I always thought I would enjoy a date with Benjamin Franklin, myself. I love passing the time with talk about scientific particulars that haven’t stuck in my brain like I wanted them to (the last time I had breakfast with my engineer friend I got him to explain succinctly why no object can move faster than light, unless you are in Coblenz). The guy could compose string quartets, play chess, grind eyeglass lenses. We could argue about religion, in a friendly and sparring way. What’s not to like?
This fantasy crossed my mind because the Two Lumps strip, which I enjoy, drove me to look up Franklin’s essay on Moral Perfection. At one point he aimed for it. Then he decided that “such extream nicety as I exacted of myself might be a kind of foppery in morals, which, if it were known, would make me ridiculous; that a perfect character might be attended with the inconvenience of being envied and hated; and that a benevolent man should allow a few faults in himself, to keep his friends in countenance.”
If only the moral crusaders of the modern age had Franklin’s sense of just moderation.
In the Museum of American Art collections here in DC, the Hiram Powers statue of Franklin — a man notably fond of female society – was on exhibit for a number of years, in a small room filled with several other sculptural likenesses. One represented a callipygous nymphet devoid of attire, and for as long as the grouping was on view, the statues were arranged so that Ben’s thoughtful gaze seemed to be directed admiringly at her bare arse. I miss that.
Franklin was a very interesting guy. I always liked his statement, “Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”
Like your new header, it is very artistic. Talk about definition.
I was afraid someone would think it was over the top, but I got to playing with the light and color effects in the program and liked it.
Many are the philosophers and theologians who, while striving for a sense of “goodness”, “perfections”, “excellence”, to be “gentlemen”, etc. also admonished their followers to practice moderation. In fact, from Epicurus to St. Clement of Alexandria — representatives of two radically different schools of thought — are heard a call for moderation, even as a needed part of the quest for some sort of perfection.
Franklin was a marvelous writer and an astute observer of the political affairs of the time. A lot of his essays and letters are in print and well worth the read.
Ben Franklin was a pimp and a half.
One should also, I feel, eat enough cake to keep sufficient flab round ones middle to keep one’s friends in countenance.
At least, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.
And I’ve often thought I’d rather enjoy a conversation with Benjamin Disraeli.
I always thought I’d enjoy a date with Benicio del Toro …
Had to look him up. Decent looking chap.
I like how he smoulders …
I was thinking about your post, and I’d like to vote for William Morris. A curious man, with great textiles.
And he would always have a seat saved for you!