(I have no idea why this didn’t post yesterday, but… whatevs…)
I confess, I’m part of the radio… well, not complete silence, but mostly low static. We’ve all had to move on to other things, with only the occasional breakout of discussion, the posts of our favorite bloggers and podcasters who keep slogging along, and bits of news that either are re-posted, or leak out.
I still have that Frank post planned… I’m just not in a big hurry. Because… Frank.
Ooh, but here’s a cheerful note: Killing Time’s recap of Ep 108 (part 1) “Oh, There’s Frank” I mean, “Both Sides Now” is up!
Anyway, with that gut-wrenching laughter, on with the pouting.
I honestly don’t know who to attribute this pic to, so if it’s yours, or if you know who made it, please let me know!
Today’s Coping Whiskey is: TIMOROUS BEASTIE! I was looking for the ones Sam Heughan had listed as his favorites, but now I can’t find the note I made. So I picked this, despite never having had it, because I LOVE THE NAME!
The name is inspired by Robert Burns famous Scots poem ‘To a Mouse’. And because I am that bored, how about the poem?
It’s really kind of profound and depressing, for a poem about a mouse. And in broad Scots, so it may take some time to understand.
WEE, sleekit, cow’rin, 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,
I doubt na, whiles, 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’ waste,
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 mony 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 art 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!
It may be interesting to note that Claire quotes this poem in one of the later books, which one I can’t remember right now, reminding Jamie that “The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley,” which basically means, “No matter what you think you’re about to do, things never turn out quite the way you plan.” I believe it’s in The Fiery Cross, but I don’t have my notes near me.
Anyway, so, WHISKEY! WHISKEY WITH YOUR WHINGING! Or, okay, MY whinging, ’cause that’s how I roll today.
And I CANNOT BELIEVE I HAVE NEVER SEEN THESE:
How has this INCORRECT SITUATION COME TO PASS? The boy… damn, he’s officially just awesome. The hair alone cracked me right up.This one’s even better: UNICORNS! The national animal of Scotland!
Oh, screw Frank. Not literally. I’m done for right now. Those vids put me in too good a mood for criticism. 😀