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Post-Election Recovery Salon

Written By: - Date published: 7:30 am, November 11th, 2016 - 60 comments
Categories: activism, Deep stuff, us politics - Tags: ,

I’d like to offer this space as a haven for left wing and progressive people that need a rest from the aggro, and who want to side step the temptation to blame. Come and play some music, read some poetry, share some inspiration and affirm where our strengths are. Then when we’re ready, we can begin to think about what’s coming up. We’re far from the US in many ways, but there are 12 months (or less) until we have our own election. Maybe it’s time we were kinder to ourselves and each other, and grounded our politics in resistance, resiliency and activism that feeds us and builds something we can rely on. This means we choose something proactive and supportive over the reactive and discouraging.

By all means let’s also talk here about the politics and our responses, because god knows this result is hard and we have to deal with that. Let’s try and dig deeper past the entrenched polarities.  Exchange of views is welcome, if you want to have an argument then please pop next door to one of the other US Election posts.

alice-walker

 

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

W.H. Auden September 1 193

60 comments on “Post-Election Recovery Salon”

  1. Ad 1

    Well Weka, if this is an Auden day, I’ll raise you:

    The Unknown Citizen
    W. H. Auden, 1907 – 1973
    (To JS/07 M 378
    This Marble Monument
    Is Erected by the State)

    He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
    One against whom there was no official complaint,
    And all the reports on his conduct agree
    That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a
    saint,
    For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.

    Except for the War till the day he retired
    He worked in a factory and never got fired,

    But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
    Yet he wasn’t a scab or odd in his views,
    For his Union reports that he paid his dues,

    (Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
    And our Social Psychology workers found

    That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
    The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
    And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.

    Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
    And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured.

    Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
    He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Instalment Plan
    And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
    A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.

    Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
    That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
    When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went.

    He was married and added five children to the population,
    Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his
    generation.
    And our teachers report that he never interfered with their
    education.

    Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
    Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

    • weka 1.1

      Nice one Ad. I’m woefully undereducated when it comes to literature, but we did Auden at high school, and I’d forgotten how accessible his poetry is. From when I was fifteen,

      About suffering they were never wrong,
      The Old Masters: how well they understood
      Its human position; how it takes place
      While someone else is eating or opening a window or just
      walking dully along;
      How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
      For the miraculous birth, there always must be
      Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
      On a pond at the edge of the wood:
      They never forgot
      That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
      Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
      Where the dogs go on with their doggy
      life and the torturer’s horse
      Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

      In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
      Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
      Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
      But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
      As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
      Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
      Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
      had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

      • Tony Veitch (not the partner-bashing 3rd rate broadcaster 1.1.1

        Maybe Americans should take some comfort from their ‘greatest’ poet?

        The Road Not Taken
        BY ROBERT FROST

        Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
        And sorry I could not travel both
        And be one traveler, long I stood
        And looked down one as far as I could
        To where it bent in the undergrowth;

        Then took the other, as just as fair,
        And having perhaps the better claim,
        Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
        Though as for that the passing there
        Had worn them really about the same,

        And both that morning equally lay
        In leaves no step had trodden black.
        Oh, I kept the first for another day!
        Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
        I doubted if I should ever come back.

        I shall be telling this with a sigh
        Somewhere ages and ages hence:
        Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
        I took the one less traveled by,
        And that has made all the difference.

  2. gsays 2

    hi weka,
    i have said this elsewhere but want to repeat my thanks for your efforts in maintaining the pre election posts.
    i have essentially been off grid the last couple of weeks,(no tv, papers, little radio) so the few times i had a couple of bars on the fone, i would dial up the standard to tune in to the chat.
    cheers,g.

    • weka 2.1

      thanks gsays. Lucky you being off grid! Was that intentional because of the election, or more about where you happen to be geographically?

      I suspect it is true that many people us The Standard as the touching in place re politics and news. Which makes what we do over the next year even more important. We have a level of privilege and influence here, not just the authors but the commenters too. How do we want to use that politically going into an election?

      • gsays 2.1.1

        hi weka, the off grid was kinda a working holiday.
        working for mates to build a shed to live in while their dwelling gets built.
        ahh.. the far north..

        politically my waters tell me that folk are hungry for change.
        not so much labour in power pushing essentially the same free market, trade is god mantra of the last few years, but some fundamental shift in the way the ‘system works’: eg landlords being able to off-set their tax liable by running their property port-folios at a loss, BIG multi nationals avoiding their fair share of tax etc.

        i really can’t go past helen kelly and her repeated advice to be kinder to each other. even in conflict with rabid tories, be kinder. it is far more attractive and words may take seed.

        • weka 2.1.1.1

          Kinder to each other, I wonder if we can manage that here…

          I hope you are right about the desire for change.

  3. Rosemary McDonald 3

    Auden? Yes! But Hardy also stacks up…

    The Convergence of the Twain
    BY THOMAS HARDY
    (Lines on the loss of the “Titanic”)
    I
    In a solitude of the sea
    Deep from human vanity,
    And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.

    II
    Steel chambers, late the pyres
    Of her salamandrine fires,
    Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.

    III
    Over the mirrors meant
    To glass the opulent
    The sea-worm crawls — grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

    IV
    Jewels in joy designed
    To ravish the sensuous mind
    Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.

    V
    Dim moon-eyed fishes near
    Gaze at the gilded gear
    And query: “What does this vaingloriousness down here?” …

    VI
    Well: while was fashioning
    This creature of cleaving wing,
    The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything

    VII
    Prepared a sinister mate
    For her — so gaily great —
    A Shape of Ice, for the time far and dissociate.

    VIII
    And as the smart ship grew
    In stature, grace, and hue,
    In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.

    IX
    Alien they seemed to be;
    No mortal eye could see
    The intimate welding of their later history,

    X
    Or sign that they were bent
    By paths coincident
    On being anon twin halves of one august event,

    XI
    Till the Spinner of the Years
    Said “Now!” And each one hears,
    And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.

  4. Rosemary McDonald 4

    And this…..Stephen Colbert tries to comfort and unite his fellow Americans.

  5. Richard Rawshark 5

    cheer yourself up with some BOA and Jim Dandy.., marvel at the hair, the guitar duet, and some throwback old white guys shaking their thing..,rock n roll to get you going for the day, don’t mope, life goes on..,

    taken from a time when men had jobs and life was beer n good times..

  6. Takere 6

    This is a great result considering the establishment underestimated the resentment of “the People”.
    The many that are downtrodden and “out” and basically pissed off with how the US elites have fucked the country up or should I say gamed “the People” to pay for their excesses!
    Yes I agree that Trumps a ….. But look at who he had to compete with? A female version of himself!?

    The election should never of been about gender.

    Billary offended young women by attacking Bernie then his supporters. She claimed the moral high ground which struck a chord with people that new better and of her past dealings with all off Bills out of court settlements with sexually assaulted victims that is well documented.

    It should of been Bernie, he would of won but now the world has the orange man with big hands! You’ve got to laugh, really.

    Anyway, 2am this morning Putin gave a speech and is happy to talk with El Presidente Trump & mend bridges so thats a good start! Haha! That wouldn’t of happened with Billary!

    My money’s on The Trump Corp. Inc. been the only company contracted to the US Government to build the nation’s infrastructure, walls, roads, rail & towers!
    He’ll recall all of the US Military from all 700 US bases from around the world.
    Also, he’ll not travel anywhere because his security detail will have lapses in looking after him to freak him out if he doesn’t do what he’s told. They’ve already made a few extra dummy “Footballs” with buttons that’ll give him an electric shock instead of setting off a nuclear war.

    But seriously, who gives a fuck about America, seriously? Americans should but they don’t? This entire situation is their problem to fix. My advice to Americans is “Your Country Needs You!” fuck off home and fix it. Bernie wanted too but you all failed to make it happen so this is what you’ve got to work with.
    Give yourselves an upper-cut.

    Good luck.

    PS: Chuck, “Your Country Needs You!”

    • Hennie van der Merwe 6.1

      The Dems shot themselves in both feet when they bamboozled Bernie out of the nomination and replaced him with a corrupt crook. Bernie consistently did better than the lady with a broom against Donald.

  7. Rosemary McDonald 7

    Down a notch….

  8. Policy Parrot 8

    Lunatics now control the asylum.

    Now that “they” have it – what will they do with it?

    Mr. Trump – to paraphrase a previous President – “tear down your wall”.

  9. Rosemary McDonald 9

    For those who need catharsis…

  10. Anne 10

    Yes, this is about the election but presented in a light hearted way:

    I will never be able to refer to the orange creature as President Trump (ouch), so have derived a suitable – if unoriginal – name I will use in all discourse. The Trumpet. The White House will change its name for the time being and become the Trump-pit. I’m sure others can add further useful synonyms that will be handy in a world turned upside down.

  11. Manuka AOR 11

    A song for the homeless

  12. Manuka AOR 12

    “Listen to the news”

  13. ropata 13

    Tracy Chapman in Jamaica… peace

    • Rosemary McDonald 13.1

      Yes! Tracy!

      • Rosemary McDonald 13.1.1

        Finally…..

        • ropata 13.1.1.1

          When the night has come
          And the land is dark
          And the moon is the only light we’ll see
          No I won’t be afraid
          Oh, I won’t be afraid
          Just as long as you stand, stand by me

          So darling, darling
          Stand by me, oh stand by me
          Oh stand, stand by me
          Stand by me

          If the sky that we look upon
          Should tumble and fall
          Or the mountain should crumble to the sea
          I won’t cry, I won’t cry
          No, I won’t shed a tear
          Just as long as you stand, stand by me

        • Carolyn_nth 13.1.1.2

          Used to love this song: ‘I used to be a sailor… now I’m just an island since they took my boat away from me “.

  14. Rosemary McDonald 14

    To Have And To Hold

    In the dark continents of famine
    The swollen bellied children stare
    But apathy defeats despair
    Unfortunates in place and time
    Surely someday the bells must chime for you
    Chorus:
    To have and to hold
    The have nots have always been told
    Their day will come
    So they sit and watch and wait
    While fate fails to deliver
    They sit and shiver through the cold light of day

    In the mean lands of the plenty
    In empty rooms everywhere
    The sad eyed lovers stare
    At letters or at telephones
    Praying for loved ones to come home again

    Maddy Prior….Changing Winds (Can’t find a link to the actual track.)

  15. weka 15

    The things that stood out for me last night,

    Someone in the US talking about how if you’re not feeling fear right now, that’s privilege.

    How quickly the activists I follow turned to supporting each other, advocating that we don’t go down the path of blame and shame, being real about the situation but focussing on what can now be done including for those for whom life is about to get worse.

    That my Standing Rock feeds were largely absent of posts about the election. Things look different when you have a time scale of hundred of years as your context.

  16. Bill 16

    Thinking a not so slow fuse may have been lit. Give it six months. ‘America’ might be about to go off and in a really good way. Down to the people who live there really. Trump and potential unintended consequences that wouldn’t have existed under a Clinton presidency 🙂

    • weka 16.1

      Fingers crossed, and I’m feeling surprisingly optimistic (relatively) about the potential. I’ve seen some of your comments today on this, they would make a good post.

  17. Philj 17

    Good post Weka Thank you. Your reflection is appreciated. Collectively we need to connect with our humanity.

  18. greywarshark 18

    Nice idea weka. Really love that poem.
    We must love each other or die.

    Yet, dotted everywhere,
    Ironic points of light
    Flash out wherever the Just
    Exchange their messages:

    Here is a simple message to you all. In Morse Code.
    (Positive for sure.)

    .. / .-.. — …- . / -.– — ..- / … – .- -. -.. .- .-. -.. .. … – .- … .-.-.-

    Flash down to here and get it translated.
    http://morsecode.scphillips.com/translator.html

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morse_code

    By the way does anybody know Esperanto and would be interested in having small regular practice here?

    • Manuka AOR 18.1

      We must love each other or die.

      ‘Song’ from Oodgeroo, aka Kath Walker

      Life is ours in vain
      Lacking love, which never
      Counts the loss or gain.
      But remember, ever
      Love is linked with pain.

      Light and sister shade
      Shape each mortal morrow
      Seek not to evade
      Love’s companion Sorrow,
      And be not dismayed.

      Grief is not in vain,
      It’s for our completeness.
      If the fates ordain
      Love to bring life sweetness,
      Welcome too its pain.

  19. Manuka AOR 19

    It’s an odd synchronicity that the news today was, along with that semi-random one person winning the presidency (and effectively control over vast areas of the world), one random person on Aotearoa won $44,000,000.

    I’m reminded of that quote from Helen Kelly, about how there has to be a change from ‘winner takes all’ to ‘ it takes all of us to win’. I think that needs to apply in many areas of life, including government.

  20. greywarshark 20

    Chris Trotter put up on Bowalley this link to Leonard Cohen Democracy coming.
    It is very stirring.

  21. Manuka AOR 21

    High Country Weather – James K. Baxter

    Alone we are born
    and die alone;
    Yet see the red-gold cirrus
    over snow-mountain shine.

    Upon the upland road
    Ride easy, stranger:
    Surrender to the sky
    Your heart of anger.

    • Rosemary McDonald 21.1

      Wild Bees
      – James K. Baxter

      Often in summer, on a tarred bridge plank standing,
      Or downstream between willows, a safe Ophelia drifting
      In a rented boat – I had seen them comes and go,
      Those wild bees, swift as tigers, their gauze wings a-glitter
      In passionless industry, clustering black at the crevice
      Of a rotten cabbage tree, where their hive was hidden low

      But never strolled too near. Till one half-cloudy evening
      Of ripe January, my friends and I
      Came, gloved and masked to the eyes like plundering desperadoes,
      To smoke them out. Quiet beside the stagnant river
      We trod wet grasses down, hearing the crickets chitter
      And waiting for light to drain from the wounded sky.

      Before we reached the hive their sentries saw us
      And sprang invisible through the darkening air.
      Stabbed, and died in stinging. The hive woke. Poisonous fuming
      Of sulphur filled the hollow trunk, and crawling
      Blue flames sputtered – yet still their suicidal
      Live raiders dived and clung to our hands and hair.

      O it was Carthage under the Roman torches,
      Or loud with flames and falling timber, Troy!
      A job well botched. Half of the honey melted
      And half the rest young grubs. Through earth-black smoldering ashes
      And maimed bee groaning, we drew our plunder.
      Little enough their gold, and slight our joy.

      Fallen then the city of instinctive wisdom.
      Tragedy is written distinct and small:
      A hive burned on a cool night in summer.
      But loss is a precious stone to me, a nectar
      Distilled in time, preaching the truth of winter
      To the fallen heart that does not cease to fall.

  22. greywarshark 22

    Some happy music from Troubled Waters – Paul Simon Me and Julio.

    • Manuka AOR 22.1

      Democracy

      It’s coming through a hole in the air
      From those nights in Tiananmen Square
      It’s coming from the feel
      That this ain’t exactly real
      Or it’s real, but it ain’t exactly there
      From the wars against disorder
      From the sirens night and day
      From the fires of the homeless
      From the ashes of the gay
      Democracy is coming to the USA
      It’s coming through a crack in the wall
      On a visionary flood of alcohol
      From the staggering account
      Of the Sermon on the Mount
      Which I don’t pretend to understand at all
      It’s coming from the silence
      On the dock of the bay,
      From the brave, the bold, the battered
      Heart of Chevrolet
      Democracy is coming to the USA

      It’s coming from the sorrow in the street
      The holy places where the races meet
      From the homicidal bitchin’
      That goes down in every kitchen
      To determine who will serve and who will eat
      From the wells of disappointment
      Where the women kneel to pray
      For the grace of God in the desert here
      And the desert far away:
      Democracy is coming to the USA

      Sail on, sail on
      Oh mighty ship of State
      To the shores of need
      Past the reefs of greed
      Through the Squalls of hate
      Sail on, sail on, sail on, sail on

      It’s coming to America first
      The cradle of the best and of the worst
      It’s here they got the range
      And the machinery for change
      And it’s here they got the spiritual thirst
      It’s here the family’s broken
      And it’s here the lonely say
      That the heart has got to open
      In a fundamental way
      Democracy is coming to the USA

      It’s coming from the women and the men
      Oh baby, we’ll be making love again
      We’ll be going down so deep
      The river’s going to weep,
      And the mountain’s going to shout Amen
      It’s coming like the tidal flood
      Beneath the lunar sway
      Imperial, mysterious
      In amorous array
      Democracy is coming to the USA

      Sail on, sail on
      O mighty ship of State
      To the shores of need
      Past the reefs of greed
      Through the squalls of hate
      Sail on, sail on, sail on, sail on

      I’m sentimental, if you know what I mean
      I love the country but I can’t stand the scene
      And I’m neither left or right
      I’m just staying home tonight
      Getting lost in that hopeless little screen
      But I’m stubborn as those garbage bags
      As time cannot decay
      I’m junk but I’m still holding up this little wild bouquet
      Democracy is coming to the USA

      RIP, and live long

  23. joe90 24

    Trapper and the Furrier

    The trapper and the furrier
    Went walking through paradise
    And all the animals lay clawless
    And toothless before them
    And all the mothers stepped away from their babies
    Leaving them open and easy to handle

    The trapper and the furrier
    Went walking through paradise
    They took some for now
    And they got some for later
    And they marveled at the pelts,
    Not a bullet-hole in ’em
    And they filled up the cages
    With pets for their children

    What a strange, strange world we live in
    Where the good are damned
    And the wicked forgiven
    What a strange, strange world we live in
    Those who don’t have, lose
    Those who got, get given
    More, more, more, more. . .

    The owner and the manager
    Went walking through paradise
    And all the shelves were filled
    With awards and achievements
    And on every corner a power presentation
    And on every floor an army of workers

    The owner and the manager
    Went walking through paradise
    And all their charts showed
    So much promise and progress
    No sick days, no snow days, no unions, no taxes
    And they wandered towards home,
    Kings of their castles

    What a strange, strange world we live in
    Where the good are damned
    And the wicked forgiven
    What a strange, strange world we live in
    Those who don’t have, lose
    Those who got, get given
    More, more, more, more. . .

    The lawyer and the pharmacist
    Went walking through paradise
    And all the sick were around them
    With fevers unbreaking
    Crying and bleeding and coughing and shaking
    And arms outstretched, prescription collecting

    The lawyer and the pharmacist
    Went walking through paradise
    Pressed suits in the courtroom
    Aroma of chloroform
    And they smiled at the judge,
    Dispositions so sunny
    ’cause they didn’t have the cure but sure needed the money

    What a strange, strange world we live in
    Where the good are damned
    And the wicked forgiven
    What a strange, strange world we live in
    Those who don’t have, lose
    Those who got, get given
    More, more, more, more

    More, more, more, more. .

    – Regina Spektor

  24. Carolyn_nth 25

    Thanks, weka, for one of the most uplifting NZ online responses to a worrying election outcome.

    I haven’t followed a lot of the US election campaign. It seemed a dubious process with flawed candidates.

    The song in my head this morning was:

    “Bye bye, Miss American Pie,
    Drove my Chevy to the levy
    But the levy was dry
    And good old boys were drinking whisky and rye
    The day the music died”

    The US election showed all the flaws in its alleged democracy. Amongst other things that Trump represents, is the state of the US media and popular culture. He is a creation of the US entertainment media, allied to the news media, including the political news media. Without that, he would never have been a contender.

    Trump is a reality “celebrity” candidate, who slipped from TV to a presidential contest.

    I’ve have too often been seduced by the apparent liberating style of a lot of US popular culture. But it exists within this wider framework.

    So, for the way forward for NZ politics, Moana Maniapoto:

    https://youtu.be/Uf_Ck9K-nPY

  25. Macro 26

    Thanks a million weka. This is a very useful post for all those of us who wondered if the sun would shine today – and it sure has around here.
    Am just in from a very busy day and when I saw all the contributions I immediately thought of the poet from my own tradition. A poet of the people and this poem is about sudden loss and the fear in ones heart.

    Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim’rous beastie,
    O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!

    Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
    Wi’ bickering brattle!
    I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
    Wi’ murd’ring pattle!

    I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
    Has broken Nature’s social union,
    An’ justifies that ill opinion,
    Which makes thee startle,

    At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
    An’ fellow-mortal!

    I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
    What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
    A daimen-icker in a thrave ‘S a sma’ request:
    I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
    An’ never miss’t!

    Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
    It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
    An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
    O’ foggage green!
    An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
    Baith snell an’ keen!

    Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ wast,
    An’ weary Winter comin fast,
    An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
    Thou thought to dwell,
    Till crash! the cruel coulter past
    Out thro’ thy cell.

    That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble,
    Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
    Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
    But house or hald.
    To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,
    An’ cranreuch cauld!

    But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane,
    In proving foresight may be vain:
    The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men,
    Gang aft agley,

    An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
    For promis’d joy!

    Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!
    The present only toucheth thee:
    But Och! I backward cast my e’e,
    On prospects drear!
    An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
    I guess an’ fear!

    My bold

    And then I think of the strong response of the working man to the trapping of rank and privilege summed up staunchly in this well known rap

    • miravox 26.1

      Brilliant rendition by Paolo Nuntini there Macro. For no reason except that your comment reminded me:

      • Macro 26.1.1

        Aww thanks for that miravox – used to play that tune on the pipes when I was younger…
        Here it is with the pipes in a modern version of another great song by Rabbie Burns:

        Where hae ye been sae braw, lad?
        Where hae ye been sae brankie-o?
        Where hae ye been sae braw, lad?
        Cam’ ye by Killiecrankie-o?

        An’ ye had been where I hae been
        Ye wadna been sae cantie-o
        An’ ye had seen what I hae seen
        On the braes o’ Killiecrankie-o

        I fought at land, I fought at sea
        At hame I fought my auntie-o
        But I met the Devil and Dundee
        On the braes o’ Killiecrankie-o

        The bauld pitcur fell in a furr
        And Clavers gat a clankie-o
        Or I had fed an Athol gled
        On the braes o’ Killiecrankie-o

        Oh fie, MacKay, What gart ye lie
        I’ the brush ayont the brankie-o?
        Ye’d better kiss’d King Willie’s loff
        Than come tae Killiecrankie-o

        It’s nae shame, it’s nae shame
        It’s nae shame to shank ye-o
        There’s sour slaes on Athol braes
        And the de’ils at Killiecrankie-o

          • greywarshark 26.1.1.1.1

            It’s a help if you give a hint of the video subject.
            Macro if you put the Picts up thanks. Wow what a vibrant thing that was – great.
            With a group like that leading the parade everyone would go along and vote Scottish nationalism.

        • miravox 26.1.1.2

          Thanks macro – That’s great. I hadn’t hears a modern version with pipes.

          i went to Killecrankie a few years ago, it’s not much visited, but very beautiful as well as historic – run by the National Trust for Scotland as a nature reserve as well as historic place. Well worth the vist.

    • weka 26.2

      I wish I could handle the Scots better!

      btw, thanks for the work you are doing in the other threads, much appreciated.

  26. Pasupial 27

    I’ve been trying to keep my distance from the fallout by catching up on entertainment that I’d neglected for pollwatching. Then today, there was this from one of my favourite trashy reviewers (I mean that; she reviews b-grade trash, not that she is trash), to burst that bubble:

    [5:08] The world has changed a lot. But there are still things worth fighting for, and there is still hope.
    A lot of the things that were promised in this campaign won’t happen: Can not happen. And we just have to weather our way through it.

  27. Paul 28

    The left should listen to this.

  28. Manuka AOR 29

    How is that to do with Recovery?
    Everything else on this page is helpful. How does this help?
    There are plenty of other posts where this could have been put up – take your pick – why here, in the one corner of quiet, empathy and understanding?
    It’s like someone coming into a roomful of people who are quietly grieving and screaming obscenities at them. Show some restraint, mate.

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