Trip

I took a trip to Ben Lomond with friends... These ur the photies....










On the car trip there...










By yon bonny banks...










Another of those bonny banks...










Pier and hill










Sometimes you're better off back home...











We stop to spy some Heilan coos...










Another photie of them heilan coos...











Car window and landscape











Watering hole...











Another watering hole, with friend and kid...











My lunch











Kid number two bothering truck....

Ego

I have to put with Lanarkshire hot-heads barking at me on the phone. This means that after work, the last thing I want to do is communicate with the outside world. Still... my main survival mechanism is honesty. Brutal, blatant honesty. It bruises a few egos, but it usually works. Australia, however, has exploded this principle to a massive campaign against young drivers. And it's genius....

Read this: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/7045178.stm

It's a good idea, int'it? Don't attack the man, attack his ego.

Now onto Football fans... I've holidayed in a couple of weird places, one of which was a city in the Ukraine called Chernovtsy. This news story though highlights how little regard most football fans have for the reality of international problems. Football fans are morons, and this isn't an anti-english thing. I'm including Scots who join the Tartan army in various eastern european destinations and whichever set of supporters it is, seem surprised that they're not treated the same as if they were travelling to Falkirk. If I travel abroad (which is a rare occurance) I make sure I'm prepared and know a bit before a go over. The most football fans seem to manage to pack is the football shirt of their choice and the hope that whichever distant abroad destination they're travelling to is a bit like they're home town.

Still, funny in the ego states this week was Menzies Campbell who seemed surprised and perturbed by the fact that he was considered old. At 66. This particular hemisphere of the planet is often chastised for a lack of respect for the old. Well put it this way, respect is earned and if our pensioners don't have it, then don't look to younger generations as the source of the problem. They were the ones enacting the laws and raising the young who disrespected them. Ming was as guilty of his folly as the emperor who ordered his new clothes. He took a job and fucked it up. He underestimated people's views on his age, and failed to prove how much of a sage he was.

There's even a few in the Nationalist movement for whom I certain amount of complacency when I think of them. Ian Hamilton QC (whose blog is here) is one who has made me think. Not in a good way. For the Nationalist movement, he should be a hero. Someone who should sit at a fireplace somewhere and recount for the umpteenth time his story about the Stone of Destiny. But what I read is the ramblings of an eccentric more fitted to the BBCs Grumpy Old Men programme than someone one should respect. He seems happiest when baiting a reaction. This is something I can entirely understand, and probably HAVE done time and again, but for the life of me I'm struggling to see the point in this old relic and those like him, anymore. I don't want to read more coy defence or old age repentance, I want to hear a bit more politics and a bit more fire. I guess this is a hangover the the implosion of the Socialists and it's subsequent and interminable naval-gazing. Ian's turning into something out of Dickens or Shakespeare and not whatever he's being cast by the Nationalist movement as this week.

Legends...

I'm slightly more interested in meeting a few of my bloggerino's than reading the news right now.

Take Leonna for instance, she's linked to me and she's like an internet superstar... Far too many stalkers that one wee paisley lassie should have, but if she needs hauner's I'm there... See me... I'll do anything for a link! Even Michael G has linked to me and he's like a left-wing icon these days (honestly guys: Tommy Sheridan is his bitch...)

Anyway: Legends, yes, Princess Diana: hmm.... Tony Benn... mmm...

Various videos and new articles have appeared detailing all the conspiracy theories concerning how / why / when Princess Diana died. Now, admittedly my Republicanism means that I could officially give a crap how / when / if a member of the Royalty died... but this time it was all rather public and obvious.

The strange inevitability of Diana's death meant that we plebs couldn't get a respite from the conspiratorial moral panic. We couldn't escape the Daily Express diary of Mohammed Al Fayed's Illuminati theory about how his son died. And honestly... who can blame him. "Hi... my son got himself engaged to a Bond Villian's ex-wife. Do you want a bagel?"

Throw into this mix Tony "Wedgewood" Benn and his incessant "I'm the best Socialist. Ever. No contest. Tommy Sheridan can fuck right off and George Galloway is a cunt." Seriously... I'd rather have Tommy and all his sexaholic problems than George Galloway or Tony Benn any day. I could officially give a fuck if he got jiggy with SSP party members or not. My only regret from the SSP is that Katrina Trolle didn't pose with Chanelle from Big Brother in a Daily Star spread.

I mean honestly, who believed Diana's crocodile tears for all her weapons of Mass destraction and land mines, and who believed that it wasn't Tony Benn who shut down the Scottish mines for Hunterston and Torness Nuclear power stations...

What pisses me off, isn't pointless deaths, it's pointless beliefs. You have all the answers to your legends lies and you believe them. THINK!

Pop Star Rant

Apparently KT Tunstall has gotten stuck into Scottish Independence in this post... Before I get to my rant however, please consider this...










On the left... President Laura Roslin of the Battlestar Galactica, on the right, er, KT Tunstall... (I think). Separated at birth... two space cadets. Aye thang kew...

To the rant though... I know only a few Scots who've left these shores to go to America. One of whom is President Matthew (mentioned in a previous post) and the other is... well... erm... that's it really. The rest I've read about in the press on seen on TV.

Every Scottish song you'll read in the "big groovy book of Scottish Songs" concerning not being in Scotland has the same motif: "eeeven thoooughh ah'm on eeeassster iiissslaaandddd I still wwaaaaannnttt taaee beeeee in Scccoootttttlllaaaannnddd...!" Think Caledonia, or virtually anything you'll hear at new year.

The tartan army are evidence of this hypothesis. They drink the beer, shag the locals and fuck off back home again telling the rest of us how homesick they were. Aw the nice.

But pop stars. No... that's not for them. No... they like to take pot shots. We're "nasty" "arrogant" "drunks" "the old country" and a host of other petty insults, vague backhanders, malevolent comments amid the general luxury of getting felt up by whichever pickup artist they've deigned to let entertain them for that night whilst out their heads on cocaine.

I'm sorry... no... I'm not about get off my high-horse whilst a series of drunken, dope-headed nonentities have slagged off where they came in the vague hope that Bono or Madonna will jump them in whichever coy charidee event their publicist said it would be cool to turn up at.

My most abject contempt is reserved for the inevitable cop out you get from Scottish popstars and celebs abroad when they've said they'd blow up govan if they had the chance only to realise that their next video is to shot amongst govan's sharpened pitchforks. The persona-non-grata of worthless excuses: "The press misreported me." No they didn't. Like the rest of us, at some point in your pointless existance you fucked up and regret what you've said. I get that same crappy excuse every day in my day job. Someone sends them a letter, and they phone me. They've ignored the previous fifteen nice ones and want to rant at me for the one nasty one they get. So to make sure I can't tell them off, they say: "I never got those letters." So while they're gearing up their rant engines I tell them that every other caller has told me that and that the Post Office isn't that bad. Then I shout at them until they hang up.

I have a grudging respect for Billy Connolly though. No... listen to me. If I went up to Billy Connolly, I reckon he'd stand up for himself and what he said. He might say I misunderstood the joke, or that he DID think such and such. But the rest of our celebs? I fucking doubt it, brothers and sisters. I reckon if either of the Maryhill Mob (who sometimes read this) took KT aside, or even Lulu when she got stuck into home rule as well, I reckon we'd get a host of excuses about how "that wasn't what she said".

I have several policies I'd like to see enacted. Some aren't relevant to this rant, but they're along the same theme (ish... very ish...)

One. If you decide to become involved in the "entertainment industry" and then fuck off abroad, we reserve the right not to let you back in when you've slagged us off in the press. Your family (who will no doubt disagree) can officially "fuck right off" since they spawned you.
Two. Anyone who gets a driving license has to take anger management lessons for six months being being allowed to continue to drive.
Three. Women should have subtitles detailling what they actually mean as opposed to what they actually said.
Four. All celebrities should come with "as much a lying and cheating bastard as any politician is" mental health warning.

Pant... pant... I feel much better for that rant...

Scottish GOVERNMENT

This is a fucking red letter day my brothers and sisters...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/6974798.stm

Yes, yes, yes... I know it's just a BBC article, but if it comes to pass, then it will mark a psychologocal watershed for the march towards independence. To get independence, in my view, you need more than just a vote. You need to hotwire the perceptions of the scottish people. You need to overcome three hundred years of failure and mismanagement to get them to believe, just once, that they are good enough.

And they don't. Yet. I think they WANT to, but haven't quite worked up the courage.

I just had a deja vu about something else, but we're not talking about that, we're talking about independence.

Think about it like this: imagine you not only had the army to defeat an emeny, but also the tactics. But you're only problem is that your army won't commit. If your eventual goal is to win the battle, then surely your first problem is rewiring the psychology of your troops so that they WILL commit. To me, calling a Government a Government is just that. It's about rewiring the perceptions of the Scottish Population. A next VITAL step is Scottish People seeing themselves in an International Context, like... say... a Scottish Six (featuring Scottish AND international news created by and from a Scottish Context). More diplomacy with Europe as well... but we're getting ahead of ourselves now...

Strange Cameraphone Photo

I almost never use my camera phone, due to the fact I've got better ones. So what the hell is this?



















EDIT: This just in... It's the lesser-spotted Maryhill Mob (in latin gerri trightupye) . It's Jaggy Cardoon Thistle! Woo hoo!

All our yesterdays

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

Shakespeare from Macbeth (V, v, 19)


We should be thankful that John Smeaton's senseless disregard for his own life should be so vaunted by Glasgow. Scotland's own Jack Bauer managed to translate ordinary petty violence into something acceptable. Fine by me...

You'll probably note a slightly cynical tone from me, of late. Not a great deal of jokes on here, and to be honest I don't feel like making any in either this, or any of the subsequent ten blog posts. After that, back to normal. But then I doubt you (if you're a regular) come here because you know what to expect. I don't do "safe and normal" in any conventional sense (thus the odd occasion when I post something embarrassing and delete it the day after).

When those civilians saw the authorities fighting with two Al Queda terrorists in Glasgow Airport, a few saw red and got stuck in. They were interviewed, written about, blog-stalked, and subsequently dispensed with. And that should have been it. But it wasn't. People were entranced, in every workplace, in every street, and practically on every scottish forum on the internet, the gallus wee rangers supporter was vouched for (presumably along with his accomplices) as a bona fide weegie hero.

Once, just once, the Weege would shake it's fist at the world and feel something it hasn't felt in three hundred years.

This IS, of course, in spite of the fact that we actually caused the problem in the first place. This IS, of course, in spite of the fact that we hadn't we taken the Spainish approach of "oh right. Imperialism is a bad thing. Okay, we'll stop and not get bombed..." I even heard the term "Blitz spirit" used as if it was a good thing. Blitz spirit is fine if you're using it against something that can't be avoided. It's great. But if your troops are the ones massacring the bosh to get some black gold for a few mad americans then where the hell is the glory in that?

Maybe the glory is in the fact that we've probably voted against it all and are ignored. The SNP are against the war, as well as a fair few of almost every party IN the Scottish Parliament. Maybe the glory is in the detail. No-one asked us, but no-one is going to fuck with us without impunity either. THIS bit, I agree with.

But my optimism only extends so far. What walking abortion takes solace from violence without trying to solve the underlying cause? At least the IRA had an objective... once... They wanted a united Ireland and used it until they realised their tactics were being impeded by a much more powerful security service. But can we vaunt our civilian heroes without trying to argue for a solution to the very thing which caused the attack in the first place?

Do you preach pull-out or extinction? What do you propose for Iraq, or Afghanistan, or any other country in the Middle East? Did you know that when the Muslims learned (back in historical history) that the Messiah was predicted to enter Jerusalem throught the eastern Golden Gate in the Bible, the Ottoman Turks sealed the gate shut and built a graveyard in front of it so that the Messiah would literally have to enter Jerusalem over their dead bodies... Nasty, isn't it? Almost as nasty and the hundreds of thousands Scottish Soldiers have helped massacre under El Presidente George Dubya! Proud yet? Still feel gallus?

It's a vicious circle of violence and no-one benefits. I'm not a pacifist, but I don't see the reasons for any of these deaths or attacks.

The only thing we, as Scots, have is each other in a community. If circumstances beyond our control target US, then it's right we celebrate protecting ourselves. Most of us would like to think we'd do the same. It's tribal, a common ID painting the blood of the aggressors onto your faces and roaring at the hills.

But then we're not exactly civilised, are we? No matter how much we pretend we still worship trees, rocks and pools of water. Your little Jesus Crucifix is nailed to a tree. Most versions of Christianity have that tree with or without a man on it. You worship the tree either way. Your baptism recreates that nice moment when pagans worshiped their local stream and your rocks are your altar. You even have a pantheon of gods and demi gods. Although chances are you call the "Saints". And we still squabble over the dirt of someone elses land here or there. Your heroes are the best warriors and you, inevitably, are Agamemnon in Troy.

Didn't Carl Jung call it the collective unconscious? Didn't Aristotle and Plato reveal it as archetypes? Can't you see yourself in every picture of every art gallery? When you smoke the weed to escape all this madness, aren't you just becoming Shamans and Druids again?

"A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything." Friedrich Nietzsche

[whiteamerica]

"America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilisation in between" Oscar Wilde

Scotland has a strange relationship with America. On the one hand our socialist politics are entirely incompatible with their way of life, yet we lap up their movies, bands and pseudo-morality as if we were an alcoholic in an empty off license.

I can never get a handle on America. For the record, most of my favourite movies are American, but I despise almost all of its politics. I’ve friends who are Confederates and support it being broken up into its constituent parts. The rise of Microsoft and Haliburton is reprehensible to me. But the cultural contribution of the people is a great thing. “So wash you car in your X Baseball Shoes…” Yeah…

One of my favourite bands, Rage Against the Machine, have been guilty of being naïve and blurry on their beliefs. Their classic line: “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me…” repeated various times, is as vague as you’re likely to get from any cock rock band. But they combine Rap music with Rock music and quote communism and mention Carlos from Mexico. So that’s okay then.

Rap music though, is equally as a fascinating for a quick digress. This is street poetry corrupted by the iniquities of the American system. Bono can laud Martin Luther King all he likes, but the system he pontificates upon spawned Malcolm X and Cassius Clay when he refused to go to Vietnam. More recently it spawned the Washington Sniper and held court to a war of Gangster Rap musicians who decided that killing Tupac and Biggie whatever was more important than the street poetry.

But here’s my point. The declaration of Arbroath was the founding statement of America. We should, apparently, be proud of this. Scottish people were present at the signing and did this, that and the other. We provided the philosophy, yes, but that just makes us part of the blame. We provided tactics and expats for the confederates, so apparently we tried to be a part of the solution, but I guess the loss suggests the time wasn’t right. Either way we are the inheritors of our own mistakes. The Confederacy has itself to free, and we have ourselves to free. Little people in little houses with a few votes with which to free ourselves.

We are the seduced, the protagonists and the exploited. And in every Native American reservation, in every film, in every song, in every band, in every genre it spawned, in every cynical quote you’ll find on the internet, you’ll find Scotland’s influence. We’re the guilty and the victims. We’re the poodles who now bark at Iraq for the black gold. We’re the supporters of the CIA torturers of Guantanamo Bay. We’re the victims of suicide bombers. We reside in a bankrupt culture, alienated and pretentious without Embra Tattoo and Festival.

“Europe will never be like America. Europe is a product of history. America is a product of philosophy.” Margaret Thatcher

T-shirts...

Please find attached a new range couture from the Firefox Chronicles...

http://www.cafepress.com/ffxchronicles.146726673

It's stylish, cheeky and ultimately not worth the money you'll pay for it...

It's part of our "Richey Manic" range of t-shirt wear...

Situation Critical....

I'm not going to lie to you... the recent upgrading of the terror threat level worries me. Not because we're going to die screaming like pigs in an abattoir but because our personal freedoms are at threat and because we seem to bay for blood manipulated by the media against the wrong people.

It seems that I should therefore stand as the accuser rather than the accused. Who is to blame for the recent bomb attacks in London and who caused the situation in Glasgow Airport. Who's to blame? You fucking are.

Yes, that's right. And as V said in the movie "V for Vendetta":

"I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense."

I saw a person I hold in high regard call for the expulsion of Muslims who believe in Sharia law from our wee bit hill and glen. Aye, we're scared, but should be become Nazi's in penance for our own crimes? We failed to stop our intervention in the American Imperialism which caused these problems... When we let airplanes stop at our airports to torture innocent people, should we hold SOMEONE ELSE accountable?

One of the bleakest artworks you can listen to is "The Holy Bible" by the Manic Street Preachers. I listen to it when I'm depressed. The main lyricist, Richey James Edwards, threw himself off a bridge by the time the Album was done and the band were touring. (Aye, I know he's been officially "missing" but I doubt he's out there, personally...) In it are horrors of genocide, anorexia, the holocaust, crime, prostitution and apparently socialists politics. The horror of the 1994 album could be the country we live in now.

And yet we want to blame someone else for it. You didn't vote or persuade your brothers and sisters nearly enough. Had you done so, you would have gotten the Independence we need to stop these horrible things happening.

But you CAN help. You can RESIST. This malevolence stems from USA imperialism. You can stop it. Not me, YOU. Don't go to McDonalds or Burger King. Don't buy the Newspapers. Shut down your shopping malls and go to local suppliers. If someone bitches about your local Asian corner shop, put them in hospital. Destroy the Capitalist banks. Make yourself truly independent of the system. Fight Racism. Fight Imperialism. Don't stand up and be Alex Salmond or wet Wendy Alexander. Stand up and be Calgacus. Stand up and be Rob Roy or William Wallace. Don't listen to the idiots who blame the wrong person, listen to yourself because deep down you know that the real enemy is lying to you through Rupert Murdoch's rags, and via the Daily Record.

Unicorn Bicycle

You can tell I couldn't think of a heading couldn't you? You're quite bright.

Anyway, to business. I couldn't think what to write. Was ALL out of ideas for blogging because of various creative things I'm doing and general laziness.

Two points: One, if you've linked to me, and haven't told me, please do so. I WILL link back. Mostly. If, for example you're a paisley co-DJ (or embra DJ) who's reading this, I will probably link back. I may have done, i've not checked. If you're a screaming nazi then chances are I'm going to pretend I've never read your website and go off and try and bit-torrent Blake's 7 again...

Secondly: who the hell navigated here using the phrase: "red light" blythswood glasgow? It came up on that mybloglog thing on the side. It's useful for seeing who comes and visits. Usually it either says "albannach tribal" or "kenny sheerin" or "funny family fortune answers" (no... really. People actually visit this site because of that). The Blythswood thing is because of my infrequent references to gonzo isn't it?

News... I should really say something other than this shouldn't i? Can't think of much. I did something today which means I officially ROCK. But I can't talk about it. Data protection. ho hum. You'll just have to trust my status in ROCKING and grown a smidge.

Picts Ya Bass!

The Roman Legions tried in vain,
The Saxon, aye, and Vikings came,
Nane o' them could us contain,
Heed this gentle warnin'. (Clann an Drummer and / or Trad.)

This is the insides of the newly built Cumbernauld Town Centre. This was shortly before my friend Alyson heard me shout (in a rather loud voice) "Picts Ya Bass."

First off, let me apologise for my John Sweeney-like (him of the Scientologist docu) break into tourettes. If it makes you feel better, no-one noticed (or cared). But this whole crappy Roman obsessions rips my knitting.

The Antonine Wall (which the shopping centre is named after) wasn't the border marker that Hadrian's Wall was. It had more men pass through it than your average brothel on "freebie day".

It also ignores those rather groovy painted Celts who gave numerous ninth-legion lampings to those nice men in the Red Frocks.

I think what pisses me off is that of all Scotland's enemies they didn't pick a decent one. Sure, Rome was all macho and a Hannibal-bashing and a-Jesus-Crucifying all over the rest of the world, but up here the built a few forts, built a shit wall and often retreated back to man the main one, which I'm guessing was named after Adrianus Molus a thirteen year old geek obsessed with some girl and her infection box.

If you're going to choose the other side, at least choose the English. They were much tougher and far more windswept and rugged. And eventually those bastards would produce Monty Python.

Jings Crivvens... help ma boab...

Like most people, I get that "Oh Jesus, what have I done?" moment on a Saturday or Sunday Morning. On one occasion it was a weekday morning and I had been sober for a month previously (but we'll quickly gloss over THAT incident...)

Anyway. Monday morning came and I was wondering why my bank balance was £40 under what it should have been. I didn't ministatment it like I probably should have, but ran through the events.

(...brief aside. The reason I didn't check my mini-statement was because I was reading a Derren Brown book and thought it's section on memory was so completely brilliant I would attempt to remember a line of Pictish and Scottish Kings going back to the start. Yes... it's geeky and stupid. But lets be frank: you're not reading this because I look good in speedos... currently I'm trying his techniques out and therefore avoiding anything that comes close to an aide memoire.)

Anyway, the missing £40 business. Nothing immediately came to mind until I was at an SRSM meeting on Sunday and got my usual ribbing for avoiding Kilts. This led me back to ebay (which I had signed up for drunk on Saturday night). This, in turn led me to the two (and only two) things I look up by choice on ebay: cameras and kilts.

In cameras I look for everything. Canons, Nikons, Leicas (drool), Hasselblads (megadrool)...

In kilts my tastes are very specific (and thus why I don't have one). I want a decent McNeill one. (cos of my gran).

Clearly though, through that rather desperate haze my judgement became impaired and I looked a "freedom tartan" kilt costing about £35 quid.

I could even remember the words that I used when I saw it. It was those words that have haunted me my whole life: "What's the worst that could happen?"

I don't even have a bloody sporran. There's a place in Barras I know for that. But can you wear kilts with trainers? I'll bloody have to. Fortunately the Siol prefer Black t-shirts to Prince Charlie jackets (which I'm sorry... make ordinary people look like waiters).

So there you have it... Scotland's worst kiltie ever... I'll be honest, in spite of my lost £40 quid I'm hoping it gets delayed in the post. Cheap kilt, cheaper sporran and converse trainers with black t? Whatcha think? [embarrassed]I guess it shows my priorities in life when the whole shebang costs less than my camera... [/embarrassed]

Countdown 2

“I sort of felt sorry for the damn flies. They never hurt anybody. Even though they were supposed to carry disease, I never heard of anybody say he caught anything from a fly. My cousin gave two guys the clap and nobody ever whacked her with a newspaper.” Lenny Bruce – How to talk dirty and influence people.

1 - Welcome back online

How are you? Are you okay?

We have to get the technical stuff out of the way first; otherwise you might end up confused. You shouldn’t think I’m trying to patronise you, it’s just that someone around here needs help and it isn’t you, okay?

The reason you can’t remember your old pal Max is because you’ve had a slight accident. A rather monumental one, actually, I don’t mind admitting that. Mind you, it didn’t happen to me…

Most first chapters introduce one or all of the main characters: The first would be you. Fame at last! You are a legend! You are a god! You have had sex with all the people you have ever wanted, and felt warm and squishy in more than one dimension of reality.

That is the other point: you are not anything consequential where you are now. Nope. You are a nothing; zip; de nada; Count Zero of the Security-Guard Role Playing Club. Your ‘reality’ is so dull, so meaningless and so mind-wrenchingly pedantic it’s a surprise you’ve not actually committed suicide yet. Go and get that rope or those razor blades because it’s not getting any better.

I jest, READ ON...

Random Image

Countdown

Almost there... Spelling and grammer check complete (at least to the dubious standards of what I've been attempting...

----

She dampened her face down again, and turned around, hands on hips and spat at me: “I have quit.”

“Eh?”

“The T-shirt. I’m not in that game anymore.”

“I was beginning to think you’d never quit. Does that mean you’ll consider my offer?”

“What offer?”

I stood there looking as perplexed as she did. I thought for a minute and asked her, “What is your name?”

“Katherine Ireland.”

“Oh. Wow. I never expected that.” I became a bit sweaty and nervous.

“You make less sense than the Sci-fi Channel.”

“Okay, I’ll make this quick. You are not Katherine Ireland, Porn Star. You’re Kaz Hiashi, porn star.”

“How is that different? That’s my screen name.”

“Here, that’s your real name.”

“Where is here?”

“Inverness.”

“So my real name is Kaz in Inverness,” she replied incredulously. “Just Inverness, what about Bellshill?”

“Okay, you don’t get it. Fine. I’ll show you. Come outside.”

Serendipity

The previous post has, at it's end, a stone. The photograph was by Jacobiker and Mrs Jacobiker. I put it in for the hell of it (as is my thing).

Last night, after a frenetic day, I was in the heb bar with various types (including J & Mrs J). Helen of the Maryhill mob had asked what the stone was, and I asked.

It's the stone which marks the spot where Robert the Bruce's heart is buried in Melrose Abbey.

I'd chosen it almost entirely by accident (because I went to the folder on my computer which has some of Jaco's pictures and thought it looked good...) Strange coincidence...

Bannockburn Reloaded

I've been reliably informed that the Bannockburn Rally date has changed... again.

Jesus, it's had more dates than me this year (emails to... erm... )

Anyway, to the point in question. According a "source" the date of the March and Rally is now the 16th because:

"NTS refused to allow access to the field on the 23rd, so the YSI's original choice was the 30th, however it seems that will be the official opening of the Scottish Parliament for this session and so MSP's would be unable to attend. "

Still, at least on or all of those weekends someone will be up to something on Bannockburn Field. As far as I'm aware though, the major shindig in the Tartan Arms is still ON for the 23rd, and so your humble narrator will definitely be at that one.

I've just noticed that this blog is in danger of becoming a useful source of information. Therefore, here is a random picture from Jacobiker:

It's been a few days since I posted last. What is there to say?

The SSPs showing in the recent election was shoddy. It was bad. Naturally I got my workmates ire and slagging for it. Quite rightly so... I expected more than was delivered. I don't think I expected the gubbing that was delivered.

Scottish Republican emailed this (and I got it in my email box as well) about Alan McCoombes reaction. I've got to admit that I was saddened by Carolyn Leckie greetin' about her result. When you lost because someone who is guilty is more charismatic than you it's a tragedy. And poor Alan has to mop up the tears and know that more people give a crap about the BNP (who outplayed the SSP) how the hell can you square that with the truth?

But despite this obvious defeat (and it WAS a gubbing...) I found myself going elsewhere for interests... I went to the Siol and the SRSM. A few of SRSM and Siol comrades have some good ideas to go forward.

This didn't stop me looking up some NLP and going back to some old Neurocam stuff (including their new video) I'm looking for stuff that's a bit more arty for this blog...

Anyway, am gonnae finish this wee catchup

Burn this man at the stake...