Might is meant to be a merry month, going again so far as Elizabethan dramatist Thomas Dekker, who wrote the deathless traces:
O, the month of Might, the merry month of Might,
So frolic, so homosexual, and so inexperienced, so inexperienced, so inexperienced!
However that’s not how I keep in mind it.
The month-to-month grade college meeting for April after I was rising up was usually closed with the announcement that Might was Appropriate Posture Month, and thus would start a reign of terror that recalled Robespierre, in case you knew who the hell Robespierre was.
“Good posture can chunk me!”
“So let’s all attempt to arise straight all via the month of Might!” Father Laudick would urge us in a genial tone, and his cordon of nefarious henchmen (as Rocky and Bullwinkle would name them) would then embark upon a program of vicarious vindictiveness that recalled the homicide of St. Thomas a Becket by three knights of Henry II who occurred to listen to him say “Will nobody rid me of this turbulent posture freak?”
“A cordon of nefarious henchmen?”
And so Might would are available with a program of enforced good posture, leaving the bookish, the lazy and the simply plain detached uncovered to a program of rolling enforcement much like “cease and frisk” within the ghetto; your each motion was the topic of undesirable scrutiny, and also you risked each harassment for conduct that violated no regulation and punishment in case you resisted a command to tug your shoulders again and suck in your intestine.
The lay lecturers at a Catholic college sometimes function at an obstacle, like eunuchs in a seraglio. They don’t have any authority to implement the canon regulation of the church besides by proxy, and they also seize on non-liturgical guidelines with the sadistic fervor of a sequence gang guard. “Are you aware what month that is?” Mrs. Kennedy or Miss Imhauf would possibly say as they brandished a weapon of classroom management of their fingers.
“Why no, I don’t,” a younger wag would possibly reply. “Is it . . . Lady Scout Cookie Mon–OW!”
With the rubber tip of a chalkboard pointer buried into your clavicle, you stood up straight whether or not you wished to or not.
It wasn’t the strict enforcement of Appropriate Posture Month that used to get my goat a lot because the patent unfairness of all of it; College Library Month was April, and in case you wished to have the ability to present your face when the roll of those that’d accomplished their studying checklist was known as up yonder on the auditorium stage, you needed to get busy.
“You need me to make use of this on you? Effectively–do you?”
However studying, as any bibliophile will inform you, produces dangerous posture. H.L. Mencken, certainly one of many twentieth century’s most voracious readers, wore his dangerous posture as a badge of honor, referring in his later years to his “matronly” determine.
The harpies and the harridans of fine posture, when confronted with this irrefutable argument, would attraction to a boy’s native sense of emulation. “Don’t you need to be a giant, robust athlete?” they’d say. What boy might refute the implications of that loaded query?
Stan Musial, slouching.
Effectively, I might. “How about Stan Musial?” I’d fireplace proper again. “He slumps again in his stance for energy. When he uncoils from his crouch, he . . .”
At this level reinforcements can be known as in, often Sister Mary Clarus, the Treasured Blood sister often called the enforcer of fine posture due to the facility of her “monkey chunk” grip in your elbow that will ship you into paroxysms of ache.
Mussolini: Good posture is a number one indicator of pure evil.
However there have been bigger, real-world counter-examples. Leaders of the Axis powers–Hitler, Mussolini, Hirohito–all have been good posture fanatics. “You wouldn’t me to develop as much as snuff out the brilliant gentle of democracy–would you?”
That all the time gave the posture-powers-that-be . . . or have been . . . pause.
“You recognize, Sister,” Mrs. Ilmberger would say to Sister Mary Joseph McCarthy, “he has a degree.”
To which the Greater Energy of the Corridor Passes would say, “Sure–but when he combs his hair proper, no person will discover.”