More “Progress”

Surfing for job related reasons, came across this article (which I link to be polite; life is too short to read such things unless you’re paid to do it). I was lead to ponder: A related idea to Chesterton’s  point about classrooms – it’s what the schools assume that the students will learn even as they ignore what the teachers say – is the notion that it is the assumptions underlying an essay such as the article linked above that carry any message that might stick.

What message would that be?

Peter Drucker, the management guru, is often credited with the all-too-true saying that “culture eats strategy for breakfast.” In a later era, tech guru and investor Marc Andreessen famously said that “software is eating the world.” Now … there’s a growing realization that culture is eating software for breakfast, and perhaps lunch and dinner as well.

The challenge for IT executives and developers alike is addressing corporate culture and organizational issues that complicate even the best intentions.

There’s more along a similar vein. In fact, there really isn’t anything else in this essay.

Related image
This man has the world at his feet! Or by the feet. Something like that.

I suppose a Cobbler’s Guild, faced with the daunting challenge of filling blank electronic pages, might publish articles about how nobody’s going anywhere without shoes, and there must be a meeting of minds between the shoemaker and the shoe wearer. People wear shoes at breakfast, lunch and dinner! We have a shod culture! Imagine the solemn duty, the awesome dignity we, the shoemakers, have to lead the culture – in comfortable, stylish footwear – into a glorious future.

Note the relationships implied in these short sentences quoted above. Culture, which we might think of here as simply the conventions honored by people when they function together, eat strategy. The implication – Peters is a *management* guru, after all – is that the culture should be *managed* in order to better facilitate acceptance of strategy.  Andreessen, an alpha geek, stands Peters on his head and says software is eating the world. (Software assumes the rhetorical position held by culture in the previous sentence – hmmm.) I suspect he might not see this world-consumption by bug-ridden and ephemeral tech as an entirely bad thing, or at least see it as an opportunity of some sort. Sounds like a horror movie plot to a sane person.

Related image
An artist’s impression of Software.

IT people face ‘challenges’ in addressing corporate culture that complicate ‘even the best intentions’. Who, then, would be having these intentions? Would it not have to be the people in charge of the corporation, who have more or less intentionally shaped the culture?

IT people, who are legendarily among the least socially clued in people on the planet, are to see trivia like other people’s intentions and culture as mere obstacles to their intentions, which they summarily and conclusively presume are the *best* intentions. IT intentions contain, as an island inside another circle in a Venn diagram, any *worthy* intentions of the customer.

I wish this were exaggeration. Instead, it’s not the half of it. Man with a hammer style, IT people tend to more or less consciously believe that, always and everywhere,  top-down, expert-driven, we know what’s best for you solutions are not only the best solutions, but are, definitionally, the entire set of possible solutions.

And it gets worse! Because of various tech booms and consumer gadget-lust, technology leaders are often rich, insulated by money from those factors in the real world that stood a chance (however slight) of smoothing off the jagged edges of their hellish ideas. AND that money allows them to ACT on those unpolished ideas.

Woe unto us, and our children! Those ideas will fail in the long run, as all ideas untethered from reality eventually fail. But the damage inflicted as they thrash in their death throes would be something to behold – if we weren’t the folks getting thrashed.

Our heartfelt appreciation of a good, solid, comfortable pair of shoes does not, I should hope, incline us to appoint the cobbler God-Emperor. Our humble gratitude is what is due, and should be enough. IT is glorified cobbling, no more the fount of wisdom than any other rather narrow craft. But try telling that to the tech billionaires.

Let’s paraphrase Heinlein:

“Throughout history, ignorance and hubris are the normal condition of man. Advances which permit this norm to be ameliorated — here and there, now and then — are the work of an extremely small minority, frequently despised, often condemned, and almost always opposed by all right-thinking people. Whenever this tiny minority is kept from enlivening the culture, or (as sometimes happens) is driven out of a society, the people then slip back into abject ignorance and hubris, and recommence killing each other with appalling gusto.

This is known as “bad luck.”

 

 

Advertisements

On Progress and The World as Grass

Two interesting posts from two of my favorite regular blog reads:

Mike Flynn says:

“We often hear that the rate of progress is accelerating. Change is coming faster and faster. Things that were once pooh-poohed as “slippery slope fallacies” only a few years ago are now spoken of as inevitable and well-established. We are building something new, we are told.

“Yet a building being constructed does not move faster and faster. A building collapsing does, as it accelerated under the force of gravity.”

Brian Niemeier says, among other things:

There’s another, more sinister aspect to this phenomenon that heightens the already disorienting experience of learning that the Weird Al single you’d meant to buy on release but kept putting off is now old enough to drive–like children born on September 11, 2001 are now. It’s an empirical fact that Western pop culture–and even Western technology itself–has remained largely static since the late 1980s.

Submitted for your consideration:

  • The last two generations of iPhones have had no new features.
  • The celebrated iPod performed the same essential function as a 1970s Walkman.
  • Movies and TV are dominated by sequels to film franchises and adaptations of comic book story arcs that first gained popularity in the 70s and 80s.
  • Nintendo is still the biggest name in video games, trading on IPs it established in the 80s.
  • In terms of ordinary street clothes, popular fashion hasn’t changed substantially since the 70s. You could zap the average American twentysomething dude back to 1988 right now, and no one would bat an eye, except perhaps to comment that he looked like a slob. There would be no Marty McFly-style gaffes, e.g.: “Hey kid, you jump ship?” “I’ve never seen purple underwear before!”
The issue is bigger than a generation of kids raised on Nickelodeon turning 40. As the 21st century lumbers out of its infancy, we find that the music-makers can only sample Vanilla Ice ripoffs of Queen songs; and the dreamers can only dream of the lifestyle their parents took for granted.
We’d better get some new dreams.
I commented on these thoughts, respectively:

Good image. Also, from working in the software industry: progress almost never means coding, or more generally, the stuff you can see happens as a result of the real progress, but is not progress in itself. Almost all the progress happens before there’s anything to show for it.

Two wildly different examples: in my industry, meaningful progress happens during the ‘thought-smithing’ stage, where sharp people figure out what’s really going on, what’s really necessary. Ideas and processes crystalize. THEN, if you’re lucky and did a good job, coders code, and there’s software to look at. But coders code and produce stuff to look at all the time – it’s called ‘shelfware’, beautiful software nobody wants, so it sits on a shelf. Conclusion: the software itself isn’t where things got made better.

Second, in honor of the upcoming feast of St. Scholastica, a lot of real progress was made more or less unintentionally when the great Benedictine monasteries were built. The Rule of St. Benedict and the motto Ora et Labora ARE the progress – they ALLOWED the monasteries to spread, thrive, and change the world through being consistent pillars and sources of stability, civilization and technological development. It was almost like having a cultural mom and dad, who, just by being there and not budging, allowed the kids to grow up more confident and optimistic.

Corollary I: few people ever see where the real progress is made, they only see the results of real progress and imagine those results are causes rather than effects.

Corollary II: What people most tout as progress probably isn’t – which I suppose is your point.

And:

Your point about new gadgets is good. I suspect the number of ways people can be distracted is not all that flexible, so a cool gadget that really hits the spot has nowhere to go. Technologically speaking, phones, games, movies can only improve on the margins.

Look at the new gadgets people seem to be pining for: robots (especially sexbots!) do DO anything really different, just free up more time for? New gadgets? Flying cars are called ‘airplanes’. Otherwise, we want *better* books, phones, games, movies – the same things, only better. Real progress in most ways we spoiled consumers define it has come to a halt.

Hegel and by extension all other believers in Progress as a sort of benevolent force at work in the world hang their faith on the very evident material progress made over the last 250 or so years. In his Logic, Hegel in fact asserts that it is obvious traditional logic needs to change (in the sense of be destroyed) as it alone among the arts and sciences has remained ‘unimproved’ since Aristotle. He sees Progress at work in the world, and anything not progressing as being, as the cool kids say, On the Wrong Side of History.

A story told by Feynman springs to mind: he was once on a scientific junket of some sort to I believe Brazil, and was asked about the problems of the poor and if science had anything to offer. The specific example was how slum dwellers needed to march down a hill for a long ways to reach potable water, and then haul it back up to where they lived.Feynman points out that all the technology, all the science needed to solve this problem existed and had existed for decades or centuries: run a pipe up the hill and put in a faucet. Whatever the reasons for that simple solution not having been done, science wasn’t it.

The Antikythera Mechanism. A beautiful dead end. ‘Ahead of its time’ – whatever that’s supposed to mean!

In a similar way, most of what we see as progress day to day is application of technologies developed years earlier. And, worse, it’s almost all fluff – unless you need cutting edge medical care. Even then, chances are the cutting edge is built on ideas that have been around for decades. Our TV and phones and cars are marginally better than they were 10 or 20 or 50 or a hundred years ago – but they serve the same purposes, and the new improved versions have improved our lives little – unless we measure improvement in gadgets.

Real progress is messy, difficult and relies on changes of heart and mind more than any mere material invention. The Greek philosophers legendarily considered caring (much) for practical improvements to day to day life to be beneath the dignity of a real man. Practical progress of a sort was made in some arts, Archimedes is a legend himself – and then there’s the Antikythera Mechanism. But the outcome was not airplanes and moon landings, or even better plows and printing presses – it was constant internal bickering followed by conquests by the Macedonians followed by the Romans and jobs as tutors to their conqueror’s kids.

What the Greeks were missing was ‘why’. Certainly, they were brilliant, curious and ambitious enough to have accomplished so much – that made little material difference. It took the influence of Jerusalem and Christian Rome to provide a civilization with enough room, enough hope, to turn random intermittent ‘progress’ such as is characteristic of men whenever and wherever we live into a program, a communal effort.

If we are made in the Image of God, and the Heavens proclaim His glory, and the world is His handiwork, then applying our minds to understanding the world is a worthy activity. We can use that understanding to better serve our brothers and sisters. We needn’t accept the way things are. Christians are the only people who as a culture were not indifferent to the lives and deaths of the poor. Romans and Greeks, Indians and Chinese would have considered it an affront for a poor man to have the temerity to die on their doorstep; a Christian would be expected to see it as his own personal failure. Look what I  have done the the least of these!

Only if despair is considered cowardice and treason will we persevere in our efforts to help the needy. Only in a culture of hope and duty to one another can material progress become the norm. Such material progress is a side effect of a change of heart.

To the nihilist, relativist Progressive, technology is a tool of power, and science is a bother when it does anything but serve politics. True science, which is no respecter of men if it is science at all, is a threat to power. It follows where it will – and we can’t have that!

But we can have more and batter gadgets, and live an ephemeral life. Until we don’t.

What The Results of Schooling Look Like in Practice

I’m sure we all have examples. The flip-flop on the importance of The Memo provides a very real current one, as clear as Winston Smith feeding the Memory Hole. Up until The Memo’s release, we were told by all the usual suspects that releasing such delicate classified information would be the End of the World as We Know It, a dastardly betrayal of our internal spies.

Then, upon release, The Memo became a nothingburger.

We have always been at war with Eastasia. How can millions of people be wrong?

A few years back, when the IRS’s treasonous perfidy came to light, I saw first hand, as K remarked, “everything we expect from years of government training.” In failing to approve tax exempt status of groups that would oppose the current administration, the IRS hamstrung any grassroot efforts of Obama’s opponents. That’s treason, however you dress it up.

On the day the news escaped into the wild despite the best efforts of the press to ignore it, my lovely niece, a lawyer with multiple degrees from elite universities, looked a little baffled. Then, the press  nothingburgered it. And the next day she assured me it was no big deal, had been completely overblown.

A lawyer said this.

She just needed to wait to hear what the cool kids were saying, and that became the reasonable, right position. Shoving news from a few hours or minutes earlier down the chute to history’s incinerator is, frankly, a small, a very small price to pay to maintain one’s membership in good standing with all the Right People. The trick is that, with 16 or more years of training, the knee jerk reaction, the jettisoning everything needed to maintain the consensual hallucination, is so well ingrained that the process stands no chance of rising to consciousness. Like the children of alcoholics, the well schooled have learned thoroughly that the price of contradicting daddy’s version of events cannot possibly be worth the trouble. The little kids learn from the older ones to shut up and get in line, even if mommy’s story makes no sense and contradicts the evidence of their eyes. It’s a basic survival technique.

Peace, after this fashion, is way more important than the truth. What is truth, anyway? These victims are almost blameless. As with most of us in some way or another when it comes to our besetting faults, it would take a miracle to make them see themselves.

Image result for miracle max
Good luck storming the castle!

Which brings us to the theological point of all this: Christ says He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. We are to defend small ‘t’ truth in the name of big ‘T’ Truth. For the devil is the father of lies. We are not asked, usually, to swallow the big lie that is death all at once. Rather, we are inured, one little bite at a time, until we will swallow the manifest contradictions and hypocrisy of our betters without a hiccup. We develop the unhingeable jaws of the snake, our maws stretching wide such that, after proper training, we can swallow things unimaginable to the observer, things way bigger than our heads.

2018 West Coast Walk for Life

Let’s see: the walk came to a halt for a bit when we were 1.2 miles from the end. I could see solid people all the way to the to the Ferry Building. Did a quick estimate: the cross section, maybe a yard deep, where me and mine walked contained 20 people side to side. 1.2 miles contains about 2,100 such cross sections, so, if our piece was of typical density, looks like over 42,000 people at that moment stood between us and the end of the walk.

Some people at the front had already made it through. There were people behind us. 60,000 is a probably a good conservative estimate. Difficult to get a view of everybody all at once. I got no good crowd shots this year.

IMG_4826
Milling around as the walk began to form. 
IMG_4825
Lovely day. 

The Mass before hand was lovely. Over 40 priests were in the procession, many more in the crowd, 9 bishops including Archbishop Cordileone. Incense, lots of Latin – they did several of the propers and commons. A fairly high percentage of the people joined in on the commons, even though they were not the simplest or (in my experience, at least) best known. Choir was quite good, did a fancy a cappella Gloria and an antiphonal offertory piece I didn’t recognize. They used that hymn tune from Holst’s Jupiter with appropriate words for a communion song.

(Aside: Holst was some sort of goofball astrological mystic,  so it amuses me to see his very beautiful tune used as a communion hymn. Baptized paganism, indeed.)

Even  St. Mary’s Cathedral with all its architectural weirdness was made holy and solemn.

The archbishop gave a no messing around, call a spade a spade homily. Refreshing.

One funny thing: Cordileone has a hard time in San Francisco, something any archbishop who made an honest effort to support Catholic teaching was bound to have in that hive of scum and villainy. He has aged quite a bit in the last 5 years. At Mass, he was deadly serious, no trace of a smile. Even in the closing procession, he looked grim. As the walk started, he was standing with a small group toward the back, where we happened to be as well (pushing grandma in the wheelchair cramps one’s jockey-for-position style). He still looked very serious.

My beloved spotted him, walked right up, dropped to her (left, of course) knee, kissed his ring and told him we love him and pray for him daily. Finally smiled! He has a good smile.

Anyway, another good walk. Lots of sane, happy people standing up for common sense in the face of insanity, for Truth in the face of the Father of Lies. Speaking of which, only maybe a couple dozen counter-protesters showed, which seemed down a bit from previous years.

I frankly take no joy in these walks (love the Mass, though). Just, I don’t know, a little too close to grandstanding. Objectively, I get it. Subjectively, it would have been better, for me at least, if, instead of an hour of speakers and a somewhat boisterous walk, we went to the Civic Center Plaza, fell to our knees and prayed and wept for an hour, then walked silently to the jeers of our enemies. Penance must be done, especially by me. Even thinking about abortion puts me in this frame of mind.

I’ll be back next year, God willing.

Books I Loved But No Longer Do

Partial list off the top of my head:

The Metaphysical Club, by Menand. The first couple times I read this, missed or glossed over the nihilism and relativism (if those can be said to be substantially different) peeking out from every page. The stories told are so fascinating, the turnings of culture pivoting on the sins and limitations of so few minds while we many sleep – gripping stuff. And this book pointed out trailheads to a number of topics I’ve read more about since, I owe it thanks for that.

But, ultimately, Menand is a nihilist. His heart seems to wish there were meaning, even the sort of meaning that boils down to a raw exercise of personal power. He’s too smart to actually believe it, however, so I’m left only with his slick, beautifully written evasiness whenever he might wander near anything like an ultimate ‘why’.

Other writings reveal him as a Marxist apologist. Like Agent Smith defending himself to the Cookie Girl, old Karl, Menand claims, is not that bad! An avuncular adulterer, maybe! And who isn’t, these days? Not, as one reading Marx himself would conclude, the purveyor of a world view within which slaughtering 100 million or so unarmed children, women and men is not *necessarily* a bad thing, in, fact, could be required, if it moves the ball forward on the right side of History. Nihilism dressed as Relativism lurking behind the will to power masquerading as concern for the Masses.

In a similar way, Allan Bloom’s The Closing of the American Mind is like a drug for a Great Books guy – the stories he tells, the points he makes, are blood-boilingly true – that, ultimately runs aground on the same question of ‘why’. Sure, these idiots are shoving everything that makes America and the West unique, wonderful and loveable down the memory hole – and? That’s a bad thing because? Just as people don’t describe our culture as Christendom anymore, Bloom wants us to love and defend results, it seems, without being making a stand for the cause of those results. It’s ultimately turtles all the way down.

Very fun read many years ago, but deeply unsatisfying today.

A bunch of old SciFi. It’s a little tragic to think how many of the books I just LOVED as a kid/young adult that largely appall me now. A few, such a Slan and Stranger in a Strange Land I read when I was older, and so realized I’d need to ignore a lot of fundamental looniness to enjoy them. Same old same old – some elect will come to save/exterminate all us peons for our own not too well defined good. Innocents dying? Omelette/eggs. Even if you don’t share a belief in a Divine Savior, that plotline is just old. Can we stop with stories that beat the drum for one’s own puffed-up self opinion (of *course* you’re among the elect! Who could doubt it? All that purges and guillotines stuff is in the past!) or for people who imagine they’d be doing you a favor if they just cut to the chase and killed you and yours?

Here are a couple I loved when I read them as a youngster, then later had ‘wait a minute!’ moments on. I still sort of like them with a childish affection, mostly, but, man, are they silly:

devil
The Good Guys! Or, at least, the sympathetic indifferent guys who feel noble regret at humanity’s horrible fate. 

Clarke’s Childhood’s End. See comments above. In this story, Clarke goes with the saviors who, you know, kill us all. Well, stand by with their ever so noble and sympathetic feelings while we all – except for the elect! – die like animals at an evaporated watering hole. It’s all for the best!

Clarke’s 2001. This time, the Chosen One come back to save us puny humans from ourselves by snuffing out our silly nukes. Who hasn’t wished our silly nukes would get snuffed out, so that we could return to the good old days before nukes when everyone treated each other as brothers and treaded lightly upon Mother Gaia? (Not loving MAD, but nukes aren’t really the fundamental problem.)

Wow, picking on Clarke here, but there are others suffering from the same shortcomings, although generally in a less hippy-dippy fashion than Clarke.  A lot of Asimov, including the much-loved (by me, at least) Foundation series kind of loses it at the intersection of story and philosophy. But I’ll stop here for today.  Maybe more later.

Then, will need to do the reverse: books I didn’t like when I first read them, but now love. Preview: really didn’t see what the fuss about Lord of the Rings was when I first read it in high school. My future wife set me straight on that. Probably why she’s my wife.

Happy New Year & Epiphany Update

First off, please pray for the repose of the soul of Mike Flynn’s father and for comfort his family and all who love him.

Been feeling weird. My wife offered ‘Painless Migraine’ as an amateur diagnosis of whatever it is that has slowed my brain to molasses. Description seems about right – dizzy, a little nauseated, can feel all the little biological mechanisms working that keep you from falling over and convert binocular vision into a seamless 3-D representation of the world. I’m an observer of some of the base biological underpinnings of my own human consciousness. A little unnerving.

Be that as it may, kicking off 2018 in a bit of a fog. Weirdly (seems weird to me, anyway) while writing and even reading are difficult, playing the piano is OK up to a point. So, when I’m up and about, tend to wander over to the ivories and tickle away. Gonna have some Bach and Beethoven down if this keeps up.

Twitter, as a low-attention-span medium, has risen to the top of my low attention over the last week. Odd snippets of thought.

Once you’ve thought of Keanu Reeves as Gilligan in the gritty reboot, there’s no going back.

Then, a thought over 3 tweets about how Hegel’s baleful influence manifests in the current mishegas:

1 Just had a thought: if being exists transiently in a world of becoming (Hegel) vs becoming existing in a world of being (Aristotle, Thomas), then it is meaningless to speak of defending a culture. There is no eternal good, true & beautiful for a culture to reflect. All is grass.

2 We who think the good, true & beautiful can be present in a culture, however imperfectly, might think the culture war is a battle over what culture we’ll have, when it’s really over whether there will be a culture at all.

3 With no external referent, culture can only be the arena within which the will to power plays out. Battle is over whether we get to have any culture at all, or are merely pawns in somebody’s power trip. (Twitter is a poor place for this sort of ramble!)

And…. That’s about as deep and coherent as I’ve managed. You know, same old.

Distant kids save one have returned to distance. The one, younger daughter, will be with us for another week until heading back to frigid New Hampshire and Thomas More College.

I miss them already.

Vacation was hardly. Had plans to write a bunch, finish some stories, but with 30+ relations in town for grandmother Brilliant’s 80th and a couple events happening at our house, ended up prepping and cooking for days at a stretch. Then, this lingering ‘I don’t feel exactly right’ thing made writing pretty much impossible.

So, hoping things pull together. I could use some prayers about my job and other issues I need to address. Stress level is high.

But, hey, Happy, Holy & Blessed Epiphany! It is a beautiful and moving time, when the veil is near and sheer.

 

Leet Leet Skilz: The Parish Ale

Mentioned last post that I’d whiled away a little too much time clicking links and doing the whole ‘hmmm – that looks interesting’ thing while digging a bit into the history of ‘quiet enjoyment’. The internet is like having a drug dealer in your home – as a child, I’d have to go to a physical library to waste this kind of time, wandering through the stacks, pulling books that looked interesting, sitting on the floor skimming them until my legs fell asleep.

Now? That kind of high is just a click away! WEEEEEE!

Ahem. Anyway, quiet enjoyment lead to courts leet, which it turns out were a flavor of courts baron, or manorial courts, which lead to parish ale. No, really. A ‘leet’ seems to be an area that comprised the lands governed by a baron, so that a court leet was a manorial court for that area. English law, growing from feudal, ecclesiastical and tribal roots, as well as a heavy dose of Danish and Norman influence, had a variety of courts with equally varied jurisdictions. Courts leet generally handled criminal cases up to a certain level of seriousness, with the most serious cases kicked up to aristocratic or royal courts. There was also a sense of group responsibility in the subgroups within the leet. Hundreds and tithes would be responsible for the duties and crimes of those within them. Like all things feudal, layers and layers of relationships, duties and rights.

There’s some relationship between a parish and a leet, but it’s not clear exactly how that worked, unless the lord in the manor house had an area of rule that happened to correspond to a single parish – easy to imagine that being the case at least some of the time, but I don’t know.

File:Teniers Elder Village Feast.jpg
Village Feast by David Teniers the Elder circa 1640.   Panel Accademia Carrara, Bergamo     Source: http://gallery.euroweb.hu/html/t/teniers/jan1/index.html Paineted a century or so after the Middle Ages are supposed to have ended. Like the barrels – we will conclusively assume they are ale barrels for the purposes of this post.  

Among the layers of relationships, rights and responsibilities (hey – a feudal 3 R’s! Wouldn’t it be nice if our current comparatively trivial 3 R’s took place within those medieval ones? Might even work better…) was a responsibility for upkeep of the parish church. One way this was handled was with parish ale. The word ‘ale’ when tacked onto the end of another word tended to mean party or feast, as ale is of the class of substances known to bring joy, and a readiness to party, to a man’s heart.

A parish ale was a generally annual feast or party celebrated with ale, as a fundraiser for the parish. Food, music, dancing held in the parish yard or a nearby barn. Money was charged for the ale, at least, with the proceeds going to church maintenance and the poor box. All in all, a charming example of local people taking care of local issues in the most Catholic way possible – duty, charity, and a party all rolled into one!

The oracle Wikipedia has this to say:

These parish festivals were of much ecclesiastical and social importance in medieval England. The chief purpose of the church-ale (which was originally instituted to honour the church saint) and the clerk-ale, was to facilitate the collection of parish dues and to make a profit for the church from the sale of ale by the church wardens.[3] These profits kept the parish church in repair, or were distributed as alms to the poor.

The churches must owe, as we all do know,
For when they be drooping and ready to fall,
By a Whitsun or Church-ale up again they shall go
And owe their repairing to a pot of good ale

— “Exaltation of Ale”, by Francis Beaumont[3]

In the gallery of the tower arch of St Agnes, Cawston in Norfolk is inscribed:

God speed the plough
And give us good ale enow …
Be merry and glade,
With good ale was this work made.[4]

On the beam of a screen in the church of Thorpe-le-SokenEssex, is the following inscription in raised blackletter on a scroll held by two angels: “This cost is the bachelers made by ales thesn be ther med.” The date is about 1480.

The parish ale being local, fun, and traditional, the English Reformation was of course opposed to them. Over time, they were restricted and largely faded away, but a few persist to this day.

No other reason for this post than that I found the idea of the parish ale delightful.