I'm a woman

I'm a woman
Photos copyright Laurence Gouault
No reproduction on other media without the photographer's permission.

Sunday, 15 November 2015

Jesus was Scotish, by Stevie Haston.

Have you noticed that Jesus often has red hair? Or is it just a slightly Auburn tint in the mediterranean sunset? In either case he doesn't really look very Palestinian, or Jewish. In fact our perception of Jesus and religion has more to do with Father Christmass, Christmas trees (not Carob trees), reindeer not Donkeys. Are we not confused, my people? When French President Holland says "we are going to lead a War which will be pitiless " is he referring to a new Hundred year war, or a brand new one, for he is all ready at war. This confusingly named Puppet President continually confuses me. War should have Pity, without Pity we are not human. Holland cannot be Human therefore. From 1946-1954 France was killing people in Indo China (todays Vietnam), from 1954- 1962 they were massacring,  and torturing Algerians. I guess before 1946 you could say they were occupied. Hopefully this won't come out as bad taste, but the bad taste that I have, is that somehow we are involved in World War 3, and most people think there won't be any collateral damage.

I worship at the church of rock, rock is not the foundation I built my church on, rock is my church. Do not worship other gods, or attend other churches, there is only one god.  Rock not Rock Music, Rock as in Stone. In fact I also live on a rock. Clearly I am an Extremist, in fact in England (the land of some people with ginger hair) the grades of rock climbs culminate in the grade of Extreme, and therefore we are Extremists. Personally I don't associate myself with things English, because I am a racist, my father had very Red hair, he was Scottish, and more unfortunate still he was an atheist. 

So, sadly, I was bereft of the bigotry that normal well adjusted religious fanatics had. I often felt sad about this. I lived in a Jewish quarter, went to catholic school, was taught by frustrated Irish nuns, had a couple of Jamaican friends who spoke with East End accents, every body was called names, nasty names, every one called every one nasty names, we were the poor, and nasty common vulgar people.  Like all psychotic antisocial kids I longed to be loved, and lived in a bubble. 

Until that is, I discovered Rock, before this  I was a disturbed troubled child with spots, who got confused doing the sign of the cross, I used to do it with the wrong hand. I didn't know which wave of immigrant I was, cos I was one of the new wave, we were definitely after the poor drunk Irish, and the Jewish folk were ahead of them, but we were the new lot, so we were called worse names. The Jamaicans came after my mum, then some Ugandan Indians, then whole bunch of different Indians, till Matzah balls were finally replaced by Onion Bhajis. 

The new immigrant wave didn't of course take into  account, the Vikings, the Angles, the Saxons, and of course the despicable "cheese munching collaborating French", they were so merciless, indeed pitiless, that we had to collaborate with them, otherwise they killed us. It's very sad that there was no fusion between these different cuisines, instead there was lots, and lots of gang fighting, gang fighting without Pity. I do remember there was a hiatus once, were we got totally confused and  we didn't know who to beat up, so we beat up "Iron Hoofs", cockney rhyming slang for poofs, you know left handers, guys who bat for the other side, rainbow people.