So I dusted off the old adage, “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” and combined it with the proverb “you can’t get milk from a turtle.” Hence, “you can’t get milk from an enemy dressed as your turtle companion.” I’m not an English teacher, and I have no idea how the mechanics of this neologism functuate. But I do know from my historical treatise on ancient Greek war posters that the Athenians and Spartans were, like, total foes. So when that Athenian contingent waltzed through my backyard (trouncing a perfectly trimmed patch of sorghum) I knew who to turn to- the Spartan Oligarchs.
After a few thousand years of mellowing out, the municipality of Sparta was overeager for a battle with Athens. I promised the phalanxes riches. I promised them glory; a thousand laurels to hang ’round their collective necks. The numbers were against us, though- twenty to one. But a single fully-armed Spartan hoplite is more than a match for sixty Athenians!
“For Sparta! For the oligarchy!”
War drums sounded o’er the grassy hillside... the moon peeked out from behind a billowy pink-red cloud, indicating weekend-long rain. Deep down, I hoped for bear claws. Commanding the great phalanx, I ordered the Spartans forth in a standard Riemann Sum evasion pattern. The Athenians were prepared for this, sadly, and countered quickly. Their arrows nearly blocked out the sun...
The battle was long. Many brave hoplites, helots, and praetorians skinned their knees and ran screaming from the fray. But at long last, when the last of my sorghum was trampled into oblivion, I saw no point in continuing the boondoggle. I grabbed the closest keyboard I could find and gushed my guilt into the invisible pages of a web medium, combining the unquenchable arrogance of the Athenians with the noble anger of the charismatic Spartans.
Behold, a new blog template to commemorate the Battle of Donut Ridge!