The Pi’s Arms welcomes Bog O’Mullet
D a d d!
I’gotta ast you somethin …… important
I told yer Son, I’m not coming out!, I’ve bin 30 years trying to get past them stop lines. Whadda y’ want?
Dad, I gotta ast you somethin
30 YEARS! can you believe that?
……. What for? Yer never Listen! 30 YEARS. What?
…… Dad, how do ya make sense with a woman?
30 years son. THIRTY years I’ve bin trying to get past them stop lines!
Dad. Its important …..
I won’t answer THAT question. It ain’t fair ……………
…………… 30 YEARS Boy .. an for all that now you want ter get stuck on the stop line too. Ya know what that does inside me?
fffffwacKKKK ….. glue all over.
I know dad. But its not what you’re thinking. Its all wrong in yer ‘ead.
At seventeen YOU know THAT?
Course I know that!
OK ! you know what’s hard? Its not the answer to yer question that’s hard. The answer’s as simple as sunrise. Its the fashion that’s the problem Boy. The answer’ll do you no good. No good fer another 50 years. You’re part of a dumb sticky fashion and no wise words from me’ll get you out!
OK. I’ll give yer the truth Boy. But yer world’s not ready fer the truth. Its too self-important fer the truth. Everyone’s too parked at the stop lines. The truth’s no good to a stopped world Son. Truth’s alive, moving, its no use to yer world and yer world’s no use ter the truth
‘ave you got any idea how it feels standin ere an someone pours a bucket of cold glue over yer, like that? eh?
There ain’t no one will tell you the truth about that!
? ……. Dad, its Doreen … I can’t do nuthin right. … Yer know what I’m saying. I know yer do.
Isn’t that why yer in ‘ere?
OK…….. I’ll tell yer. Its me duty. … but no-one’s gonna thank yer fer knownin the Truth … Thiry years getting by them stop lines though! Remember that!….
I’ll tell yar, but , its a secret. Its no good sharing it. …. what I tell you in here. … it’ll haveta stay in ‘ere. And I gotta tell ya, yer wont find yer girl in here.
At night yer know, yer look up. And y’ see the stars in a great white band direkly over’ed and stretching from horizon before ya t’ horizon behind ya. On either side of the band … its just blackness. … That’s the Milky Way yer looking at.
Its been there since before boy or girl ever looked up at night. Its there every night. When y’ look up, yer looking out through it, through OUR solar system, through millions of other solar systems, to the very edge of the galaxy and the very beginning of the universe. THAT’S THE TRUTH!.
Remember that, son.
At night y’ know, as darkness falls the first bright stars begin to glow in the east. Each night the stars change a bit – but always according to the same LAWs of nature. During the night they rise slowly in the midst of the milky way and pass slowly overhead to disappear into the west as morning breaks. Its always the same – every night, every week, every year, every lifetime.
Even as it changes its changing in the same cycles.
As the year goes around, as the seasons change, the stars rise slightly higher on the eastern horizon then months later slightly lower. The Arab nomads tracked ’em and charted ’em thousands o’ years ago. They’d camp in the heat of day and walk at night. They got t’ be so certain of the regular motions in the heavens, through the seasons , they learned to navigate by them stars.
There are such things in nature Boy and many of the things in nature have the nature of constancy. These have been called the cosmic things because they are like the things of the cosmos having constancy and certainty.
The cosmic world is a world of order, of routine, of seasons and cycles. Each part operating in marvelous harmony and beauty with the others. You’ve seen the tides follow the moon, you’ve seen the spring winds come every year to scatter the blossom sending the seed far and wide, you’ve seen the garden flowers bloom in spring and autumn 6 months apart. At night you’ve smelled the fragrant jasmine flowers release their perfume deep into the air for the night bugs to come an pollenate them and you’ve seen how they close silently every morning.
In see’in them things, m’boy … yer’ve seen the woman o’yer dreams too.
….. The secret of the woman, m’boy is to understand she too is a cosmic creature. She is not a creature born to carve out ‘er own destiny. No more than the milky way can cease to spin in its axis. She’s a creature to ebb and flow in ‘er seasons. Her beauty is in ‘er ease, ‘er patient grace, ‘er joy in the place God ‘as set for her. She is the vessel, the soil, the star, the flower . An aren’t these things the things that cause yer emotions to sing fer ‘er?
And yer cant find ‘er, can ya Son?
No . Yer won’t find ‘er. Not fer 50 years, if yer lucky then.
An yet yer know, she’s there …. she’s just stuck at one of them stoplines. She’s read somethin’ in a magazine, seen it on the TV, who knows where it came from? A bit o marketing junk free-falling from one of them satellites maybe.
Her nature’s cosmic so she’s easily led, an this thing she read as gone in an stuck to ‘er. She’s bin run into a siding an’ she doesn’t know it. But this thing she’s stuck to is rubbish, son .. junk. Its says shes to turn her back on wot 60,000 years as been perfecting. 60,000 years of wisdom an development traded for a bit o space junk. Got it?
An so how do you drive yer truck with a flat tire, How do you write soft poetry with a red pen? How do read yer sonnets at night with a burned bulb. Sure, yer can find a way t’ do all these things …… but will it satisfy yer? Will yer hate it or love the time yer have with it? Is it worth the bother or ….
Dad it ain’t what I asked yer for.
No Mate!……………………….. but now yer know why I’m not coming outta here.
Dad, tell me about the space junk. Why is it so hard to make ‘er behave fair with me?
Boy, Just think about it. Think it through. Try t’ unthink yerself as a lad.
From the time yer first knowd yerself, yer knowd yer body’s stronger than yer mind. Its got a strength of its own even. It starts to do things soon enough that cause yer moods t’ change, cause yer shape ter change, cause yer needs t’ change … an there’s nothing yer can do about. An’ as it goes on yer realise how vulnerable yer are. How easily yer could become a mother with any number of kids feedin on yer. Yer realise how much yer matter to the biological forces an how little your own wishes an wants can matter. You realise yer like the moon, like the stars, like the seasons … yer in an orbit o’ destiny y’ can’t change and its yours fer most of your life.
Tell me where yer feel anxiety, if y’ feel fear. Tell me if safety isn’t the center of your needs. Tell me if rules don’t make sense to yer? Tell me if yer don’t just want t’ find yer place, own it, keep it, merge yerself into it eh?
An tell me, if a bit a marketing junk came falling down from space sayin yer could have a destiny of yer own makin, wouldn’ yer want t’believe it?
Yeh, OK but they believe it … but … so why dont they know what they want?
….. Son, they do. They do know what they want. Trouble is, it ain’t any good fer ’em. Yer see, what they think they want …. what that bit a space junk told em t’ go fer …. what you blokes go after … involves a fair bit of danger sooner n later. The bit a space junk don’t say nuthin about that.
Yer know its all bin told a long time afore. The griks knew all about this stuff. Try to slip a girl out from under the watch of a grik dad and you’ll see about that.
Once upon a time there was two brothers an there was a grik girl who was onta both of ’em. The first bloke – ‘e was Promeefius and the second bloke, ‘e was Epimeefius – or somethin like that.
Now the first bloke, he had a look at this grik girl, ya know, the clear white skin, the black hair, the dark eyes, an all that, an he sez, “christ ‘ere’s trouble, I’m gettin outta here!” Now ‘is name means “thinkin ahead”; yer get it?
But the second bloke, ‘iz name means “thinkin too late”, sez “heh, this is a bit ov orright. I’ll ‘ave ‘er”. An’ so he marries ‘er. Grik dad an all!
Now at the weddin’ some big grik smartarse gives ’em a big box fer a weddin’ present. An he sez “its yorz but yer musn’t open it.”
Now if some big grik bastard give you a box an told ya not to open it, would ya? Well Epimeefius he got it. But iz little bride? Whaddaya reckon? Her name was Pandora. Whaddaya think that means? Eh? I’ll tell ya. It means UNIVERSAL BLOODY WOMAN! Thats what it means. Does she get it?
Now .. can yer guess where this iz goin?
Well, not this pair. Az soon as her husband, whom she’s sworn to honour and obey, turns ‘iz bloody back, what does Pandora do.
SHE OPENS THE BLOODY BOX !!
An inside is every bloody problem the world ‘az ever ‘ad since! So what does she do? What would any woman bloody do? She sits there an screams to be bloody saved …. while every nasty yer can bloody think of climbs out.
Then she shuts the lid. An whaddya reckon she leaves locked inside? Whats the only thing she doesn’t let free? EH? Its bloody ‘ope. Thats what!
(Christ! Can you you imagine?)
An now, jest a bit later on, you’re ‘opin I’m goin t’ tell you how t’ bloody live with’em!
Well son, there’s no ‘ope.
Now you know why.
Ya can’t live with ’em an y’can’t shoot ’em. Ya just gotta find a way to love’em and not get destroyed by’em. Cause they’ll destroy yer if they can … thats wot all them books is about… try to make yer into a nice bit a useless furniture.
Son! There’s a whole generation of young blokes is gona havta grow up fast and take control o’ yer women … Thats what yer gotta do. Its the only middle ground between Promeefius an Epimeefius.
But I dunno if you can do it. Truth is I think the world’s doomed an there’s nothin t’do.
Ya might as well get in ‘ere with me an Promeefius.
Bog O’Mullet 2010