Back at Camelot, the School for Squires had reconvened, the little monsters who would take the reins from the best of all knighthood were throwing things at each other and saying the most nasty things...

WHAT IS ALL THIS THEN? Master Rumpole had entered the room. Everyone quieted down and were now the good cherubs; smiling and ready to receive the knowledge of their fathers.

We spoke earlier this week of honor as an integration of the heart, mind and very soul of the knighthood. And the first rule that is the foundation for the integration is pride. Pride above all the rules. In catechism, you are told that pride is the greatest of sins; it is sometimes called hubris. The Greeks had a story about hubris.

Daedalus was stuck in prison with his son Icarus. They were in the highest of turrets. So Daedalus who would one day move to Ireland and write Portrait of the Artist as a young man, fashioned wings with wax and the feathers of many birds. The birds in those days were pretty stupid and kept flying into the turrets but Daedalus had made his cell into a bird feeder to aid in the birds demise. He had learned how to lure the little buggers from Burt Lancaster but that is another story.

After the wings were fashioned Daedalus and Icarus flew away toward their home on another island. Daedalus had one rule. DO NOT FLY TOO HIGH or the sun will melt the wax upon your wings. Master Rumpole pulled out his lyre and began to sing:
                
Well we started out
From Minos' place
We fled our cells
To avoid disgrace

We flew above
The threatening waves
We looked for doves
To find our way

I am learning to fly
And I got my wings
Coming down
Is the hardest thing

I soared and soared
Above the sea
I felt the wind
My dad and me

My head did swell
In the stratosphere
I felt like god
Lighter than air

The higher I rose
The better I felt
I did not see
The wax all melt

I am learning to fly
And I got my wings
Coming down
Is the hardest thing

As they proceeded into the stratosphere, Icarus became too carried away with himself and he flew higher and higher until the wax melted on his wings and he crashed into the sea like a Japanese fighter pilot at Midway.   
   
So with that one caveat, we will work on the prides as a rules of life and chivalry.

We must have pride of self. We must bathe regularly. To see the importance of cleanliness one only has to travel across the channel and view some of the French. But that is another story.

We must have pride in our dress. We have discussed previously how the horseman must keep his clothing, how he must keep all his apparel clean and smelling of the flowers in the field. You must keep your armor clean and shiny. Your hair must be of a modest length but well fashioned and so must your beards be well fashioned.

We must have pride of our bodies. We must rigorously exercise;  which is why you all participate in the gymnasium on a daily basis. We must have a proper diet. We must not let ourselves go and become fat and lazy. And go on welfare and stay drunk all day and get women pregnant and not pay child support...and...well enough about my brother in law.

We must have pride in our posture. Booger Mort, sit up straight and get those god blessed hands out of your leggings. Watch Tristan as he strides onto the stage with his lyre. Or watch Lancelot as he greets a lady in waiting. There is a pace to all of this. A rhythm that is palpable. You see it but you cannot explain it. It is a dance. Like this new Moor Obama as he approaches the podium.

There is such a thing as talent. But that is all in the blood. Even those of the blood, must practice every day until they become proficient.

The next pride is pride of horsemanship. And that means tending to one's horse. What are the horse's needs. Has the steed been properly cleaned and tended? Has the mare been properly fed and watered? Have you checked the hooves and the tendons?  You must love and care for your horse like your brother and your sister and your lover. Without the steed you are no longer a knight. There can be no chivalry.   

Pride in our weaponry is next. Your sword and your lance must always be on the ready. Clean and tested. Your first battle will chip and harm your sword and your spear or you have not been doing your best in warfare. And pride in our shields and in our family chrests is of so much importance.

WHO AM I? The shield should answer that question.

We must have pride in our company. If we are riding with a few friends across the fields, we must have pride in our company. If anyone of our company is challenged, that challenge is against the company. Just as in war, your fellow soldiers are part of you for that time and that place. No matter what differences you might have with your temporary companions at arms, they are your brothers at that time and place.

RED BOTTOMS GET UP HERE.  Get your finger out of your nose. Now go stand in the corner and put that hat on.

And as that great sage Al Franken once said,

I am good enough
I am smart enough
And, Gosh darnit, people like me.

At our next session we shall discuss the second great set of rules for chivalry; charity.

Meanwhile, somewhere north of Camelot:

Shiteface Quinn McDougal proceeded to THE WALL. I am a road man not a wall man, he thought as he proceeded north with Sir Tristan. I wonder if I am of the quality necessary for this knighthood stuff. Although, I learned how to lead men. An entire decade working on the best Roman roads in the kingdom.The best materials in the world and I always refused to take the word no. No we cannot finish this. No the sinkhole cannot be handled. No we are running out of cakes and ale.

You care not for conversation, Sir Quinn. Tristan noted.

I wonder sometimes if I am worthy of conversation Sir Tristan. But I guess we could talk about ladies. You know Sir Tristan, I have my troubles with the fairer sex as they say. There is something about ladies and I think it's all down to females and their biological cycles.

I can't tell you how many times I've gone into a restaurant or a tavern, seen a table full of nice women that I'd like to talk to, and so - being friendly and all - I walk up, sit down with them, start talking, I'm having a grand old time, and suddenly... ALL of 'em have to go to the washroom! Hell, sometimes even the waitress goes with 'em.

After an hour or two, I usually start to get a bit fidgety. Sometimes the women stay in there all night, and then the owner comes over to tell me to leave because the place is closed. That happened at 3:00 in the afternoon once. Weird. Other times, the cops show up, and start giving ME a hard time. WTF? Once, the women all came out & started beating on me with pool cues. I donno what the hell they put in the soap in those places.

I guess what I'm saying is, it's really not our fault that women are built that way. It's just biology. Or maybe God.

Sir Tristan responded: That is why I am a one woman man. Except for when I am with Lancelot of course.