Our National Anthem is a Freemason Drinking Song
Did you know that what is now known as the National Anthem of the United States of America was lifted, musically, in its entirety from the Freemason drinking song, "To Anacreon in Heaven"?
The song was written for the Anacreontic Society, probably around 1771. The tune was was once thought to have been written by Dr Thomas Arnold, but is now thought to have been written "collectively" by members of the society, led by John Stafford Smith (who now usually gets the credit). The society met every two weeks to get drunk, sing songs and to indulge in some debauchery. Anacreon himself was a Greek poet from about 570BC who was noted for his erotic poetry (in the Anacreontic style that he established) and his drinking songs.
It was written and sung at the Crown and Anchor Tavern before Francis Scott Key wrote new words for it in 1814, at which point it became the National Anthem. There are many aspects of this story that are worthy of further examination; the irony of puritanical embrace of the song, the fact that, in essence, the second-most fundamental symbol of our country is, at best, a filk, and at worst, an outright reappropriation of previously existing "intellectual property", and, most entertainingly to me, solid evidence of Masonic influence in the formation of the United States. Were it just a single song taken from Masonic sources, that would be one thing. However, a cursory review of our currency reveals Masonic symbology a-plenty. Take a look at the layout for our nation's capital, for that matter. Or pretty much anything in Washington DC.
To ANACREON in Heav'n, where he sat in full Glee,
A few Sons of Harmony sent a Petition,
That He their Inspirer and Patron wou'd be;
When this Answer arriv'd from the JOLLY OLD GRECIAN
"Voice, Fiddle, and Flute,
"No longer be mute,
"I'll lend you my Name and inspire you to boot,
"And, besides, I'll instruct you like me, to intwine
"The Myrtle of VENUS with BACCHUS's Vine.
The news through OLYMPUS immediately flew;
When OLD THUNDER pretended to give himself Airs_
If these Mortals are suffer'd their Scheme to pursue,
The Devil a Goddess will stay above Stairs.
"Hark! already they cry,
"In Transports of Joy
"Away to the Sons of ANACREON we'll fly,
"And there, with good Fellows, we'll learn to intwine
"The Myrtle of VENUS with BACCHUS'S Vine.
"The YELLOW-HAIR'D GOD and his nine fusty Maids
"From HELICON'S Banks will incontinent flee,
"IDALIA will boast but of tenantless Shades,
"And the bi-forked Hill a mere Desart will be
"My Thunder, no fear on't,
"Shall soon do it's Errand,
"And, dam'me! I'll swinge the Ringleaders I warrant,
"I'll trim the young Dogs, for thus daring to twine
"The Myrtle of VENUS with BACCHUS'S Vine.
APOLLO rose up; and said, "Pr'ythee ne'er quarrel,
"Good King of the Gods with my Vot'ries below:
"Your Thunder is useless_then, shewing his Laurel,
Cry'd. "Sic evitabile fulmen, you know!
"Then over each Head
"My Laurels I'll spread
"So my Sons from your Crackers no Mischief shall dread,
"Whilst snug in their Club-Room, they Jovially twine
"The Myrtle of VENUS with BACCHUS'S Vine.
Next MOMUS got up, with his risible Phiz,
And swore with APOLLO he'd cheerfull join_
"The full Tide of Harmony still shall be his,
"But the Song, and the Catch, & the Laugh shall bemine
"Then, JOVE, be not jealous
Of these honest Fellows,
Cry'd JOVE, "We relent, since the Truth you now tell us;
"And swear, by OLD STYX, that they long shall entwine
"The Myrtle of VENUS with BACCHUS'S Vine.
6
Ye Sons of ANACREON, then, join Hand in Hand;
Preserve Unanimity, Friendship, and Love!
'Tis your's to support what's so happily plann'd;
You've the Sanction of Gods, and the FIAT of JOVE.
While thus we agree
Our Toast let it be.
May our Club flourish happy, united and free!
And long may the Sons of ANACREON intwine
The Myrtle of VENUS with BACCHUS'S Vine.
Weird, eh? Unfortunately, like most discussion of Masonry, it all devolves into puritanical protestant reactionary anti-Semitism.
Then again, sometimes justice is served. Damn, that Richard Leigh has some serious moustache action going on...
Attention Ammoniacal, Georgeha, and other Devo-Loving Infidels:
MSNBC is cycling a piece on Mark Mothersbaugh and Devo (and his film music career, and Devo 2.0, and his adorable little daughter) this morning. Catch it early and often.
Also, two things in one link here:
- OMFG, I WANT TO TAKE THAT CLASS!
- ZOMFG, HE HAS A MOTHERFUCKING PUG NAMED FINSTER! HOWARD FINSTER FO' LIFE!
In Related New Wave News...
What the fuck? I mean, I love the Cars as much as the next guy. They played a valuable role in opening my musical horizons to rock music, which as a child I hated, and dismissed as worthless pop drivel (I was a jazz snob at a very early age), but there is no fucking way I'd go see this. Todd Fucking Rundgren? I mean, come on! Anyway, I've already seen the Cars twice, prior to 1984, so what would be the point? I understand why Hawkes and Easton would want to perform music on stage, and I can understand and respect why Ocasek might be over it, having married a supermodel and moved on with his life to a position of respected music producer, but couldn't Hawkes and Easton have started a new band that showcased their own songwriting, rather than an emotionally stunted revival band? Maybe they just wanted the free press, but I think this was the wrong way to go about it; now they will forever be typecast as a vapid revival band, and, considering their formidable talent, that's just sad. Also, I think Elliot Easton must be drinking the blood of virgins, as, almost thirty years after the Cars began, he still looks like a skinny, maladjusted teenager.
Worst of all, I am totally blaming Rundgren for writing the word "Blackberry" in their new song. Nasty, dude. Knock it off, already. You're defiling my childhood memories, and I may have to beat your ass.
Beer Poops!
Man, I always feel cleaner inside after a hearty, waterey beerpoop. Think I'll go have a smoke now.
I'm Tired of the Bickering
Why does she need to argue about every little thing? I know the answer. It's fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of moving. Fear of leaving behind Mom and Dad and Lil' Brother and Friends and Known Places. Still, let's argue about that, not stupid shit that I don't care about. My heart's not in the arguments, woman. You're winning by default. You're also grinding me down.
It always ends in tears.
It'd all be a lot easier if I knew where and when I was going, then I could get down to the business of persuasion. Actually, I think most of the potential places of relocation would sell themselves with a simple roadtrip, but it's not feasible to take 5 cross-country roadtrips without a solid destination in mind. Whatever. Nothing to do now but plod along.
Thank you, spellcheck. Yes, I know I spelled "watery" wrong. It looks better my way. Stop trying to force your conventions down my manbeard-covered throat.
Which Reminds Me...
I now have the most incredibly awesome goal for what I want my manbeard to be able to do.
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