How Culture Spreads

[Guest guest]

This is fiction by Rick MacQuoid, or whatever he’s called.

Once up on a time, and a hill, in Ireland, there was a little village named Inishjan.

Once a great hurricane hit their coast, and caused a great amount of water.

Some drowned, bless their souls, in the dip that existed in the middle of that village.

That dip was a bowl like area near the high road, not used for anything at all, yet.

Well after the storm there was garbage and bodies floating in that bowl and

nobody wanted to clean it out, because it smelled so badly, you could say it

“smelled to high heavens”.

One day it was realized or imagined, that just a whiff in your nose from that

rotten lake could make you ill, so the winds that come off that black lagoon

became known for being ill towards ya. So, soon, the old crones of the village

were saying that there was an evil spirit living in their now, who attacked

those walking bye, crept up their noses, and made them very ill.

To avoid letting this happen, everyone would pull their cloth over their face

and run bye, when ever they had to pass that spot, which all did, regularly.

Sometimes though, depending on how you dress, one might not have a ready piece

of cloth. Woman might have head coverings, but what do men wearing just a

shirt with short sleeves do?

So, a little booth started up at both ends of the lake, handing out little

pieces of cloth, so villagers would be safe going by the “hell

hole”. They would hand in the cloths at the other end and say

“Thank you chief” because the little girls with the cloths wore a

badge that said “Chief of Breathing”. Because of how those folks

spoke, eventually the little pieces of cloth became “Hankerchiefs”

from “Thank you chief”.

After awhile though, the hell hole dried up, and grassed over. It took a few

years, but it happened. Eventually the owners of that land got tired of the

blight on their property and just decided to sell at a low price, so they hired

a realtor to do that, and he found a buyer, a maker of small guns which you

stash in your pants line behind you so nobody can see it under your coat.

The owners eventually died, and the lad that inhereted the sale money was

blemished by this. Everyone thought of that land as evil, so they didn’t

let him even rest with his name. No, instead, they kept on calling him

“Mac Hell Hole”, or son of those who owned the Hell Hole. But the

way those folks pronounced things was a bit different. Instead of saying

MacHellHole, it came out, MacElloge, an eventually just Ma’Kellog.

So when this chap decided to get out of that village and away from the ridicule,

he had no love for Ireland left, and no love for the Celtic way of naming, so

when he came to America, he just let his name be Kellog.

Later, he formed a grain and breakfast cereal company, which retains the name

“Hell Hole” or Kellog.

Back in Ireland, the guy that bought that piece of land put up a shop on the

main road which blocked site of the field or hell hole. At first everyone

wanted to talk about the hell hole, if and when they dared go into that shop.

That’s why the owners decided on the slogan above the door. “Put

it behind ya, we did”

You see, the field was behind the shop, so they did put it behind them, those

fellas in the shop, and they wanted others to not only put that behind them,

but while they were at it, buy a little gun and put that behind ya as well.

Now, those little guns became known for being lethal little dispute settlers in

the region, so, it became know for sure that they dead spirits of the Hell Hole

were now blessing those guns with the ability to kill. So, when you really had

a problem with somebody, anyone “in the know” who was a real man

would say to the newly angry or grieving person “You gotta put it behind

ya”, which there meant, kill the guy and that’s that.

Then one day it was discovered that people were getting cured by praying in the

field behind the gun shop, praying in the Hell Hole itself.

So, the Vatican got involved and made Saints out of some of the drowning

victims. Ever since then, people noticed the guns don’t work right, and

“Put it behind ya” therefore now is about Saintly forgiveness. One

of the Saints, the most well known, was nicknamed “St. Ink” because

of the water of Hell Hole being black like Ink, and this is how the word

“Stink” got started.

And cereal grains, once known to be a very low class form of food, has now

achieved the status of “Healthful”.

More recently, a health spa has come onto one side of the Hell Hole, and is

selling healing retreats “at the spiritual home of the Saints” and

a Paranormal research institute took the other side of the land and their funds

being spent locally to research the spiritual phenomena is bringing much needed

cash into the village.

The old crone who back in the day was nothing but a near homeless pain the in

neck on the village, well her great grandson now works that institute, and

talks constantly about his extremely intelligent and Druid like grandmother,

who was “the leading expert in her day” on the spirits of Hell

Hole.

A number of songs have been written about Hell hole, and they keep the myths alive today.

Recently a skeleton from Hell Hole was found, and relocated with pomp to the

village cemetary, where the grave inscription reads “The StInk of

Kellowg, of whom we are proud”.

And in the newly designed factory Kellog put there in their original village,

inside the lobby is a picture of Hell Hole from way back and underneath it it

says “Like a lot of good ideas, this company was proudly started on a

foundation of disaster, death and stench”.

So no wonder, when the first bowl of cereal came out of the new factory, and it

was presented to the mayor, he leaned over to wife and said “It wreaks of

Stink”.

Now if you are wondering what is the point or morale of this story, there

isn’t one. It just is. It’s just a fact of life that life happens,

you wipe tears with a “Thankyouchief” and Stink happens and so does

Puttin it behind ya. Every once in awhile there’s a hell hole, but

eventually a good few shops are there, and some good ideas that become

standards.

When the going gets really tough, remember Stink, and how he suffered for all those in Hell Holes.

Eventually we all put one behind us.

 

Rick MacQuoid das (AT) goravani (DOT) com

AIM: ROIKMACKAI IM: das_goravani

Secure online ordering of Goravani Jyotish 2.5 and Jyotish Studio 3

 

 

 

or

(Please use email if at all possible)

[Guest guest]

Dear Rick,

 

A very nice and witty piece of work. Waiting to read more such

creations of yours.

 

Venus has entered Libra.

 

Ashutosh

 

-

Das Goravani

valist

Tuesday, 06 September, 2005 21:33

How Culture Spreads

This is fiction by Rick MacQuoid, or whatever he’s called.Once up on a time, and

a hill, in Ireland, there was a little village named Inishjan.Once a great

hurricane hit their coast, and caused a great amount of water.Some drowned,

bless their souls, in the dip that existed in the middle of that village. That

dip was a bowl like area near the high road, not used for anything at all,

yet.Well after the storm there was garbage and bodies floating in that bowl and

nobody wanted to clean it out, because it smelled so badly, you could say it

“smelled to high heavens”.One day it was realized or imagined, that just a

whiff in your nose from that rotten lake could make you ill, so the winds that

come off that black lagoon became known for being ill towards ya. So, soon,

the old crones of the village were saying that there was an evil spirit living

in their now, who attacked those walking bye, crept up their noses, and made

them very ill. To avoid letting this happen, everyone would pull their cloth

over their face and run bye, when ever they had to pass that spot, which all

did, regularly.Sometimes though, depending on how you dress, one might not have

a ready piece of cloth. Woman might have head coverings, but what do men

wearing just a shirt with short sleeves do?So, a little booth started up at

both ends of the lake, handing out little pieces of cloth, so villagers would

be safe going by the “hell hole”. They would hand in the cloths at the other

end and say “Thank you chief” because the little girls with the cloths wore a

badge that said “Chief of Breathing”. Because of how those folks spoke,

eventually the little pieces of cloth became “Hankerchiefs” from “Thank you

chief”.After awhile though, the hell hole dried up, and grassed over. It took

a few years, but it happened. Eventually the owners of that land got tired of

the blight on their property and just decided to sell at a low price, so they

hired a realtor to do that, and he found a buyer, a maker of small guns which

you stash in your pants line behind you so nobody can see it under your coat.

The owners eventually died, and the lad that inhereted the sale money was

blemished by this. Everyone thought of that land as evil, so they didn’t let

him even rest with his name. No, instead, they kept on calling him “Mac Hell

Hole”, or son of those who owned the Hell Hole. But the way those folks

pronounced things was a bit different. Instead of saying MacHellHole, it came

out, MacElloge, an eventually just Ma’Kellog.So when this chap decided to get

out of that village and away from the ridicule, he had no love for Ireland

left, and no love for the Celtic way of naming, so when he came to America, he

just let his name be Kellog.Later, he formed a grain and breakfast cereal

company, which retains the name “Hell Hole” or Kellog.Back in Ireland, the guy

that bought that piece of land put up a shop on the main road which blocked

site of the field or hell hole. At first everyone wanted to talk about the

hell hole, if and when they dared go into that shop. That’s why the owners

decided on the slogan above the door. “Put it behind ya, we did”You see, the

field was behind the shop, so they did put it behind them, those fellas in the

shop, and they wanted others to not only put that behind them, but while they

were at it, buy a little gun and put that behind ya as well.Now, those little

guns became known for being lethal little dispute settlers in the region, so,

it became know for sure that they dead spirits of the Hell Hole were now

blessing those guns with the ability to kill. So, when you really had a

problem with somebody, anyone “in the know” who was a real man would say to the

newly angry or grieving person “You gotta put it behind ya”, which there meant,

kill the guy and that’s that.Then one day it was discovered that people were

getting cured by praying in the field behind the gun shop, praying in the Hell

Hole itself.So, the Vatican got involved and made Saints out of some of the

drowning victims. Ever since then, people noticed the guns don’t work right,

and “Put it behind ya” therefore now is about Saintly forgiveness. One of the

Saints, the most well known, was nicknamed “St. Ink” because of the water of

Hell Hole being black like Ink, and this is how the word “Stink” got

started.And cereal grains, once known to be a very low class form of food, has

now achieved the status of “Healthful”.More recently, a health spa has come

onto one side of the Hell Hole, and is selling healing retreats “at the

spiritual home of the Saints” and a Paranormal research institute took the

other side of the land and their funds being spent locally to research the

spiritual phenomena is bringing much needed cash into the village.The old crone

who back in the day was nothing but a near homeless pain the in neck on the

village, well her great grandson now works that institute, and talks constantly

about his extremely intelligent and Druid like grandmother, who was “the leading

expert in her day” on the spirits of Hell Hole.A number of songs have been

written about Hell hole, and they keep the myths alive today.Recently a

skeleton from Hell Hole was found, and relocated with pomp to the village

cemetary, where the grave inscription reads “The StInk of Kellowg, of whom we

are proud”.And in the newly designed factory Kellog put there in their original

village, inside the lobby is a picture of Hell Hole from way back and underneath

it it says “Like a lot of good ideas, this company was proudly started on a

foundation of disaster, death and stench”.So no wonder, when the first bowl of

cereal came out of the new factory, and it was presented to the mayor, he

leaned over to wife and said “It wreaks of Stink”.Now if you are wondering what

is the point or morale of this story, there isn’t one. It just is. It’s just a

fact of life that life happens, you wipe tears with a “Thankyouchief” and

Stink happens and so does Puttin it behind ya. Every once in awhile there’s a

hell hole, but eventually a good few shops are there, and some good ideas that

become standards.When the going gets really tough, remember Stink, and how he

suffered for all those in Hell Holes.Eventually we all put one behind us. Rick

MacQuoid das (AT) goravani (DOT) comAIM: ROIKMACKAI IM:

das_goravanihttp://www.goravani.com Secure online ordering of Goravani

Jyotish 2.5 and Jyotish Studio 32852 Willamette St

#353 or (Please use

email if at all possible)