A pig in all this shit

[No More Diamonds in the Roughage]

Why give diamonds to swine? It's hard to get through my
posts I know, but mostly it the shit that it's percolating
up through and not my subversive prose that is to blame. 


Set, the Egyptian Sun-God. disguised as a Boar, kills Osiris
of the ivy, the lover of the Goddess Isis. Apollo the Greek
Sun-God, disguised as a Boar, kills Adonis, or Tammuz, the
Syrian, the lover of the Goddess Aphrodite. Finn Mac Cool,
disguised as a Boar, kills Diamuid, the lover of the Irish
Goddess Grainne (Greine). An unknown God disguised as a boar
kills Tegea and , according to the Nestorian Gannat Busame
('Garden of Delights') Cretan Zeus was similarly killed. It
will soon be October, the month for hunting boar. The fall
of year begins in the month of the Boar, the Beast of Death,
no Capital D needed, for this myth or what some here call
religion. 

Now this from The Times: 

On the  one hand, the author of those fiendishly
 complex historical novels Lemprière's
 Dictionary and The Pope's Rhinoceros is
 heralded as a genius. His labyrinthine sub-plots,
 intricate prose, and bizarre sense of humour are
 compared to the work of such fantastical
 masters as Thomas Pynchon and Umberto Eco.
 On the flip-side, other readers find the sheer
 sprawl and cleverness of his narratives
 exasperating, almost a literary substitute for
 Chinese water-torture. 

 Those horrified by such errant storytelling will
 be relieved to hear that his new novel, In the
 Shape of a Boar, sees him working with a far
 more direct narrative than before - at least in
 principle. Broadly speaking, the book retells the
 ancient Greek myth of the hunt for the boar of
 Kalydon in three distinct sections, which
 re-enact the hunt metaphorically in different
 timezones and situations. It begins in
 pre-Homeric Greece, then jumps between the
 final months of the Second World War and
 1970s Paris. 

 But there are still certain things about In the
 Shape of a Boar that remain far from simple.
 For instance, the footnotes in the first 35 pages.
 At first, they appear as modest textual
 references to the ancient Greek sources, but
 then they slowly encroach into the main text,
 ultimately crowding it out almost altogether.
 Their impossible intricacy makes them look
 ironic at first, akin to the post-modern
 tomfoolery of writers like David Foster Wallace.

There once was a God named Lass
whose balls were made of cut glass
as he raped the goddess venus
with his huge golden penis
diamonds shot out of her ass