Possibly a pointless entry

[sabotabby]

I'm headed to McVeigh's in a bit to drink Guinness and participate in a big I.R.A. sing-a-long, but what to do in the meantime...?

[Poll #405243]

Oh yeah -- and someone is going to invite me to do something cool on New Year's Eve, right? Right?

Comments

[stardragonca.livejournal.com]

Can there *be* enough Zombie stories?

[sabotabby]

I haven't found out. There aren't enough zombie stories yet, anyway.

[billie0.livejournal.com]

Cool. I've been to McVeigh's, on St. Paddy's Day :)

[sabotabby]

I can never get in on St. Paddy's Day.

[rohmie.livejournal.com]

At the risk of sounding like a crusty old school feminist, there are too many women sewing and knitting in progressive circles nowadays. What is this: some kind of stealth backlash? Are you pregnant? Spoil your cat or pursue some non-domestic art form. This shit is seriously starting to scare me.

[sabotabby]

What if I make my kitty a sweater with a Jolly Roger on it? That's going to be one of my first projects.

I think the shortage of non-sweatshop-produced clothing might be part of what's driving the knitting/sewing thing. I'd like to say that it was also the influence of Latin American radical quilting circles, but unfortunately, most First World feminists don't know that much about those.

Lucky for you though, I'm still a bit too tipsy to tackle the new sewing machine right now, and I really ought to work on the Cafe Ché poster.

I'm most definitely not pregnant. Yikes.

[sabotabby]

Fuck, do I look pregnant?

[rohmie.livejournal.com]

No, but in old film and television, before they could discuss sex or even say the word "pregnant", a shot of the wifey sewing little booties stood-in as a kind of visual code. Nowadays, almost half the people I know are now married with kids or expecting and I'm older than most of them. It's weirding me out. I guess I'm in chronological denial. The local coffee house has a knitting circle on Sundays and many bring their kids. Thus, the association.

[sabotabby]

Uck. I have no use for children until they can carry on a reasonably interesting conversation, so no babies in my future.

[rohmie.livejournal.com]

Of course you have no use for children: you don't own a sweatshop. But I warn you: you are on a slippery slope with that sewing machine ...

[sabotabby]

Harumph. My sewing machine kicks ass and will be put to use for the Revolution!

[rohmie.livejournal.com]

I'd be lying if I said I first read, "I have no use for children until they can carry a reasonable load of things." But it was a close second.

[rohmie.livejournal.com]

What if I make my kitty a sweater with a Jolly Roger on it? That's going to be one of my first projects.

CAT ABUSE! I'm going to report you to the S.P.C.A.!

I think the shortage of non-sweatshop-produced clothing might be part of what's driving the knitting/sewing thing.

Well, if the idea is to avoid putting any coin in the pockets of sweatshop owners, there has always been used clothing stores. Most all the women I know have been hitting thrift stores and yard sales for ages.

Lucky for you though, I'm still a bit too tipsy to tackle the new sewing machine right now

Still? Getting a head start on the Guinness, I see. Yes, please do not operate machinery with speedy needles while drinking. And while the vacuum cleaner doesn't exactly count as "heavy machinery" insofar as you're concerned, it is in Marinetti's opinion, which must be respected.

[sabotabby]

Oh, come on. He'd look SO cute. I want to make him a little red-and-black bandanna.

Well, if the idea is to avoid putting any coin in the pockets of sweatshop owners, there has always been used clothing stores. Most all the women I know have been hitting thrift stores and yard sales for ages.

As have I. But I tend to want to alter everything to make it more stylish.

Still? Getting a head start on the Guinness, I see.

I got hammered at the office party this afternoon. I'm not proud.

[rohmie.livejournal.com]

I got hammered at the office party this afternoon.

In honor of the character played by William H. Macy in Mystery Men, you have to say, "The Shoveler is hammered."

[maeve66.livejournal.com]

God damn. I wish *I* was going to whatever Irish bar that is and doing an IRA sing-a-long. There's a weekly Irish music jam session at a bar in Berkeley called the Starry Plough, and it's great fun musically, but I swear to god they consciously avoid ANY politics whatsoever. If I have even one pint too many there, I start to silently burn to stand up and sing "The Patriot Game" or "Soldier's Song" (which has ludicrous but laughably true lyrics) or "Armored Cars and Tanks and Guns".

I vote for the Cafe Ché poster, just 'cause it sounds cool.

[rohmie.livejournal.com]

So I suppose it's safe to say that they won't be singing David Rovics' "Saint Patrick Battalion":


My name is John Riley
I'll have your ear only a while
I left my dear home in Ireland
It was death, starvation or exile
And when I got to America
It was my duty to go
Enter the Army and slog across Texas
To join in the war against Mexico

It was there in the pueblos and hillsides
That I saw the mistake I had made
Part of a conquering army
With the morals of a bayonet blade
So in the midst of these poor, dying Catholics
Screaming children, the burning stench of it all
Myself and two hundred Irishmen
Decided to rise to the call

(Chorus)
From Dublin City to San Diego
We witnessed freedom denied
So we formed the Saint Patrick Battalion
And we fought on the Mexican side

We marched 'neath the green flag of Saint Patrick
Emblazoned with "Erin Go Bragh"
Bright with the harp and the shamrock
And "Libertad para Mexicana"
Just fifty years after Wolftone
Five thousand miles away
The Yanks called us a Legion of Strangers
And they can talk as they may

(Chorus)

We fought them in Matamoros
While their volunteers were raping the nuns
In Monterey and Cerro Gordo
We fought on as Ireland's sons
We were the red-headed fighters for freedom
Amidst these brown-skinned women and men
Side by side we fought against tyranny
And I daresay we'd do it again

(Chorus)

We fought them in five major battles
Churobusco was the last
Overwhelmed by the cannons from Boston
We fell after each mortar blast
Most of us died on that hillside
In the service of the Mexican state
So far from our occupied homeland
We were heroes and victims of fate

(Chorus)

Created March 2001
Copyright David Rovics 2001, all rights reserved

[sabotabby]

I always took "The Patriot Game" to be somewhat sarcastic. As in, when I sing it, I mean "for the love of one's country is a terrible thing" in the literal, modern sense.

[wouldprefernot2.livejournal.com]

I think it was written (in part) as a response to the '56-'62 border campaign, which Behan saw as a elitist military operation, isolated from the masses. And, of course, Dylan turned it into the considerably less subtle "With God On Our Side".

[burkesworks.livejournal.com]

Sorry, but with the IRA you're defending the indefensible - merely the flip side of the UVF. Nothing heroic about bombing civilians in the name of Marx and/or the Pope, any more than their Proddy counterparts on the other side. The Provos are a far, far cry from Michael Collins and James Connolly. And I speak as someone with Irish Catholic antecedents.

[sabotabby]

I think the present IRA is rather fucked, and the Real IRA is even more fucked. It's not a coincidence that the songs I like best date from the early part of the century. There was a point to the violence in the 70s and 80s; anything now is just senseless.

Still, living with an ex-Sinn Feiner for four years did have an effect on me. I can't deny the influence. We all have our weird biases.

[burkesworks.livejournal.com]

It's also no coincidence that a goodly number of these "rebel songs" were written by a damned fine writer - Dominic Behan, brother of Brendan.

[sabotabby]

That too.

I wish I could find Brendan Behan's quote about what a hole Toronto was back in the day. I think he got arrested or thrown out of a bar here or something, and he was incredibly bitter about it.

[bike4fish.livejournal.com]

While posting songs:


House of Orange - Stan Rogers

I took back my hand and I showed him the door
No dollar of mine would I part with this day
For fueling the engines of bloody cruel war
In my forefather's land far away.
Who fled the first Famine wearing all that they owned,
Were called 'Navigators', all ragged and torn,
And built the Grand Trunk here, and found a new home
Wherever their children were born.

Their sons have no politics. None call recall
Allegiance from long generations before.
O'this or O'that name just can't mean a thing
Or be cause enough for to war.
And meanwhile my babies are safe in their home,
Unlike their pale cousins who shiver and cry
While kneecappers nail their poor Dads to the floor
And teach them to hate and to die.

It's those cruel beggars who spurn the fair coin.
The peace for their kids they could take at their will.
Since the day old King Billy prevailed at the Boyne,
They've bombed and they've slain and they've killed.
Now they cry out for money and wail at the door
But Home Rule or Republic, 'tis all of it shame;
And a curse for us here who want nothing of war.
We're kindred in nothing but name.

All rights and all wrongs have long since blown away,
For causes are ashes where children lie slain.
Yet the damned U.D.I and the cruel I.R.A.
Will tomorrow go murdering again.
But no penny of mine will I add to the fray.
"Remember the Boyne!" they will cry out in vain,
For I've given my heart to the place I was born
And forgiven the whole House of Orange
King Billy and the whole House of Orange.



Arthur McBride - traditional

I had a first cousin, one Arthur McBride
He and I took a stroll down by the seaside;
Seeking good fortune and what might betide
It was just as the day was a'dawnin'

After restin' we both took a tramp
We met Sergeant Harper and Corporal Cramp
Besides the wee drummer who beat up the camp
With his row-dee-dow-dow in the morning

He says my young fellows if you will enlist
A guinea you quickly will have in your fist
Besides a crown for to kick up the dust
And drink the King's health in the morning

For a soldier he leads a very fine life
He always is blessed with a charming young wife
And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife
And always lives happy and charming

And a soldier he always is decent and clean
In the finest of garments he's constantly seen
While other poor fellows go dirty and mean
And sup on thin gruel in the morning

Says Arthur, I wouldn't be proud of your clothes
You've only the lend of them as I suppose
And you dare not sell them one night or you know
If you do you'll be flogged in the morning

And although we are single and free
We take great delight in our own company
And we have no desire strange countries to see
Although your offer is charming

And we have no desire to take your advance
All hazards and danger we barter on chance
and you'd have no scruples to send us to France
Where we would be shot without warning

And now says the sergeant, if I hear but one word
I'll instantly now will out with my sword
And into your bodies as strength will afford
So now my gay devils take warning

But Arthur and I we took the odds
We gave them no chance to launch out their swords
Our whacking shillelaghs came over their heads
And paid them right smart in the morning

As for the wee drummer, we flattened his pow
And made a football of his row-do-dow-dow
Into the ocean to rock and to roll
And bade it a tedious returnin'

As for the rapiers that hung by their sides
We flung them as far as we could in the tide
To the Devil I send you, said Arthur McBride
To temper your steel in the morning

[chainsaw-hime.livejournal.com]

Braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiinnnnssz...

[sabotabby]

LUSCIOUS BRAIIIIINNNNNS!

[swear-jar.livejournal.com]

I voted for zombie stories. Because it's obviously the most important thing there.

No, really.

No... really ::waves hand in a Jedi like manner::.

[sabotabby]

I noticed that no one voted for vacuuming the disgusting floor. You people all want me to live in filth, apparently.