Dead Language

The beggar standing on the corner was holding up a cardboard sign I drove past too fast to read. I heard a red alarm bell ringing when one of my students, a college junior, spelled “toxin” “tocsin” in an essay. In the surviving fragment of his book, On Analogy, Julius Caesar tells us to “Avoid strange and unfamiliar words as a sailor avoids rocks at sea,” which, I admit, seems like sensible advice. But even so, I’m not about to take writing tips from the man who started the fire that in 48 B.C. destroyed the Great Library of Alexandria. From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author most recently of Famous Long Ago (Laughing Ronin Press).

Reality Programming

The students were blindfolded as they entered the arena, and the roaring crowd left them nearly deaf as well. When the bell sounded indicating they were allowed to uncover their eyes, they found an array of weapons waiting for them.

The student combat drew the largest audience in recent memory. The republic was drawn to the spectacle of it all, the blood and the death and the lost innocence. And the drama. Only one lucky warrior would survive.

Not many people realize that Julius Caesar first sprang to fame as a winner on Rome's most popular reality show, Juvenile Gladiators.

The Ides Of March

Caesar was warned.

The first emperor of Rome, the ruler of Europe, Asia, and Northern Africa, the man who had broken the Republic, simply scoffed.

The old man had not been cowed in his presence, and Caesar, having grown accustomed to instilling fear, awe, and respect in even his closest associates, was vexed. Who would dare lay hands on Caesar? He derisively dismissed the warnings.

That evening, Caesar saw the old man on his way to the theater. "Well, the Ides of March have come," he remarked.

The old man, still defiant, responded, "Aye, but they are not yet gone."