Wrasslin' with Saracens

Dear Folk,

On June 29, 1315, the "Doctor Illuminatus", philosopher, poet, and theologian, Raymond Lully (Lull or Lulle) went to heaven while trying to convert the Moors over in Tunis. Ray was born somewhere between 1232 and 1236 in Majorca, Spain. He was a smart-aleck poet who hung-out at the court of King Jim of Aragon where his dad was seneschal (sort of master of ceremonies & head waiter.) Suddenly Ray left court and became a hermit. This gets good.

The story is that Ray was courting, against her will, the very married Donna Ambrosia Eleanora Di Castello. Isn't that a great name! Ambrosia Eleanora, wow! Ray was following a tad closely. Okay, he was stalking her. She could not sneeze without Ray saying "God bless you!" He wrote her some very hot verses which had a somewhat different effect than he thought. Ambrosia sent Ray a note to come meet her in private. Ray was there before the ink was dry. Ambrosia told him that since he had written such torrid verses about her beauty, he should see more of them. Stop there for a moment, dear reader. Think. What is going to happen next? The dear and virtuous "Lady A" drew aside her garments and revealed one side of her body which had been nearly eaten away by cancer. Needless to say, Ray had an epiphany. Epiphany, you know, like when you realize that Certs is a candy mint and a breath mint? Ray went and lived in a hut on a hill for six years after that. Later he hooked up with the Order of St. Francis

Ray developed a passion which was ultimately to lead to his death: the urge to convert Moslems to Catholicism. He studied Arabic, founded a school in Majorca to teach Arabic and Chaldean especially to those heading to the Holy Land. God had given him a mission: to get himself all buffed up to go theologically wrestle with the heathen across the straits.

He invented a computer of sorts, a mechanical contrivance, a logical machine, he called the "Ars Generalis Ultima" or the "Ars Magna." This machine was to prove or disprove logical arguments thus putting philosophy majors out of a job and causing attendance at coffee houses to plummet. He spent a good deal of time tinkering with this and wrote extensively about it. Obviously this proto-computer nerd was not dating very much.

Ray ran into an alchemist named Arnold of Villa Nova. Arnie taught Ray alchemy and the secret of transmuting and multiplying metals. Now, I know you probably think that anyone who tells you they can turn lead into gold is most likely out to steal your chickens. Brethren and cistern, you are probably right.

A small word about the science of alchemy. You alchemists just hush up and go stir something, okay? There are really at least two types of this operation: lead into gold, I mean. The first is what you are thinking - give me some lead and I will presto-change-o make it into gold. That is the outer work. The inner work is the transmutation of the lead in your heart to gold. Spiritual stuff, right? Ray claimed and demonstrated that he could do the first. You decide for yourself. I wasn't there.

Okay, alchemists can rejoin the party.

Ray received summons from Eddie II -- remember him and his bad end - and Robert the Bruce, king of Scotland. Eddie promised Ray that if Ray would only make some gold for him, Eddie would go whomp up on the Moslems. Ray was overjoyed, as you can imagine. Ray got assigned some rooms in the Tower of London where he converted fifty thousand pounds weight of quicksilver (mercury), lead, and tin into pure gold. This was, in turn, coined into six million nobles, each worth about three pounds sterling (in 1928). Shoot! I don't know how much money that would be today but I would bet Darva Conger would want to date him.

Of course, Eddie did not use the gold for any such crusade. Ray figured out that he was only a bird in a gilded cage and doggone it! he had supply the gilding. Ray did send instructions up to Bob the Bruce on how to do the lead into gold thing. There is no record about anyone up there doing it, though. As Ray was sneaking out of London, or leaving with discretion as I like to think of it, he cursed Eddie. Said that he hoped nothing good would come to him. Probably even wished him "Personal Growth." Folks, that is a might nasty curse. It ranks up there with the Chinese "May you live in interesting times." Don't go wishing Personal Growth on anyone unless you are prepared to weather it yourself. Mirror spells are all the rage these days.

Anyway, Ray sailed off to meet with his true calling - wrasslin' with the Saracens - and his death in 1315. He went to Egypt, they were amused; Jerusalem, they were less than receptive; and finally Tunis. When I say he got stoned, understand this was a bummer of a head rush. Ray got to go ask God "Why?" and the Saracens probably were sorry later. We don't know.

There was a movement afoot to have Ray made a saint. The Catholic church figured that Ray was too involved with mixing theology and mysticism and should just be forgotten. Sigh. Ray did write over 300 books. Wonder if Stephen King is close?

What is the point of all of this? Don't chase after cars (or ladies) because you might catch one? Beware of Moslems offering to get you stoned? Kings might say one thing but...? No, we already did that number. How about computer nerds wind up making all the gold?

As always, you may forward this to whomever, just keep my name and email address on it. I welcome comments, groans, corrections, and connections with nice ladies.

Wondering how I can learn more computer stuff,
Ells