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| The Bletherings of Former Chieftains on absolutely anything and everything |
| If you missed BLACK AND WHITE Nos. 1/2/3/4/5/6/7 Please Click here to view ARCHIVED MATERIALS |
B&W 9
 |
| Black and White – September 2010 Edition |
I realize my loyal readers must be wondering where I have been over the past 3 months or so, as I have not written any articles since June. I wish I
could give you a reasonable explanation, but that would be untrue; I have just not had the zip and energy over the summer months, when most of
you were away on your annual vacations anyway. A wee bit of laziness also crept in and it was hard to restart the old brain cells and begin writing.
But now here we are, nearly at the end of September and before you gents know it (if you haven’t already) you will be forking out your hard earned
cash to your wife/girlfriend so she can start getting her ball gown made for the St. Andrew’s Ball.
Aye, the Ball’s rapidly approaching and November will be on us before we know it…….where has this year gone to? Don’t ask the Chieftain or any of
her Committee this question – they will give you the answer……in short order!!
Back to the Ball.
When that band of patriotic Scots decided in 1919 to form a St. Andrew Society in Java with the principal objective of commemorating St Andrew’s
Day by throwing “a wee pairty” little did they realize just how this seed of inspiration would eventually blossom into the most colourful, pageantry-
filled social evening in the Jakarta social calendar. To quote an old film “A Night to Remember”.
We know why we hold the St. Andrew’s Ball and proudly fly our national flag, the St. Andrew’s Cross (the Saltire) as a main part of the décor, but who
was St Andrew and how did he become our Patron Saint? I would wager money that, like me, none of you know the answers, so here’s a wee bit of
potted history for you and especially for our Chieftain, Elaine, who asked me the same questions.
St. Andrew
Although Andrew and his brother Peter were two of the original apostles, very little is known about Andrew.
He was a fisherman from Galilee, who went on to spread the Christian religion in Greece and Asia Minor.
Andrew was believed to have been killed by crucifixion by the Romans on a diagonal cross in the city of
Patras, on the northern coast of the Peloponnese. Early texts, describe Andrew as bound, not nailed,
to a Latin cross of the kind on which Jesus was crucified; yet a tradition developed that Andrew had been
crucified on a cross of the form called Crux decussata (X-shaped cross,) or commonly known as a
"Saint Andrew's Cross" — supposedly at his own request, as he deemed himself unworthy to be crucified
on the same type of cross as Jesus had been.
Some 300 years after his death, the Emperor Constantine was going to move the saints bones, and legend
has it that a monk was warned of this in a dream by an angel, who told him to remove the saints bones to
the "ends of the Earth" to keep them safe .Scotland was as near to the ends of the earth as the ancient
Greek world then knew and that is how his remains came to be taken to Scotland. The monk brought the
holy relics ashore at what is now the town of St Andrews.
A chapel was built to house them, and by 1160 a cathedral, St Andrews, was the religious capital of Scotland, and the goal of many pilgrims.
The saint’s remains have now disappeared, probably destroyed during the Scottish Reformation, when the strictures of Calvinism tended to wish to
remove traces of Catholic "idolatry". The site of the relics is now marked by a plaque in the ruins of the Cathedral in St Andrews.
Why is St Andrew Scotland’s Patron Saint?
This was a more difficult question to research as there are no official records available to adequately answer this question. From what I could learn it
was about the middle of the tenth century when Andrew became the patron saint of Scotland. Andrew's connection with Scotland may have been
reinforced following the Synod of Whitby, when the Celtic Church felt that Columba had been "outranked" by Peter and that Peter's brother would
make a higher ranking patron. The 1320 Declaration of Arbroath cites Scotland's conversion to Christianity by Andrew, "the first to be an Apostle".
Personally I prefer the following reason.
Another legend says that in the late eighth century, during a joint battle with the English at what is now known as Athelstaneford, King Ungus (either
the Óengus mac Fergusa mentioned previously or (820–834)) saw a cloud shaped like a saltire, and declared Andrew was watching over them, and
if they won by his grace, then he would be their patron saint. They won! However, there is evidence Andrew was venerated in Scotland before this.
A couple of other pieces of information you might be interested to learn.
St. Andrew is also the Patron Saint of Russia
He is the Patron Saint of golfers. Now I wonder why that is? Links (excuse the pun) to where his bones came ashore in Scotland – now called the
town of St. Andrews. If any of my readers have other information on St. Andrew I would like to have it. As a matter of fact I would really appreciate
readers’ comments and suggestions for future B&W articles. Just email me at:
mccready@rocketmail.com
The Tazer
I know the next story is long, but so comically written I hope you get as many laughs from it as I did.
A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary submitted this:
Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest.
The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie.
What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized tazer.
The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to
safety....??
WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button.
Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time, I'd get the blue
arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. AWESOME!!!
Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right?
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently(trusting little soul)while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try
this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and then thought better of it.
She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself, against a muggerI did want some assurance that it would
work as advertised. Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and
tazer in another.
The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant;
a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control;
and a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds
would be wasting the batteries.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference (loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries);
pretty cute really, and thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best ...
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side so as to say,
'Don't do it stupid,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny lil ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.
I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and ................
WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!!! . . . WHAT THE ....???
I'm pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner,
then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my
eyes,body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling
in my legs!
The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to
avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room. Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a tazer, one note of caution:
there is NO such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent
thrashing about on the floor!
A three second burst would be considered conservative!
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point),
I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape.
My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was.
My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching.
My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.
I had no control over the drooling.
Apparently I had crapped in my shorts, but was too numb to know for sure,and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my
head, which I believe came from my hair. I'm still looking for my testicles
and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!
P.S... My wife can't stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and now regularly threatens me with it!
Betty Fraser
I was saddened to receive the news from Former Chieftain, Jeannie Spinner, of the recent death of Betty Fraser, a dear friend of mine during my first
period in Indonesia between 1974 and 1978. Betty and her husband Dave were staunch supporters of JSAS and although Betty initially gave the
impression of being a somewhat brusque and forthright person, once you got to know her she had a heart of gold. Well do I remember her coming to
my house about a week before the Ball, when I was Chieftain in 1977, both Betty and her driver loaded down with potato scones which she had been
secretly making for my post Ball breakfast. “Here, Bernie,” she said, “these will go with the Ayrshire bacon, sliced sausages and black pudding your
mother brought out for your breakfast.” So very thoughtful, so very Betty. I had more than 100 JSAS members at the breakfast and all got potato
scones; that tells you the time and effort Betty must have put into making them! And she refused to even let me pay for the huge amount of potatoes
she must have bought.
Aye, that was Betty.
MAY SHE REST IN PEACE.
Here’s an obituary of a completely different nature
An Obituary printed in the London Times.
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was,
since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:
- Knowing when to come in out of the rain;
- Why the early bird gets the worm;
- Life isn't always fair;
- and maybe it was my fault.
Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in
charge). His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy
charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for
reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition. Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that
they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to
administer sun lotion or an aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.
Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.
Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and
was promptly awarded a huge settlement. Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his
daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.
He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers;
I Know My Rights
I Want It Now
Someone Else Is To Blame
I'm A Victim
Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.
Bernie McCready
September 2010
could give you a reasonable explanation, but that would be untrue; I have just not had the zip and energy over the summer months, when most of
you were away on your annual vacations anyway. A wee bit of laziness also crept in and it was hard to restart the old brain cells and begin writing.
But now here we are, nearly at the end of September and before you gents know it (if you haven’t already) you will be forking out your hard earned
cash to your wife/girlfriend so she can start getting her ball gown made for the St. Andrew’s Ball.
Aye, the Ball’s rapidly approaching and November will be on us before we know it…….where has this year gone to? Don’t ask the Chieftain or any of
her Committee this question – they will give you the answer……in short order!!
Back to the Ball.
When that band of patriotic Scots decided in 1919 to form a St. Andrew Society in Java with the principal objective of commemorating St Andrew’s
Day by throwing “a wee pairty” little did they realize just how this seed of inspiration would eventually blossom into the most colourful, pageantry-
filled social evening in the Jakarta social calendar. To quote an old film “A Night to Remember”.
We know why we hold the St. Andrew’s Ball and proudly fly our national flag, the St. Andrew’s Cross (the Saltire) as a main part of the décor, but who
was St Andrew and how did he become our Patron Saint? I would wager money that, like me, none of you know the answers, so here’s a wee bit of
potted history for you and especially for our Chieftain, Elaine, who asked me the same questions.
St. Andrew
Although Andrew and his brother Peter were two of the original apostles, very little is known about Andrew.
He was a fisherman from Galilee, who went on to spread the Christian religion in Greece and Asia Minor.
Andrew was believed to have been killed by crucifixion by the Romans on a diagonal cross in the city of
Patras, on the northern coast of the Peloponnese. Early texts, describe Andrew as bound, not nailed,
to a Latin cross of the kind on which Jesus was crucified; yet a tradition developed that Andrew had been
crucified on a cross of the form called Crux decussata (X-shaped cross,) or commonly known as a
"Saint Andrew's Cross" — supposedly at his own request, as he deemed himself unworthy to be crucified
on the same type of cross as Jesus had been.
Some 300 years after his death, the Emperor Constantine was going to move the saints bones, and legend
has it that a monk was warned of this in a dream by an angel, who told him to remove the saints bones to
the "ends of the Earth" to keep them safe .Scotland was as near to the ends of the earth as the ancient
Greek world then knew and that is how his remains came to be taken to Scotland. The monk brought the
holy relics ashore at what is now the town of St Andrews.
A chapel was built to house them, and by 1160 a cathedral, St Andrews, was the religious capital of Scotland, and the goal of many pilgrims.
The saint’s remains have now disappeared, probably destroyed during the Scottish Reformation, when the strictures of Calvinism tended to wish to
remove traces of Catholic "idolatry". The site of the relics is now marked by a plaque in the ruins of the Cathedral in St Andrews.
Why is St Andrew Scotland’s Patron Saint?
This was a more difficult question to research as there are no official records available to adequately answer this question. From what I could learn it
was about the middle of the tenth century when Andrew became the patron saint of Scotland. Andrew's connection with Scotland may have been
reinforced following the Synod of Whitby, when the Celtic Church felt that Columba had been "outranked" by Peter and that Peter's brother would
make a higher ranking patron. The 1320 Declaration of Arbroath cites Scotland's conversion to Christianity by Andrew, "the first to be an Apostle".
Personally I prefer the following reason.
Another legend says that in the late eighth century, during a joint battle with the English at what is now known as Athelstaneford, King Ungus (either
the Óengus mac Fergusa mentioned previously or (820–834)) saw a cloud shaped like a saltire, and declared Andrew was watching over them, and
if they won by his grace, then he would be their patron saint. They won! However, there is evidence Andrew was venerated in Scotland before this.
A couple of other pieces of information you might be interested to learn.
St. Andrew is also the Patron Saint of Russia
He is the Patron Saint of golfers. Now I wonder why that is? Links (excuse the pun) to where his bones came ashore in Scotland – now called the
town of St. Andrews. If any of my readers have other information on St. Andrew I would like to have it. As a matter of fact I would really appreciate
readers’ comments and suggestions for future B&W articles. Just email me at:
mccready@rocketmail.com
The Tazer
I know the next story is long, but so comically written I hope you get as many laughs from it as I did.
A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary submitted this:
Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest.
The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie.
What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized tazer.
The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to
safety....??
WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button.
Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time, I'd get the blue
arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. AWESOME!!!
Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right?
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently(trusting little soul)while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try
this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and then thought better of it.
She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself, against a muggerI did want some assurance that it would
work as advertised. Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and
tazer in another.
The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant;
a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control;
and a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds
would be wasting the batteries.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference (loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries);
pretty cute really, and thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best ...
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side so as to say,
'Don't do it stupid,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny lil ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.
I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and ................
WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!!! . . . WHAT THE ....???
I'm pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner,
then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my
eyes,body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling
in my legs!
The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to
avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room. Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a tazer, one note of caution:
there is NO such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent
thrashing about on the floor!
A three second burst would be considered conservative!
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point),
I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape.
My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was.
My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching.
My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.
I had no control over the drooling.
Apparently I had crapped in my shorts, but was too numb to know for sure,and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my
head, which I believe came from my hair. I'm still looking for my testicles
and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!
P.S... My wife can't stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and now regularly threatens me with it!
Betty Fraser
I was saddened to receive the news from Former Chieftain, Jeannie Spinner, of the recent death of Betty Fraser, a dear friend of mine during my first
period in Indonesia between 1974 and 1978. Betty and her husband Dave were staunch supporters of JSAS and although Betty initially gave the
impression of being a somewhat brusque and forthright person, once you got to know her she had a heart of gold. Well do I remember her coming to
my house about a week before the Ball, when I was Chieftain in 1977, both Betty and her driver loaded down with potato scones which she had been
secretly making for my post Ball breakfast. “Here, Bernie,” she said, “these will go with the Ayrshire bacon, sliced sausages and black pudding your
mother brought out for your breakfast.” So very thoughtful, so very Betty. I had more than 100 JSAS members at the breakfast and all got potato
scones; that tells you the time and effort Betty must have put into making them! And she refused to even let me pay for the huge amount of potatoes
she must have bought.
Aye, that was Betty.
MAY SHE REST IN PEACE.
Here’s an obituary of a completely different nature
An Obituary printed in the London Times.
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was,
since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:
- Knowing when to come in out of the rain;
- Why the early bird gets the worm;
- Life isn't always fair;
- and maybe it was my fault.
Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in
charge). His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy
charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for
reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition. Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that
they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to
administer sun lotion or an aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.
Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.
Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and
was promptly awarded a huge settlement. Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his
daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.
He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers;
I Know My Rights
I Want It Now
Someone Else Is To Blame
I'm A Victim
Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.
Bernie McCready
September 2010
