General Reflections and Mac Da Thó's Pig

Now I realize it's been a while since the last post, so I'll just address that quickly by saying that I've been overloaded with schoolwork and most of my free time is spent on painting. I'm not going to be too apologetic, as I doubt the three people who actually read these posts were losing any sleep over my hiatus.

Why hasn't he updated in a month? Why?!

This time I want to talk about the tale of Mac Da Thó's Pig. Now hold on a second, you interject (hypothetically, though in reality you probably don't care, but for the sake of my own interests you're going to interject), that story is ancient history by now, we're already onto the Mabinogion! Well despite your imaginary distress, I'll be talking about it anyway for two reasons. The first is that it's been my favorite thing we've read besides the Taín, and the second is that I'm really not a big fan of our more recent readings (Tales of the Elders of Ireland). I say this with brief mental hesitation since I know those tales are my professor's favorite part of the syllabus, but I'll stick my neck out for the sake of artistic integrity. Also because this gives me an opportunity to briefly cover that reading.

My main issue with Tales of the Elders of Ireland is that it's no longer the good old Celtic stories we love so much. It was written centuries after Ireland was converted to Catholicism, so all the wanton slaughter, shameless debauchery, and wholesale madness of the Ulster Cycle has been tainted by the piety and modesty of Christianity. The reason for this is very simple, that the writers wanted to integrate the traditional native styles of narrative with more modern Christian moral and social values. Still, knowing why doesn't make it any better. Yes, the earlier stories of a teenager going into spasmodic tantrums and razing entire armies were ludicrous, but I compare it to a piece of abstract art (a good piece of abstract art, nowadays these are few and far between): it may not make any sense, but it can speak to you aesthetically on a level where you don't have to have to completely understand it to appreciate it. To continue the comparison, Tales of the Elders of Ireland is like if someone pasted crucifixes and bumper stickers of the Virgin Mary all over a Jackson Pollock piece.

I was trying to prove a point, but this actually looks pretty cool. Damn.

Basically I just don't like the idea of these super-powered manliest-of-men Irish heroes bowing down and putting there heads on St. Patrick's lap in submission. It's contrary to everything we learned about these guys in the Taín. The last time a god (technically goddess in the case of the Morrigan) tried to mess with Cuchulainn, he beat her to a bloody pulp and knocked out one of her eyes. But oh well, too bad, Catholicism ruined Celtic literature and I'm a millenium too late to do anything about it. That's the end of my rant.

The only god I could potentially see the Ulster men worshipping

Mac Da Thó's Pig

The story begins with Mac Da Thó and his wife talking about how awesome their dog is. This thing is supposed to be fantastic, like it could blow Lassie, Clifford, and Old Yeller out of the water. Everyone seems to agree because Connachta and Ulaid (Connacht and Ulster in our previous stories) are both begging Mac to just give them this dog. Mac is really upset over this (despite how easy it would be to say "no, go find your own dog") so his wife tells him to promise the dog to both sides, because that couldn't possibly go wrong. It was kind of like that time in Game of Thrones when Tyrion promised Myrcella Baratheon to the Martell's, the Arryn's, and the Greyjoy's.

Ok, I know that one was a bit of a stretch, but I was worried I wouldn't be able to fit my GoT reference for this post anywhere else. How did this even get started? Oh well, 4/4 and going strong.

Now conveniently enough both opposing sides meet at Mac's place at exactly the same time. Seeing that this could be a problem, Mac invites everyone in for a good old feast, but these darn Celts can't go anywhere without getting offended and starting a fight over something inane. This time, the argument is about who gets to carve the pig. Cet of Connachta makes a stand and insults everyone who tries to challenge him until their spirits are broken and they go off to drink alone in a dark corner. Connal Cernach finally steps in and totally 1-ups Cet, relieving him of his dignity and the electric Thanksgiving carving blade. Because Connacht men are all sore losers, they start shooting at him, resulting in a massive drunken bar brawl, presumably in fast motion while the theme song from the Benny Hill Show plays in the background.

Like this, but with beards and bigger muscles

At this point Mac is sick of these guys wrecking up his house so he just lets the dog go to join whichever side he wants. It chooses Ulaid and helps them rout Connachta, but then gets its head chopped off immediately after when it tries to bite Ailill's chariot. Good job, Ulaid, that dog sure came in handy. The story ends with the charioteer Fer Loga jumping into Conchobor's chariot and forcing him to make all the women in Ulaid sing "Fer Loga Is My Darling" every night for a year. I feel like he could've gotten more, but that's not bad as far as hostage demands go.

The great thing about Mac Da Thó's Pig is that the whole story is a parody of these types of Celtic tales. The stakes (a dog and a pig) are just silly, all the main characters of the story are presented as fools who get shamed by each other, the major battle is just a barfight, and in the end the dog everyone was fighting over just up and dies like a character written by George R.R. Martin. If there's one thing I can appreciate, it's someone who can mock himself (or even better, mock his entire culture and history). Still, at the end you have to look back and ask, was it worth it?

Totally.