Was at Tesco’s today. Woah there Mr Rockstar (aye, I know what you were thinking)… I was getting some new work clothes (I know… sometimes it’s hard living a life that’s THIS interesting) and I passed by the T-shirt section. Now, any pro-indy types out there will know this is a regular occurrence. But basically, my eyes fell upon shoppie. Shoppie had that self-satisfied look upon her face as if she’d just given Michael Bolton the blow-job of his dreams. Shoppie was happily putting out a nambla of t-shirts (not sure on the collective noun on that one…) loosely along the lines of “Made in England – feed beer and sausages.” I didn’t stop to catch the specifics you understand. I was busy asking:
“Shoppie?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Do you stock that in Scottish?”
Shoppie laughs and continues hanging up the Made in England T-shirts, which I now notice have a copiously large St Georges Cross emblazoned across the entire torso.
“No… really?”
“Erm… no. Actually no. There isn’t even plans for it. Ach. It’s an English Company. So whit ye gonnae do? Its no’ like they’ll sell!”
She returned to putting the t-shirts up with the excited air of a Michael Bolton fan that’s just gotten tickets to night two on his tour. I took my purchases downstairs.
I was going to write a letter. But a) I’ve done that before and… well… frankly I’ve done that so much I want to start charging now, so. B) my ‘lack of specifics’ wouldn’t go down well with whomsoever I bothered to write to. “Hello you. I’d like to complain in vaguest possible terms about you selling a pro-England t-shirt in Cumbernauld without having a Scottish alternative. Yours, Miffed of Cumbernauld.” So I didn’t.
Re-reading that, it might seem anti-English. It’s not. I want a decent pro-Scottish t-shirt a Tesco. Still, you know your empire is fucked when you try to flog a t-shirt in Scotland that no-one wants (unless they’re both English-resident and suicidal enough to wear the damn thing). I actually wanted to buy one when I got home. ‘specially for the Donald Dewar statue. It seems to tick both ‘devilish’ and ‘reasonable’ boxes.
There is that moment in every great empire when (and usually this is only in history books) when you realise that your great empire isn’t quite as bullet-proof as you might’ve previously thought. Imagine yourself in Rome, with all the history of Julius and Augustus Ceasar, of the battles with Hannibal of Carthage and just how sexy Russell Crowe was in a leather mini-skirt. And then imagine you’re a Roman soldier outside Caligula’s bedroom when he’s not quite conventionally riding a horse. That he just married. And tried to declare Consul. Your empire isn’t going to seem quite so bullet proof then, is it?
Britain and America are currently (in my own opinion) metaphorically trying to declare their horses Consul with attitudes to Religion and Government. In America, (I’m referencing a recent series by Richard Dawkins about Charles Darwin for those of you who want to 4OD it) Richard Dawkins was making the point that including Creationism in the Education system was beyond belief as Evolution has scientific backing, whereas Creationism is something that’s more akin to what Gandalf does in Lord of the Rings. And therefore to base an education system upon that detracts from the value of the education because there is no evidence involve.
Before I continue, I should outline my views on Jesus. I appreciate the philosophy (I do). Treat your neighbour as you’d treat yourself. (for me that would be a big mistake. I’ll just be nice to them instead. I think I could arrested for suggesting a Friday-nite drink-fuelled and Chow Mein-fed internet search for lesbian pornography). But… back to Jesus. Be nice to your neighbour, I can entirely get on board with that. ‘The Meek shall inherit the earth’. If that’s in a kind of co-operative Marxist way then I’m on board with that as well. So… philosophically… I like Jesus. He’s got some nice things to say. I’m not sure when he said: “I want a fucking army to SACK ACRE Mr. Pope. GETINTAE THOSE RAGHEADBASTARDS!” The whole (then and now) Crusades bit (philosophically) seems a bit out of character to be supported by a pacifist. But he HAD been dead for a good thousand years before the Pope initially crusaded. So maybe they didn’t ask. In George Dubya’s case, I think Craig Ferguson said it best on his talk show when he said: “When you talk to God it’s called praying. When God talks to you, it’s called Schizophrenia.”
My problem with religion is the typical one. I don’t believe in magic. So when Jesus is being philosophical and nice. I can dig that. When he says his mother was a virgin, I’ll just tell him that I’ve been telt that by lassies before and as a rule I don’t believe it. Especially when you see tattoos of an Arrow with the words ‘this way to heaven’. Girls from Glasgow are like that. When Jesus claims to be the son of god with crazy mystical powers, that’s when I switch the video off and go to the shops.
So, American creationism, in its whole Jesus-worshipping bit, is all about the magic. So when I was watching some servile Jesus-freak from the nice bit of America saying how it’s open-minded to suggest the world is 10,000 years old and sorcerer-apprenticed into being; that’s when I realised that America is truly fucked. When you start basing your education system on magic, you can just smell the impending implosion.
But then… It’s not exactly just THEM. Is it? Every weekend, from now untiltheendoffuckingtime I think… Tens of thousands of people converge on Glasgow. None of them Scottish (apparently). Some are British. Some are Irish. Most sound like they’re from Glasgow to me… All in the name of some wee guy who just wanted people to be nice to each other. Oh, and his maw was a virgin and he was the son of god.
It’s this bloated act of mass self-wankery that convinces me that Scotland will never have an empire. Creationism is why America is destined to die (unless the Yellowstone Supervolcano gets it first). Both are prime examples of the increasingly dubious metaphor of ‘Caligula Declaring his horse Consul’.
Now, the reason why the Union is inevitably going to kark it is simple. There are omens of cultural and social stupidity, Shoppie’s ‘Made in England’ t-shirt aside. Amongst my top 100 reasons why the Union is fucked, my number 17 is: “Sun Page 3 Girls Talk about the News.” So.Let’s say Al Queda have bombed somewhere. Smeato, apparently, was unavailable to save the day and so it’s up to Lisa (19) from Suffock to comment in a nice handy box above her nekkidness. If it was a page 3 of, say, Stella Rimington I might understand (as well as being slightly perplexed as to why she’s doing Page 3 gigs now). Call me bigoted, but I’m not sure just how much a 19 year old Razzle wannabe is going to contribute to the debate. Maybe it’s just me.
If you’ve bothered reading the post this far, if I get seven comments or more I’ll actually post up my Top 100 reasons why the Union is fucked in a blog post. Otherwise I won’t bother.
Christopher Nolan’s vision of the iconic Comicbook Hero is almost as mesmerising as Heath Ledgers performance as the grungy Clown Prince of Crime, the Joker. I realise that it’s fashionable to make references to the “Emperor’s New Batcape” but that’s… that’s… just wrong in so many ways.
This production gives Batman / Bruce Wayne added layers to deal with, utilising Wayne’s desire to use a character as an avatar to save Gotham from itself, whilst dumbing his own true self down so as not to give the game away.
Truthfully, Batman Begins wasted the opportunity of bringing to the big screen the Scarecrow, one of my personal favourite characters from the Comics; but Dark Knight doesn’t waste the Joker, turning Jack Nicolson’s signature portrayal of Jack Nicolson The Joker in Batman (1989) into a creepy, sardonic, homicidal social pioneer in Ledger’s performance. Small piece of trivia, according to Popbitch, Heath Ledger had a notebook of things he thought that the Joker would find funny. Top of the list? Aids.
Typically, Hollywood (all of it) gets fuzzy when it comes to stuff like the “laws of physics” and DK is no different. The grappling hook which shoots up to the top of buildings and / or into concrete? Impossible under current technology. But that’s just me being a geek about Hollywood physics.
The reason why so many people have flocked to see Dark Knight is because the ideas behind it have more venom. Batman isn’t a hero, he’s “whatever Gotham needs me to be”. Which is incredibly admirable by Hollywood standards. Normally the main protagonist just shoots the bad guy (eventually) and shags whichever blonde / brunette / redhead he happens upon that episodes. DK is more complicated than that.
What’s interesting, is that so many of our big heroes aren’t heroes, but Anti-heroes and almost Byronic Heroes in some ways. Take yourself back to Braveheart, or read Nigel Tranter’s The Wallace to witness some genuine antiheroic moments. No, I’m not comparing Batman to the Wallace, I’m suggesting that we don’t believe in heroes any more, not in the classic sense. Let’s quote some anonymous bod on Wikipedia: “The brooding vigilante or ‘noble criminal’ archetype seen in characters like Batman is slowly becoming part of the popular conception of heroic valor rather than being characteristics that are deemed un-heroic.”
And this is one of the flaws in the movie. By the end, I was not so much “rooting” for Commissionaire Gordon (played flawlessly by Gary Oldman) but wanting the Joker as Heath Ledger’s zombie corpse to reanimate for Batman 3 so he could swedge Jim Gordon a few more times… But let’s not let my lack of moral compass sway you. (I called Batman a cunt under my breath when I thought he was about to let the Joker fall from a building).
And it was at that very moment, (well, in the bus home afterwards if I’m being honest) that I started thinking about Tommy Sheridan and Alan McCoombes. Not that I want to see either of THEM in a Bat-cape (what Tommy gets up to Casa Sheridano…) No, I started thinking about public perception of Sheridan after his famous scandal. The working classes, in my experience, didn’t give a rat’s ass about what Tommy did. He could’ve had fourteen activists dressed as cheerleaders, snorted cocaine and gotten home back in time to do another anti-war rally and people wouldn’t have bothered. Alan McCoombes famously (apparently) told TS: “People will forgive what you’ve done, but they won’t forgive you lying to them.” (approx).
If you segue from that to the falling levels of voting at election, and the growing public disaffection with modern politics it’s curious when you think about the concurrent rise in obsession with celebrity culture. I’m a morally bankrupt 30 something now, but back when I was 14, I was a clean living, Jesus-worshipping, god-fearing attendee at church. Back then, my 14 year old self would’ve looked at Hello, the Sun, the News of the World and saw a litany of depravity. Now we all gleefully flick past Amy Winehouse’s addictions, Britney’s revolving-door panties and demand vigilante justice be inflicted upon… well just about whoever is collectively pissing us all off that week.
I forced myself to watch RickyLake today. I did so, after seeing that the show was about congratulating this girl (whose name I can’t spell) who worked all the hours she could to both get into college and to get money for her family. Ricky was going to congratulate her with a visit from her favourite band, Salt ‘n’ Pepa. I clicked past, probably muttered: “Oh… crap.” I switched over to E Entertainment and was about to watch Denise Richards in something (she looks like a pretty version of my ex-fiancee – three / four years ago, long story). Considering the RickyLake girls inspiring story, I felt suitably guilt-ridden enough to force myself to watch the one and only episode of RickyLake I’ve ever seen. Motto of this digression: occasionally one has to recognise and act upon one’s own moral depravity.
Politicians are probably slightly less interesting than they were ‘back in the day’, especially in the mainstream parties, but how do you square Celebrity Infatuation with falling interest in politics? Has society become so entrenched in its post-modernist angst that Politics is just too big to consider thinking about? Or is it just that the modern world has forced our moral and social compass to change so drastically that modern politicians haven’t caught up with the rest of society yet? Celebrity culture is often criticised, yet (and the independence movement is no exception) but people seeking it and eager to witness it through the media are still the majority. Modernity has made us a nation of hypocrites. We’re eager to tell the world just WHY Pete Doherty should remain in jail and be kneecapped for his crimes, but give people a chance to vote for it… then there’s a problem. Suddenly interest falls to an all time low. When Jamie Hoggan was arrested, it didn’t exactly cause outrage at the Independence movement, but curiosity about it, and gave rise to the odd “Free Jamie Hoggan” on whatever marches I was on that year…
We are a culture now, where I can take a news story about Maggie Thatcher being given a state funeral, and guarantee attendance at my long planned “Rave on the Grave” Soiree in Glasgow City Centre whenever the hell it happens. Yes… I can officially mock the nearly-dead with impunity. People don’t believe in God anymore, like Nietzsche proclaimed: “God is Dead” and we are the damned children of Rolling Stone magazine, addicted to the addictions of celebrities and with no interest in politics. Some of our brothers and sisters, at least.
I think we need to accept that the world we live in is different, and strategise accordingly. We needn’t restrain ourselves to merely getting out there and trying to get votes for independence. We can think darker thoughts and whilst a liberal minority will no doubt be uber-critical, it’ll do its job and get our political beliefs recognition from a people hyped-up on controversy. Fathers 4 Justice did it reasonably effectively. The ex-millies have been doing it well for years, and did it SO well they united the left in Scotland, for a brief and beautiful instant (only for it to be washed away like the first flurry of snow by the November rain).
If the “Dark Knight” movie has resonated with so many people, as it patently has done, it’s because it has exposed just how much change society’s moral compass has changed since the 1950s, when we all started rebelling against the hangover from the hypocrisy that Victoriana, in my opinion. In addition, I think society is taking a collective breather from politics after being subjected to the 1970s and 1980s. When you lose count of the amount of acronyms you use for terrorist groups agitating for political change, and you have a myriad of groups across Europe eulogising and evangelising either change or continuation of the norm, then people are going to tire. But either way, whilst we need to see the past to see ourselves, we must occasionally look at the present to see just how different things have become. I don’t believe we are in the same politics as we were back in the 1992 general election. I think we’re now smack in the middle of Scottish Politics 2.0 and need to think about things differently if we are to prosper as activists in the current climate.
Okay… So I had intended on posting more frequently than I have done in the past week or so. This is mostly the fault of Bonnybridge UFOs. I had intended on doing a bit of research about the subject for a post on here. I even created a special folder where I would save links to all the articles. And I expected to have too many to work with.
Well I guess that was my first mistake. There was a lot “casebook UFOlogy” with articles of about two hundred words with the odd “locals report” and other assorted vagueness. Not that that’s not without its entertainment value. I mean… there’s a lot of hicks around the world going: “Yeah man, there’s aliens over there…” without actually bothering to supply proof.
There was so little content that I was thinking (seriously) about putting on my V: The Mini Series Reptile Mask and uploading a youtube feature as follows:
“Greetings Puny Humans! I am Stragputh from the Garleg Federation and I come to bring you hate from the Garlegites. YOU SHALL ALL PERISH unless you cede us the town of Bonnybridge as a breeding ground for our hatchlings! Commit or you shall all pay! Mwahahahahahahah.” Etc.
Now, since I’ve obviously decided to post on this anyway, without a great deal of research (not my fault, that’s the internet and it’s obsession with having a porn rate of 69%) and not enough serious articles.
There are three possibilities regarding Aliens flying over Scotland.
It isn’t aliens. It’s people being stupid. And not just your banal ordinary stupid, but dog-chasing-a-car-from-the-front stupid. They’re tries-to-use-icecream-as-a-lubricant dumb.
It IS aliens, and they’re here to invade
It IS aliens, and they’re here in the name of science
Point three scares me more than the rest, because the others I can get my head around. But if aliens are using Bonnybridge as a scientific study then I want to be on the next space-shuttle to complain to the Galactic Council. Mind you, it could be worse. They could choose Airdrie and concur that: “Sire, all humans are around five foot tall, communicate through their noses and based on a recent translation of their clothes are apparently called the ‘La Coste’ people and celebrated seeing our craft with outbreaks of xenophobia and in-breeding.”
I was also thinking, after seeing Bebo cluttered with people being scared of being abducted by aliens, that perhaps they’re not the crazy ones. Go with me on this. Compare their phobia with mine: Arachnophobia versus Alien Abduction fear (Duchuvnophobia?)
All you need for life is a Sun, and the universe has plenty of them; Water, which is just Hydrogen and Oxygen, and there’s plenty of that; and a rock close enough for it to be ‘just right’, and there’s more than enough debris scattered. So yeah, chances are there’s a planet with life. Maybe it could build Stargate-like spaceships, and maybe they get their kicks from abducting blonde girls. I know I do… Oh shit…
Now… my phobia, which is to prefer to chuck books across the room at spiders rather than actually touch them, makes less sense.
Let’s say that there’s a spider in my bathroom. My brain turns on its fear response. What my brain has assumed is that there is an undiscovered type of spider in the Amazonian Rainforest which is so deadly it can kill painfully and within the time it would take me to run to the phone (shrieking with pain as I did so, obviously). My brain has then assumed that this super-poisonous spider (which, by the way, bears a striking resemblance to a money spider) has made the colossal leap from Rainforest tree to a piece of driftwood on the Amazonian driftwood where it survived on a diet of grubs until it reached the ocean. Whilst this deadly spider wielding piece of driftwood, I also have to assume the spider has access to enough grubs until it washes up onto a beach on the Bahamas, washed along by the general tides and such. It decides not to munch on the middle-class Edinburgh people getting married on the beach (because that would just be mean) and instead heads for the nearest Banana Plantation. There, whilst munching on the bottom part of a banana, it is wrenched from the tree, put into a box and then flown and driven thousands of miles until it reaches Tesco Cumbernauld. From here, it escapes, loose, into the wild until it finds my flat. Now, I live on the top floor, so I’m not sure whether it used the stairs or the lift. I’m guessing that it used the stairs for two reasons: one, I don’t think “Hola Senor, floor seeex pleeease” coming from a tiny spider is ENTIRELY plausible; and secondly, there isn’t actually a lift service where I live. Just stairs. Miguel the Spider then crawls through the letter box and takes up residence in my bathroom, eventually to be confronted by myself.
I can usually console my abject cowardice with Spiders with the conclusion: “Oh well, at least I’m not scared of being abducted by Aliens.” Bugger. At least my phobia has an actual phobia name: Anoraknophobia. Or something. I’ve checked t’internet and can’t find one for Alien Abduction.
Back to Bonnybridge, though. I’ve heard from a few people that I know *in* the area. Well, one, actually. That there’s now rumours of big cat sightings in ra ‘Bridge. A large, Black, Cat-like creature has apparently been stalking the night and (presumably) scaring the population. I absolutely, positively, am not supposed to mention this because they’re still a bit cringe-worthy after being given the title of “UFO Capital of Scotland, damn it the whole UK, och dammit of ALL THE EU!” I’m not making this up; someone DID tell me about big cat sightings. Apparently they haven’t been reported because locals still have a collective-cringe about GMTV turning up to probe the rumours. And honestly, who’d force Fiona Phillips on their worst enemy? I bet that when the black Panther (or whatever it is) has cornered its first human victim, I’ll bet ALL the money I have that THAT person wishes at that very moment, that they’ll be abducted by aliens… Now go and tell Alanis Morrisette THAT’s what Irony is.
I know I prefer to leave it a few paragraphs before I deviate from the topic @ hand but the most requested search which brings people to this blog is Freddie Windsor. If you are one of those people, please fuck off. Thank you. (yes… in this blog there’s swearing).
A few months ago I was at Bonnymuir for a Rally, and afterwards I nearly quit what I’ll lazily title ‘the movement’ for one simple reason: I was one of the youngest there. I’m nearly thirty five fucking years old and I was feeling too young. Fortunately Bannockburn, Falkirk and yesterday, Robroyston refreshed my memory that it’s not the case. It’s just SNP historical groups that tend to verge slightly from the general demographic of the country. Oh look, I was deliberately obtuse…
But first, what prompted this blog. Yesterday, George from the Tartan Army spoke at Robroyston, and his theme was Scottish History and how to raise its profile and all manner of cool things. Donald of the SRSM quite liked an idea I had about a “History Night” where we’d discuss two or three history topics. It’s standard, it’s a decent idea… but it’s a bit conventional. I’ll get it done, and I DID come up with it, but I had a couple of other things that I would’ve preferred to do. Email me if you wanna know more about the history night. (I feel the need to say that… but all I get email-wise is Viagra adverts.)
I’ve had two ideas for making history (in particular hidden history) more interesting and edgy to get new blood involved. I’m going to break the 4th wall of the first of my ideas (which thus means it can’t work as a simple Google search kills the idea stone dead). The first thing you need to do is to read this article:
During August and September we have a litany of Wallace-related events, and they all follow the same format: March, speeches, drinks, camping (for some: not me, god no…) then home. So I read that Wikipedia reference to ‘The Poe Toaster’ and started thinking about a visit that Jolly took about ten of us on to Cambuskenneth Abbey, where he (I think…) told us about the Wallace Stone and how, possibly, William Wallace’s arm was buried under it. That story was so damned good I didn’t care whether it was true or not. Not after I read the Poe Toaster reference, anyway.
For me, people love a mystery. Give them something unexplained, and people want to explain it. So, I came up with the idea of having a hooded ‘Wallace Watcher’ figure visit the Wallace Stone in Cambuskenneth Abbey once a year and inventing a backstory going back about two or three years and possibly further… Factor in some really grainy camera phone footage of him placing a thistle and half-drunk bottle of Whisky on the Wallace Stone and you have an internet hoax.
The principle is using the power of the Internet and Viral marketing in such a way as to give Scottish History a fresh edge. Sky did this for Season 6 of 24 where if you texted a certain number, you’d have to log onto an internet site and negotiate a series of vague clues to help Jack Bauer otherwise he’d die…
So, for example, with my Wallace Watcher idea, when it’s initially sprung onto an unsuspecting public, you have two or three blogs set up which have a story arc people can follow. If you’re cynical, I don’t blame you. But it works if done right. It can even work when you have no basic plan to work to… For proof of this read “Join Me” by Danny Wallace or go here: http://www.join-me.co.uk
This story arc does two things: the lead people to particular sites of interest and organisations of interest. It promotes the Wallace Stone, it promotes Cambuskenneth Abbey, it promotes the execution of the Wallace and what subsequently happened to him and in the backstory behind it, those curious enough to follow the trail of the story and the blogs find themselves at, say, the Walk for Wallace website, on the Siol nan Gaidheal website, or on the Wallace Society website or whomever gets promoted by it.
It promotes history to its targets, an unsuspecting public, and it draws them into a story they can be a part of. During it you’re seeding them with relevant historical knowledge, but in an interesting way and it hasn’t been done before. And all you girls DO love the thrill of a chase, don’t you?
But it can’t be done now, can it? I broke the first law of hoaxing and talked about it. But the point is thinking about things differently. This is about utilising different ideas.
The other idea I had, I already tried and didn’t give it the commitment it deserved because I was finishing off my Rock X novel (which you can still buy, by the way…) and it lost momentum due to a couple of things. That idea was the Nine of Diamonds Project.
I’ve written about this before, but the Nine of Diamonds Projects was, if I had played it right, a rip-off of the Australia-based Neurocam Project. I wrote about it here: http://kennysheerin.blogspot.com/2007/08/neurocam-and-scotland.html But the intention was to use it as a machine gun for Scottish History so that various subversive histories could be manoeuvred into the mainstream by various high-jinks. One idea I had was to get a shop dummy, dress it up in a Guantanamo Bay orange jumpsuit (complete with black stencilling on it just in case those seeing the resulting photo weren’t too sure), put it outside the Scottish Parliament Front Doors with a large sign around it’s neck which read “1820 – 19 of the first residents” on it. The hooded figures who dumped it there wouldn’t be caught on CCTV cos they’d be hooded and someone would drive them off into the early morning and the resulting photo would be circulated everywhere as an enigmatic gesture, complete with a nine of diamonds card jutting out the top pocket.
At one point I drafted (using legislation I knew of) Eviction notices to be tied to the gates of HolyroodPalace (where the Queen lives in Scotland). I can’t mind what I did with that…
Or one idea that comes up time and time again, but which ends up falling through because of money and resources: the Digital Projector Hijack. Basically this involves getting a digital projector and some high profile night-time location and the press. What you do is arrange a series of images to be transferred from a laptop (have) and digital projector (don’t have and can’t afford) and project it onto the walls of said building which the press then photographs, your anonymity preserved. FHM magazine got worldwide press from Projecting an image of Gail Porter, nekkid, onto the walls of the Scottish Parliament. Imagine a reporter from the press being invited, on the anniversary of the Battle of Stirling Bridge with an image of Andrew de Moray will captions like: “I was here as well” “What the hell is a Union Jack doing on a Scottish Castle?” as well as the odd soundbite here and there projected onto the walls of Stirling Castle on the night of Sept 11? I reckon the press would LOVE that image. Personally I’d like to project the image of a penis onto the house of Matt O’Connor from fathers 4 justice with the words: “Anti-Scottish Dick”… (but we’ll call that a work-in-progress).
I tend to think about things a bit differently, and those were a couple of ideas I thought I’d throw out there for your perusal. Basically if we want to promote Scottish History, we don’t have to just rely upon established methods which tend to preach to the converted. With enough effort we can take these out to the public.
By the way: does anyone know where I can get a shop dummy?
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