Greetings Mr. Chaucer,
Many weeks have passed since we were last acquainted. Our pilgrimage to Canterberry proved to be a very enriching experience. This internette that you speak of has even made my tale accessible to patrons all around the world. I admire this Lady Fame you speak of–for if it was not for her no one would ever speak of me, The wife of Bath. Mr. Chaucer, surely you should not be surprised that your fame has withstood the tests of time, and it is only natural that you use this internette to practice your craft. I must advise that you caution yourself, for the internette can be full of many that take false personas or even pass off incomprehensible writing as actual literature. Although the internet can persevere ones legacy, it can also ruin ones reputation. Mr. Chaucer do not fall victims to the ladies that may send incising emails, for once you engage in questionable behavior, the internette will keep a permanent record of your misconduct. I wish you well with your future endeavors and be proud that your fame has grown to reach the heavens.
Forgive me, Mr. Chaucer, for bringing up such a couple of strange question, but there are a few things I have been wonderynge since we began our pilgrimmage and they are beginning to itch at my mind and so I must ask– I hope you will excuse my curiosity toward matters unrelated to our current reading.
I have read from a certain source (http://www.alchemylab.com/cannabis_stone4.htm) that sometimes references to the “Green Man” may have been made as secretive references to bhang or hashish. Is there any possible truth to this?
Also, what was the status of cannabis in your time? Would perhaps one of the pilgrims ever have considered lighting up a road doobie? Was it used at all in England in Medieval times or was it still stuck in other regions? Just curious….for no reason.
Dear Geoffrey Chaucer,
I see you too have realize that the internet has become a dumping ground of all of earth’s dwellers. I also think that Fame has perhaps morphed from a lady covered with eyes, ears, and tongues to the internet the catch all for everyone’s opinions but I don’t know if I would classify the majority of internet information as “wisdom” so much as those young folk with great amounts of free time (they do not confess or go on pilgrimages, tisk tisk).
But, Dear Chaucer, your fame has grown quite large, it shows with all of your emails! You have many friends well versed in our Middle English and know many a thing about our customs and lives.
I see now from your blog that perhaps I, as a Friar, should utilize this “internet” for my own fame and purposes. Perhaps I shall set up an online confession blog where I can advise my peers on the go rather than spending so much time making home visits. Perhaps I will also set up an online donation area so that I may stay a friar and not suffer so much poverty.
Over all, good job, my good friend.
Good Afternoon Mr. Chaucer,
I agree that the internet is quite beneficial and it has definitely changed the way information is accessed. Even your own work is readily available on the internet with a simple Google search. Oh, have you heard about Google yet? Whenever you want to find something fast just Google it!
Your emails are bizarre to say the least but something a random email can spark one’s interest.Who knows a mail order bride may suit you and could be worth looking into. In that case, the second email regarding Augmentula could become of use to you as well.
I wish you the best with your travels on the wonderful World Wide Web! And the mail order bride if you decide to go in that direction.
Dear Mr. Chaucer,
I too have fed crumbs of bread to the pigeons around where I live. I just love to see the flappy ones flock around me. Ah Fame.
As for your very strange e-mails, I too get some e-mails that I call spam. It makes me wonder why people send spam. They are e-mails filled with useless information that I do not need.
You are avery brave man to be publishing e-mails that could come back to haunt you. I wonder what the future holds for us as far as modern technology goes.
Did you ever in your widest dreams think that you, Mr. Chaucer, would be sending and receiving e-mails? Some of your followers are quite odd. Beware and be careful for the internet is a very scary place. Farewell sir.
As a good monk who would never think of calling anybody or anything an offensive name must say that I am truly offended by Wallace’s use of the word retarded, not once, but twice. At the bottom of the first page it says, Cambridge Companion Online c Cambridge University Press, 2006. 2006? Weren’t we all practicing political correctness at that time. I once kew a “retarded” child growing up. Nobody made fun of him and we all accepted him. That awful label immediately turned me off to Wallace and I hesitated to read further. Guess what? He said it again on page 37. I don’t think much of a person like this. He’s such a baffoon. There, I said it. As a man of the cloth I am conditioned to like everybody no matter what their shortcomings are, but this David Wallace I do not like.
Unfinished‽ Blasted! What a let down to an epic start! There is nothing I hate more than an unfinished tale–no ending satisfaction, my God, I am furious; I can hardly contain myself as I etch my anger into this leather.
This tale had so much potential! The description of eyes, ears, and tongues, my God what a beast ah? And almost as unjust as Lady Fortune herself. Bah! I want nothing to do with Fame. The beggars in that tale make me dread my kind. What happened to acting for the benefit of the common good? And what is this business with this whirling house full off people whispering fabricated messages to one another? The house of gossip? Bah! Useless as the sixth group who spent their lives in idleness.
But, with all this aside, what displeases me most is how the tale ends. It would have lessened my current anger immensely if it didn’t have mention of the man of authority at all! At least that way I would not be in this position of wanting to know how the tale develops from there. I would have been happier with the damned narrator being stuck in that whirling house for all eternity! Bah!