest animals.
And then of course, a slaughterhouse merely has to claim their meat is "this or that religious stamp" to forgo that bolt pistol altogether, killing the animals while still conscious. And we allow it because we "respect religious beliefs". Which puts in a very similar situation to those countries who allow bullfighting because they "respect cultural legacies".
All of that being said, the treatment of cows in factory farming pales in comparison to what we do to pigs and chickens.
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"Anything you do can be fixed. What you cannot fix is the perfection of a blank page. What you cannot fix is that pristine, unsullied whiteness of a screen or a page with nothing on it—because there’s nothing there to fix."
It seems to me much easier to sympathize with bulls at a comfortable distance, rather than up close.
During summers on the ranch in my childhood and youth I was in close proximity to bulls of the Santa Gertrudis breed. Their behaviors ranged from dangerously volatile for many, to a few who constantly, intently plotted murder.
Their animus toward humans was innate. My grandfather and uncle insisted upon humane treatment of all the animals they owned. The vaqueros showed respect and deference to the bulls. But one had to be constantly alert to the serious danger they presented.
The breed was developed on the King Ranch. I once spoke to Caesar Kleberg, one of the owners, about their temperament. Mr. Caesar was a thoughtful and gentle soul. He was the main force behind the Ranch policy of ecological consciousness and maintenance of wildlife habitat.
Mr. Caesar was not much, if at all, involved in the Santa Gertrudis project. He said to me that the breeders not only were not concerned about the dangerous temper of the bulls, they seemed to admire it. One of the stated objectives of the breeding program was to develop an "attractive" strain. To a stockman's eye they are beautiful creatures. Perhaps it is a part of cowboy culture that bulls should be dangerous.
Certainly the old Longhorn range bulls were protective of their herds, and dangerous to any human interloper.
Of course the temperament of some breeds of bulls doesn't justify inhumane treatment. We only punish human murderers after a trial--at least that's the law--and "cruel and unusual punishment" is prohibited by the U.S. Constitution.
Inevitably, the meaning of "cruel and unusual" is vigorously debated in this country.
There's a farmer in Brittany who bought a young toro bravo (ganaderia Antonio Banuelos) and has been going around trying to raise awareness around bulls and bullfighting. I like his motto: "ne pas juger, juste changer les consciences" (don't judge, just change minds). He does short videos explaining certain aspects of the behavior of the bull (things like why a bull will not show many signs of pain during a corrida but will if he's alone), interviews on the news every now and again and even visits primary schools. I like his approach of just trying to inform without judgment. But I sometimes wonder if it's not rather irresponsible. One day one of these kids that saw his bull, a domesticated bull who's the only male in a tiny herd of 2 or 3 females, is going to walk up to a bull defending his herd think it's harmless and get gored. But when everything's said and done, I feel that way about a lot of domesticated animals, including dogs. It's all well and good when it's somebody's pet, but the day you run into a pack of wild or feral animals, it's a whole other story.
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"Anything you do can be fixed. What you cannot fix is the perfection of a blank page. What you cannot fix is that pristine, unsullied whiteness of a screen or a page with nothing on it—because there’s nothing there to fix."
An interesting video clip. It contrasts with our experience on the ranch.
No effort was made by adults to socialize bull calves to humans. We children (my six cousins, my brother, many other children who lived on the ranch, and I) made pets of some of them, as children will do. But by the time they were a year old, we were forbidden to play with them any longer.
By the time they were two years old, bull calves had begun to be dangerous. Steers and cows remained relatively tame for another year or two.
In fact it was a cow which came closest to injuring me. At age six I had just gotten out of a week in the hospital recovering from an appendectomy. A cow had given birth in a pasture near the ranch house, but she would not reintegrate with the herd. She kept away from the other cattle, and kept her calf at her side. In the tall grass it was hard to see just what was going on. There was concern that the calf might be in need of medical help.
The other cattle were moved out of the pasture, and a party decided to approach the solitary cow and calf. The cow was known to be tame, so I was allowed to go along. As we approached on foot, from at least a hundred feet away the cow stood up and charged. For some reason she seemed to pick me as her target, perhaps because I was the smallest.
My oldest cousin carried a stout club, a length of timber. At age 17 he was six feet tall and muscular. He stepped out in front of the group. As the charging cow came to him, he stepped aside and hit her on the nose hard enough to bring her to her knees. After a few seconds the cow rose to her feet again, shook her head, turned and trotted back to her calf. We decided not to try getting any closer.
I required very little further instruction on cattle behavior.
It seems that even the US rodeo bulls can be quite docile (at 1.50 in video below)? It seems they need a human to deliberately stress and agitate them to behave as they do in the rodeo arena?
Of course animal suffering in sport is prevalent in the UK and US? There is a lot of animal suffering and death in horse racing worldwide. In some US states there's suffering and death in rodeo. These deaths are not the purpose of the sport and are concealed from the public as much as possible, but deaths from severe injuries are still common.
Yikes! I think the biggest animal I've ever been charged by was a wild boar and I was already and adult by then (still big enough animals to do some damage though!). Fortunately I had learned before then that when a boar runs at you on a forest trail (as opposed to a clearing or any kind of open space), it's probably not actually attacking you, it's just scared because you're on its path and it tries to force its way through. So you just have to step off the trail a few feet and it will run right past you. Which is what happened.
You encounter cattle pretty frequently when hiking in Spain. Usually I'll just walk around and keep a safe distance. Sometimes the layout of the land doesn't allow you to do that and you end up walking right through the herd. Even though hiking isn't all that popular in Spain, I suppose they're used to the occasional hiker walking by. Usually they hardly acknowledge my existence, except for the watchful eye of a male or two who makes sure I'm just passing my way. I once had a bull walk up to me while I had stopped for a lunch break a few hundred meters away from his herd. Fortunately he was just curious. Fed him some grass and discovered that he liked tuna. And that was that. I haven't been charged yet. Fingers crossed that it will stay that way.
@orsonw That moment at 6:00 is hilarious. The woman is petting the bull and the guy holding the camera says "sure looks like he's enjoying it". And then the camera shifts ever so slightly, revealing the bull's massive d$ck dangling out. Enjoying it indeed!
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"Anything you do can be fixed. What you cannot fix is the perfection of a blank page. What you cannot fix is that pristine, unsullied whiteness of a screen or a page with nothing on it—because there’s nothing there to fix."
Ages ago me was late for dinner time in the boarding school, thus took a shor-cut. It was dawn when I found that the way was closed by an enclosure fenced with barbed wire. In there was a herd of cows (I think with larger calfs).
Made my way over the fence, walking across the enclosure when I heard the cows starting to follow me. At first leisurely, but then faster and faster. I thought like: "It´s just cows" and even considered halting, but then they started to run and out of a sudden it felt as if it wasn´t meant to be for cuddling. I ran. They started galloping and I merely managed an escape by a hair through doing a long-fly over the rather high fence.
In past years there have been several news about hikers having been killed by cows on alpine pastures. (Usually ones who had a dog with themselves, which likely was perceived as threat by the cattle.) -
At age of 13 or so, I was attacked out of the blue* by the chief stallion of a tiny herd. (And one of the mares was in heat / they had been having immensely apparent fun during those days.) He came down with his front hooves quite where I had been crouching milli seconds beforehand. (* Actually he had been making grinding noise while approaching, but what did I know.) -
Most risky seem herds with livestock guarding dogs. One better stays on paths and away.
In past years there have been several news about hikers having been killed by cows on alpine pastures. (Usually ones who had a dog with themselves, which likely was perceived as threat by the cattle.)
And usually hikers of a certain age. Meaning they don't attack to kill, but what is meant to disable a threat can lead to a person's death if he is physically more fragile. Most deaths from cattle are farmers, which makes sense. The more gruesome stories I find are those of farmers who were killed and eaten by their pigs. Now that can't be a good way to go...
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"Anything you do can be fixed. What you cannot fix is the perfection of a blank page. What you cannot fix is that pristine, unsullied whiteness of a screen or a page with nothing on it—because there’s nothing there to fix."
I once had a bull walk up to me while I had stopped for a lunch break
Obviously not a toro bravo: there are numerous instances where hikers, who should not be in a finca de toros bravos, who have been killed on sight when meeting a toro. Toros bravos are extremely dangerous and vacas bravas too have been known to kill.
The more gruesome stories I find are those of farmers who were killed and eaten by their pigs.
I remember that the teller of the novel "Papillion" was initially locked up for having killed a man who again had thrown his little brother into a swine trough, where the kid was eaten alive. Allegedly pigs tear into pieces asap whatever lands in the trough.
quote:
ORIGINAL: Piwin
Now that can't be a good way to go...
One of my cousins may agree to that. He told me of him being intrigued by the idea of being killed and eaten by a lion or tiger. Dunno. I prefer him to stay around as is.
I once had a bull walk up to me while I had stopped for a lunch break
Obviously not a toro bravo: there are numerous instances where hikers, who should not be in a finca de toros bravos, who have been killed on sight when meeting a toro. Toros bravos are extremely dangerous and vacas bravas too have been known to kill.
Obviously not a toro bravo: there are numerous instances where hikers, who should not be in a finca de toros bravos, who have been killed on sight when meeting a toro
In that case no, it wasn't a toro bravo. At least, I'm pretty sure it wasn't although I'll admit my knowledge of how to differentiate them all is pretty limited. Since I usually hike alone, I like to keep a safe distance between me and any "wildlife". But overall there's not much to worry about in Spain when hiking. The bulkiest animals are animals of prey, and I include toro bravo in that category (not that animals of prey can't be dangerous of course, but it's much easier to deal with then a predatory animal). As far as predators go, I've seen a few wolves in the sierra de guadarrama, but never in a pack and our friends from North America would probably laugh at the idea that we actually call them wolves (they're tiny and skinny compared to their North American counterparts). Of course, there's like 2 bears hidden somewhere in the North of the country but the chances of encountering them are close to zero. By far the most dangerous encounters I've had hear are with packs of feral dogs. Especially in Andalucia in the wilderness close to towns.
The problem with hiking here is that you are bound to end up somewhere where you shouldn't be. Trails are very poorly drawn and it is very easy to waltz right into private property without realizing it. In France, although it's always recommended to have a map on you, if you know how to read trail markers there's little chance you'll get lost. In Spain, even with the most up-to-date army maps I get confused at least once every hike. It's all the more confusing that amateur trail blazers don't seem to agree on where to draw the path. In the higher mountains you can end up in situations where there are cairns spread out in every single direction of the slope you're on, which defeats the purpose of leaving a cairn in the first place... Hiking in Spain sometimes feels like being in a Lewis Carroll story.
@Ruphus
quote:
I think in two of the cases that I read of the attacked were stamped to death
That can't be pleasant either. But if I had to choose between that and being eaten alive, I think I'd choose the hooves.
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"Anything you do can be fixed. What you cannot fix is the perfection of a blank page. What you cannot fix is that pristine, unsullied whiteness of a screen or a page with nothing on it—because there’s nothing there to fix."
ORIGINAL: Piwin The more gruesome stories I find are those of farmers who were killed and eaten by their pigs. Now that can't be a good way to go...
In Washington DC in the 1950s New Years Day was a day for receptions. Probably still is. Families were included, so as a high school kid I got to shake hands with President Eisenhower and Air Force Chief of Staff Nate Twining--but I had known Twining since I was a little kid and he was a major.
Then it was time for my father's reception at Bolling Air Force Base. My mother stood in the reception line, and came home laughing uproariously. After a morning of reciting meaningless formalities, the woman standing next to her in line started greeting guests saying, "The pigs ate my grandmother this morning."
To which the guests would reply, "How nice," or "Yes, that's what I heard."
When we lived in Anchorage, Alaska roving packs of dogs were far more dangerous than wolves. On Elmendorf Air Force Base there were some fairly remote forested areas. A few widely scattered houses in those areas served as quarters for Air Force personnel. There were a few wolves, but one winter dogs killed two children in the remote parts of the base. Unemployed sled dogs had a particularly bad reputation. They formed predatory packs like wolves, but were unafraid of humans.
In those days there were none of the dangerous big brown bears around Anchorage. My hiking pal Ivan and I saw plenty of black bears in the warmer months. The black bears' reaction to humans was very intelligent: they got the hell out of there the quickest way possible.
I like the toros, I've read about bull fighting, and I'm always dismayed when people pile into it and don't let toro enthusiasts talk without being accused of being Charles Manson incarnate. I know a very fine flamenco guitarist who can accompany cante at exeprt level, who also played for some real pro singers, top names. He does not like the corrida, yet he understands it has its place in flamenco. He took me out for dinner several times and he would order pork and chicken, but never beef. I asked him why he never eats beef, he said he saw a bad corrida in the early seventies and has not eaten beef since then. Then he chomped down a pork steak sandwich.
When people want to talk about bulls, just leave them the hell alone. Speaking of vacas bravas, Go watch Almodovar's movie 'Matador' and masturbate while a woman kills men with long shishkabob skewers. But for **** sake eat your damn patatas bravas and shut the hell up with the sanctimonious 'I'm better than you because I hate bullfighting' crap. Joder.
But for **** sake eat your damn patatas bravas and shut the hell up with the sanctimonious 'I'm better than you because I hate bullfighting' crap. Joder.
T’was that time of year to bring up toro When a fellow peer said him we should blow To throw a good punch, all in Christmas fun But whose shall I munch ? sexfriend I have none No loved one to blow Not even a ho - ho ho
Merry Christmas everyone!
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"Anything you do can be fixed. What you cannot fix is the perfection of a blank page. What you cannot fix is that pristine, unsullied whiteness of a screen or a page with nothing on it—because there’s nothing there to fix."
estebanana, you are fortunate to have only a shallow intellect. I am burdened by an intellect which is both deep and broad, sharpened further by years of studying the most pressing issues of the day. Furthermore I am profoundly empathetic--in the 99th percentile, according to the standard protocols.This has been my fate since the age of twelve.
But it is indeed a heavy burden to bear. My intellectual and emotional gifts oblige me, from time to time, to point out to my fellow humans the error of their ways. More often than not they don't just fail to comprehend, some actually take offense! This while I am just doing my duty, employing my gifts to right the world's wrongs.
How often I have wished for the freedom afforded to a shallow intellect!
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Enjoying it indeed! 
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