Brian Johnson and Tony Iommi

Those who know me well, know my favorite two bands are AC/DC and Black Sabbath.

 Rockers and Rollers.  This is the book by Brian Johnson, the singer for AC/DC.  He took over from Bon Scott in 1980 after the latter’s untimely “death by misadventure”.  Now he’s been with the band for over 30 years, well beyond Bon’s tenure.  However, while all the Bon albums were excellent, only the first few BJ albums were of top quality:  Back in Black, For Those About To Rock (We Salute You) and Flick of the Switch.  The band ran out of steam after those three early 80’s albums and have been coasting in neutral ever since, though as a live experience the band remains as energetic, entertaining, and enjoyable as ever.

            Johnson’s book is a loosely collated collection of non-chronological anecdotes.  While he loves cars, he almost never mentions American muscle cars (even though he lives in Florida now): his focus is on the motley array of oil-leaking, short-circuiting, rusty iron which England produces and a handful of luxury cars (some of which are actually English).  Sometimes he races around in sports cars, but never mentions Nick Mason (maybe the Pink Floyd drummer snubbed him somewhere along the line).  He’s never at a dragstrip, he doesn’t seem to know how to work on cars himself, and the racing part seems like an expensive hobby he can now indulge in now that he’s got some money in the bank.  He’s more Tim Allen than Jay Leno.  As a car enthusiast I found the car element of his story extremely disappointing. 

            The non-car portions are marginally more interesting:  a series of rock star anecdotes which are as much about his pre-AC/DC band Geordie as about AC/DC, which gets about as much coverage as Rush did in Neil Peart’s books – with the obvious exception of Roadshow.  One mention each of Cliff Williams and Phil Rudd.  And these revelations: Malcolm drives a minivan?  Angus doesn’t even have a driver’s license?  Who would have imagined that when it comes to horsepower, AC/DC are left behind at the dragstrip by the Beach Boys?

 Iron Man.  Ah, this was MUCH more like it.  The guitarist for Black Sabbath, Tony Iommi, manages to keep the attention of a fan who has already read 99% of the literature available on the band.  Iommi’s account is chronological and makes no pretense of being a car book (!).  What’s even better, Iommi steers clear of simply repeating all the Ozzy stories we’ve already heard over the years, without shunting Ozzy off as some irrelevant nonentity only incidentally responsible for the band’s success.  What does Tony tell us?  In addition to explaining how each Black Sabbath album was made – and not in particularly tiresome detail, mind you – he helpfully discloses a full range of topics of interest to us rabid and/or rancid Black Sabbath fans:

            1.         Exactly what happened to his middle and ring finger and how he solved that problem

            2.         Which bands he was in before Black Sabbath

            3.         What happened in his month with Jethro Tull and his experience at the Stones’ Rock & Roll Circus

            4.         His 4 marriages

            5.         His fun with Frank Zappa

            6.         Why Dio left Sabbath after Live Evil and Dehumanizer

            7.         What was Glenn Hughes’ major malfunction

            8.         What is the problem with Tony Martin and Ian Gillan

            What’s even more remarkable is that Ozzy comes off as extremely sympathetic – as do Geezer Butler and Bill Ward, and even Sharon Osbourne (though I’m puzzled that even now he doesn’t know the story behind Speak of the Devil).  I’m surprised, Ronnie James Dio comes off as less likeable than them.

            Overall, easy to read (big typeface and doublespaced) with interesting pictures and again – well worth the time of anyone who thought they already knew all there was to know.  THANK YOU, TONY.

The Godfather

Some time ago I told my friend Dave that I considered “The Sopranos” a show for people who thought three Godfather films was not enough.  The funny thing was, I had never seen all three.  So I finally sat down and watched them – and it was time well spent.

 Godfather I.  The first, and essentially the classic.  There have been lots of Mafia films, and many made back in the 1930s-50s with James Cagney or Edgar G. Robinson (Billy Crystal: “Where’s your Moses NOW???”).  But somehow this one tops them all.

            The first film introduces us to the Corleone family:  Godfather Vito (Marlon Brando), Consigliere Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall), hotheaded oldest brother Sonny (James Caan), incompetent weasel brother Fredo (John Cazale), sister Connie with an abusive husband (Talia Shire), and the war hero puppy brother, Michael (Al Pacino).  Initially reluctant to take part in the “family business”, Michael is gradually brought forward, if only by default.  Sonny is dispatched at a toll booth plaza, Fredo is incompetent, and Connie…well, she has ovaries instead of testicles.  Vito is getting old, and someone needs to take over.  He picks the wrong time to retire, as things are starting to heat up with a war with a rival family on the horizon.

            In addition to setting up the family, the film has all the classic ingredients:

            1.         Brando as the Godfather – whispering voice, granting favors, demanding respect, and the undeniable patriarch of the family;

            2.         Hagen as Consigliere, “Kraut-Mick” (German-Irish) but objectively giving excellent advice to the family without Sonny’s irrational passion;

            3.         Horse’s head in the bed of recalcitrant Hollywood movie director, persuading him to allow Johnny Fontaine to be the lead actor in his film.

            4.         Italian restaurant murder of Sollozzo and McCluskey by Michael

            5.         Toll booth murder of Sonny by goons firing Thompsons with drum magazines (my favorite scene)

            6.         Sicilian “Old Country” vacation for Michael + marriage to local belle

            7.         Ending montage where multiple scores are settled – and Michael is in church for his baby’s baptism

            As I said, everything is here.  They could have stopped here, but no…

Godfather II.  Most of the gang is back again, with a notable addition: De Niro is introduced as the young Vito Corleone, as the film switches from a prequel flashback to modern day, Michael continuing to develop the business.  His wife Kate (Diane Keaton) is not particularly attractive and is kind of clueless about the whole thing.   Is she looking the other way? Is she condoning his behavior?  She figures things out a few dozen years after she should have.  STUPID!

            Cuba and Las Vegas are front & center for this chapter.  Hyman Roth (thinly disguised Meyer Lansky) is their rival in Cuba until Castro shows up to ruin everyone’s hard work.  A family friend, Pentangeli, who feels slighted by the Corleones initially agrees to rat them out to the Feds, then abruptly turns 180 and recants his testimony.  Fredo’s duplicity is finally resolved – against him.  This was not as good as the first one, but not much of a letdown, especially since De Niro does such a remarkably good job as the young Vito.  Unfortunately this setup gives no screen time for Pacino and De Niro together (wait for “Heat” and “Righteous Kill”).

 Godfather III.  If for nothing else, the third movie will be known for this quote: "Just when I thought I was out...they pull me back in." (Michael).  Fastforward to the late 70s, Michael is much older (grey hair) and his two kids are grown up, but his son wants nothing of the business, preferring to be an opera singer.  His nephew, Sonny’s son (Andy Garcia) shows the mean and nasty look his son lacks, and is looking to take over, which is fine by Michael.  Connie seems to confuse her ovaries with testicles and asserts a surprising degree of influence and aggressiveness, which she believes is necessary to counteract Michael’s apparent softness.  In an effort to extract his family from the crime business and go legit, Michael gets involved in Vatican politics, and starts alienating some very powerful enemies – fellow families in the crime syndicate who aren’t ready to allow his family to opt out.  Don Altobello (Eli Wallach – the “Ugly”) is the older, friendly advisor who is really part of the problem and not the solution.  This is a remarkably heroic effort to wind up the series but inevitably falls far short of the other films.  Nevertheless I found it worth watching if only to see what eventually happens to Michael Corleone.

Mao Tse-Tung

I recently finished reading a massive tome, Mao: The Unknown Story, by Jung Chang and Jon Halliday. I had actually received it for Christmas in 2010 and only completed it now.  Rather than go into detail about the Chinese leader, some of the book’s more pertinent facts and trends would make a decent summary.

 He was born in December 1893 and died in September 1976, of natural causes.  He married 4 times and cheated on all 4 wives.  The fourth was the infamous Jiang Qing, “Madame Mao” (above), who killed herself in 1991.

 He never brushed his teeth and didn’t bathe.  He denied medical treatment, operas, sex, culture, books, music, etc. to the people of China but fully indulged in all of these himself with no shame.  He had concrete, bomb-proof villas built for him to stay in across the country but rarely visited them in person.  Mao essentially wiped out Chinese culture but didn’t replace it with anything except a bland cult of personality devoted to himself. 

 The Long March was a hoax, as the Reds went wherever Chiang Kai Shek wanted them to go.  Mao’s success in the Civil War (1946-49) was mainly due to several Nationalist generals who were sleeper Reds and essentially delivered their armies to Mao on a silver platter.  George C. Marshall also deserves some blame for this, forcing Chiang to a cease fire which allowed the Reds to reorganize their Manchurian operations at a time when Chiang had been close to wiping them out.  While the book is obviously highly critical of Mao, it pulls no punches re: Chiang, explaining how poorly Chiang vetted his generals – keeping them in command long after their “incompetence” (really simply secret alliance to Mao) became obvious – and how he failed to rein in his corrupt brother-in-law, T.V. Soong.

 The dynamic between Stalin and Mao was especially interesting.  Stalin never trusted Mao, and Mao never liked Stalin.  They saw each other more as dangerous rivals than fellow travelers – they were never friends.  Even after WWII, Stalin insisted on keeping concessions in Manchuria which the Tsars had won decades earlier, e.g. Russians considered exempt from Chinese jurisdiction.  Stalin was also extremely stingy about releasing nuclear and military technology to Mao and only traded on terms extremely advantageous to the USSR, just like he sold tanks, planes and guns to the Spanish Republicans at full price. 

 The “Chinese volunteers” Mao sent to fight in Korea were mostly former Nationalist armies which Mao simply fed into the meat grinder to be slaughtered.  I recall so many “M*A*S*H” episodes where Hawkeye bitches and moans that the Korean War is going on forever, and he invariably blames MacArthur and the US brass, never mentioning the North Koreans or Mao.  The North Koreans wanted the war over – they knew it had been blown.  The US and its allies had no interest in continuing the slaughter.  Mao continued the war because he was angling to get concessions from Stalin, particularly nuclear weapons and military factories, essentially trading Chinese lives for technical know-how from the Soviets. 

 Likewise during the Vietnam War, Mao was willing to sell out the North Vietnamese if it meant getting favors from Nixon, since by that time the Russians had long stopped helping the Chinese.  The last thing Brezhnev wanted was to give Mao missiles he could use to nuke Moscow.  Having alienated Krushchev, then Brezhnev, Mao’s source of expertise dried up in the mid-60s.  The Chinese couldn’t build jets or helicopters that wouldn’t fall out of the sky.  Mao threw money at Third World countries (bought with Chinese lives starved to pay for the hard currency), who accepted the aid with a “big smile” but wouldn’t reciprocate with anything useful.  Albania was Mao’s lone ally and even Hoxha berated Mao for cozying up to Nixon. 

 I recall my high school history teacher laughing that “Let A Thousand Flowers Bloom”, a late 50’s campaign of openness (what Gorbachev would later call “glasnost”), resulted in an embarrassing explosion of gripes and complaints against the regime, but according to this book, Mao was well aware of his unpopularity and used the campaign as a way of luring his critics out into the open.

 Mao knew his Great Leap Forward in the early 60s was killing the Chinese peasants, but like Lenin before him, was indifferent to the millions of deaths by artificial famines.  The grain was shipped to Russia to pay for military factories, nuclear technology, and Mao was especially hoping for ICBM technology.  This much was evident for ages:  Mao was yet another dictator who did not care how many people died because of his policies and did whatever he wanted. 

 One son died in the Korean War, the other was mentally handicapped. With Kim Il Sung’s death in North Korea, it has been mentioned that “even Mao” did not favor hereditary succession, but he had no suitable male heirs to appoint anyway.  Even if he had, he probably wouldn’t have done so, out of paranoia that his son would probably dispatch him prematurely.  He told Deng Xiaoping, the man he guessed (correctly) would most likely succeed him, to consider open season on his wife.  What happened to China after his death was not his concern.

 In some ways Mao reminds me of George W. Bush and Warren Harding: politicians who had no genuine skills in any line of work or profession EXCEPT politics.   Mao was an indifferent student, never had a real job or legitimate skill, and his sole talent seemed to be getting himself into power and remaining there.  He was ruthless about sacrificing others to his ambitions: whether it was Red armies commanded by his political rivals thrown to Chiang in the 30s; Nationalists forced to fight the Japanese, with no help from existing Red armies, because Mao wanted Chiang to wipe himself out fighting the invaders; and during the Cultural Revolution, dozens of cadres sacrificed and disgraced, tortured, imprisoned, and executed, either because they had opposed his famine-inducing policies of prior years or simply because he considered them dangerous rivals.  Outwitting political opponents, all this “sausage-making” and behind-the-scenes intrigue, back-stabbing, manipulation, etc. were what Mao knew best, really the only thing he knew how to do.  None of this was motivated by any genuine affection for China or its people – for anyone except himself.       

Fantomas

My readers know I’m a big fan of Paris, France, having lived there for 11 years.  A blog on Baron Haussman should be forthcoming in the near future when I finish reading about him.  Recently I finished two excellent books on the city, Parisians: An Adventure History of Paris, by Graham Robb, and Paris: The Secret History, by Andrew Hussey.  The former book spotlights individual moments in the city’s history from Napoleon’s first visit (well before taking power) all the way to “Sarko” and the immigration riots in recent times.  While the segments proceed in chronological order, they are not continuous.  Hussey’s book, by contrast, is a continuous history of the city from Roman-era Lutetia to the present.  The amount of overlapping is fairly minimal, and the books complement each other well. 

 Hussey’s book alerted me to the early 20^th century (“Belle Epoque”) gangs of thieves and hooligans who called themselves “the Apaches”, and an intriguing fictional character, created by Marcel Allain and Pierre Souvestre, known as Fantomas.  Normally I’d seek out the French language originals and read them, but in this particular case I decided to “cheat” and go directly to the silent movies made by Louis Feuillade just before WWI.  The DVD set I purchased from Amazon has 5 episodes spread out over 3 discs.  This is quicker than reading the original serials (43 in all); I can’t recommend them as I haven’t read them, but the movies were intriguing.  It’s a kick to see Paris in 1913, much of which I can recognize – I liked the reference to Ave. Richard Wallace in Neuilly, a street I’ve been on many times.  Many segments take place at midnight but were obviously filmed in broad daylight, so the filmmaker tints the film blue to indicate night time.  Feuillade worked for Gaumont from 1906 to 1924 and made 600-800 films, but these were mostly 10 minute serials. 

 Fantomas is an anti-hero, a protagonist of pure evil genius.  He is a master of disguise and impersonation, and has no scruples about murdering anyone to achieve his goals.  Typically he seems to seduce lonely rich widows (after having murdered their husbands).  In one instance, on death row and facing imminent execution, he changed places with a stage actor – who was saved from the guillotine by the clever Inspector Juve, who acts as his consistent nemesis.  Unlike the bumbling and incompetent Inspector Clouseau of the Pink Panther movies, Juve is fairly bright and imaginative, though always seems to be just a few steps behind Fantomas.  In one episode Juve actually helps Fantomas to escape from jail in Louvain, Belgium (home of Stella Artois beer) so he can be tracked down to France.  Juve is assisted by his “Watson”, the journalist Fandor, who reminds me a bit of Tintin.  Because he assumes different identities and disguises, Fantomas’ only “look” is the black ninja gear and hood (above left), though he doesn’t seem to know martial arts or be especially physically dangerous, nor does he have any magic or super powers. 

 Mike Patton.  Actually, I’d heard of the name Fantomas much earlier, as this was a supergroup band project of Mike Patton, best known as the singer for Faith No More.  This band lasted from 1995-2005 and put out 4 studio albums, but despite expropriating the name, none of this material actually has anything to do with the character of Fantomas himself.  I haven’t heard any of it, as Mr. Bungle (his other non-FNM project) never impressed me, although Patton’s FNM material post-Jim Martin hasn’t been too bad.  

The Chaco War

I’m not entirely convinced that the Iraq War was solely about oil, though given how much oil Iraq produces, to claim oil was not a factor at all would certainly be naïve.  Here, however, it seems that oil was the primary motivation: the Chaco War between Bolivia and Paraguay between July 29, 1932 and July 31, 1935.  As is the case with most of these minor war issues, my sourcebook is from Osprey Men-At-Arms, their publication The Chaco War 1932-1935 (South America’s Greatest Modern Conflict), by A. de Quesada with P. Jowett, and illustrated by R. Bujeiro.

 My first exposure to this was a Tintin story (yes, the character now brought to life by Spielberg & Jackson just before Christmas) called “The Broken Ear”.  Tintin winds up in a fictional South American country and his two enemies are drafted into what looks like the Bolivian Army in this dispute.  Tintin, acting as an aide-de-camp to General Alcazar, initially turned down the oil company’s request to start a war; only to have his orders overruled by Alcazar himself shortly thereafter.

 It seemed a large, undeveloped semi-jungle wasteland between Bolivia and Paraguay called The Chaco, which had previously been ignored by both countries – even to the point of conclusively establishing their mutual borders – was now front center focus when someone decided there might be oil in them there hills.  Competing oil companies (Standard Oil for Bolivia, Shell Oil for Paraguay) lined up behind the two countries and a war broke out.

 Bolivia nominally had the advantage with not only a much larger population from which to draft its army, which topped out at 6 divisions, but also German military advisors.  These included Ernst Roehm, the infamous leader of the Nazi Sturm Abteilung (SA, better known as the Brownshirts), though by this time he was back in Germany and taken out in the June 1934 “Night of the Long Knives”.  Bolivia’s soldiers had better weapons and equipment and something vaguely similar to a German uniform (in any case a standard uniform for an army in the 1930s) but Roehm’s successor, General Kundt, did a poor job of advising the Bolivians and whatever advantages they may have had were mostly squandered.

 Paraguay, however, was not down for the count.  Its soldiers, though dressed in Daisy Mae floppy hats (neither side wore steel helmets), sandals, and rustic cow-horn canteens, adapted better to the poor environment.  The Paraguayans also aggressively drafted their population to fight, bumping up the army to 4 divisions.  But most of all, the Paraguayans had a brilliant commander, Jose Felix Estigarribia, very much a Robert E. Lee-class general.  This man knew how to best use the forces at his disposal and faced no one in the Bolivian Army with anywhere near the same talent or imagination. 

 Both sides used Mauser bolt-action rifles in 7.62mm – the ammunition issue was greatly simplified due to both sides using the same caliber.  The Madsen light machine gun was a popular weapon on both sides.  The Paraguayans captured so much ordnance from the Bolivians that they were set up for the next 40 years; they were able to sell much of the surplus to the Spanish Republicans during their Civil War. 

 The “armor” war was quite limited, as the terrain wasn’t suitable for tanks; the Bolivians were the only ones with any appreciable armor, the main one being the Vickers Mark E Type A, twin turret six ton tank.  The few tanks they had were used in infantry support roles – some were even captured by the Paraguayans.  Apparently Guderian was not among the German advisors in Bolivia. The Paraguayan Air Force had a small fleet of French Potez 25 light biplane bombers; the Bolivians had 88 planes of various different types.  Much of the air war was reconnaissance and ground support, with very little dogfighting.  The “naval war” simply consisted of Paraguayan support operations on the Rio Paraguay and Rio Picomayo.

 War of the Triple Alliance (1864-70).  I might as well cover this war.  This was Paraguay vs. the TA of Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay.  Paraguay, led by its dictator Solano Lopez, attacked Brazil, Uruguay, and Argentina.  Although initially successful, the Paraguayans were eventually kicked out and invaded; Asuncion was taken.  Lopez tried to conduct a guerilla war but wound up being killed.

War of the Pacific (1879-83).  Instead of oil, this was fought over… bird poo, better known as guano.  Guano is an excellent source of nitrates which are used to make gunpowder.  Chile fought against Bolivia and Peru – eventually defeating both countries and landlocking Bolivia.

All three of these wars are described in much more detail - with a heavy dose of sarcasm and contempt - in Stupid Wars: A Citizen's Guide to Botched Putsches, Failed Coups, Inane Invasions, and Ridiculous Revolutions, by Ed Strosser and Michael Prince.

Santa Claus: Origins

Hollywood, consistently bereft of original ideas, loves prequels and “origins” stories.  In the holiday spirit I’m offering my own prequel story:  Santa.

 30-something days after Easter, in an undisclosed, secure location in Jerusalem.  Jesus meets with the Apostles, alerting them that His remaining time is short and gives them instructions on how to proceed in His absence.  In particular, He orders them to go out and spread the Word, not merely in Israel but also Turkey, Greece, and the rest of the known world.  He promises them that in a few months they will receive further instructions.  With that, He dismisses them – all except one:  Nicolas.

 “For you,” He tells Nicolas, “I have a special assignment….” And proceeds to explain.

“For these past few months I have preached peace, love, and understanding.  My reward was to be nailed to a cross.  While I know that my Apostles will be well inspired with the Holy Spirit to spread my message far and wide, I am less confident that the message will be well received.  To ensure that it is, I have the following plan.

 “As you know, I was all about giving rather than receiving.  I took not so much as a single life, but gave my own.  To remind them of my message, and to encourage them to listen, understand, and follow it, I have decided that on my birthday, December 25, instead of receiving presents, I will give them, particularly to the children.  I want you, Nicolas, to deliver these presents to the children every year on my birthday.”

Nicolas listened intently and asked, “All children, my lord Jesus?  Even those who have not obeyed your commands?”

Jesus thought for a moment, and reconsidered.  “Perhaps not.  It would be wise for you to monitor which children have been good, and which have not, and reward the former and not the latter.  We do not wish to spoil them.  For those who have not, give them something unpleasant like coal.  Oh, and for children from Holland, have Black Peter take them to Spain.”

“Black Peter?  Is he a Nubian?”

“No, he’s like us, he just has black skin.”

“…and Spain?”

“Trust me, no Dutch child wants to go to Spain.”

 Nicolas took this in, and accepted the assignment.  “I will set up an operation at the North Pole, and raise an army of elves to make these presents.   We will be outside any kingdoms and not subject to any inconvenient laws or interference.”

“Excellent.  To deliver these presents, I would suggest a sleigh, driven by eight magic flying camels.”

“Camels, my lord Jesus?  If we are at the North Pole, I would recommend reindeer instead.  They tolerate extreme cold far more than camels do.”

“Reindeer do sound better.  I was right to trust you, Nicolas, you are very sharp.”

“Thank you, my lord Jesus.  I will need one more reindeer, with a big, red nose, to light the way.  We will be flying at night.”

“Yes, that’s good.  How long do you think it will take to get this endeavor up and running?”

Nicolas shrugged, stroked his white beard, and guessed, “About 1800 years should be enough.”

“Good, make it so.  Merry Christmas!”

Gilgamesh

I recently finished reading the Epic of Gilgamesh, as “interpreted” by Stephen Mitchell (Gilgamesh, A New English Version).  Mitchell cannot read the cuneiform, Sumerian, or Babylonian language and did not have access to the original tablets, so what he did was simply reinterpret what prior authors had done, resummarizing it in a more coherent and sensible fashion than the prior attempts.  The initial work, however, was most of the heavy lifting: the original tablets had been lost for thousands of years and only found in the 1800s by various archeologists digging around in what we now know of as Iraq.  The original scholars had to decipher a dead language in a unique alphabet with no one around to help them out.  Eventually they put the pieces of the puzzle together and figured out what we could consider the “epic” of Gilgamesh, a fictional hero dating back 5,000 years ago or more.  Parts of it, concerning a great flood, coincide with parts of the Old Testament of the Bible.

 Gilgamesh was the ruler of Uruk, a large city southeast of Babylon and northwest of Ur.  The cities of this area and of modern Iraq follow the so-called “fertile crescent” of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.   

 “It’s Good to Be The King”.  Apparently Gilgamesh’s leadership style was heavy handed and unpopular.  Among the most objectionable of his policies was assertion of the right to take the virginity of new brides.  As we know, it was only relatively recently that even modern, industrial Western societies abandoned the presumption of virginity at marriage.  Presumably this was the case in Iraq 5,000 years ago.  Gilgamesh demanded – and received – the prerogative to be first to bed the bride; the groom had to wait patiently while the King nailed his wife.

  I’ve never been married, but from what I can tell, grooms are as likely to be nervous on their wedding nights as brides.  Any groom less than 100% confident in his abilities as a lover will probably appreciate a virgin bride who has no basis for unfavorable comparison.  This is completely negated by having your new bride get nailed by none other than the Hero King Stud, Gilgamesh himself.  How can you follow that?  So I suspect it was the grooms of Uruk who were more upset with this policy than the brides.

 The unhappy citizens of Uruk pleaded with the gods to send them some relief from this terrible man upsetting their wedding plans.  The gods sent a somewhat unfinished product, Enkidu. 

Enkidu is described as a virtual duplicate of Gilgamesh, though a bit shorter.  He starts off as a wild man living in the wilderness, running around with animals, naked, unclothed, “raised by wolves” so to speak.  In this condition he’s not particularly suited to his job of fixing the Uruk problem.

 Ishtar & Shamhat.  The temple of Ishtar was run on a very interesting basis.  The priestesses, far from being celibate nuns, were in fact sacred prostitutes who supported the cult by sleeping with the congregation or the general public for a fee.  Presumably this was considerably more effective (and popular) than bake sales or raffles.  One of the priestesses, Shamhat (there’s a feminine name) is assigned the task of civilizing Enkidu.

 She approaches Enkidu, strips naked, and begins masturbating in front of him.  This gets his full attention, and he proceeds to “get the idea” for the next full week.  After this marathon lovemaking session (apparently making up for 20-something years of abstinence in the wild) Shamhat shaves him, dresses him in elegant clothing, and feeds him “people food” (including a good amount of beer, which he likes).  At this point he is “civilized” and the animals no longer recognize him as their buddy – similar to the bachelor hooking up and alienating all his single buddies. 

Bromance.  Enkidu enters Uruk, and right away there is trouble.  Sure enough, he and Gilgamesh fight, with destruction following around them – I’m imagining that commercial where the robots fight and smash up the guy’s apartment while he casually and indifferently moves from room to room and cooks and eats his bachelor food.  Finally Gilgamesh prevails, but only after Enkidu had put up a big fight.  They emerge from the ruckus as best friends…maybe a bit more than that (Mitchell’s footnotes observe that the tablets imply a romantic relationship exists between the pair).

 Humbaba.  For some reason Gilgamesh gets it into his head to go west to the forests of Lebanon to defeat a mighty volcano monster called Humbaba.  The elders of Uruk, and Enkidu, think this is a really bad idea and try to dissuade him, with no success.  He goes off west, and persuades Enkidu to follow along.  Having done so, now he starts having second thoughts – a series of terrifying nightmares – and it’s up to Enkidu to change his mind and interpret the dreams with a very counterintuitive and implausible but positive spin (maybe Enkidu should have been a lawyer). 

 They meet Humbaba, who is just as fearsome and powerful as they feared, but somehow they are able to reduce him to begging for mercy.  While Gilgamesh is inclined to spare his life, Enkidu persuades him to finish off Humbaba.  This earns him a curse from the gods, whose “plan” apparently was for Gilgamesh to defeat, but not kill, Humbaba.  Enkidu comes down with a nasty, mysterious illness which strikes him down in the prime of life.  This stuns and demoralizes Gilgamesh (see below).

 Ishtar & the Bull.  When they return to Uruk, the love & war goddess herself, Ishtar, courts Gilgamesh.  But Gilgamesh is not impressed, and he rebuffs her advances with zero tact or discretion.  Basically his argument is: every lover you take, you eventually grow tired of and dispose of in a particularly nasty fashion.  You sent one of your ex-BF’s to Hell.  Thanks, but I’m not interested in winding up like they did.  Incensed, as you can imagine, Ishtar gets the gods to send her a Bull to fight Gilgamesh to punish him for his arrogance, but Gilgamesh kills the Bull and laughs in her face. 

 Enkidu Dies.  As noted, Enkidu suffers a disease which weakens and kills him; despite having faced down Humbaba and the Bull, Gilgamesh is powerless to save his friend from this threat, and loses him.  When his prayers and grief fail to save Enkidu or resurrect his cold, inert, lifeless body, Gilgamesh soon realizes the same fate ultimately awaits him someday.  He becomes obsessed with learning the secret to immortality.

 Upnaptishim.  Gilgamesh seeks out the sole mortal to have gained immortality, Upnaptishim.  Here is the Bible angle:  Upnaptishim is the epic’s equivalent of Noah, who survived a mighty flood by building a huge ark and filling it with pairs of animals.  Ultimately this man tells Gilgamesh, “I’m sorry, but one day you will die.  Everyone dies.  It’s part of life.  I can’t fix that or give you immortality, no one can.  All I can tell you is to enjoy life as much as you can, while you can.”  End of story.