Soft Underbelly

 

This is a view of the (old) Forth Road Bridge's private parts that most people never see. That's because it's the subway on the south side. It's not soft either, more of a sort of damp, drippy and muddy utility tunnel for lost pedestrians, but it's definitely under the roadway.

Cult of Added Brown Sauce

N might well stand for Nonesuch. A mysterious pie scoffing cult that both worship and sacrifice hot meaty pies encased in seeded bread rolls, consumed upon a midnight clear as is the custom. Circles of stones provide the clue along with a trail of crumbs. Brown sauce aka "Blood of the Crow" is added in the pattern of the holy Nonesuch cypher. It's a mix of the yummy and esoteric elements of whatever you may think and goes back a long way. Lilith (Adam's first wife) is credited with the invention of the lamb pie, Genesis: something or other. It's a tradition at this time of year.

Seasonal Preparations

The cats remain fairly bemused as to why we'd bother to bring a tree (more of a shrub really) into the house. "Out of place items in absurd settings" really should be the title of this post, maybe the entire blog. Trees don't belong indoors and (I'm stretching the point here) neither to some animals. I guess domestic cats are ok to be brought inside and away from the elephants. They're needy that way. You can't expect them to be out there 24/7 ridding the town of plague carrying rats and other rodents as well as the occasional accidental bird; a violent trait in cats that I don't much care for. As they slowly adjust to the new indoor tree/shrub we are considering what type of "cat safe" Dickensian style decorations to apply to the Christmas shrub in all it's stunted glory. A satisfactory outcome to this cat related challenge is not expected.

Laïcité

"Most historical events were actually quite different from what you were taught or even imagined" (Detail). 

We need something like *this in our country (I forget the name and sometimes I don't even like to say it out loud as it's actually a bit of an embarrassment these days). I **wonder how things would be now if ...

*Laïcité (secularism) is the constitutional principle of secularism in France. Article 1 of the French Constitution is commonly interpreted as the separation of civil society and religious society. It discourages religious involvement in government affairs, especially in the determination of state policies as well as the recognition of a state religion. It also forbids government involvement in religious affairs, and especially prohibits government influence in the determination of religion, such that it includes a right to the free exercise of religion.

**Everything that I know I stole from Wikipedia.

World's Best Coffee

Nescafe 3 in 1 with a little real milk added and in a Moomin cup.

The thing about thinking of the Romans and their influence every day is a bit like seeing a cow (real or as an image) every day. Once you're aware of this and that you might well be doing it then it's almost impossible not to do it. Every day there are thousands of thoughts running through your mind. You could try to make a list but then that would be a lot of pointless work as the list already exists in some form or other in your head. 

A brain print out or some kind of consciousness spreadsheet record would work best and maybe save time. Then when you'd read the list, which in real time might take longer than a day where would you be? Highlighting all the Roman references and cow image entries with a yellow pen and tabulating them to see where in the day they occur? Are there patterns or is it all just random or is it triggered by experiences and circumstances? I just don't know.

Everything I don't know

When it all boils down to the burnt noodles at the bottom of the stir fry pan, pretty much everything in life is a bit of a bad idea. Probably the best method of avoiding bad ideas going really bad is to commit only to relatively small ideas whenever possible and avoid unintended consequences. Use a disaster scale and perspective to trim them into a more comfortable size. Deciding to have coffee, not go out in the rain, changing your socks, spit out a fly that's landed in your mouth etc. Fewer things can go wrong with trivial matters. 

The people who invented the robot vacuum cleaner, submarines and nitro glycerine might think more about safety and stuff but then as a species we'd not progress technically. We'd have tiny fixated brains, appetites for junk products, be prone to mindless violence voyeurism and superstitions and would not understand the correct use of the apostrophe or how logistics works. Ideas and acting on them, then adopting them is all a bit of a mixed blessing.

On This Day

 

Great moments in modern music history #72. One this day back in 1981 the Scottish skiffle group known as the KLF (Kelty Leftist Faction) burned up a brown bag of cash containing £1 million Englandshire Pounds on a remote beach on the island of Jura. The dark deed was witnessed by only seventeen music journalists who had been flown in by helicopters from the mainland for a junket. An STV film crew was also present but all too late in the day their equipment was discovered to be faulty due to salt water exposure and pollution so no actual footage exists. 

Witnesses say that the money was withdrawn from a cash machine in the nearby village of Dunbar. The KLF described it all as a piece of "art and unmasking".  They were never heard of again ever, but there are rumours and there might even be speculation regarding what happened next. Some people believe that one day this incendiary and almost action packed event will be the subject of a major Pixar film starring Tom Hanks and some animated characters but I'm not so sure. Nobody asks where the potential audience is.

Egg Carton Spex

Once upon a time your new glasses would arrive in a robust case that looked like it was fabricated in a Clydeside shipyard, all shiny metal with a leather covering and able to withstand being run over by a 20 ton Scammell truck or survive being trapped in some blazing chemical burner. My new glasses are quite nice and quite comfortable but were handed to me in what is basically an egg box. A simple container that's most likely completely recyclable but unable to withstand exposure to the sneeze of a kitten at 10 feet. Let's not mention how peculiar the actual colour is either. 

These are of course just some silly observations and not a full blown complaint. The glasses were reasonably priced and all kinds of cases for glasses are readily available out there in the marketplace. Why should a good case have to come with a new pair of specs anyway? There's straight thinking and there's crooked thinking. Things change, real life business economics are not for the likes of you either, so suck it up all you stuffy old moaners (like me). 😎

I'm not a Screwball

Wolves don't commit genocide but humans do, again and again it seems. I know who I'm with. I'm not that kind of screwball.

"New conceptions require new terms. By "genocide" we mean the destruction of a nation or of an ethnic group. This new word, coined to denote an old practice in its modern development, is made from the ancient Greek word genos (race, tribe) and the Latin 

cide (killing), thus corresponding in its formation to such words as tyrannicide, homicide, infanticide, etc. Generally speaking, genocide does not necessarily mean the immediate destruction of a nation, except when accomplished by mass killings of all members of a nation. It is intended rather to signify a coordinated plan of different actions aiming at the destruction of essential foundations of the life of national groups, with the aim of annihilating the groups themselves. 

The objectives of such a plan would be disintegration of the political and social institutions, of culture, language, national feelings, religion, and the economic existence of national groups, and the destruction of the personal security, liberty, health, dignity, and even the lives of the individuals belonging to such groups. Genocide is directed against the national group as an entity, and the actions involved are directed against individuals, not in their individual capacity, but as members of the national group." (Not my words). Sound familiar?

AI Does The Hokey-Cokey

The Hokey-Cokey Test: I asked AI to "do the Hokey-Cokey" (as an image). Out of about 9 or 10 attempts (before my own boredom set in) only one showed human figures doing the actual moves. In all the others the "AI" was shown as a type of dancing, clunky robot or Cyber-man figure, not really human like at all. So does AI see itself as some shiny 1950s robot rather than the sleek and sophisticated replicant types we've become familiar with in Blade Runner and other sci-fi films? I don't know, it's maybe just having a bit of fun and pretending to be seen as a retro version so as to portray an obvious model of itself that humans might expect, or it's just dumbing down it's own (self) image to lull us all into a false sense of security.

Then I changed the question to "what image best represents AI?" All quite sad really.

Easy to Blame the BBC

 

One of the cardinal sins of broadcasting that's been committed for years has been normalized, well become tolerated as normal I suppose. It's DJs or TV announcers talking over the tail of things or worse still fading them out too soon. I really don't listen to music radio much as a result (Radio 6 just bugs me but for numerous other reasons). These people (?) may have no respect for the listener or the music maker or, more likely, are just doing what the producer tells them to do because time is always tight. The common practice prevails and it's all a bit shit. The thing is streaming TV and music is a far better experience than real time broadcasts (unless it's sport or maybe competition) because you don't suffer these deliberate interruptions. 

So I'd be raging this morning if I was the creator of the Shetland TV series currently on BBC. The final episode was put out last night and whatever you may think of the show with all it's emotional ups and downs, plot devices and pratfalls, it had a story rhythm that was working quite well right up and into the end credits. Teenage Fanclub's "Star Sign" was playing out over the final scenes and just when the vocal punch came in a continuity announcer interrupted along with a half screen cut image to promote some other program and so shattering the dynamic power of the moment. 

It robbed the viewers of the space to close off and process what had just happened on screen. Does the BBC care about this? I don't know but the program makers must feel that their final bit of punctuation and expression was well and truly rubbed out by this unprofessional and clunky  intrusion. I hate to beat on about the BBC but this kind of insensitivity, solely driven by pushing product at the expense of a running program's own air space just cheapens the brand and dare I say it, the art. Anyway, we're all moving on now.

Medical Negligence?

We're here to help you!*

* They're probably not. Back to the regular font, much more relaxing.

Meanwhile on eBay one of our ancient black promo CDs has turned up. I'd completely forgotten that we did a run of these things almost 20 years ago. The peculiar price seems quite reasonable, assuming you like this sort of thing.

Taylor Swift - All Too Well (Taylor's Version)

Aye, we'll all be fine and it'll work out, don't worry.

Whistle and the Binkies

Unlikely media headlines: The house is very clean again. A swirling burst of creative colour came into our lives. The princesses' arrival occurred, all rolled up in a tube. Pigment flying everywhere, across walls and floors and into the very corners of our minds. A left over stir fry. The never ending rain and the fake weather from the opposite direction. My key isn't working and a screw driver it certainly isn't. Wet logs, dry logs. Pulled Pork Practices. No dental problems. Cats avoiding unnecessary contact. Band practice. Chicken teeth. A fine wine from Portugal. You're driving in the wrong direction on the supermarket road because the arrow you clearly ignored is pointing the other way. A gift for the rats. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and his secret name. A couple argue at a bus stop. Sweets from Poland. The news is dreadful and nobody it seems can improve it despite all their lofty positions and qualifications. We didn't vote for this. Yogurt turned turtle but recovering. No one selling the Big Issue today? Back to Mozart on two sides. Same as it ever was. Squiggle. Where are Whistle and those naughty Binkies when you need them?

Pretend Snow in a Real Country

The pale winter of discontent arrived as we slept. The yellow warnings were real, but up to a point only. That point was an icy mixture of frosted surfaces and fake snow that failed to deal any serious blow to movements and fixtures. In any other time it would be classed as a normal December day. The first snow of the year and now it's downhill all the way into a season of peculiar customs, a mish-mash of ideology and tinsel coated forced sentimentality which we are all expected to enjoy. I'll get over this eventually. 

A Nice Pair

I'm a person who doesn't really care for pears.

According to some religions and ideologies this is how it feels when your soul ascends to wherever it is you imagine your soul might ascend to. I consider the prospect interesting and enviable but also pretty unlikely. Believe what you will if it brings you peace and harms no one else.

Yellow Weather

An elevated state of paranoia and anxiety is to be encouraged. Spread fear and control the mindless activities of the common people. Let's make every day a "Yellow Weather Warning" day, even if it's just a bit windy and rainy. Stick it up on websites, on the news instead of actual news, tweet it and plaster it across motorway warning signs. Basically it's not safe to be outside and moving about but also if you're at home you're likely to be flooded out or have a tree fall onto your conservatory or perhaps be struck by lightning. That'll fucken' sort them. Don't forget to buy a lottery ticket either.

I liked it better in the 60s when we were simply afraid of nuclear devastation. We were taught to take cover under our school desks or hide below the stairs if the sirens sounded or the maroons were fired (who remembers maroons?). We never even considered the futility of acting on any of this "practical" advice. Imminent white hot death from the heavens could happen on any day at any time but we respected the fact that various VIPs would be able to use exclusive bomb shelters. Meanwhile rain, high winds, snow and ice were just seen as normal, shitty weather conditions and schools and railway lines were not going to close because of any of that bollocks. Get back to work the lot of you!

In many ways nowadays it would make a lot more sense if the actual warnings were targeted towards global warming and climate control messages. Motorway signs could declare "Don't be so smug drivers, you're all fucked, change your ways!" instead of check your tyres and phone conduct drivel. Weather forecasts should include the bad smells, contamination and fumes caused by sewage outfalls, chemical processing, industrial and plastic waste and landfill sites. Consumers should be encouraged to stop buying crap on line that ends up being binned ten minutes after delivery (kids "toys" being the worst offenders here). Package holidays into the bleached and unforgiving sun could have cancer warnings. And so on ... 

So we're staying in today for safeties sake, piling on the logs and filling hot water bottles, it's going to go down to at least -3 at about four in the morning. There may be a light breeze, sleet even. Occasionally we'll peer outside using the Ring doorbell camera via our phones. Stay safe.

Soupable

SOUPABLE  Adjective.  [ soo - pa -bell ] *

Able to be made into soup. Has all of the qualities necessary, after going through a preparation and/or cooking process, to become soup. The completed soup is assumed to be edible i.e. fit for consumption.

Relatable to all matters involving the creation of some kind of soup using any relevant recipe.

 - In his opinion the chicken stock and vegetables were soupable.

 - She went to the supermarket in order to purchase some soupable         ingredients.

 - The chef declared his creation to be both soupable (soup)       and suppable (supped with a spoon).

 - Have a look in the cupboard and see if there is anything that might be considered suitable to be soupable.

 - We may be in for some soupable weather (soup needed).

 - A shopping list of soupables.

Also:

soupable vegetables, 

duck soupable, 

bird's nest soupable, 

mock turtle soupable,

cosmic soupable.

*Just taking the occasional opportunity to increase and enrich the vocabulary of all you ignorant plebs out there. If the cap fits wear it. Consider yourselves lucky. This is a test broadcast.

Greensleeves

Based on an impulse married to a whim and mixed with pinch of desperation and a dash of "you know I don't really give a fuck what anyone thinks" we decided to do a different kind of version of Greensleeves (a while ago now). Some might say a completely over exposed, dead in the water, cliche ridden and uninspired folk song that every school child knows and that figures in the most basic of play in a day guitar and keyboard books isn't worth it, but aye, that one. 

I actually ended up doing a bit of research ... well keyboard warrior style and still went ahead with it anyway, digging deep of course. I was kind of thinking "what if the Byrds or Tom Petty or Jonny Marr did a version of this?" That might be a good idea. In the end the jangle, jingle and excessive reverb I imagined isn't really there but strangely enough something else is. It's a combination of a secret chord and Ali's rather pleasing doubled up vocals. That's about it. It's traditional folk music but not as you know it. We get all the money too.

Unrelated Media

Thanks to GD Art for the photo: Shore Street, Cellardyke, Fife, 1963. My granny lived up in the next street; Dove Street. I lived there too when I was very small in the 1950s. There were tiny shops like this one nearly every hundred yards all along towards Anstruther. These shops were functional but fake, really just converted houses, often using the front room with minimum facilities. Readily available Walls ice cream, Hendry's lemonade and penny sweets were a big attraction for the kids. Paper money was a rare sight. Coins were dirty brown, still with the faded head of Queen Victoria stamped into them. People remembered Victoria. 

The shops were run by older women wearing headscarves and long woolen coats. War and fishing widows or eccentric old maids with some mysterious back story that was only every whispered to those locals within the circle of trust. They sold basic groceries, vegetables, milk, sweets and cigarettes. People just came in and bought what they needed when they needed it from the shop next door as if it was a bigger larder. There were no bright shiny supermarkets or discounted suppliers, that bombshell was unthinkable. They all had a strange, distinctive  smell, as if something was not quite right. Some dead relative in the parlour behind the makeshift counter top or under the potato sack. Maybe it was just how those times were, things were more smelly and not quite right. 

Art is everywhere.

If you're practicing guitar then it's consistency you need or so the gurus might say. I've never been so good at that. Too many other things to do, too many distractions. Maybe I'm just not so keen on music. I can't be bothered. There's a cat asleep on my lap so I'm stuck. Repetition and exercise kills creativity. Old dogs, new tricks. Been tinkering on the margins too long. YouTube experts that kill the joy. Where am I even going with this? Is there a good film on somewhere?