Missing in Action - A.W.O.L - Vamoosed!

Another protracted absence from these virtual walls! And what excuses are to be offered this time for the s T o n E D h o L y B L o G G e R  posting AWOL? What are to be the mitigating circumstances that shall absolve this latest dereliction of my blogging duty?

Gouranga, my arse!

I could have, like Muddy Waters before me, found religion : only to lose it again after these few short months of handclaps and fingerbells as I ambled, sandal-shod, with my happy cohort of robe wearing fellow-believers, along a host of miserable and financially exhausted British High Streets. Could anything else, I ask you, scotch the fires of religious devotion and dampen the spirits of proselytising zeal more quickly than trudging through the rain soaked, pedestrianised main drags of 'Broken Britain' - filled, as they are, with fat people in sportswear eating hamburgers and tangerine coloured young ladies clutching Primark bags! Indeed, what other salutary lesson could convince you that it was, indeed, exactly how the Black Atheists have been saying all along - a Vast Godless Universe! Oh, such such humdrum emptiness! Or, perhaps, it occurs to me, that if a Supreme Creator was to be conceded, he could in no way be counted as benevolent! It could be contested that the Supreme Transmuter of Air into Dust & Fire into Water had simply forgotten all about us. Perhaps we were one of his early works, created in his world forming apprenticeship, wholly lacking the finesse and elegance of later worlds he called forth from the cosmic maelstrom! Sadly, it's not ours to know...but meanwhile the smell of chicken goujons and the promise of a few moments more of diversion tempts many a wearisome shopper to dig into their pockets and put such considerations to the back of their spongy uninformed minds!

Hup 2-3-4...you 'orrible bunch of poofters!

Perhaps it is I could have enlisted. Popped the flamboyant Stoned Holy Autograph (which, if there was but a scrap of justice in this Pop Slop World, I should have been scrawling on the eagerly presented, heaving bosoms of Divine Pop Poppettes) on the dotted line and took the King's Shilling!  As you mugs have laboured long these past months at your soul sapping job or frittered away precious hours buffing the bonnets and endlessly valeting the interiors of your little metal boxes on rubber wheels, I have been forging bonds, real bonds, manly bonds, with my tattooed bunch of Boneheads, Bruisers, Blockheads & Bampots!!  We have yomped together. Crawled through shit together. We have pulled latrine duty together. We have stuck out our chests and pretended we were hard men. We have lied about the birds we have been with. To plug the want of a meaningful or rewarding relationship in our lives, we have substituted the emotionally stunted world of the playground bully and banter, liberally laced with epithets belittling men & denigrating women! We have marched as one up then down then round the parade square as the R.S.M called us a bunch of Cock-Guzzling Sissies & Mummy's Boys! We have retreated to the barracks to polish things that were already shining brightly. And later we have consumed shit lager till we puked and then drank some more! If you have dreamed recently of breaking free of computer porn, endless hours of 'Call of Duty' and eating cold pizza for breakfast whilst watching 'Homes Under the Hammer', and this litany of stunted macho pretence appeals, then the s t O n E D H o L y b L O g g E R says get your wobbling bubble butt out of that reclining armchair and haul it down to the nearest recruiting office! But look not for the S T O n E d H O L y b L O G G e R , for, verily, he shall not be there. Not today. Not Never!
For the  S T o N e D h o l Y B l o g G E r is still a snarling Punk Rock Dog who remembers well the febrile energy of Crass at the Sheffield Leadmill shouting 'Fight War, Not Wars' and The Plastic Ono Band saying 'I Don't Wanna Be A Soldier, Mama. I Don't Wanna Die'. So enjoy yir 'Hup-2-3-4' but count me out!

So, perchance it is that I have joined the Freemasons and eschewed social interactions with any but my apron wearing brethren. Improbable, yes, yet l have stood like a total fukn eejit with my left nipple exposed and one trouser leg rolled up listening to pseudo-religious gibberish and reciting mumbo-jumbo just so l can enjoy a subsidised bar bill and intimate conversations with my bank manager. To be fair, l have now skirted the periphery of several conversations involving members of the Royal Family and some senior coppers! I now know who allowed the cigar puffing, shell-suited Golem that was Jimmy fukn Saville to podger his way through several hospital wards and spend the occasional hour or two entertaining himself in the morgue! And, oh yes, I also now know the whereabouts of Geoffrey Dickens' Paedophile Dossier that was, oops, mislaid by top Thatcherite bumsniffer Leon Britten! On the other hand, those tete-a-tetes with my bank manager mentioned earlier are as dull as dirty dish water...and I don't really care for golf! And so, though the appeal of wearing a sash, an apron and white gloves whilst you fuck goats is obvious, I have not passed through the delphic portals of the Lodge. Nor have I stuck my todger in a dead pig's mouth. But, hey....never say never!

such a colourful bunch of characters!

No, friends, the real reason l have been remiss in posting on these Virtual Walls is 'ah couldnae really be fussed.' I have been compelled to issue forth from the House of Worship that is StonedHolyHQ to earn a crust by means of brain & brawn and returned to drink porter and watch Scandi-Noir. The scant days have fallen like grains of granulated sugar through the pudgy fingers of an overweight diabetic. Or, if you prefer, like time-worn parchment in the witless and brutish hands of a future race of proto-simians which shall rise from the shitpile of civilisation as we know it, once we've allowed the A-Grade morons who control us to finally flush us all down the stinking toiletbowl of history!

Hell, I know it's only Rawk n Roll

...but I like it! 

See yuz soon, you miserable lot! 

Yes, We Can....but Naw...Youz Cannae!!

How fitting that this is my 50th post. This is my Hawaii ; last State to join the Union! I say fitting because Ahm here tae talk aboot America!!.....or more accurately President Obama's recent nickel's worth regarding the Scottish Independence debate.

What's a Pop-Slopper (and a failed one, at that!) doing entering the fray of Politics, you might very well ask. But, understand, gentle reader, that the
S t O n E d H O L y b L o g G e R was formed in the Raucous n Rowdy-Dowdy days when Punk Rock held sway in Pop Land. His febrile young mind was weaned on the Scowling Outrage of Johnny Rotten! The impassioned, Garageland Gravel of Joe Strummer was mother's milk! Indeed, it was from taking his inspiration from such as the Sex Pistols & The Clash and various other Beat Combos of his Thatcher benighted era, like the Anarcho-Doggerel of Crass and the Super-Smart Agit-Prop of Gang of Four that set the S t O n e D h O L y b L O g g E R down the lonely furrow he still tramps today ; a ravening, cynical dog prowling the political wasteland of Her Majesty's Sinking Ship Britannia, foaming & growling, tenaciously intent on getting my canines into something!...whilst still wanting to BOOOOOOOOOOGIE at the same time!!

But enough of wistful strolls doon Bitter Memory Lane. President Obama has steamed into our ongoing Independence stooshie with his considered opinion that the United Kingdom 'has worked pretty well' so voters in Scotland should vote 'No' to Independence. Kinda ironic, don't you think for the President of the United States of America to make such a remark seeing as the nation he represents was founded on the very thing he's advising Scots against - Independence from Westminster!!! Leaving aside the stark fact that there is no 'United' Kingdom, somebody needs to remind him about the old Colonial rallying call of "No Taxation Without Representation!" Maybe a little 'Tea Party' of our own where American coffee imports were dumped into the murky waters of Leith docks would jog the Presidential memory!! Will that be a regular or large riot? Have a nice day!!

Now, the old Stoned Holy Memory Banks may, very well, not function quite so effectively as once they did but even I can recall the days of 2008 and Mr. Obama's campaign to take stewardship of the keys for 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. You may recall his campaign slogan : 'Yes, We Can!' Well, it seems that the poor & huddled masses of Scotland CAN'T!! Maybeez seats on the United Nations Security Council and nuclear submarines in the Firth of Clyde and losing an ever ready military ally clouded his view!! For shame, Mr. President, for shame!! Maybe, with the 4th of July looming, you'll have recourse to reflect on your shamefaced statement this 'Independence' Day!!

Of course, his slogan was filched from Cesar Chavez and the United Farm Workers union and their struggle, in Arizona in 1972, for the right to strike..... I'm damn sure Cesar would join me and aw the folks in Scotland in rebutting the shortsighted remarks of the President and replying emphatically "Si, Se Puede!'......or tae put it in the Guid Broad Scots, 'Aye, We Can.....n yes, we're gonnae!!'

For We Hold these Truths to be Self Evident ; Sometimes, in the course of Human events it becomes necessary for one People to Dissolve the Political Bands which have connected them to another and to assume the Separate & Equal station to which they are Entitled!! How d'ya like them apples, Mr. Barrack Obama?!?! Recognise any of that, at all??!!

This Land Is Our Land! 

   

A Healthy Dollop of Schadenfreude : Thatcher's Deid!!

Mr. Charles Dickens, no less, late of Rochester, Kent once opined that "It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times" but we here gathered in the 'Diary of a Pop-Slop Nobody' Editing Suite do not concur! For surely, these are simply the worst of times! Was it not ever thus for lowly folks such as the S t o n E d H o l y B L o g g e R....but today, I must admit, there's an all too perceptible upturning at the corners of the
S t o n e d H o l y C h a t t e r H o l e...I...errrr...think it's called a SMILE!! 

It's true, the S t o n e H o l y C o u n t e n a n c e is not usually troubled by such things; wearing as it does a gravely chiselled expression, placed there upon it by wasted years of tirelessly chippin' awa' at this Pop Slop Mallarkey for scant reward! So, yes, the
S t o n e d H o l y B r o w is mostly found Furrowed Deeply & Darkly Shadowed ;  it's bleedin' hard work lugging 'round all my baggage of Resentment & Bitterness, I can tell yi!! Old Jacob Marley hasn't got as look-in! But today the onus on these Discontented & Heavily Burdened S t o n e d H o l y S h u d d e r s has lightened somewhat with the news that

THATCHER'S DEID!!

My guess is that the Blogosphere is right this Holy Beat Moment ablaze with feverish typing as an Army of Bloggers pound the keyboards to celebrate the fact of her passing!! The S T o n e D H o l Y B L o g g e R is one such! No doubt in some Iniquitous Quarters they are already penning Turgid Eulogies & Puerile Panegyrics to further cloud the Repugnant & Revolting airs by her bier but that is most definitely not the case here at
S t o n e d H o l y H Q!!.....nor I suspect a lotta places north of Luton or outside of Tory Central Office....and maybeez, not even within every corridor of that Scurrilous Den!

For the people of whom the S t O n e D h O L y B l o G G e r sings of and for in his capacity as The Concrete Prairie Crooner, The Baron of Baritone &  Psychedelic Overlord of the S T O N E D H O L Y R O L L E R S and lest we forget, The Guiding Light & Most Irreverent High-Heid-Yin of the Stoned Holy Church of Rockin  Rollin Brethrenness, Thatcher poppin' her 87 year old clogs is, most assuredly, cause for sloppin up a good healthy dollop of SCHADENFREUDE and savouring every bitter n twisted mouthful!!

It has been said that the Guid Die Young - need we say more?!?! 87 Miserable Fukn Years of Heartbreak & Rupture! 87 Afflicted & Sorrowful Steps that have lead to the Cold, Grey Clay!! The Zoroastrians believe you have but one duty to fulfill with your allotted time on this goodly Earth; namely, to leave the World a better place for your having been in it! This Poisonous & Pernicious woman has singularly failed in this undertaking!! She's been a Bane no' a Boon!!...n noo she's on a spit being roasted like a herring amidst the blackest, deepest Palls of Beelzebub's Halls!!!.......leastways, I like to think she is!!!

I urge you gentle readers, whilst they prattle endlessly on & on and discuss her legacy to think of the damage wrought by her and her love affair with Reaganomics and the Free Market Madness of Friedman : mass unemployment, millions homeless, the gap between rich and poor ever widening, communities ripped apart all across Britain, manufacturing all but disappeared, the rise of 'Benefit Culture', bank bail-outs and bankers' bonuses, the social fabric in tatters......Oh, t'is a Bitter Harvest she has wrought!!! And noo she's DEID!!!!.....but how can we forget her warped, bastard spawn are still at the helm  and creating a Britain where money gets what money wants and no-one gives a shit for their neighbours cos 'there's no such thing as Society' anyway!!!!

Champagne isn't really the style of the s t O N e D H o l y b l O g g E R, but tonight I just may crack open a fine bottled ale and without pity or remorse say "Thank Fuck, the Wicked Witch is Dead!!!!" Then I may wind up the S t o n e d H o l y V i c t r o l a and listen again to The Beat 'Stand Down Margaret' or Crass 'How Does it Feel to be the Mother of a Thousand Dead' or Elvis Costello 'Tramp the Dirt Down' or Morrissey crooning 'Margaret on the Guillotine'......I must confess, I may get a wee bitty nostalgic for those Thatcher blighted days of my naive youth....but, be assured all yous oot there in Blogland, I will all the while be feeling satisfaction & delight in another's misfortune!.....

Schadenfreude - oh, doncha just love it!!!!

Morrissey /  The Beat / Elvis / Crass