Now that big business has begun to consider the Government of Scotland as a mere appendage to their own affairs, we should realise that Government by organized money is just as dangerous as Government by organized cybernats. To head this criticism off, here is the apologist sell oot speech given by Sun King Alex of Salmond to the Big Bloodyrude Cooncil meeting.
By Alex Luther Sun King Alex of Salmond
I am scunnered to join with you today in what will go down in history as the worst sell oot to corporate oppression in the recent history of oor wee nation.
Just over three centuries ago an independent Scotland in whose symbolic shadow we stand today signed the Treaty of Union. This momentous decree came as a withering darkness of despair to hunners of Scottish bonded miners who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a ‘nae chinge there then’ break to continue the long night of their bonded captivity.
But three hunner year later the Scotsman is still not free. Three hunner year later the life of the Scotsman is still sadly crippled by the manacles of corporate business practice and the chains of Sun King Salmond’s discrimination.
Three hunner year later the Scotsman lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of Oil boom prosperity.
Three hunner year later the Scotsman is still languishing in the corners o’ British society and finds himself in exile in somebudy else’s Amazonian warehoose.
We aw have come to this hallowed spot to remind UK plc and whinging non-SNP aligned Scots of the fierce urgency of now. Now is the time to sink further into the dark and desolate minimum wage theocracy of Amazonian business dogma. Now is the time to change social injustice to the gaseous rock of defeatism.
Now is the time to mak injustice ring oot for aw o’ Sun King Salmond’s bairns.
There will be neither rest nor tranquility in UK plc until the Scotsman is granted the right to minimum wage work in a fully automated, pension scheme free, Amazonian warehoose.
We must forever conduct oor struggle on the high plane of moral superiority and English oppression. We must allow our creative protest to degenerate into cybernat name calling and vitriolic threat making. Again and again we must fall to the majestic height of meeting corporate vultures with tea and caramel wafers.
And the sinister new corporatism which has engulfed the Scottish nation must not lead us to a distrust of all of the SNP, for many of our SNP brothers have, evidenced by their silent anonymity, come to realise that their Sun King Salmond is really the corporations’ Sun King Salmond.
So even though we face the difficulties of today and the morn I still have a MacDream. It is a MacDream deeply rooted in the Declaration of Arbroath.
I have a MacDream that one day this nation will shut up and live oot the true meaning of its creed – minimum wage slavery. “We hold these truths to be self-evident; that all men are created equally exploitable.”
I have a MacDream that one day on the purple hills of Galloway the former sons of bonded slaves and the sons of corporate slave makers will be able to sit together at the table in Bute Hoose. But ah’m no hoddin ma breath.
I have a MacDream that one day even the state of Trumpton North, a state sweltering with the heat of corporate injustice, sweltering with the heat of megalomaniacal ego, will be transformed into an oasis of golfing and gated dollar exchanging Americans.
I have a MacDream that little children will one day live in a nation where they will be judged by their followers on MacTwitter or the threats they receive on MacFacebook.
I have a MacDream the noo.
I have a MacDream that one day doon in Glesca, with its vicious sectarianists, with its Old Firm fans their lips dripping with the creash of Proddy and Catholic bile, one day right there in Glesca little Diddy team supporters will be able to join hands with little huns and little tims as punchbags and objects of derision.
I have a MacDream the noo.
I have a MacDream that one day every scheme shall be cleansed, every hoose and garden shall be made lower, the rough places rougher, and the crooked places will be made no go areas fir the polis and, before the Sheriff, poverty crime will be revealed, and all flesh shall be exposed.
This is oor fear. This is the belief that I can go back to the Big Cooncil wi’. Wi’ this false doctrine we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of desolation. With this false doctrine we will be able to transform the genuine discord of our nation into an ugly collective chip on the shooder.
With this false doctrine we will be able to sign on the gither, comment on twitter the gither, be sick tae the back teeth the gither, to go to oor corporate slave masters the gither, to stand up for nuthin forever, knowing that we will aw be deid wan day.
And I say to you today my subjects, let pishtalk tinkle. From the prodigious Munros of the Highlands, let pishtalk tinkle. From the mighty mountains of the Grampians, let pishtalk tinkle. From the mighty rigs of the North Sea!
Let pishtalk tinkle from the redtop headlines of the Sun!
Let pishtalk tinkle from the bus routes of Messr Souter!
But not only there; let pishtalk tinkle from the letters written to Sir Fred the Shred!
Let pishtalk tinkle from the golf course and hotels of Donaldan Trumpton!
Let pishtalk tinkle from the findings of the Inralavyson Inquiry. From every Telescreen, let pishtalk tinkle.
And when this happens, when we allow pishtalk to tinkle, when we let it tinkle from every scheme and village, every toon and every county, we will be able to slow down that day when all of Jock Tamson’s bairns, Rangers men and Celtic men, Catholic and Protestant, Indpendent and Unionist, will be able to gie the vickies and sing in the words of the auld Corries spiritual, “Free at last! Free at last! Thank the Sun King almighty, we’re free in our corporate slavery at last!”