Most of Mowl's output is mindless, endless, repetitive windbag personal abuse
KPop, Jimmy.
KPop.
And old women.
East 17.
Yazz.
Cyndi Lauper.
Oasis.
You're the intellectual equivalent of a Manc yob on cheap beer.
The rest is basically about Mowl, Finland, Mowl's life in Finland..
You seem outraged that I have a life, and a life that's interesting.
You sit on your arse at home, judging, like you're the final arbiter of
what exactly?
Nothing, Jimmy.
You're a
full-time unpaid blogger.
Well done.
Much like you, Mowl is one of the most, if not the most, limited, stupidest people I've ever encountered on Irish political fora
Given that these fora are very much at the center of your entire existence, I'll take that as a compliment.
Because for you to have reached that conclusion, after how many years have we been sparring?
It shows that you don't just interact with me on here, you think about me during the day, into the evening, and well into the night.
I live upside your head and I'm as much at the center of your existence as these blogs are.
See it now?
I mean, did I really need to explain it to you like I'm talking to a special needs child?
Wrong. He isn't talented in any of those fields, bar none
I've made my living as a musician and artist: I lifted myself up and out of Ireland's toughest ghetto and forged my own way in the world using nought but my own natural talents. True, art and music are not confined to those of brilliant minds: I mean just look at Liam and Noel.
But consider this: I lifted myself out of Ballyfermot without a college degree, without third level education of any kind bar my apprenticeship years at the National Maritime Museum as a calligrapher. My work' still standing, there for you to inspect and admire. Not just my calligraphy, but my wood restoration skills. Puusäästo, Jimmy. Look it up. I was given a task by the state and the Sisk family: here's fifteen display cabinets built in the 1850's and designed for the natural history museum of Cardiff. When a family member of the royal family died, these cases were all painted black as a mark of respect. Sisk bought them and shipped them to Dublin, and into the museum in a huge pile of parts that were numbered and lettered for reassembly. The black paint had to go. I removed the paint and the grime of nearly two hundred years of the cases' previous lives and restored them all back to their natural grains: Oak, Walnut, Maple, and Birch. They're still in use today and they display some very important Irish maritime historic items which have little hand-painted signs of mine inside them, telling you what they are, where they came from, how old, how unique, who built them and why.
I did that when I was eighteen years old.
It was the only job I've ever had with a boss to answer to.
After that, I chose a different path, and it's taken me to here.
To here, where the Finnish art world is a closed shop. Where the opportunities go to Finns first, and I have to consistently prove myself worthy of getting mine. That means I lifted Mowl out of Ballyer, hit the road to see the world, found a new home with a new language, culture and lifestyle. Then I settled in and started chipping away at art, music and literature. I've written for papers and magazines. I've made records that have received international awards and accolades. I've paintings and sketches on the walls of dozens of homes up and down the country. I'm still doing it: my terms, my methods, my business, and my way or the highway. When I came here I didn't have very much Finnish language, but I learned it. Now I stand far from the rear of the queue. My reputation goes before me. If it didn't, I'd be in Ireland, because I'd have few other choices. I would have failed in my Finnish life.
So yeah: maybe art, music, and literature aren't the sole confines of the intellectually gifted.
Anybody, everybody, can make art and music to some degree, just pick up an instrument and stick with until you get something out of it.
But not everybody can do what I've done: take a leap into the unknown and put myself to the test against the best of the best in another country and language. And win. Build a life as an equal, not an immigrant. My own home. My own business. A reasonable income. Self sufficiency. No safety nets beneath me. No assistance or advice. Just me, my skills, and my determination to be more than Ballyfermot expected me to be. In doing this, I've taken almost eleven thousand of my neighbours along on my personal journey. They read what I have to say, they tell their kids to read what I've written. And when I'm home, their homes are my home too. They know me, they know my life story, they know my family's life stories. They admire me because I say it like it is, I do what needs to be done and I get results. I have their confidence and respect and that powers me all the more.
Alongside that I have my Finnish family. Musicians, artists, writers, performers, actors, politicians and local representatives. Lovers, of course. They too respect me. They too see what I've done. From out of nowhere to the top of the pile. Everyone knows me. They know what I do, what I've done, and what that's worth.
So tell me again how my life has no meaning, and maybe do so while looking directly into the mirror at your own reflection.
Tell me how much better off you are, tell us how you're happy, content, and heading in the right direction.
You can't though, can you?
You have nothing, Jimmy.
You've done nothing.
You've carved out nothing that'll outlive you.
When you pop your clogs, your life's achievements will go into the ground with you.
Nobody will remember you, nothing of you will continue to exist in the future.
Not even your precious blogging.
I joined that kid's site last week with ONE intent: to knock you off your perch and limit your bullshit output - on MY terms.
It took me less than two dozen public posts and two PMs: one to the owner, and one to a supportive member.
Within two days, you were deleted, your bullshit was deleted along with you, all 875 posts over months of effort - entirely unpaid, of course.
Nothing you've ever written has lasted.
It's all been deleted and dumped, and the time it took you along with it.
But me?
The BBBB has ten years worth of my material of all kinds, and it's still attracting more followers even if I haven't written anything in months.
Think about that.
Then tell us again about your IQ.
We love hearing that one.
You're a mite of dust on the breeze, Jimmy.
Born to lose, born to die quietly and alone.
And you're making a great job of it.
Really.
