the king
The director of the tiny language school where I go for arabic tutoring loves Elvis. Passionately.
"I have been listening to Elvis since 1955," he informs me. "Since I was ten years old."
Elvis pictures are on all the desktops of all the computers in the school's small computer lab: Elvis and Nixon; Elvis on a motorcycle; Elvis and Priscilla and baby Lisa Marie. Elvis CDs, ripped several times over, are stacked next to foreign language dictionaries on a shelf in the lab - a fraction, he assures me, of the collection he has at home. Piled on a table nearby are computer printouts of Elvis lyrics mined from the internet.
"I am collecting all the words to his songs, to add to my library at home," he tells me. I nod in appreciation, because I also like knowing the words to songs.
My arabic tutor, who is much older than the director, doesn't really understand the fuss. The director shows him an article printed from French Wikipedia, to help explain his greatness:
"Look, it says here: Since his death he's sold more than 2 billion albums - a record, an absolute record. And here, this is the photo of his meeting with Nixon."
The picture is scrutinized.
"Let me tell you," the director says, "it's not every musician that gets invited to visit with the president of the United States."
The arabic tutor asks: "What about the English group? The Beatles? They were invited to meet the Queen."
"The Queen of England, maybe," the director acknowledges solemnly. "But not the President of the United States."
Elvis's absolute primacy is thus established. King - and President - trumps Queen.
"Ah. So he was great."
"Great, yes," say the director. "He was great. He was the best."
"I have been listening to Elvis since 1955," he informs me. "Since I was ten years old."
Elvis pictures are on all the desktops of all the computers in the school's small computer lab: Elvis and Nixon; Elvis on a motorcycle; Elvis and Priscilla and baby Lisa Marie. Elvis CDs, ripped several times over, are stacked next to foreign language dictionaries on a shelf in the lab - a fraction, he assures me, of the collection he has at home. Piled on a table nearby are computer printouts of Elvis lyrics mined from the internet.
"I am collecting all the words to his songs, to add to my library at home," he tells me. I nod in appreciation, because I also like knowing the words to songs.
My arabic tutor, who is much older than the director, doesn't really understand the fuss. The director shows him an article printed from French Wikipedia, to help explain his greatness:
"Look, it says here: Since his death he's sold more than 2 billion albums - a record, an absolute record. And here, this is the photo of his meeting with Nixon."
The picture is scrutinized.
"Let me tell you," the director says, "it's not every musician that gets invited to visit with the president of the United States."
The arabic tutor asks: "What about the English group? The Beatles? They were invited to meet the Queen."
"The Queen of England, maybe," the director acknowledges solemnly. "But not the President of the United States."
Elvis's absolute primacy is thus established. King - and President - trumps Queen.
"Ah. So he was great."
"Great, yes," say the director. "He was great. He was the best."