The Next Big Thing

Another week down, the days are getting short and the nights long. Worn down, I think that's how it's best referred to. But anyway, today is the grand opening of the Scottish District Council, oops sorry Scottish Parliament building in Edinburgh. It's official opening is being hailed as some big event but is probably acually somewhere on a par with a new Tesco or Ikea opening. I'm not sure what the prize will be for being first over the threshold today though, maybe an item of furniture, who knows and, more specifically, who cares?

It's small potatoes in a world where complete mindfucks can take hostages and cut off their heads in the name of some half-assed cause. Remember, here - we don't believe in anything and we don't stand for nothing - how can we hope to understand the mindsets of people who think they're getting vouchers for a better deal in the next life. We can't. Give this lot what they want and another nest of crazies will come outta the woodwork. It's like being overrun by vermin is what it is and that's the pigeonhole this utter scum belongs in. How can anybody, other than those living it, begin to know what it must be like for the families and the people they leave behind? The endless autopsies (forgive the expression but I reckon it's pertinent) by alleged experts etc. on what might happen, did happen, whatever. We'll never know but you can bet that it's possibly worse than anybody's craziest idea of what may have gone down. I bet Billy Connolly is feeling pretty shaken up right about now. A little consideration can go a long way and whilst it's a good thing to stick your head up above the parapet now and again, there's a time and a place. Back to the Brownies to learn a bit of decorum for you Billy...

How did I get on to this...? Well, there's a sort of music festival going on in this area at the moment. Part of that saw my bud, John Miller perform in a place called The Beancross last night. This "venue" is basically a restaurant with no provision for live music whatsoever. Good of them to try and all that but utterly inappropriate. The "act" is tucked into one corner while said entertainment valiantly attempts to connect with the individuals who are far more into necking the contents of the dessert menu. Anyway, I'm sitting at the bar and there are two screens showing Sky News with the sound down. Not only are the gabbers a distraction but these TV's were extolling the fact that Mr Bigley had in fact been executed. At this point the whole thing went beyond "inappopriate". It actually made me quite sick to the pit of my stomach. Life goes on and all that but to have this stuff flashing away in the background was just plain over the score, I didn't stay long because my blood was boiling. Like I said back there, there's a time and a place but I had to get the hell outta there. Hopefully next year the "Way to Blue" festival organisers will consider the error of their ways and get to arranging such events in more suitable venues. It takes time to build these things and mistakes have been known to be useful somewhere down the pike.

The previous night, I saw Mary Lee's Corvette open for Laura Veirs at Tut's in Glasgow. Grand set but why do people gab and text when an act is on. The reception was OK but what is it with people pay for a ticket to a show and won't shut the fuck up while it's on? Even during the headliner. That and the third act on the bill scenario. Life is short as it is and there's only so many mediocre openers to the proper support that one can stand. This was brought to stark attention at the recent DKT/MC5 debacle. An update on which later. I ain't finished with that baby, oh no...

So, wodjagonnado indeed. One overtly positive point this week was that I got a replacement copy of Andy Cameron's "I Want Tae Be A Punk Rocker" from Ebay following a tip off from Agent Rolf in Germany. As Mr Whitney said, "it's the little things".