PART TWO: The Nine of Diamonds remains the Curse of Scotland. The origin of this name is not certain but many explanations, some of which follow, are suggested. Lord Justice-Clerk Ormiston was called the Curse of Scotland and so the Nine of Diamonds (also commonly called the Curse of Scotland) was known to them as The Justice Clerk.
Another word that has changed its meaning is the verb to humanise.
To humanise now means to turn into a machine, but this definition has become a matter of balance. Life on Earth is the fact of a brick wall neatly stacked, all the same colour and interlocked so that it does not fall down. When an object is humanised then it is fitted into the technosphere, rather than brought into the human mode.
Does it have a commercial application?
Yes, it is a bumble bee, and therefore we may enslave it for Honey Breakfast Flakes. Can it be used as a lubricant? Yes it is an essential oil can be sold to violinists to help their grip. Can we re-manufacture it on a mass scale? Yes we can, no matter what it is, even if it isa plastic or a chicken. The word humanise applies to every fowl we have so far come across, they can be bred as often as taste requires, andironic as it may sound, humanised in farms.
Two questions arise. Who produces this webpage, and then who reads it?
I says like this : listen you money-hungering server owners and bloodthirsty porn purveyors, that bleeding FHM website is full of lies and the lassies in it are all bollocks. It is high time they lassies realised what they were doing and put their faith in more sensible employment, such as working in a record shop, or selling programs at the game, and then you shopkeepers with your middle to top shelf nasties, would be put to shame.
And then I says to them, that LOADED website is worse, and everyone that looks at it dies after a short illness.
Dear Fellow English Speaker,
An ominous spectre has arisen over the sunlit valleys and mountains of SCOCHIA. This week's decision by the Scots Parliament to promote the speaking of "Scotch" through the indoctrination of children in public schools is but one more tyrannical step to the eradication of the biblical norm of heterosexual relationships and English speaking family life, centred around beef and good detective fiction.
The radical Scotch lobby, under the guise of egalitarian blather, seeks domination over all competing value systems which deem their morally anarchic behaviour repulsive, reprehensible, and beyond the cope of normative and wholesome deportment. Scotch Governor and Spaverman Stovies Duffus MSP, a leading activist for the bill, is eager to sign the same into law. With the stroke of his pen, the heavy hand of Stovies Duffus will attempt to win converts to, and propagate the mission of perversion by introducing the raddled Scotch into the queen's pure tongue, and by doing it HARD.
What Could KRS Mean, Son? For you, KRS is the King Rap Star and Killer of Racist Statement, the Koran Reading Songwriter and Kicking Ragga Sensation, he is a Key Renegade Scholar, the Kaiser Slamming Recorder, the Kettledrum of Revolutionary Sound, the Keeper of Reason and Sense, and he comes correct as only the Kathode Ray Silencer can …. he remains tha Kaftan Robed Satirist, Kleenex Ripping Showman, Kosher Rhythmical Saviour, and Kismet Ripping Schoolmaster …. he is a Keynsian Rejecting Socialist, presenting the Kitemark for Rap Standards with Kilometres of Rhyming Stanza in a Kinda Rennaisance Style … and he is KRS : A Kedgerie of Remedial Song, Keen, Ruthless, Specific, Karoake Removing Soothsayer, Key-player, Re-payer, Standard-bearer, Kamikaze Riding Stuntman and Klan Removing Slayer, one single Karma Related Sabre-cut, making him a Knowledge Revising Saboteur and Kabob Ravishing Sovereign.
Yew may have heard that Dundee University is scandalously offering non-Dunds (some of whom are undootedly Papish) Ready Cash to write a novel about Dundee, the City of Discography. Dinna, right! Because I have it all sown up wi my entrance "Art of the Fugue Off" about a DJ wi a problem wi drugs in Dundee wi some mates. Nae bad, eh? My Social Worker thinks she has seen the film already, it's that good. It's bound til win, seein as how I'm a Registered Mentalist, and ma da was a cunt AND a welder. If I hear of ony other entrances into this Dundee Book Prize Quiz, I'll club them to death. Now I gotto go. I'm midway through "Swann's Way" (it's shite!)
In Byzantium, in the middle centuries of the First Millenium, the passion for chariot racing and the competition between (savour the irony!) the Blues and the Greens, ran so high that the Empire was decided on the predominance of Chariot Factions - jobs in the state, and ultimately with Justinian, the Emperor's position itself, being decided by the Colour of your favour. More than religion (itself, eventually split between the Blues and the Greens), racing filled the hearts of the populace with the necessary adrenalin to slaughter each other, to carve their slogans of hate on each other's chests, to rape and torture.
So omnivorous was the Racing Cancer that, on two occasions, The Empire almost fell to the Barbarians as the army was riven and useless to defend the city. Luck and bad weather alone saved it. Seeing at last the folly of the Racing Mania, after a particularly grueseome week of riots during which most of the faction leaders were murdered, this 'sport' was extirpated for once and for all. RENOUNCE SPORT AND ITS WAYS. Pull down this god of inanity, this art whose best creation is a tongue-tied teenage moron with an expensive haircut...
The ownership of a bank account excites a sage contempt for social morality. Customers too, I’d be the doormat of the decade if only they had a vote. And yet people had me down as this weakling, just because my anarchism never scared anybody. They were all slavering dogs, they liked to frighten people, or at least they didn’t mind. Me though, I just can’t get tough. I don’t feel the rage so much any more. I just get the anger. I’m no good at it though, really no good. Can I still be an anarchist, I wonder? You’d think then that this was the moment, but it wasn’t. How many pages have I written? I still haven’t attacked the state. How did I become such a coward?
Here is the Jesus Christmas Blessing:
Ö Bless us all, as the season leaves us every one behind, there is a fat chance that cold and lonely we will succumb to Christmas confusion, and in that famous glow, get light and merry to return to glum in January.
And Ö Bless us all, as the season leaves us every one a cold turkey, there is a fat chance that peace presents a memorial quandary as lonely we will succumb to Christmas longing; bang on the day, and in that famous glow, get light and lighter until our sections are unique.
May you all go glumbo to your dinners; where sacred and alone, hold by those others of the self-same birth raft, you supply your company. AMEN
The content and purpose of dreams are not definitively understood, though they have been a topic of scientific speculation and a subject of philosophical and religious interest throughout recorded history:
Free cinema : in an open field we approached the screen, through rows of racked chairs. Close to the screen I met the lead actor, a real stiff-jaw, he stood way up above me. The actor was able to look over my head he was so tall. The field was filling with audience, and there were chunks of snow left on the ground. I turned to speak to some people I knew, the three most intelligent boys from school. The three boys sat on one seat and had their school blazers stuffed with library books. I walked further back; I had lost the friends I arrived with. Also, there were no safe seats left in the field, and this was out of many thousand. Most of the seats seemed to be sinking in the mud and melting snow. I left for the town, which was dark, and full of circular terraces, where one would descend and then reappear. I found that the best way to get back to the field was through a primary school, but I was escorted out of here, and taken to the seaside. Dawn, and the film was over. The snow even, was much melted, and I had missed everything. Passing up the opportunity for fried foods from a shack, I walked along the sea front, to look for my friends.
In the 1950s psychogeography was earnest, modest, miniscule, and made no difference.
It makes me wonder too, why not just tear a page out and say it was an accident or something if anyone asks?
In the 1960s psychogeography was melded to the New Urbanism. Architecture was the simplest means of articulating time and space, of modulating reality, of engendering dreams, and the few who knew this had more liberty to express it than they even dreamed of. The years were HALCYON.
Living in Europe and speaking 5 languages isn't that crazy especially since there is a lot of crossover among them.
Notes Copied from the Records of The Beggar's Benison
For which see Male Sex Clubs of the Enlightenment in Scotland
The Minutes of The Beggar’s Benison
1734 Candlemas: 13 Knights present. Chamber tyled at 3 o'clock, and opened in due manner. One Feminine Gender, 17, was hired for One Sovereign, fat and well-developed. She stripped in the Closet, nude; and was allowed to come in with face half-covered. None was permitted to speak to or touch her. She spread wide upon a Seat, first before and then behind: every Knight passed in turn and surveyed the Secrets of Nature. Afterwards the Sovereign closed the Chambers, after Repast in the accustomed form. Secresy enjoined upon faith.
The Range of the Awful Hand is a range of hills in the Southern Uplands of Scotland, so called due to their resemblance to the fingers of a hand...
It's also the name of a band from Edinburgh, two members of which were formerly in Gilded Lil (check this Gilded Lil playlist if in any doubt as to the genius of that bunch.)
Download recent stuff from The Range of the Awful Hand here.
My favourite passage from Robert Louis Stevenson's writing is a day in the life of one who believes himself castaway on Erraid.
A sea-bred boy would not have stayed a day on Earraid; which is only what they call a tidal islet, and except in the bottom of the neaps, can be entered and left twice in every twenty-four hours, either dry-shod, or at the most by wading. Even I, who had the tide going out and in before me in the bay, and even watched for the ebbs, the better to get my shellfish—even I (I say) if I had sat down to think, instead of raging at my fate, must have soon guessed the secret, and got free. It was no wonder the fishers had not understood me. The wonder was rather that they had ever guessed my pitiful illusion, and taken the trouble to come back. I had starved with cold and hunger on that island for close upon one hundred hours. But for the fishers, I might have left my bones there, in pure folly. And even as it was, I had paid for it pretty dear, not only in past sufferings, but in my present case; being clothed like a beggar-man, scarce able to walk, and in great pain of my sore throat.