Michael J. Fox at the end of the video in an Irish accent: "Ah, that's good. I like that. I need a hat."
I started laughing too hard at that. 🤣
It's interesting: Fox stated that he did not want to play any stereotypes (glory be) but he "couldn't help it." I rather think his performance as Séamus (accent or no accent? That is the question) was actually quite counterstereotypical, and beautiful for that reason.
Obviously, his accent needed a bit of work and his dialogue was a wee bit unrealistic, but apart from that, he is the furthest thing from the Irish stereotype we so often—and I so begrudgingly—see.
The average Celtic persona/stereotype, even described occasionally by Celts themselves, is shown as fiery, hot-headed and hot-tempered too, and always up for a fight. Instead, in BTTF 3, it's Marty McFly, the American teenager, who can't turn down a fight or challenge—while Séamus the Irishman is mellow, calm, and collected, and even sagely spouts his lovely quote of, "You could have just walked away and nobody would of thought the less of you for it. All it would have been was words...hot air from a buffoon. Instead, you let him rile you...into playin' his game, his way, by his rules."
Like, DUDE. 👏🏻😳
Furthermore, his personality inspired a good deal of my current Scottish detective, Angus MacLeod, who is very collected indeed.
And now I ask you, do you wonder why Séamus McFly is my favorite character in the Back to the Future series? 😏😁
The SNP is not harmed by internal debate, it is strengthened. But conference time is a scarce resource. It has to be allocated wisely and used efficiently. Debating 'Plan B' was never a good use of conference time.
I like Angus MacNeil. I regard him and Chris McEleney as two of the most potent allies of those in the Yes movement who are trying to inject a desperately needed sense of urgency into the SNP leadership’s lackadaisical approach to the constitutional issue.
I don’t like Angus MacLeod very much at all. I hold him largely responsible for the appalling treatment meted out to the individual known…
I like Angus MacNeil. I regard him and Chris McEleney as two of the most potent allies of those in the Yes movement who are trying to inject a desperately needed sense of urgency into the SNP leadership’s lackadaisical approach to the constitutional issue.
I don’t like Angus MacLeod very much at all. I hold him largely responsible for the appalling treatment meted out to the individual known…
Summary: It’s amazing how years of work and effort can be annihilated in a matter of moments, and amazing how liberating it can be.
The house still felt so much emptier and so much more barren, and with only her sitting there on the sofa hugging her knees, it was perhaps the single most lonely place she had ever had the misfortune to dwell in.
It was hard to believe it had been six weeks already. Six weeks since she had watched as the most important person in her life was brutally killed, right before her eyes, as she was trapped and helpless, unable to even move. She could still feel the sting in her hand of the broken bones in spite of her cast being removed yesterday.
She looked down at her hand. At the darkened strip of skin that ran almost all the way around her palm, like a crack in her body.
A reminder of how useless she had been when her strength had mattered the most.
She still didn’t know what she was supposed to do. The Harpers had been kind and supportive, more than she would ever have believed possible, but they couldn’t take care of the North forever and she knew that. The North needed its McLinden, and she was beginning to think that the same was true in reverse. That she needed the North.
But before that, she still needed to know what she was going to do now that she was on her own.
She only briefly glanced to one side when she heard the door open.
Ah. Right. She’d forgotten.
“Everything alright?” he asked. “Seems pretty quiet.”
“That’s ‘coz I’m trying to think,” she said.
“Think about what?” he said.
Did he actually have the gall to sound innocent?
“About what?!” Perry somehow found it in herself to uncurl her legs from her chest. “What do you think? Did you just not notice how I’m the only person in this house now? Why do you think that is? Where do you think my mam went off to?”
“Oh,” said Angus. “Oh, that. Look, you don’t have to worry about that anymore, okay? I’m here for you.”
“But where were you?” Perry stood up. “It’s been six weeks! Where the hell have you been?”
“I’ve been busy,” Angus replied. “I managed to get my hands on some sheet music for-”
“What, sheet music kept you from calling me?” Perry demanded. “Sheet music kept you from picking up the phone to ask how I was doing for six whole weeks?! My mam was murdered and you thought that spending six weeks on sheet music was more important than seeing if I was alright?”
“I didn’t spend six weeks on it!” Angus argued.
“Then what the hell were you doing?!” Perry demanded. “Where were you, Angus? Where were you when I needed you?!”
Angus seemed stunned by her anger.
“L-look,” he said, “just try to calm down, okay?”
“Calm down?!” Perry felt heat growing in her face. “What do you mean, calm down?!”
“I mean it’s been six weeks!” Angus exclaimed. “Surely you’ve gotten over it by now, haven’t you?”
Perry had always had something of a way with words. Her mother had always taught her that if a situation seemed hopeless, the right statement at the right time could make all the difference in the world, and save far more lives than hers alone.
But right now, she was speechless.
“Let’s try to cool down, okay?” Angus said. “We don’t want this going too far, do we?”
“Too far?” Perry clenched her fists. “My mother is dead, you scunner! She’s been in my life constantly ever since I was born and now she’s just gone! Gone forever! She’s not just saying we shouldn’t go to Fogfall or spend the night in Firewall anymore! She’s never going to be able to do that again because she's dead!”
“Then I don’t see what the problem is,” said Angus. “Now that she’s gone, we can be together properly! There’s nobody to stand in our way anymore-”
“She was my mother!” Perry shouted.
“Will you please just try to calm down?!” Angus demanded. “Do you want me or not? You’re not making any sense!”
Perry took a deep breath. She could feel her heart pounding, deafening in her ears.
“It’s true that being with you is something I’d like,” she admitted. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I had feelings for you, Angus. But my mother was murdered. I watched her get gunned down right in front of me and after that, I needed you. I needed you to support me, to help me, to give me advice so I can figure out what I should do. And what did you do instead? Galavanted off to Symphogna for sheet music!”
She stepped closer.
“I’m going to have to pick up where Mam left off,” she said. “I don’t think I have any choice in that matter. The North isn’t going to cope without its McLinden and the Harpers can’t fill that role forever. And I’m sorry, but if you’re not going to try to support me - as you clearly showed you can’t be bothered to over the past few weeks - then I don’t want you in my life anymore.”
Angus frowned.
“Fine,” he said. “Fine, I’ll go. Don’t know why I even bothered. Can’t handle you when you’re being this emotional.”
Something snapped in Perry’s mind.
“GET OUT!” she screamed. “GET YOUR FUCKING ARSE OUT OF MY HOUSE! GET OUT OF MY CAVERN! GET OUT OF MY LIFE! IF I EVER SEE YOU ANYWHERE NEAR HERE AGAIN, I’LL PUNCH YOU SO HARD IN THE MOUTH YOU’LL BE SHITTING TEETH FOR A WEEK! GET OUT!!”
She wrenched the ring off her finger and threw it at him as he hurried out the door, and the glass stone shattered on impact with the metal surface.
Perry stood, her arm hanging limp and aching with the force of throwing the ring, trying to catch her heavy breath.
She could feel her face burning and hear her heart pounding almost out of her chest. Her fists were still clenched, but she couldn’t feel any more pain in her right hand. It was almost as if she was on fire.
She didn’t recognise this feeling.
But it was good.
She felt good.
She felt powerful.
Still burning, she ran downstairs to the training area and it was only when she reached the portrait of Lizzy McLinden, smiling at her from behind a glass frame, that she began to cool down.
“Mam…” she muttered.
She fell to her knees.
“I’ll never be as good as you,” she thought aloud. “I’ll never be like you. I know you were training me, but I just can’t! I can’t be you!”
She pounded the ground with her fists.
“What am I going to do…?” she said weakly.
Her gaze wandered back upwards, to the portrait next to her mother’s: Bobby McLinden, the grandmother she had never met. Then there was Carrie, and next to her was Linnhe, then Annie and Harry and Sally, and the line stretched all the way back to a rough pen drawing of Mary McLinden, the very first of her family name.
“I can’t…” she choked, “…I can’t be any of you.”
She took a deep breath. Much as she hated Angus now, he had been correct in saying she needed to calm down.
So she stood up.
And made a decision.
Not bothering to wipe the tears from her cheeks, she walked up the stairs to the kitchen, seized a knife from the pot near the sink and descended to the bathroom.
She stood before the mirror and looked at herself. At her messy orange bangs hanging loosely above her eyes, which were red and puffy from crying and the trails of purple tears on her cheeks. At her crop top and miniskirt and jeans that were beginning to fray at the knees.
At her eyes. Still blue and still bright, but the fire that flickered within had grown into a blazing inferno. She swore she could see it, dancing in her pupils.
She looked fearsome.
She looked enraged.
She looked…
…strong.
She pulled her braid over one shoulder and roughly yanked out the band that kept it restrained. Her fingers dove in and unravelled the long ginger locks, and it wasn’t long before every last strand hung loose over her arm.
Too thick…
She separated her hair in two, with each half hanging over her shoulders.
Better.
With no more hesitation she seized the locks on her left in one hand, wound it around and around her palm so that there was no chance of even a single strand escaping.
Then she brought the knife up.
And slashed.
She almost stumbled in shock of so much weight being removed at once, but quickly moved on, doing the same on the other side.
It had taken her seventeen years to grow and maintain her hair to that length. Thick, wavy and red, in its braid it had been long enough for her to sit on.
And now it was in the bin.
The actions of a mere few seconds had reduced its length from her thighs to her jaw.
Guerreiros, em guarda! Sabre Na Noz Podcast #064 Noz Revimos: Highlander
Guerreiros, em guarda! Nesta nova missão, Fábio Moreira (@facosmo), Ivanildo Campos (@ianildo1), Rafael Motta (@RalfMotta) e Marcos Moreira (@marvincosmo) vão falar (com o coração partido) sobre um dos filmes mais legais da nossa infância (que deveria ter permanecido lá), e que nunca deveria ter continuado, pois só pode haver um! http://media.blubrry.com/sabrenanoz/copy.com/eLTLyPdcjRvNOf6o/sabr…
Usain Bolt denied reports Wednesday that he called the Glasgow Commonwealth Games "a bit shit", ahead of his appearance in the 4x100 metres relay. Asked whether he was having a good time in Glasgow, the Jamaican sprint star replied "not really" and said that the London 2012 Olympics "were better", according to The Times. Angus Macleod, The Times's Scottish editor, said that the paper had "utter confidence" in the story and that the reporter has "verbatim notes" of her encounter with Bolt. The six-time Olympic gold medallist is due to make his first appearance in the Commonwealth Games at the 4x100 metres heats on Friday, with the final on Saturday.
Source: AFP
