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post #1 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-07-2017, 01:12 AM Thread Starter
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The Quest for the Banned She's

The Quest for the Banned Shes’

It was the Summer of 1915 in Ireland. And I was at the feet of my Master. It be better told that he was me drunken Master. Me drunken bastard. I was at the feet of a wily Jester and a Con Man from Rathcullen. That man be Darby O’Gill.

My surname be McBride, an Irish Mike. Now you may ask, how does a dog have a name and none to his collar? Well, that be a long tale and mine is short, so this tale will be mine. As short as needed to cover my ponderous balls. Balls? Inside that sack lay two globes. One be Sun, the other Mars. They be conjoined by the sack that holds them, not close. They be hanging low, in the breeze and careful not they be draggin’ the ground. A painful reminder that I must endure. As bad as it may seem, those globes give me life and my identity. No ***** am I.

Ole Darby was a braggart, yea he was. He told of catching Brian, the Leprechaun King. He told the story often to his drinking mates.

King Brian stood proud between the old man’s legs. He stood erect, a squat and thick Monarch with a prikley headed crown. Darby never showed his capture to anyone save the day he was drunk at the Tavern. Proof they ask…show us Old King Brian. You’r are a liar, yes you be O’Gill.

So Darby unloosed his trousers and pulled them down to reveal King Brian. Down, down went the pants and the underpants. No King to be found. Now this be strange, thought Darby. The only time the King went away was when he bathed in the frigid Irish Sea. In that cold water the King shrunk more and more until only his tiny crown be visible.
Worried to death, Darby reached down into his sack. Maybe the King be hiding there. Out jumped a rabbit and out the door of the pub he flew.
Seconds later, it was Old Darby that followed. His drinking buddies they did him…. out the door they threw, Darby’s little carcass.

I was Michael McBride and heir to the caretaker’s job at the estate of Lord Fitzpatrick.
That night I was asleep in my bed, when Ole Darby in a stupor, needed to pee. Not going left nor right to the Outhouse, his stumbling led to my bed. Darby’s King a-started pissin on my head. Awoken In fright and then in ire. I swatted the King and knocked him in the dirt on my floor.

As punishment, that Leprechaun King turned me into a reddish brown hound. My long snout led a long body, followed by a medium length pointy tail. Just long enough to wrap around me ponderous sack. For protection, that is. Not for pleasure; as a dog’s tongue does that deed.

The only way my spell to be free was to get the blessings of the Banned She’s of TAM. Only they can Moderate my fate and return me to McBride's Connery Role.

This is my story. Now a long one to follow-

Blessed be the @threelittlestars for she is the beginning of the long dusty road to resurgent manhood for my slinky form. Those twinkling stars will lead me. Lead, as did my single star "VenusCMarsCJupiter", lead the Wise Men to the manger in Bethlehem, ~2017 years ago.


This....This is the nub of the stick that pokes me in the eye when the light of day energizes my optic nerve....SunCMars.... The Allegory of the Cave--> On this, I did a '180' and stepped out.

The Lion in Winter. Invictus..By Will, Shall... Saved from harm by my friends.
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post #2 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-07-2017, 04:56 AM
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's

Even in 1915, nobody in Ireland spoke like that!

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post #3 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-07-2017, 05:20 AM
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's

I have no idea why but your post made me think of that old song "The drunk Scotsman"......."Lad I don't know where you been but I see you won first place!"
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post #4 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-07-2017, 07:05 AM
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's

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The Quest for the Banned Shes’

It was the Summer of 1915 in Ireland. And I was at the feet of my Master. It be better told that he was me drunken Master. Me drunken bastard. I was at the feet of a wily Jester and a Con Man from Rathcullen. That man be Darby O’Gill.

My surname be McBride, an Irish Mike. Now you may ask, how does a dog have a name and none to his collar? Well, that be a long tale and mine is short, so this tale will be mine. As short as needed to cover my ponderous balls. Balls? Inside that sack lay two globes. One be Sun, the other Mars. They be conjoined by the sack that holds them, not close. They be hanging low, in the breeze and careful not they be draggin’ the ground. A painful reminder that I must endure. As bad as it may seem, those globes give me life and my identity. No ***** am I.

Ole Darby was a braggart, yea he was. He told of catching Brian, the Leprechaun King. He told the story often to his drinking mates.

King Brian stood proud between the old man’s legs. He stood erect, a squat and thick Monarch with a prikley headed crown. Darby never showed his capture to anyone save the day he was drunk at the Tavern. Proof they ask…show us Old King Brian. You’r are a liar, yes you be O’Gill.

So Darby unloosed his trousers and pulled them down to reveal King Brian. Down, down went the pants and the underpants. No King to be found. Now this be strange, thought Darby. The only time the King went away was when he bathed in the frigid Irish Sea. In that cold water the King shrunk more and more until only his tiny crown be visible.
Worried to death, Darby reached down into his sack. Maybe the King be hiding there. Out jumped a rabbit and out the door of the pub he flew.
Seconds later, it was Old Darby that followed. His drinking buddies they did him…. out the door they threw, Darby’s little carcass.

I was Michael McBride and heir to the caretaker’s job at the estate of Lord Fitzpatrick.
That night I was asleep in my bed, when Ole Darby in a stupor, needed to pee. Not going left nor right to the Outhouse, his stumbling led to my bed. Darby’s King a-started pissin on my head. Awoken In fright and then in ire. I swatted the King and knocked him in the dirt on my floor.

As punishment, that Leprechaun King turned me into a reddish brown hound. My long snout led a long body, followed by a medium length pointy tail. Just long enough to wrap around me ponderous sack. For protection, that is. Not for pleasure; as a dog’s tongue does that deed.

The only way my spell to be free was to get the blessings of the Banned She’s of TAM. Only they can Moderate my fate and return me to McBride's Connery Role.

This is my story. Now a long one to follow-

Blessed be the @threelittlestars for she is the beginning of the long dusty road to resurgent manhood for my slinky form. Those twinkling stars will lead me. Lead, as did my single star "VenusCMarsCJupiter", lead the Wise Men to the manger in Bethlehem, ~2017 years ago.
An interesting story. Channelling James Joyce, perhaps?

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http://mygeneralblog1.blogspot.co.uk...-cheaters.html (Be afraid UK cheaters! CheaterVille has come to the UK!
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post #5 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-07-2017, 07:55 AM
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's

I had to read it in Conor Mcgregor's voice to find it funny.

Even if I don't get likes for it, I'm still going to say it.
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post #6 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-07-2017, 09:35 AM Thread Starter
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's

Lad and Lassies,

We have all heard aboot Banshees. Aye, they be the original ladies of the Irish Night.

Not seeking gold, not seeking love, they seek what you rarely hold so dear, until it is taken.

The red stuff that oozes out of the wounds that they so viciously inflict.

You hold the red stuff not so dear. It presence lays beyond the sight and mind of carefree saoránach Éireannach.

The original Banshee charter was to mourn the deaths in Eire. But after WWI their tear glands dried up. The Irish Brigades taken in that war made them bitter. Their crying ceased. They lost compassion as their creed.

Now, they only want revenge on Wayward Lads and Lasses. They are impatient for the light to extinguish......so they kill the flame in the now, deflamed.

And it is the Banned Shes on TAM that can free these Waywards. They open the door....and by uttering the proper words, the Waywards find the light.

Few of the Banned Shes are cheaters, nay, they are oft the Martyrs, the soft downed pigeons.

Their Pigeon Coo is a Mantra uttered and lightly trilled. A healing salve to that wayward Red slinky Dog and all who are self-positioned to that Nadir.

And some Bannned Shes be Moderators, sitting on high thrones. Long black robes hide their bare, their bare from our lecherous eyes, the scars that they bear, it is "that" that they hide.

It is the Red Dog, yes he, that wants to lift those robes with his pointed snout. First to sniff, then to oggle, as only a dog can do.

Woe, it is to be a Red Dog. That dog, he yearns to be a man again. A man free of unfettered lust. And a man, free from toting that large full sack protected by a pointed tail.

This....This is the nub of the stick that pokes me in the eye when the light of day energizes my optic nerve....SunCMars.... The Allegory of the Cave--> On this, I did a '180' and stepped out.

The Lion in Winter. Invictus..By Will, Shall... Saved from harm by my friends.
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post #7 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-07-2017, 10:02 AM Thread Starter
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's

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Originally Posted by MrsAldi View Post
Even in 1915, nobody in Ireland spoke like that!

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No, none from Irish Diaspora I descend.

My flesh is not singular, but diverse. Some from your Channel Mates in the North. The Welshmen. Half from Finlandia. Any fragments left, be Germanic.

I am more so an old and multiple reincarnate with multiple tongues and words swirling in my pumpkin with medium ears protruding.

This....This is the nub of the stick that pokes me in the eye when the light of day energizes my optic nerve....SunCMars.... The Allegory of the Cave--> On this, I did a '180' and stepped out.

The Lion in Winter. Invictus..By Will, Shall... Saved from harm by my friends.
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post #8 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-07-2017, 10:12 AM Thread Starter
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's

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Originally Posted by EunuchMonk View Post
I had to read it in Conor Mcgregor's voice to find it funny.
Double Cancer, Sun/Moon

SunCMoon. A fierce fighting Crab in the Arena.

This....This is the nub of the stick that pokes me in the eye when the light of day energizes my optic nerve....SunCMars.... The Allegory of the Cave--> On this, I did a '180' and stepped out.

The Lion in Winter. Invictus..By Will, Shall... Saved from harm by my friends.
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post #9 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-08-2017, 02:14 AM Thread Starter
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's

The Red Dog is lost.

He has received no more guidance from the TAM gardeners.

The dog remains McBride, but only in thought and usually in flashes of inspiration.

Up and down the road the dog runs, sniffing the air. He looks at the birds, checks their flight. But to no avail...avast, avast my hounds brain!

He goes to a brook to drink. Slurping the water with that long tongue he sees a reflection in the water. It triggers a memory.

He remembers as Michael, sitting on the porch of that cottage that he and Darby shared. Inside was Darby talking to King Brian. A whole lot of back slapping and laughing going on.

King Brian was telling one of his Leprechaun tales, many had he. It was of a questioner as Michael now be.

The questioner kept asking Ole-Brian what is the Secret to Success. What is the Secret, indeed.

King Brian kept repeating this. He said the answer is the Secret and the Secret is the Answer.

It took Michael months to decipher that one. He kept asking the question over and over again in his head. During the day and at night.
.................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. ....
One day the answer to the Secret came to him. This was the answer that he discovered:

1) If you focus your attention on achieving a goal and believe not only that you can do it, but that you already have done it, you can achieve virtually any goal you set your mind to.

2) If you focus on what you don't want, you are inadvertently drawing that into your life. For example, if you constantly ruminate on what is stressing you, you'll actually draw more of those situations (and accompanying stressed feelings) into your life. Instead, the trick is to focus on what you do want in your life, and you'll get more of that.

3) The Law of Attraction, the principle that you attract whatever you focus your energy on (good or bad), works with relationships, possessions, goals, and anything else you are able to focus on -- even your own health.

-by Rhonda Byrne
-This Interpretation by Elizabeth Scott, MS
.................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. ...........................................

The problem for many with this method is the need for concentration. And the problem with this is the competition for limited goods and available scenarios to avail ones need.
"You don't always get what you want". Damn it.
I have used this method of concentrating for years...trying to win the lottery. I compete with millions of other people wanting the same thing.

The big lottery prize winner is limited while the wishers unlimited.
.................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. ...........................................

Now, the Red Dog has a good chance of success. He is unique and he is singular. There is only one dog who was a man.

The other way around...... men who act like dogs....plenty of those, eh?

@turnera @EleGirl. My nose will find your robes, someday, someday, someday. And I will walk upright again. I am a bi-ped under the fur, behind the nose, atop the slobbering tongue.

.................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. ............................................

The red dog ran back and forth in his bone burial ground looking for that post that he made as SunCMars. He skipped the latest ones and dug up the older, moldier lot.

Not the answer, did he find. At the end of the day, oh so tired was he. He laid his head on a pile of dirt, his eyes mostly closed. Before him was a post from MattMatt. In it was the answer that he sought.

It showed him "The why Fors", and the Ways Forward. It would be a six month journey, one he would go alone. And one were he need be mute. No baying at the Moon, no teasing Ole Blondie, or No Hope, who lives in Canada.

You see: "The Why Fors", be, that he was receiving "The 180" from the Banned Shes. They spoke not to him. They ignored his countenance, his essence. His essence being unclean, as dogs be, so.

The 180, from most, save, a pretty Irish lass, a @MrsAldi, who humored his plight. Yet, she too, gave him no water, just a smile.

The other TAMMERs whistled and hooted at him, at his Red Form, his wet nose and his sack that be a-draggin.

Tomorrow, the dog be off on his journey. He knows which way he goes and from which he came. And no manner of Banshee can arrest his form. And no tears can they drop on him to avast. Avast, ye dog. I own your mangy fur....so spake the angry dog lady from Southern California....
.................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .........

It is now dawn.

Down the road he goes, his long nose leading his long body, his medium length tail wrapped protectively around his sack. And in six months he shall report back.

God, Our Father, Willing.

This....This is the nub of the stick that pokes me in the eye when the light of day energizes my optic nerve....SunCMars.... The Allegory of the Cave--> On this, I did a '180' and stepped out.

The Lion in Winter. Invictus..By Will, Shall... Saved from harm by my friends.
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post #10 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-08-2017, 05:53 AM
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's

Dang... I haven't a clue what I'm reading here, but for some reason I keep coming back to this thread for the next installment.




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post #11 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-08-2017, 09:59 AM
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's

Hmm, I think this story needs more romance.
It doesn't grab at me yet, something is missing.

Although it does actually sound like a poor wailing Irish man, he's babbling but not really getting to the heart of his problems, he's afraid to be vulnerable, so he comes off as cold and brutish as the Irish sea.
He speaks in tongues, to hide the real truth in his heart!

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post #12 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-08-2017, 02:05 PM
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's


"Truth is like the sun,you can shut it out for a time,but it ain't going away"-Elvis
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post #13 of 13 (permalink) Old 03-08-2017, 07:32 PM
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Re: The Quest for the Banned She's



The story Deirdre of the Sorrows is recorded in the Ulster Cycle of Irish mythology. It’s a tale of beauty, lust, and death dating back to ancient Ireland.

During the reign of King Conchobhar Mac Nessa of Ulster a baby girl was born to Felimidh Mac Dall, a chieftain and bard of the Ulaidh. The new born girl was named Deirdre.


Deirdre of the Sorrows Prophecy

The child was beautiful and the druid, Cathbad, made the prophecy that as the infant grew, her beauty would increase until she was the most beautiful woman in all of Ireland. However the child would, because of her beauty, bring sorrow and war upon the country.

When news of the child’s birth and the prophecy reached Conchobhar’s capital Emain Macha, his royal guards, the Red Branch Knights, decided that in order to spare Ireland the misery they would take the child Deirdre and kill her.

King Conchobhar however ordered that the child should be placed in the care of the poetess Leabharcham so that when she reached the age of consent, he, himself would marry her and have as his wife Ireland’s greatest beauty.

As Deirdre grew the words of prophecy were fulfilled and her beauty increased.


Deirdre falls in love

One day, in the midst of winter she witnessed ravens feeding off the corpse of a lamb. Horrified at the sight she promised that she would allow love into her heart only for a man whose hair was as black as a raven’s wing and whose lips would be as red as the lamb’s blood.

As she neared the age of maidenhood, she was walking on the ramparts of Emain Macha when she saw a young man approaching. He had night black hair and lips as red as a lamb’s blood and he was the most handsome of men.

Deirdre immediately knew this was the love of her heart. “Who is he?” She asked Leabharcham. “That is Naoise the eldest son of Usna the husband of Ebhla the daughter of Cathbad who foretold of your beauty” answered the poetess, “why do you ask?” Deirdre smiled and whispered “This is my love, can you help me to meet him?” The poetess agreed and arranged a meeting between the young pair.

When Naoise saw Deirdre he immediately fell deeply in love with her. They both knew that if King Conchobhar was to discover their love then he would have them killed so Naoise confided in his two younger brothers Ainlé and Ardán. They planned an escape out of Emain Macha and fled northwards to Antrim and crossed the sea to Alba (Scotland). They eventually found safety in Glen Etive where they settled down to an enjoyable life.


Deirdre angers the King

Back in Ireland, Conchobhar’s anger and jealousy grew fiercer by the day. His spies had discovered where Deirdre and the son’s of Usna had settled. However, it was in the kingdom of a Caledonian king so there was very little that he could do.

Conchobhar came up with a plan, he would trick an honest warrior to bring the little band home to Ireland and then he would have his revenge on them. He looked at all his knights, each of them noted for their loyalty, bravery and honesty.

Out of all the knights he saw warrior Fergus Mac Roth also possessed the purist of heart. He called upon Fergus and bade him to leave for Alba and to tell Deirdre and Naoise that he forgave them and wished them only happiness. He also needed Ainlé and Ardán back with his knights because they were too valuable to lose.


Deirdre returns to Ireland

Fergus and his two sons rode north to the Antrim coast and from there crossed over to the shores of Argyle, eventually making their way to Glen Etive.

The sons of Usna were delighted to see Fergus for they knew him to an honourable man and he relayed the king’s message to them. Now the sons of Usna were at the time feeling the pains of homesickness and were only too glad to hear of King Conchobhar’s forgiveness but Deirdre still felt mistrust. It was only the honest reputation of Fergus that swayed her to return to Ulster.

On the night of their return to Emain Macha they were greeted and feasted by the Red Branch Knights and informed that in the morning they would meet the king. Deidre was still worried but the sons of Usna and Fergus Mac Roth reassured her saying the king would dishonour himself if he went back on his promise.

In the morning all the palace guards, warriors, and people gathered with the returned exiles in the forecourt. Fergus was not present as he had been sent on an errant by the King, although his sons were with the exiles. King Conchobhar appeared on the balcony and ordered the knights to seize Deirdre and kill the others.


Deirdre’s sorrow on*the death of her lover

The sons of Usna and the sons of Fergus rushed to defend Deirdre but the knights were too many and too strong. The king called the sons of Fergus to surrender and he would spare them. One, Buinne, did but the other; Illán Fionn refused to dishonour himself and fought on. A knight, Eoghain Mac Durthacht managed to slam a spear into Naoise’s spine and Deirdre seeing her beloved fall dead to the ground collapsed in sorrow and despair.

Soon Naoise’s brothers and Illán Fionn also fell and Conchobhar felt triumphant. However the druid Cathbad, angered by the King’s treachery called on him a terrible curse. Fergus Mac Roth returned to the palace and saw the butchery. He swore an oath of vengeance and turning his back on the king and upon his own son Buinne, rode west to Connacht to serve Conchobhar’s mortal enemy Queen Meabh.


The death of Deirdre

Conchobhar then had Deirdre taken to his quarters but she in deep hatred refused ever to speak to him. After a year he grew tired of her sullen silence, his lust for her turned cold and so he had her bound hand and feet, thrown into a chariot. She was, as a reward, to the man she hated most after himself, the warrior Eoghan Mac Durthact who had slain her beloved Naoise.

On the way to Eoghan she managed to throw herself from the chariot and smashed her brains out upon a rock. Her broken body was placed into the ground near where Naoise lay in death and soon a tree grew out of each grave and grew in a close embrace.

The tale of Deirdre of the Sorrows from*Irish mythology remain popular and has been told by many authors and playwrights. The Irish Naval Service named their ship after Deirdre of the Sorrows. The LÉ Deirdre was launched in 1972.

http://www.yourirish.com/folklore/de...of-the-sorrows

"I'm significant!! Screamed the dust speck." - Bill Watterson

"And this, too, shall pass away."
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