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medieval

Original: medieval on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal

Transcript

Panel 1 (caption bar): SOMEWHERE, IN A MEDIEVAL MEDICAL TEXT:

Text of the medieval medical text: "Have three virgins make a cheese of goat's milk beneath a full moon, placing said cheese in a vat of goose urine to age for seven times seven nights. The said cheese must be fed to a she-bear named Tiffany, who must be slaughtered with a bronze dirk. Take the contents of Tiffany's stomach and pass it through a silver ring on Whitsuntide, then rub it against a wound into which a spear is lodged, whereupon the spear will leap from the bone, the bone healing itself at once."

(Beneath the text, a scribe sits writing at a desk.)

Panel 2 (caption bar): LATER, IN THE MOUTH OF A POP SCIENCE WRITER:

Pop science writer (a man gesturing): "And somehow these ancient people KNEW calcium was good for bones!"

Votey:
A woman, slumped exhausted with her tongue hanging out: "They knew so much more than us, in that some of their ideas are now known to be not entirely wrong."

Alt text

Two-panel SMBC comic. Panel 1, captioned "Somewhere, in a medieval medical text," shows a long, absurd block of text describing an elaborate ritual: three virgins make goat's-milk cheese under a full moon, age it in goose urine for forty-nine nights, feed it to a she-bear named Tiffany, slaughter her with a bronze dirk, pass her stomach contents through a silver ring on Whitsuntide, and rub it on a spear wound so the spear leaps out and the bone heals instantly. A scribe sits writing beneath the text. Panel 2, captioned "Later, in the mouth of a pop science writer," shows a man gesturing enthusiastically and saying, "And somehow these ancient people KNEW calcium was good for bones!" The joke: a pop-science writer credits a deranged medieval ritual with secret accurate knowledge. Votey (aftercomic): a woman slumped and exhausted, tongue lolling out, deadpans, "They knew so much more than us, in that some of their ideas are now known to be not entirely wrong."

Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.