Herb’s Blog, Herbdate 22636 – 940
Here’s the haps:
Art Vegan looked around the museum at the Parthenon. Greece was such a fascinating place and it was almost as if he could feel the ancient poets and writers, the philosophers there with him. As he entered the museum he noticed a large blond-haired, blue-eyed man in a security guard’s uniform. His name tag said, “Leif” and he spoke with some Scandinavian accent.
Art stared at the works of art around him and looked for a long time at the head from a statue of Alexander the Great. Thirty-two years old was awfully young to become ruler of the known world. It also was awfully young to die. Of Malaria? Really? Some said he was poisoned, but many others said it was Malaria, which, if what he had seen in other areas of life were true, it seemed likely. The greatest conqueror in the world, done in by a mosquito bite.
He looked up and saw another large, blond-haired, blue-eyed security guard. His name was Sven and he had a strong Swedish accent. Art went further and saw a vase that had been found in pieces and reconstructed.
A beautiful depiction of a wedding scene along the base of it. He didn’t know enough to know if it were the one that John Keats had seen but it could easily have inspired poetry. Art wondered if the original maker had thought it would be on display as a thing of beauty well over two thousand years after its creation.
Art looked at another security guard, named Olaf, the same physique as the other two. Art walked up to him and asked, “Say, do you know how much is ode on that Grecian urn?” And busted up laughing. Olaf didn’t seem to get it. “By the way,” Art asked, “What’s a Grecian urn? Minimum wage until he proves himself.” Nobody was appreciating his humor as much as he was so he decided to leave. At the exit, he saw another big blond named Lars. This was too much. Just then the director of the museum walked out of his office. After exchanging pleasantries and introductions Art said, “Listen, mister director, I have to ask you a question. Sven, Lars, Olaf, Leif…These guys aren’t Greek. What gives?”
“Oh. Those are the Four Norsemen of the Acropolis.”
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