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Remember me… Or not… You know… Whatever…

Maybe I’m finally maturing, but these days when I listen to something like this I can’t help but think that the person lamenting really needed to prioritize better. You’re the queen, for Pete sake. You have responsibilities. And suicide is a bad example to young people.

So, not one of her counsellors said, “Yeah, OK. He left you. Get over it. Greeks are jerks. Everyone in the Med knows that except you, apparently.”

“Your majesty, get a cat.”

And maybe a garden.


4 thoughts on “Remember me… Or not… You know… Whatever…”

  1. Jean says:

    I agree with you, Hilary – I think this frustration with “tragedy” does come with maturity (I remember thinking Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, et al were SO romantic in their tragic lives, then one day realizing I was feeling impatient that they were all so stupid!). Of course, the extrapolation that (I believe) you are suggesting is the current culture when so many real people are living their lives as if they were each a tragic “hero” instead of recognizing the need to grow up and make better decisions. Responsibility – the forgotten virtue.

  2. johnhenry says:

    Tut, tut, dear Hilary. I’ll grant that you knew Aeneas was a Trojan (if you’d turned your mind to it) but ‘fess up.

    “Get a cat.”

    Heh, heh. Well that’s worth a donation to your survival fund.

  3. Hilary White says:

    Yes, thanks, I know where Aeneas was from. I meant culturally Aegean “Greek”, as opposed to Dido, a Phoenician queen of Carthage.

  4. Mark Chaplain says:

    P.S. Aeneas was a Trojan…

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