Harold W. Vadney III is a wannabe translator who lies about his credentials. In August 2007, I exposed him on the now-defunct Network of Independent Linguists’ Discussion Forum. He has now set up a blog devoted to telling lies about me and others. This is my reply. To comment or for further information write to Richard_Benham_AU-StopVadneysLies[at]yahoo.com.

Saturday, 5 April 2008

Livers white as milk...assume but valour’s excrement

Shakespeare lovers will recognize the above quotation, from Merchant of Venice, III, 2. Here is some more of it:

There is no vice so simple but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts:
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk;
And these assume but valour's excrement
To render them redoubted! [...]

Now, of course, the excrement here is literally “outgrowth” in the form of a beard, but we all know that our subject, Mr Vadney, is full of a rather different kind of excrement: the bovine kind!

We have already seen how he describes himself as “valiant”, “courageous”, a “real champion”. Yeah, yeah.

And he accuses Scott Horne and me of “alleg[ing] one can enlist in the military for a particular posting”. Really? Where did either of us say that? Of course, in theory, once enlisted one can be posted anywhere at the discretion of the service involved. You might not be able to decide where you get posted, but, at least as a volunteer, you can decide on the timing of your enlistment. In particular, if there is a war on, you can wait a few years until your government starts pulling out. And that is what brave little How-Old did.

Twenty-two is a pretty ripe old age to be joining the army as an enlisted man. What was brave little How-Old doing that stopped him from rushing to his country’s defence in its hour of need? Attending college? Well, yes, sort of.... Apparently he had accumulated all of 15 semester hours at Union College, Schenectady, by the time he enlisted. Any serious and non-retarded college student would have got a bachelor’s degree by the age of 22. Do I smell an ill-fated attempt to gain a student deferment? Whatever the reason for this unsuccessful stint as a student, young How-Old wisely refrained from joining up until the process of “Vietnamization” (begun over three years earlier in 1969) was almost complete, enlisting a couple of weeks before Nixon announced the suspension of all offensive activity (although I was pretty offended by Watergate), and less than a month before the signing of the Paris peace accord.

So rather than a sign of the “champion’s” heroism, this looks like a carefully calculated attempt (probably using all ten fingers and a few toes too) to avoid any actual combat duty. But of course, nothing stops the milk-white-livered coward from assuming valour’s (bovine) excrement!

Nowadays Mr Vadney has more sedate ways of displaying his valour, or at least his excrement. Like attacking old people for...their age. He’s edited it out now, but there are still copies around of the blog entry where he referred to the artists Frank and Trudy Little as “Methuselah’s parents”. Like victimizing innocent people and turning their daily existence into a nightmare with frivolous and totally meritless, but time-consuming and expensive, court cases. Like ridiculing people for their disabilities. We have a reference to the “partner” of one of the hapless defendants in one of the Vadney’s court cases as “the hunched, paroxysmal, lurching ‘Robbie’”. Even I get a serve for mentioning my minor and well-compensated dyslexia, but of course there is no explanation for the Vadney’s own inability to spell or even read. Who could forget the “Kabal of Sleeze”?

And again, one wonders why anyone would still be bragging about such an inglorious military career over 30 years after its abrupt and humiliating end (perhaps Mr Vadney would care to inform us just why he was let go so suddenly?). Maybe because he has accomplished nothing since?


Scott Horne said...

I'm a great fan of Shakespeare myself. All this talk about military records reminds me of the fourth age of man, as related in As You Like It (II.vii):

Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth.

(Or at the typewriter, thousands of kilometres from any cannon.)

Scott Horne said...

Brutus contributes the following (Julius Caesar, IV.iii):

You have done that you should be sorry for.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats,
For I am arm'd so strong in honesty
That they pass me by as the idle wind,
Which I respect not.

Richard D. Benham said...

Maybe we need a Shakespearean quotation blog too?

Scott Horne said...

Perhaps. But I'm more inclined to disregard "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing" (Macbeth, V).

Scott Horne said...

Iago should get his ha'p'orth in (Othello, III.iii):

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he who filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed.

Richard D. Benham said...

Here is an old comment from Mr Vadney.

Harold W. Vadney, Director, Operations said...

Begging to differ: The real issue here is that your goose is cooked, man. You have absolutely NO, ZERO, ZILCH credibility. Talk, talk, talk. Physically and intellectually ballooned! Cirrhotic dementia!

As the reports roll in, I'll keep you POSTED.

Take care, now.


23 January 2008 21:59

I am just wondering: whose goose is really cooked? And who'll be eating it?

Scott Horne said...

One observation by Angus (Macbeth, V.ii) uncannily suggests a certain embroidered lab coat:

[N]ow does he feel his title
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.

Richard D. Benham said...

Interestingly, Google does not give a single hit for cirrhotic-dementia. It will soon, no doubt: a hit on this blog!

Even if I had ever suffered from cirrhosis, it seems that I would not have any increased cause to worry about dementia. But you have to worry about some guy who can't even spell taking it on himself to invent disease names.

Scott Horne said...

Let none presume
To wear an undeservèd dignity.
O that estates, degrees, and offices
Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!

(The Merchant of Venice, II.ix)

About Me

I am a professional translator in the combinations French>English and German>English. I hold qualifications from the University of Adelaide (BA, DipCompSc), the Australian National University (LittB), the University of Geneva (Certificat de spécialisation en linguistique), and the the UK-based Institute of Linguists (Diploma in Translation for both my language combinations). I am an implacable opponent of bullshit in all its forms.