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By Tom Elia
August 2,2002
The New Editor
I have always enjoyed reading at the local library.
The pleasure that I derive from looking at the pretty pictures in some books or slowly
moving my lips when I read other books cannot be accurately measured.
So I was pleased to learn that there is under way a discussion by archeologists to recreate
the oldest library in the world. The library, which dates back to the Assyrian empire, would
be located in modern day Iraq.
As a man of Assyrian heritage, this makes me fairly burst with pride. (In the interest of full
disclosure, it must be noted that I am also of Irish and French ancestry. This combination
leads to a very interesting internal conflict in the event that I become agitated. In such
circumstances, half of my Irish side just wants to have a 'couple' of drinks, while the other
half wants to 'mix it up' with someone; all of my French side just wants to throw my hands
in the air and surrender - but not before eating a heaping plate of delicious snails; and,
aggravated or not, my Assyrian side pretty much wants to raze someone's village all the time.)
But I digress.
The basis for the library's collection is some 25,000 stone tablets excavated from the ancient
library by British archaeologists about 150 years ago. The library, which is considered to be
the oldest organized one in the world, was found in the ancient Assyrian city of Ninevah and
was built by the Assyrian king Ashurbanipal around 650 BC.
According to Steve Boggan, a reporter for the UK newspaper The Independent, the collection
"is of immeasurable importance. It was the first properly catalogued and systematically
collated library in the ancient world. The tablets it contained, produced by scribes who were
sent far and wide by the king, provided modern scholars with historical records, religious
and political workings, folk tales and myths such as The Tale of Gilgamesh, part of which
recounts details of a flood similar to the account given in the Book of Genesis."
However, I am taken aback by something else about the ancient library -- it had an interesting
policy on lost or damaged tablets.
This inscription was discovered by archaeologists:
"May all the gods curse anyone who breaks, defaces, or removes this tablet with a curse that
cannot be relieved, terrible and merciless as long as he lives, may they let his name, his seed
be carried off from the land, and may they put his flesh in a dog's mouth."
Now I may not be on firm ground on this, but the penalties stated in this inscription seem a
tad harsh -- especially the part of about what happens to the careless one's seed.
"Excuse me sir, but are you aware that this tablet was due last week?"
"Umm... sorry about that. There must be some late fees... what do I owe?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but we'll have to banish you from the land... and, well, confiscate your
seed... and you'll have to see our collections librarian, Rex... Rex -- heel! Good boy... Get
flesh!"
Did I mention that I possess tremendous separation speed?
Could it be that the ancient curse has affected the Brits, whose archaeologists helped to
excavate the library and whose British Museum now holds so many of these ancient tablets?
There's plenty of evidence that something very odd has happened.
How else does one explain the curious British spelling of so many words? "Programme?"
"Centre?" "Colour?" "Neighbour?" "Aluminium?" "Behaviour?"
"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?"
What's uppe with that?
Let's not add to the confusion and talk about kidney pie or gin and tonics sans ice.
I think that a certain deep-thinking congresswoman from Georgia, Cynthia McKinney, would
agree that these oddities are not simple coincidences, but part of some kind of evil scheme.
This curse needs to be taken seriously.
Therefore, I think that I may get rid of my Assyrian library card -- pronto. Regular libraries
just seem to be less trouble. Both for me -- and my seed.
Tom Elia is a contributing editor for The New Editor.
Paul Geary
David Rogers