Chapter 7
Now, you may wonder where the heck is Vulgaria, the place that invented vulgar things, like
Mega Blocks, and garbage pail kids, and though I might point to a certain movie that appeared in 2012 as being particular Vulgar, I am not going to because that place is not this place, but you might imagine they’re in the same district. Now, if you wanted to step up and out to the real world for a moment, you would find a site location as a close enough look alike to the Baron’s abode in Neuschwanstein Castle, which was fairly close to Rothenberg, but these are not Vulgarians and are truly a gentle people, a place lost in time more so than a musical with Gene Kelley, completely forgotten about after the 30 year war, which is a really long war, but not as long as the hundred year war, and you might wonder even why it took so long to complete a thing, but back then, people really took their time to decide a war properly finished, and usually by the time the children grew up and the kids are asking, ‘why are fighting again?’ the parents would be like, “I don’t know. It’s just what we do.”
Also, while we’re in the real world, there have been complaints that the bad guys in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang were Roald Dahl attempt to express anti-Semitic sentiment, which even after reading the article that claims that to be true, I found the evidence for that idea rather weak, I found it completely lacking in any form of substance. But it’s points to a particular delima, a real world problem, where it is no longer vogue to point out what an enemy looks like, with the exception of Nazi, which keep coming back to stand in the place of opponents that we dare not name for fear of offending them. You would almost imagine that the world has become so sensitive that no one can make fun of anyone without tears and anger being the result. This problem is further exasperated in our present day in age when you consider without a proper enemy people tend to start vilifying their neighbors, calling them Democrats or Republicans, and it’s gotten so bad one can no longer even be a Rebel, we had to change the name to the Resistance, which is a very French thing to do, except even the Mormons are changing their name, which doesn’t really change who they are or what they believe, and they’re actually fine folks, more family oriented than any my own family who preach family first while doing the opposite and so I was considering becoming Mormon, because the Catholics rejected me, even after signing the book of life under Bishop Delaney’s very eyes, but how I can join the Mormons when even the Mormons don’t want to be Mormons anymore? Seriously, the world is experiencing the worst existential crisis in the history of people, and we give a lot of speech about letting people be themselves, but anytime someone takes a stab at that they are knocked down by the group as being overly portentous.
Anyway, can caricatures still be used to display fictional enemies? We know villains exist in any population, and it’s getting harder to find truly villainous people, as most people are just normal folks, studying their cell phones, walking the world oblivious to any true difficulties, but it’s almost whereas you can’t even poke fun at them, either, and so if you really wanted a movie without a bad guy, well, go write your own fanfiction, this is mine, and my bad guys are English people, with childish American accents, like Adam Sandler pretending to be English,
“Are you giving me an argument?” Well, no, Sir. “But I paid you for an argument,” “No you didn’t,” “Yes I didn’t,” “no you… What?!” “A contradiction isn’t an argument,” “yes it is,” at which point the Baron shoots his subject and says, “I win the argument,” and completely ruins an attempt to reintroduce the Monty Python’s brilliance, because he has absolutely no comedic timing, and how he got movies and a Netflix deal, well, that’s for another story.
Oh, and so back to Roald Dahl being not a nice guy… I just don’t see that. I see evidence for confusion, cause he paints all adults as being imbeciles and that kids are mostly alright, except the children belonging to imbeciles who tend to resemble their parents like those pictures of people and their look-a-like pets, and where I see the confusion is, Roald Dahl is himself an adult, if all adults are crazy, even Charlie’s Dad, who exists in the book but not the movie, and you see a trend here? Well, Charlie’s Dad was not the sharpest knife in the tinker’s bag, which is why he was employed at a factory screwing the lids on toothpaste until a robot did it faster. What I am saying is, if you look at all the truth, or even just most of the trust, as opposed to just isolated, partial truths, Roald Dahl has a history of ridiculing people, all people, but mostly, again, just adults, and many adults, especially the ones Roald encountered, seriously, who would name their child Roald, how do you even say that?, which means Roald has a point, adults can be unreasonable, even unfashionable, from the perspective of a child, which doesn’t make the child’s perspective superior, just different. Further, there is evidence, if you take just his books alone, that he has ridiculed everyone. For example, I was most appalled at his illustration of the American Presidency, which he took to unprecedented level of absurdity in his book “Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator,” by putting someone in office who was an absolute loon, and his staff was just as nutty, including the president’s mother who was on staff, and if you look closely it almost exactly the same characterization of the Baron and Vulgaria! Only the names have been changed. He also took jabs at NASA, which though I agree with in general, I don’t think the astronaut would be as stupid as the folks in Houston, but anyway, see, we American didn’t get offended and go to war with Roald Dahl, because, well, a man is allowed to his opinion and it’s okay to write fiction, without the threat of being impeached, but if we were in England a vote of no confidence might have been executed swifter and been done already. And that brings me full circle to a point I said earlier that fiction writers are the true soothsayers of our time, as it was rather predictive on the part of Roald Dahl, my hats off to you, Sir, because I am civilized, and give you credit for predicting the present fiasco of a president. And so using America as an example, it quite possible what you find in Vulgaria is actually based on real events and real people, I am just not saying which ones, precisely.
You may also wonder what’s up with the little midget of the military man, but there is always a midget in Adam Sandler movies, because he likes making fun of little people, seriously, where he and his entourage goes, he always takes his personal midget, with a horse head on a stick, because that just never gets old. I have no evidence for midget tossing going on in the castle, and not try to make an adult statement out of that statement, this is a kid friendly book, minus the Baron trying to kill his wife on a regular basis, and the frightfulness of the child catcher, though having a nightly Napoleon toss seems appropriate, but I must say, this castle, and the people who live there, the Baron’s friends, and family, his entourage, none of them are bad folks, they are just all just bat shit crazy. Bat shit is a legitimate term, and kids should be able to use it, contextually. Like, when reading aloud from the dictionary. You think the characters in the Alice Wonderland scene at the Red Queen’s court were bizarre, well, they have nothing on the Baron and his ministry, that are presumably modeled after a present, certain present president of the US, but at the time of the movie, and the book, it was just a prediction of the things to come. Besides, this is an iteration, not a reiteration, this is not, I repeat, not Adam Sandler, and my system and I are not the kind to repeat gossip, so you better listen close the first time. The Baron’s true name is Morlon Fribourg, not to be confused with Morlon, the municipality in the district of Gruyère in the canton of Fribourg, which is in Switzerland, and though you might like to think Fribourg is from Switzerland, he is actually from Earth and speaks an accent that suggest a future world culture that doesn’t yet exist, and though he is playing the evil Baron, and a German accent may present itself from time to time, you will also hear, if you’re paying attention, Swedish, French, American, and Chinese accents, though he tend to only swear in Chineese, specifically Taiwanese, not Mandarin, which he reserves only for special occasions when trying to broker deals with the Chinese government to push more Mega Blocks at inflated prices, while pushing the pseudo Legos at cost to undermine the rival company.
“Jon, I was going to let you go on, but I was hoping you would get it out of your system without help,” Loxy interrupted.
“Sorry, I regressed,” Jon said.
“Ummph,” Lester said. “Even Russian Matryoshka does don’t regress as much as you do.”
Jon was going to quarrel but the children thought it was funny, which was the rule, as long as it’s funny, it’s allowed, and so he bowed and continued:
Grandpa Pott arrived first, meaning before his son, and his grandkid, and that woman he had kept in tow for the last week, and not in the British adult way you may want to translate that as, though what else might be truly going on in the hut, don’t ask, just accept he arrived to a military welcome, which is also not metaphor for something else. Grandpa was accustomed to such ceremony, if you believe his POSH adventures, and if you want to know what POSH actually means, join the club, I could look it up for us but really, I just want to move on and get down to the basement, but to get there, you have to get to through the court, and the absolute madness of the folks there, that play their fictions out over a checkered board tiled floor, a very Mason sort of thing to do, and I would tell you more but that might violate my agreement, and so it’s obvious that even Grandpa can see the patrons of this castle are not firing with all cylinders, or they would conduct their madness in a small hut, and not for all the public eyes to see. The Baron calls for his mechanical horse and gives the proper fifty cent tour of the castle as they head to the dungeon, pausing only to say hello to the Dutchess, who seems rather normal, considering, as it seems evident she actually loves the Baron, and not just because in doing so, she has earned her title, but that just shows you that there is evidence that there is love for everyone, but realistically, that’s not completely true, as there are some folks who aren’t loved, or even much appreciated, some even held with contempt and scorn and get sent death emails or letters attached to bricks through the windows, which is not cool, don’t do that, but just to better illustrate my point that love wouldn’t hold the same significance in our lives if everyone was equally loved. Some dysfunctions in family can even come from a perceived lack of love as a particular sibling seems to get more than his fair share, and if you’re measuring fairness, you’ve already the lost the game.
Once the Baron exits the dungeon, Grandpa tries the door. It is indeed locked. He turns and spies the old men who are locked in there with him and tries to smile. Their eyes seem to shine through wrinkled faces, suggesting they are younger on the inside than they are on the out, wrinkly like Shar-pei dogs.
“Excuse me, kind foreigner, Sir, but did you happen upon the toy store before you were arrested brought down here?” one of the old men asked. “Um, no,” grandpa said.
“Ahh, poor luck then, as you would have met my son. A little Michael Angelo he is. I was trying to teach him not to be so precise in his creations, as he tended to be atomically and anatomically correct, to the point many people might consider it obscene and be offended, which is how I came to be imprisoned here, as I said his work was mine. Little did I know that I was asked to make more toys of the same nature, and I am completely unable to do so, because I have been trained by masters not to be so authentic,” the old man said. “Oh,” Granpa said. “Okay. So, what are the rest of you lot in for?”
“Life,” they assured him.
“Can you imagine anything crazier? A car that floats?!” grandpa said, trying to laugh.
“I don’t see anything crazy about that,” one of them said.
“Me neither,” another said.
“But, seriously, if it can travel on the water, then by definition it’s a boat, and not a car,
and so…”
“A car boat,” one said.
“There are house boats, why not a car boat?” “It would have to be hydromatic,” one said.
“Indeed, and it would need to be automatic,” another said.
“Systematic,” another said.
“Why, it’s Grease Lightening!” and suddenly they were all rushing and singing about the car like teenagers in an auto-shop. When they were finished they were strategically placed around the car, looking to grandpa for evidence that he approved, with no improvement to the car.
“We’re going to be here forever,” grandpa lamented.
“Oh! Don’t be so doom and gloom,” another said.
“Yeah, whenever the world gets you down, Mrs. Brown…” and they were gone into another song, “The Universe Song,” by Monty Python. And when that didn’t cheer Grandpa up, they went into a chorus of “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.” And if there is a song about being British and stiff upper lip and all, because you know, sometimes life just sucks. I mean, look at all the rain they get. Are you going to let depression slow you down when most days are cold and grey? No!
“My son is always saying things like that, and he doesn’t even have a proper accent,”
Grandpa lamented. “I am such a failure!”
“Oh, no, no, no,” and so yes, they did eventually get to the song about failure and ashes and that particular breed of roses that grow from the devastation that follows dry lightning, or the carelessly disposed of cigarette. And you may think I mistaken about the other songs, but there was a lot of push back to get this movie’s running time down, cause who did they think they were, Cameron?! But seriously, don’t smoke. And don’t talk to me about George Burns, either. He is a statistical anomaly, and just because you’re existence is also a statistical anomaly, it doesn’t mean you’re special, like you could win the lottery with one play, but that doesn’t mean that if you play more you’re more likely to win when each play is a reset of the statistical measure, whereas a pack a day is not the same as playing the lottery once a day, because the residue is accumulative, and you don’t have to believe me, you just have to trust an aircraft mechanic, which I was actually licensed for the same, and when you come across a 727 that was used in the seventies when smoking was en vogue, and when you’re having to replace the pressure relief valve on the plane and encountering such a coating of tar and gunk and you realize that’s in your lungs, well enough said.
One of the greatest fanfares you will ever hear comes from CCBB arriving in the air above the castle, gleaming in the morning sunlight. People in the digital age have forgotten the joys of orchestras and bands, and combinations of the two, but you can’t just tune into this moment, you have to have the build up to it, like going through an entire opus to get at that part you like, because seriously, the part before and after defines the movement in time and space, because sound, even speech, it’s not about the word but the entirety of breath that brings it to your ears. It’s the magic of the first morning, followed by the incremental crescendo of every morning after that, and the morning that you find yourself is the most precious moment you will ever have, but it’s predicated on all the mornings behind that, and without knowing that you might imagine the music playing around is the set point, but it is variations on an original theme, the eddies of which keep circling back and reinserting itself. It is the continuous tribute that echoes through time and why everyone should celebrate fan-fiction, which is often better than what the ‘official’ channels produce because fans are rarely so restrained or constricted that they can’t be influenced by the entirety of it all. Genius, by all the old definitions, that included the population of starving artist, are always those who are invisible to the peers and people of their time, over looked because of perceived flaws, like color, or failures of grammar, or not being shiny and new, but coming at you with recycled glory that wants to celebrate the past while bringing us all forward into a new age of steam… “They’re shooting at us,” Truly said.
“Are they insane?!” Caractacus said. “How can they possess the car if they destroy the car?”
“I don’t think they care about that,” Truly said.
“Well, they should,” Caractacus said. “If just one of those cannons were to breach the power supply, well…”
“What did you do?” Truly asked.
“I confined a bit of protomatter as method of agitating the…” Caractacus said.
“Isn’t that unstable?” Truly asked.
“Well, only if… Wait wait wait, you know what protomatter is?” Caractacus said. “Sir, I am a well-educated woman of the day, with diversified interest in science, and fiction, and…” Truly said.
“I love you,” Caractacus said.
“Yay!” the children said. “Now you have to get married.”
“What?” Caractacus and Truly said.
“He used the love word, that means you have to get married,” Jemima said.
“Yeah, it’s love that makes Chitty fly, not that other stuff,” Jeremy said.
“Besides, you two kissed, and that’s fairly final,” Jemima said.
“You saw that?” Truly asked.
“What have I told you about spying?” Caractacus said.
“We weren’t spying, we were in the back seat,” Jeremy said.
“And it was rather spectacular, with shooting stars and all,” Jemima said.
“I did like the shooting stars, does that happen with every kiss?” Jeremy said.
“Um, we better land,” Caractacus said.
“You can’t avoid this conversation forever,” Jemima said.
“No, but for now,” Caractacus said.
He and Chitty collaborated for the gentlest of landing, retracted the wings, with the whispers of mechanisms, and the pitch of the engine changed as it shifted from the push and pull of propellers to push and pull of camshaft and wheels. Caractacus parked under a Roman waterway, and it was clear he, and everyone, were actually a bit relieved to be on the ground, and the first thing Caractacus did was rush to a little place to relieve themselves, and yes, females have to do this, too, and so Truly and Jemima politely went to the other side, and though preferably people like to control where their business goes, it is perfectly natural to just let it be where it falls, because the grass and trees eat this stuff up, but in a city one has to be more precise where the business goes, because if a million people did this in an alley, eventually one wouldn’t be able to use the alley.
They returned to the CCBB, which I have decided is a much easier way of doing it and should have done it earlier, but forgive me for not being clever sooner, but sometimes cleverness comes upon you with experience, as opposed to just being born with it.
“Alright, you lot stay here with Chitty, while I go collect information about the castle,” Caractacus said.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we stay together?” Truly asked.
“Yes, father, don’t leave us,” Jemima said.
“Why don’t we take the car into town,” Jeremy asked.
“Well, the Baron’s men will be looking for the car,” Caracatcus said.
“And they won’t be looking for strangers?” Jeremy said. “We don’t even speak Vulgar.” “I do,” Truly said.
“So do I,” Caractacus said.
“And when we do, we will need to cover your ears, because speaking Vulgar isn’t something one does in polite circles, or in front of children,” Truly said.
“Yes,” Caractacus agreed. “You see, children, I have kept you fairly sheltered, and what we’re about to experience could be alarming…”
“Oh, father, we know all about the streets,” Jeremy said.
“Where did you think we learned that if you kiss have to get married?” Jemima asked.
“Why are we back on this subject?” Caractacus asked.
“It’s the only subject worth discussing,” Jeremy said. “That and cars.”
Truly looked knowingly at Caractacus. “He is your son.”
“There’s no doubt,” Caractacus said. “Alright, we’re staying together.” And Caractacus led the way but Jeremy hesitated.
“Come on, keep up,” Caractacus said.
“But what about Chitty,” Jeremy said. “We can’t just leave her here.” “She’ll be fine,” Caractacus said.
“But you said we should stay together,” Jemima said, agreeing with her brother.
“What if they find her?” Jeremy asked.
“They won’t find her,” Caractacus said.
“How will they not find her? We landed on the only road leading away from the village, you don’t think they will look here?” Jemima asked.
“Chitty, show them,” Caractacus said.
Chitty faded from sight, not completely invisible, if you were walking, and just happened to look just right, you might imagine you saw the outlines of a car, like light shining through a glass. Again, there was an argument in the real world, but remember, Ian Flemming gave us the first invisible car, which was in alignment with known technology, and invisiblilty has been around since the Greeks.
“Oh!” the kids said.
“You weren’t joking about this being a magic car,” Truly said.
“It’s phantasmagorical,” Caractacus reminded.
“It’s magically trans-technological,” Truly said.
“It’s wizard,” Jeremy said.
“It’s smashing,” Jemima said.
“Oh, come on, we need to find out more about the castle,” Caractacus said.
“But I can’t get the song out of my head,” Jeremy said.
“Maybe if we just sing another chorus it will be out of our system,” Jemima said.
“I think it will just lead to another,” Truly said.
“Almost like it’s looped,” Caractacus said.
“And by the end, I think everyone will be singing her glory,” Truly said.
“We should at least make our way to the village while we’re pondering this,” Caractacus said.
Our newly formed family unit, as there was no doubt by this point that Truly was now a Pott, not a crackpot, as she was probably the most sensible member of the family, arrived on foot in the village. CCBB was