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/ kalebeul / 2004 / 02 / 04 /

spanish/castilian

Joan over in John Chappell’s 2004/02/04 02:35 comments section is getting annoyed about people using the word Spanish instead of Castilian. “I think we should call things by their name,” he says,
Spanish languages are: Castillian, Catalan, Basque and Galician. I speak both Castillian and Catalan. I don’t agree with Español being the same as Castellano. [...]

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Burying Bakunin

Homage to Catalonia achieved the double-whammy of focusing attention on the Stalinist terror that followed the 1937 coup while whitewashing the merciless anarchist repression here in 1936. With the heroic optimism that often accompanies foreign jaunts, Orwell seems to have approved wholeheartedly–although never in public, my dears!–of the slaughter or exile of the Catalan clergy [...]

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Digging up Orwell

Orwell biographer DJ Taylor wants to dig up the common of Southwold, a quiet Suffolk seaside resort, in order to find a time capsule that Orwell allegedly buried there 70 years ago. If found, I suspect that it will not contain a bucket and spade.

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Jamaican bat guano soup, anyone?

While garden show presenters who can’t tell the difference between cannabis and cabbage would probably do better sticking to alcohol, I’m intrigued to note that healthcare scammers, All Nutritional Supplements, are advertising bags of Jamaican bat guano, apparently for human use. (Yes, it’ll also do wonders for your cabbages, although the Scots may want to [...]

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Apparently immigrants are being denied access to virtually all night bars in Barcelona’s popular Raval district. I’m an immigrant, and I’ve never had any problems getting in (getting out is a different story), so I guess El Periódico is using the same definition as one of my ex mother-in-laws: “You’re not an immigrant, you’re white!” Despite the beatings and the burnings, Spain’s nignogs don’t complain, which is why the Americans and British are clearly racists while it is equally clear that the Spanish were just having a little innocent fun with those damn Chinkies.

Code-swapping, rather than Gibraltar-Andalusian. This week’s instalment comments on the stateless national soap opera, maritime conflicts and confusions with Spain.

Yesterday the state-approved and -subsidised competition to Baldie Galactic was observed claiming that trencadís was yet more proof of the quite extraordinary originality of the Catalan mind, etc etc. Not so: it has been around for centuries, and any connoisseur of English cathedral windows will be familiar with my favourite application of break-it-and-mend-it–the new/non-sense created from jumbled shards of medieval glass at places like Wells and Winchester after the Puritans had smashed things up. Which isn’t in any sense to diminish the marvellous pique assiette undertaken by Josep Maria Jujol for old Mr Gaudy at Park Güell:


Nosferatu in Bremen is essentially a flitting liminality … the German soul instinctively prefers twilight to daylight.” Way too many bloody Teutonic incorporeal materialist graffiteros lurking around on c/ Molist, Barcelona.


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