kalebeul: anythingarian bubbles and troubles from the land of the fretting nun
kalebeul's barcelona walking tour service. why else would i write this blog?
kalebeul anythingarian bubbles and troubles from the land of the fretting nun
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/ kalebeul / 2006 / 09 / 12 /

Working like Trojans/niggers

Don Jaide over at Rasta Livewire thinks they’re closer than most others do. If Bill Clinton’s black, then I see no reason why Helen of Troy shouldn’t be too, irrespective of what the original texts actually say.

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Moors in early C20th Spain

I know much more about Maghrebis and Africans in colonial Spain than in the period up to 1936 and I’d like to correct that. Any books or articles out there? I’d be most grateful if you’d talk to me here.

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Mariachis in Barcelona

A kick in the goolies for narrow-minded gits who want some kind of flag-wrapped municipal ordnance to prevent entartete sombreros and Osborne bull t-shirts being sold down the Ramblas in what you can just about get away with calling pakishops (check Gwyneth Dunwoody vs Eric Forth on retail opening hours): Barcelona’s second mariachi festival. (Useful [...]

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Wheelchair walks

I did my first Follow The Baldie wheelchair outing the other day without anyone getting killed or alarmingly drunk. I think this makes me the first walking provider in Catalonia to cater for this market, and all without a cent of public money. (I used this The Ramblers limited mobility info as a starting point [...]

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Drivers give helmetless tranny cyclists more space

I once cycled over the Dutch border into Germany wearing a ballgown and was quite fiercely stoned by small children, so this study by Ian Walker may not provide a panacea to our problems.

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Apparently some ladies & gents with whom I sing when the big geezer is off doing other stuff are going to be on the telly quite a lot.

Apart from the odd bit of arranging, the barrel organ is the thing at the moment, when I get time. It’s a somewhat more lonely path, but I’m not very good at dance steps or 80s music anyway.

Kalebeul wouldn’t watch a hagiography of a faghating totalitarian fuckwit like St Paul, so it sees no reason this weekend to take cinema seats away from Barcelona’s chiliastic masses in their nostalgic lust for Hispanic dictators and good-looking saints. Paul Berman’s piece from 2004 applies. Even the regime sociologists seem to have noticed that Cataloonia has lost track of reality.

Graffiti of Camarón de la Isla and guitarist, somewhere in Barcelona, I think in Carmelo, so overlooking the place where he died:

More here.

Kabe-Otoko/Wall Man, neither human nor demon, observes the world from within walls:

Velen verzeggen Schiedam, maar sluiten dadelijk een verbond met Barcelona.” Is it about drinkers swearing by Dutch gin/jenever, only to turn to Spanish wine and brandy?


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