Of Ploughman Poets & Champit Tatties & Bashit Neeps!!

Hey Gogglers of the Glowin' Screen, yi might no' ken it, sittin' aw oan yir lonesome there doing yir Tinternet Business, whatever that may entail, but it's January 25th and aw ower this Sceptred Isle and indeed, all quarters of the Globe, people who cherish the Poetic Stylings of Robert Burns, late of Alloway, Ayrshire, will be enjoying a warm, reeking and rich meal of  Haggis accompanied with some Champit Tatties N Bashit Neeps! Even as I write, a Handsome Pudding, just today purchased from the premises of  Mr. Abercrombie in Broughton Street, Edinburgh, awaits it's heating in the oven of the S t o n e d   H o l y   K i t c h e n !   The S t o n e d H o l y B l o g g e r  is One who shall, most assuredly, be raising his glass to the Ploughman Poet and Toasting his Immortal Memory!

The S t o n e d H o l y S c h o o n e r , however, will not be lifted in 

Salutation of the Canonised Burns of Biscuit Tins and Postcards,

 the Appropriated Burns of Tartan-Clad Parochialism, 

the Sanitised Burns of Conservative Club Suppers, 

nor the Emascualted Burns of the Highly Mannered and Codified Pantomime of Piping in the Haggis. I've got more than an inkling that Robert Burns Esq' would be spinning furiously in the grave which holds him at the thought of aw the shite enacted in his name!!

No, here at S t o n e d H o l y H Q  we will be raising our glasses aloft and Bringing To Mind another Robert Burns entirely :

  Burns the Radical, who, referencing the Religious Dissenters of the English Civil War, styled himself 'Robbie the Ranter'! 

Burns the Libertarian, who defended the American & French Revolutions!

  Burns the Democrat, who knew 'The Rank Is But The Guinea's Stamp'!   

Burns the Libertine, the self-confessed & Proudly Proclaimed Fornicator! 

Burns the Indignant, who blasted the hypocrisy of the Church and aw the Unco Guid! 

The Political Burns, who poured scorn upon the Parcel of Rogues who had signed Scottish Independence away! 

The Bawdy Burns, the Crochallan Fencible, who knew 9 inch would please a lady! 

The Convivial Burns, at home in the Inn and the Howff where the Swats were Reaming!!....

....and How, How, How could we ever forget the Burns who, one cold starry night during the Winter of 1786, upon attending a dinner party in the parlour of Mr. Adam Ferguson's 'Sciennes Hill House' in Edinburgh and encountering a fifteen year old lad by the name of Walter Scott, thereafter spent  the evening entertaining the Great n the Good of Scotia's Darling Seat with his intelligence and charming the Darling Young Things with his flirtatious wit, before begging his esteemed host's pardon for needing to 'Mak His Water' and quietly nipped upstairs & Tupped the Scullery Maid!!!

So without further faffin' aboot and without further bletherin', I ask you not to be upstanding nor raise a formal toast, but rather, just to take a moment to think on Robert Burns & Old Long Since! 

A Mover & A Shaker - Undoubtedly! 

A Rantin', Rovin' Billy - Unquestionably! 

A S t o n e d   H o l y   R o l l e r  - Most Ceratinly!..........

Doubt ye not that our Well-Thumbed copy of his Collected Verse takes its place Most Rightfully & is displayed Most Proudly on the Seldom Dusted Shelves of The S t o n e d H o l y L i b r a r y ! (It sits next to a facsimile edition of 'The Merry Muses Of Caledonia'!)

Let the final words be Walter Scott's : 

"Long Life To Thy Fame & Peace To Thy Soul, Rob Burns! When I Want To Express A Sentiment Which I Feel Strongly, I Find The Phrase In Shakespeare or Thee."  

Well yi cannae argue wi' that, can yi?!

SO REMEMBER TO TAK THAT RIGHT 

GUID-WILLIE WAUGHT! CHEERS!

Good Mornin', Sunshine!!

Apologies to all those waiting with Bated Breath for their latest instalment in this, the StOnEDHolYBloggeR's somewhat irregular glimpse into the Mudane, Day-To-Day of the Pop-Slop Zero, but after noticing, through my usual Somnambulistic Fug, that my last Brave Venturing Forth into the Giddy Airs of the Blogosphere was more than a fortnight ago, I  resolved to throw off  the Ennui which has enveloped me on returning from Rockin' the Roll on the Isle of Jura, and put fingertip to plastic key & write something....anything!

Being if not entirely Elevated but certainly Animated after our earnest Musical Labours and crawling back into Hometown via the back door late on Sunday night and flopping into the Eider Downed cosiness of the StonedHoly HQ Dormitory and the Sleep of the Just, it was somewhat jarring, to say the least,  to wake early on Monday morning and find yourself rudely cast once more into the World of F-Olding Money! Caught up again in the Obligatory but still Enervating business of Promising to Pay the Bearer and procuring such diverse Consumer Non-Essentials as Washing-Up Powder n Eccles Cakes doesn't get any easier, does it! Someday soon perchance, I may finally grow up & deal with the nuts n bolts of this Used Up, Boozed Up, Screwed Up, Chewed Up, Muddled Up, Fucked up, Drugged Up Crazy Old World we're livin' in! I speak, Friends, of the Real World of Cash n Bills.....but oh my! Such Grubbiness!! Failing, as ever, in the acquisition of Moolah, I am reminded of the Words of Robbie the Ranter, that "The Rank Is But The Guinea's Stamp"....and he ought to have known : Pushin' that Ploughshare through the Brown Fields of Ayrshire with hands that could write Poetry!

So yes, ahm Broke but not Broken! Unbowed if somewhat Bent Over! I promise myself anew to Come Up For Air & lose these Goddam Inhalation Blues! Call it being Big Headed or just plain Pig Headed, but The STONedhoLyBLOgger must Cleave to his Assertion, Stand Firm by his Contention, that he is bigger than this life he's livin', bigger than this space he's been given!!

"Bring Forth What Is Within You & What You Bring Forth Will Save You. Do Not Bring Forth What Is Within You & What You Do Not Bring Forth Will Destroy You". These Sage words are attributed to Thomas the Doubter. Though somewhat maligned for his Skepticism by some, the stoNEDhoLYbloGGEr  sees Tam as a man in control of his critical faculties. Surely he was right to Doubt? An eminently sensible approach methinks. What would you say, Gentle Reader, if friends told you a Man you'd seen laid in the Grave was Up n About n ordering Scrambled Eggs on a Seeded Bagel?! Was it Groucho Marx or Leon Trotsky who advised his son to "Doubt Everything"? No matter, but we would be well-advised to follow this counsel.

But enough of  Essene Mystics and Russian Revolutionaries, let us address what is Within : For I Have Seen the Times I've Kept it In. I Have, As You Have Too, I Know, Been Too Scared to See What Was Inside of Me. Too Many Times, Again & Again, I Have, As You Have Too, I'm Sure,  Not Dared to Test the Boundaries. If you feel the above is somewhat sombre, I can only apologise for not being my usual Ebullient & Chipper Self but the Path of a Secular Preacher of Brethren-ness is not always Smooth! So Yes, the Road may be Rocky but we March On. What else to do?

And remember, Cyberpeepers, that it was hope that remained inside Pandora's Box when all else had been loosed upon the Earth.  so....To the Toppermost of the Poppermost, Mis Amigos! I've just met Mr. Smilesman and his Smile went on for Miles, Man! So Good Mornin' Sunshine! Good Mornin' Sunshine! I say again 'Good Mornin' Sunshine!'