A new edition of 13th-century scholar Snorri Sturlusson’s history of the kings of Norway has been…
Pander Publishing has killed the project because, said a company shill, Snorri didn’t have enough “Blacks” in his story. As an Icelander who died in 1241, Snorri was not able to write about any African-American kings of Norway.
Said Pander president Popeye Schlubb. “It’s our job, as progressives, to give Minorities a leg up wherever we can. If Norway can’t generate its own Barack Obama, it’s up to us to generate one for them!
“Writing history is not enough. We are here to make history!”
Anyone would think the “educators” were purposely trying to destroy our country–and they’d be right.
Of course, now we’ve had a Democrat government imposed on us, so forget about government doing anything at all to correct the abuses of what we laughingly call “higher education.” They’re only there to throw gasoline onto the fire–the more useful idiots the schools turn out, the better they like it.
This is another one of those fondly-remembered TV westerns from my childhood: The Life and Legend (mostly legend) of Wyatt Earp, starring Hugh O’Brien.
These shows promoted “values”–moral and physical courage, uprightness, truth-telling–that aren’t cool anymore. Never mind that they sanitized the Old West and took liberties with history. People who didn’t understand that had a special name: children.
These shows were our national mythology. They presented an idealized picture of America–not as it really was, but as it ought to strive to be. So Hugh O’Brien played Wyatt Earp as a kind of plaster saint, which he most certainly was not.
Historians are divided on the merits of doing this. Livy would say “Oh, yeah, go for it!” But Snorri Sturlusson would say that such depictions of historical figures are “not praise, but mockery.”
But at least us kids in the 1950s knew there was such a person as Wyatt Earp, and that he lived in a time which was quite different from ours. Do schools teach that today? Not if they can help it!
If you want strict unvarnished truth in history, you have to turn to the Bible. You won’t find any plaster saints in there. Just ordinary people, some of them quite talented, others not so much, doing the best they could: and sometimes, by the grace of God, accomplishing something extraordinary.
As for me, having lived in both a time during which we had our national mythology, and in a time during which we don’t, I feel bound to say: having it was better.
And just to state my bona fides, my specialty in college was the history of the Viking Age. So I know hooey when I see it, and this is hooey. It’s just part of academic leftids’ infatuation with Islam. I knew my education would come in handy someday, if I only waited long enough.
Some of the clothes also have little swastikas woven into them. If we keep looking into ancient Swedish graves, will we find Martin Bormann?
If ever any people left behind an abundant and reliable written record, it was the Scandinavians of the Viking Age. I mean, they wrote down everything! And somehow not a single mention of any “Muslim vikings” appears in any of the sagas, poems, histories, Eddas, or in the copious writings of the great 13th-century Icelandic historian, Snorri Sturlusson. That this curious cultural phenomenon should have eluded Snorri is a preposterous idea.
But when it comes to academics swooning over Islam, it’s “Preposterous ‘R’ Us.” This scholar, for example, speculates on the Scandinavian peoples of the Viking Age picking up “Islamic ideas such as eternal life in paradise after death.” Apparently this ignoramus never heard of Valhalla, never read Beowulf, and has picked up a very bad habit, so prevalent among self-anointed scholars nowadays, of talking through her hat.
The fact is, because the Vikings themselves sailed over as much of the world as they could, stuff from every place you could think of wound up in their possession–by looting, trading, or buying. Silk from the East was a luxury item that always sold well in the West. A silken blouse woven in Persia would have made a nice anniversary present for Helga in Uppsala.
But by now I have probably told you more than you wanted to know.