Is Tiny Cat Pants Magic?

You recall the other day I was remarking about 15th century Spaniards and their love of boobs, frilly collars, and painting of food products made to look like people?  Well, that’s because I was looking for a picture of a 15th century Spaniard, which we might photoshop into having a nose ring.  Cervantes, specifically, not that it matters.

Today, I’m walking the dog and, I swear on the dog that this is the truth, my neighbor comes out of his house dressed like…

No, I am not shitting you.

A Spanish conquistador.

I about crapped my pants.

And, might I just add that I would really like to own a little house with a couple of bedrooms and central air and a fenced in back yard and a porch with no major problems, maybe over in East Nashville?  Soon?  Bought with money that magically came to me through means that caused no one else pain?

Just saying…

19 thoughts on “Is Tiny Cat Pants Magic?

  1. The state needs some money to avoid layoffs, as long as your mojo is working.

  2. I wonder if the early Spanish capitivity narratives (like Cabeza de Vaca) wouldn’t be at pains to represent the returned captives as permanently representationally fused. I know that at least on the northern frontiers, the fear was not of going native (which soldiers did all the time), but of being liminal — neither wholly Spanish nor wholly indigenous. (See also the exhaustively specific racial taxonomy…nm, are these another carry-over from the Reconquista and the long history of governing la frontera in Iberia? I’m guessing yes, by the slippage between race/religious expression as a means of placing people within the social matrix.)

  3. How about this. It’s got everything you wish, except the East Nashville location. But you would get to live only two blocks down from me, which would be ample comensation I’m sure. How about it… neighbor.

  4. You can not have B in Kentucky. She has to come to East Nashville.

    Bridgett: sort of but not really. That is, I’m sure that the delight in sticking people into well understood categories was brought over from Iberia, but in Iberia one could not be liminal. There was no category for a child born to parents in different religions, since (ahem) religious mixing never happened because it was heresy. So the (ahem) children of Christian men with Muslim or Jewish women were Christian (if acknowledged by their [ahem] fathers), the children of (ahem, ahem) Christian women with Muslim or Jewish men were seriously liable to get their parents executed unless the father was remarkably powerful, and Muslims and Jews fought it out on a case-by-case basis. Except that it never happened (ahem), because that would have been heresy.

    The thing that was characteristic of Iberian categories is that they tended to reflect what one’s ancestors had been before they became whatever they were. So in the 14th and 15th centuries, Conversos (descendants of Jews who converted to Christianity) and Moriscos (descendants of Muslims who ditto) were distinguished from Old Christians. In the 10th through 12th centuries, Mozarabs (Christian descendants of Christians who had lived under Muslim rule) were distinguished from Castilians, Portuguese, Aragonese, Catalans, Navarrese, and Franks (Christians who had migrated to Iberia from elsewhere in Europe). This all came (IMO) from the Muslims, who distinguished between Arabs, Berbers, Slavs (components of the conquering armies), and Iberians who converted to Islam. Categories … they loved them some categories.

  5. How about waaaay east Nashville? My house has all that stuff and will be for sale soon. Sadly though, no conquistadors in the neighborhood. But surely the Butcher could remedy that.

  6. Glad to be of interest, Lee. Medieval Iberia was a fun place, boy howdy! You want me to tell you about legitimation processes for various categories of born-outside-of-marriage kids?

  7. Uh oh, I just realized that since TCP is magic we are liable to start finding Moriscos or Francos or someone wandering around Music Row and looking kind of lost. I’ll shut up now.

  8. Uh oh, I just realized that since TCP is magic we are liable to start finding Moriscos or Francos or someone wandering around Music Row and looking kind of lost. I’ll shut up now.

  9. Oh, sure, Eliyahu, come up with the logical answer. Whatever. Tee hee. Lee, I would live there in a heartbeat. Creepy old house? Grouchy German to fight with? What’s not to love?

    Okay, I’ve got to go talk to a mortgage person. Unless one you you has a spare $100,000 laying around you don’t need…

    (Work Tiny Cat Pants Mystery Wish Granter! Work!)

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