Who is your favorite mythical creature/character, and why?
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herasrevenge
Either Superman (who’s becoming something of a modern myth), John Henry (“Gonna run that hammer down!”), or the Pig on the Wall.
But while we’re talking about mythology, I’m going to shamelessly link to some old posts I did on the subject here, here, here, here, here, and here…
Once upon a time there were two dragons, one red and one white, and they fought; the red dragon symbolising Wales, the white a representation of the invading Saxons…
Or maybe the dragon was just a flag, a banner, the standard carried by King Arthur as he rode into battle…
National stories are powerful, hence the dragon emblazoned on the Welsh flag. And it’s said that the last dragon in Wales still sleeps deep within Radnor Forest, four churches surrounding it and keeping it at bay, all of them dedicated to St. Michael (the Bible’s angelic slayer of dragons). The churches still stand, at Nant Melan, Cefnllys, Rhydithon and Cascob, still doing their duty.
Of course, I make no claim for there really being dragons in Wales, because we’re all very modern and don’t believe in such things, but then there’s this strange little story uncovered by author Mike Dash, perfect for St. David’s day, and just enough to make you ask “What if…?”
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Actually, according to local folklore, in 1979 aliens landed about six miles from me, in Rowley Regis, and a witness gave them all mince pies, so baked goods may be an appropriate gift to present to any extraterrestrial visitors. I think any aliens that like cake are potential friends and allies, and far better than aliens that, say, want to eat our livers.
As for how aliens would regard our society, it’s a big question – which society, for a start? They might have an affinity for modern western culture, or the long view of Chinese history, or native American tribal societies, or… Given that the arrival of aliens would be one of the most influential and earth-shattering events in human history, the way in which they relate to any of our particular human societies could lead to a total shift in global politics, with existing superpowers possibly being pushed aside if the aliens had a greater affinity for, say, Australian Aboriginies.
That’s a bit of an anthropomorphic way of looking at the question, of course, because if they were truly alien then we’d struggle to even comprehend each other, let alone communicate or develop alliances. How would either side go about making contact when we’re not talking about different human societies that at least have a shared physiology to help things along (we couldn’t exactly smile at aliens and expect them to know what that means, because they might not even have mouths. Although that would stop them eating our livers).
And then, then, who would we send out to make first contact? The military? Probably gives the wrong impression. Politicians? Okay, which ones? Scientists, theologians, entertainers? Male or female? Young or old? President Obama, David Cameron, the Pope, Nelson Mandela, Stephen Hawking, Bono, William Shatner?
Should we send anyone? Remember War of the Worlds – one virus in the wrong place and we’ve given an alien ambassador Swine Flu. That’s not going to go down well in the mothership. This isn’t sci-fi paranoia – this is pretty much what happens when civilisations run into each other for the first time, mixing up germs that had previously been isolated.
But then if they landed in my backyard, I’d be on the frontline of the first contact between humanity and a sentient alien race. Me, Matt, from Dudley. I don’t think I’m ready for that responsibility. I’d be tempted to ask them to mow my lawn with a laser or something. My sole experience in this sort of thing is watching sci-fi TV shows, and that never ends well for the aliens. For my generation, Han Shot First. Who would I call? The police? The local Council? The RAF, the Government? How do I get in touch with the Government anyway, my MP? Which department is in charge of this sort of thing, the Foreign Office? Ministry of Defence? The UK Border Agency?
It also doesn’t help that my stupid mobile phone probably wouldn’t get a signal.
So, all in all, I’d like to think I’d be friendly and welcoming, but there’s too much at stake, and if I sneezed I could kill them all. There’s only one solution to this, and that is to draft my house’s very own First Contact Protocols (to go alongside the Zombie Apocalypse Contingency Plan). This may seem over-the-top, but no-one else seems to have a plan in place. They’re leaving the ball in my court. Well, fine. I can handle it.
I for one welcome our new alien overlords!
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1954 was a big year if you didn’t like comic books.
I talked a bit about Frederic Wertham’s Seduction of the Innocent in this post about superheroes as role models a couple of days ago, but I’ve just come across another story that’s related, all moral panics and urban myths. This one gets weirder though.
See, 1954, in the Gorbals area of Glasgow, the children went hunting vampires.
A terrifying figure with iron teeth was said to be lurking in the area’s Southern Necropolis. It had alread killed two children (or so it was said, although no-one could say exactly who had been the victims…), and now a small army of kids, from teenagers down to four year olds, were patrolling the cemetery with makeshift weapons. Although the group was soon broken up, it would return on subsequent nights until the whole thing died down.
The story seemed to have evolved from a couple of sources; local urban myths and, allegedly American horror comics, and this is where the story crosses over with that of Wertham. EC Comics were one of the major comic books publishers at the time, but rather than the superheroes of DC, they were best known for their horror comics, some of which were pretty gory – while they were basically morality tales, there were an awful lot of entrails involved. Their best known title at the time was Tales from the Crypt, one of the books that caused Dr. Wertham to wig out, although it’s worth noting that, thanks to the politics of the time, one of their most controversial stories, and the last comic published by EC, was Judgement Day. The reason for the controversy? It featured an astronaut who was black…
Anyway, parents soon drew a link between the Gorbals Vampire and horror comics (although apparently the horror comics didn’t feature a character matching the Vampire’s description – there was, however, a World War II comic strip character called Iron Jaw who might fit the bill). This lead to cries for censorship that eventually resulted in the Children and Young Persons (Harmful Publications) Act 1955, which legislated for the imprisonment or fining of anyone selling a book or comic that may corrupt young people through portraying the commission of crimes, violence, or “incidents of a repulsive or horrible nature”. It was a bit of a waste of time, as it didn’t prosecute anyone until the seventies, and then there were just two convictions.
However, this is where it gets weird. Because the Comics Campaign Council, the group dedicated to banning horror comics, actually turned out to have been dominated by members of the British Communist Party (the story is told in Martin Barker’s A Haunt of Fears, some of which is available at Google Books); and the British Communist Party at the time had a vested interest in countering American cultural influence on the UK. It’s worth noting that the comics criticised by the campaign were often known simply as American comics (it’s interesting to note that, while Glasgow becoming a flashpoint in the campaign to ban US comics, Dundee was publishing the relatively tame Beano and Dandy, via DC Thompson – someone really should write something on Scotland’s influence on the comic industry). Somewhere along the line, comics had found themselves on the frontline of the 1950s culture wars.
Meanwhile the Gorbals Vampire passed into folklore, another case of schoolyard Chinese whispers and hysteria that fed into a much wider moral panic, all against the backdrop of McCarthyism and HUAC. Strange days indeed.
Okay, I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot for many reasons, but the latest one was writing about local folklore and forgeting the story from my own home town, which was stupid of me.
See, I’m from the town of Gornal, about 2.5 miles from Dudley. Technically it’s three mini-towns (Lower Gornal, Upper Gornal, Gornal Wood), but no-one knows where the boundaries are, so don’t worry about it. Anyway, Gornal effectively has one major piece of local folklore, a story that locally defined the area for decades. This is the story of the Pig on the Wall.
The legend goes that, in 1875, a parade was held to celebrate Captain Matthew Webb becoming the first man to swim the English Channel. Because Gornal families were said to treat their pets as part of the family, one such family put their pig on the wall to watch the parade go by, and somewhere along the line this got enshrined in Gornal folklore, to the extent that a local pub became known as, you’ve guessed it, the Pig on the Wall (it’s been demolished now, because the world needed another McDonalds).
That’s the story.
However, I learned something terrible tonight.
See, my friend referred me to this story after reading my last post, informing me that, actually…
The Pig on the Wall thing happened in her old town.
Anyone from Gornal might want to look away now, as I feel as though I’m committing an act of treachery, and if I’m found strung up along the Himley Road tomorrow, then at least you’ll know I died for this blog.
See, Captain Webb was from Dawley in Shropshire, and it was that town that held the parade, that town that did the pig thing. A picture taken of the pig became a commemorative postcard, and it was that postcard that got attached to Gornal somehow. It’s all a myth.
I’d say there’s an important point to be made about historic vs folkloric fact, and the malability of local legends, but, frankly, I’m too shocked to make it.
(Although one of the articles I link to suggests that the story only got connected to Gornal around 1970… But I remember my nan telling me the story when I was a kid, so that means the whole thing must have got embedded into Gornal folklore within 15-20 years… Unless I’m reading something wrong.)
But hey, there is a connection for this blog. For Matthew Webb, whose parade caused all this trouble in the first place, tried, and terminally failed, to swim the river beneath Niagara Falls… Which I’ve also visited and blogged about.
Still gutted about the pig though.
