Helpful Advice From the Other Middle Ages
The solstice is upon you! You have not yet been sucked away into the darkness that fell with the installation of the loathsome troll and his minions. Who could have predicted this reprieve? Only a month since, you were poised to see your republic voted into oblivion–and look at you!–back from the brink! Your republic has prevailed.
Unfortunately, the nightmare is not over. Amid the continuing horrors as your institutions try to shake off the oppressive Dystrumpia that would make your children servants of the evil Lady DeVoss of Torpor Castle, and indenture you to Putain of Idokopas, or the Brothers Koch of Eberback Abby–you do not get to retire to your hovels and waste away while drinking to the glories of your lost empire, as planned. You must now face your lives. This means jolly gatherings, feasts, gift shopping. A possible new year lies ahead!
If you find yourself out of sorts when confronting the next jolly activity, you are not alone. In such times, many people find that their outlook does not match the occasion. Dark moods were nothing in our Middle Ages. Imagine facing the winter feasts when half your village had just been carted off in plague wagons? Why do you think we drenched our solstice cakes with spirits?
Because of the Dystrumpia, this holiday season is a largely impromptu affair. Diwali festivals, hastily assembled; Dreidels unearthed from the buried chest in the yard, yarmulkes retrieved from go-bags you now keep beside the door, and latke recipes followed, yet again, with incredulity. The stockpiles of liquor you amassed to cope with another stolen election have been repurposed for cheerful toasts. Cookie recipes and Christmas lists are now scrawled on the back of those wills you drew up in haste, bequeathing everything you own to any decent campaigners that might have remained to face the newly installed oligarchs. Admit it, you did not expect to celebrate the holidays this year!
Now that they are here, whilst a cloud still hangs over the land, you might even contrive to enjoy the solstice and the subsequent cold dark evenings in your second Middle Ages. Try the things we did to resolve the dissonance between the glittering festivities and the terrible dark being that haunts your white castle beneath its orange carapace. Bake a cherry solstice cake, soak it with spirits and enjoy by yourself while hiding in the larder; wear a Santa hat and dance drunkenly at a tavern where nobody knows you; eat too much mutton and hibernate under a heap of furs, while binge watching Game of Thrones. And then, after a bath, get back in the fight!
We offer our sincere congratulations on having retrieved, for now, your children’s future from the abyss, and wish you further triumphs over those feculent trolls in the days ahead. It has been a group effort. Protesters, reporters, politicians, republicans (ha! a mere jest), citizens who wrote letters, articles, petitions, twats, studied, donated, and stayed engaged. You have faced a dreadful scourge, and you have prevailed.
From all of us who survived the first Middle Ages, we raise a hearty toast to you all! For getting out the vote, being willing to face the truth of the craven depths to which your overlords would sink you all, and for supporting the many brave souls, such as Ruth-the-Just Ginsberg, and–your intrepid dragon slayer–Pelosi of the Raven Cloak, and of course, Sir Biden the Irish Rover, who continue to fight on your behalf! Huzzah!
-Meissa de Pizan, The Dystrumpian Almanac
