Slaying Haggis Again

In 2010 the tradition has continued. The calendar was packed, four venues and fourteen haggis slain and two Immortal Memories of Robert Burns and all in eight days.

It started on Friday 15th, when the president of Rotary International, John Kenny, was being the key note speaker for the Rotarians at the Bonaventure Hotel in Downtown Los Angeles. Retired Chef Ivan from the Tam O’ Shanter Inn and I were there to “see to” the Haggis. A retinue of attendees were gathered up to follow the piper round the room as we paraded Scotland’s famous sausage. Amongst this throng was a Sikh, who previously admitted when challenged, that he was not a good Sikh and that he would drink his dram whisky. The general incongruity added to the fun of the moment when he sampled the first breath from the disemboweled sausage, “Warm, reekin’, rich!”

On the 20th and 21st at the Tam O’ Shanter, Lawry’s landmark restaurant, Burns’ Night was held in spite of the rain, and at two seating on each night we slew twelve of the haggi. It was there that my new friend Bernadette Hayes recorded the footage that forms the basis of the YouTube video. Burns’ “Address To A Haggis” is followed by “Horace” the Terry Jones’ Pythonesque irreverent explanation of the contents of a haggis.

Friday 23rd found my bonnie bride and I dining at the Athenaeum Club, the exquisite faculty club for California’s premier science academy, Cal Tech. The setting and the fare were wonderful. Chef Kevin’s haggis was opened to a gasping crowd. Nancy gave the toast to the Queen, and I proposed a toast to the Immortal Memory and preceded it with a discussion and recitation of “Death an Dr Hornbook”

The footage below was captured at the Tam O’ Shanter by “Lady Liberty” the twitter alias for Bernadette Hayes. We had fun and now so can you.

Thanksgiving Poem

Here is my Thanksgiving poem with pictures:

Tusker Larger - from Chip Hammack

Tusker Lager - a very fine beer
for William “Chip” Hammack 1954 -2009 who passed away too young

He was a member of the Executive LeTip of West Los Angeles, the networking club that I love.























William "Chip" Hammack



I was raised as a kiddy in Kenya,
An urchin in khaki and grime,
Where crawling under the floors of the club
Seemed to us quite a lark at the time.
There were cigarette boxes and matches
Razor wraps by Gillette that were blue,
Bottle caps of all flavors and spent bullet shells
Discolored by the damp and the dew.

Above was the bar of the Club House
A Kericho town watering hole
Where away from the heat with the weight off their feet
Folks would sew back their body and soul.
Permeating the cracks in the floor boards
From the bar where the Bwanas stood near,
Was the tinkle of glass and the roar of a laugh
And the wonderful smell of warm beer.

That smell of the brew got my notice
I wondered just how it would taste,
And though years in a row would come and would go,
The memory did not go to waste.
For many more later in Ojai
To see Kenyan friends in that vale
I stopped at a duka to buy me a tupa
And found Tusker Lager for sale.













What a fluke to find that very bevy,
I liked it well from the word go,
I flipped off the top, took a swig with the froth
And one whiff made the memories flow
From then on that beer was a favorite
Tusker became my new bent,
And if I had the chance at a party or dance,
I brought it wherever I went.

But I found the supply was not constant,
Sometimes the shippers went dry,
So I kept my lids peeled as I passed town and field
For some place that had a supply.
Well one day I met with Chip Hammack
A vintner who also sold beer,
He wasn’t averse to dampen my thirst,
And that is the reason I’m here.

Chip was an affable fellow,
He had oodles of charm and a smile,
When I asked if he had Tusker Larger
He just beamed and said “Might take a while!”
Then what do you know two hours later,
He called me, his voice like a reed,
Singing “Doc, your in luck I’ll get Tusker,
“Now how many cases you need?”

That was it, Chip and I became buddies,
He kept me in beer and in wine,
He’d pick out a mixed case of specials
So the grog with our grub was sublime.
But it grieves me to think of him gone now,
God calls the best folk away young,
So raise your glass high, wipe the tear from your eye,
To Chip Hammack whose song has been sung.

Dr Neil Stewart McLeod -10 .7.2009

























Neil with brother Alan "Bundu Saints" 1957

Swahili words used in the poem

Bwana - master
duka - a small shop
tupa - a bottle
bundu - the African bush

Islam - Telling lies doesn’t change the truth

My poem in tribute to the 911 disaster has hit the thousand mark on YouTube for the number of viewings, and the emails have poured in expressing thanks for the effort. One comment however, that was left on my Blogspot, deeply disturbed me, and I feel forced to make a public rebuke to its author.

Shahid, a proud to be Muslim Fundamentalist male of 24 years of age, in Lahore, Pakistan, left a note saying, and I quote,
“hey, 9/11 was fake daram, they plan by your secret angancies and moosad.”

Shahid, you are wrong, and if you adhere to your ignorant beliefs you will die wrong.

His link will take you to his site which is filled with vileness. His point is that he believes and spouts the myth that the towers were brought down by our own American agencies.

At a time when Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is making hateful and ignorant remarks denying the Holocaust, we should be warned that these extremists needs to be isolated and feared. The 1945 evidence supporting the facts of the holocaust are undeniable. It is deplorable that the elected leader of a nation can mouth such wicked lies repeatedly. We cannot let our guard down.



I therefore draw attention to what Winston Churchill observed in 1899 when a correspondent in South Africa and what is published in “The River War”.-Sir Winston Churchill (The River War, first edition, Vol. II, pages
248-50 (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1899).
1 November 2005 - Australia

“How dreadful are the curses which Mohammedanism lays on its votaries! Besides the fanatical frenzy, which is as dangerous in a man as hydrophobia in a dog, there is this fearful fatalistic apathy.

The effects are apparent in many countries. Improvident habits, slovenly systems of agriculture, sluggish methods of commerce, and insecurity of property exist wherever the followers of the Prophet rule or live.

A degraded sensualism deprives this life of its grace and refinement; the next of its dignity and sanctity. The fact that in Mohammedan law every woman must belong to some man as his absolute property, either as a child, a wife, or a concubine, must delay the final extinction of slavery until the faith of Islam has ceased to be a great power among men.

Individual Moslems may show splendid qualities, but the influence of the religion paralyses the social development of those who follow it.

No stronger retrograde force exists in the world. Far from being moribund, Mohammedanism is a militant and proselytizing faith. It has already spread throughout Central Africa, raising fearless warriors at every step; and were it not that Christianity is sheltered in the strong arms of science, the science against which it had vainly struggled, the civilization of modern Europe might fall, as fell the civilization of ancient Rome.”

























Winston Churchill 1899 in South Africa

9-11 Tribute Poem on YouTube

Yes I took a break, but I have been busy. 911 came and went, and we have been dealing with a post flood experience at my dental office. Burst pipes above brought ceilings down and required a complete upheaval to restore the workspace.

While this was going on I made a presentation to the Executive LeTip of West Los Angeles, our hundred member breakfast networking group to commemorate the September 11th atrocity. The presentations centers on a parody in the Dr. Seuss style of a poem called "Blank The Binch".

Justin Sloggart of “Six 14 Productions” and his brother Bill made a video of it, and posted it on You Tube.





Watch it to the end and post a comment ion You Tube if you like it.

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Keep Flossing for a biting chance at life!

Wallace The Smiling Lion

For Dermot McQuarrie, of FOX Sports, who knows a good dram and the value of a good smile.

There's this lion at t'zoo up in Blackpool
Who is famous or so the tale goes,
He is large and ferocious and savage
With great scars all over his nose.

One day with the least provocation
From Albert, a dear little chap,
He snatched him through ’bars and he ate him
Leaving nought on the ground but his cap.

When the bill for the lad had been settled
There were one thing remaining quite plain,
They 'ad to do som'it quite special
To stop this from 'appenin' again.

So Zoo Keeper and t'Insurance feller
They 'ad this big meeting you see,
To decide how Wallace the Lion
Could be harnessed and kept trouble free.

They said when meeting were over
That the answer was some how to block
The size of the throat of the lion
With a grate or some big plastic chock.

They'll ave to fit Wallace with Choppers
There's no average dentist will do.
The impressions will be quite a challenge
For that lion mustn't choke or turn blue.
















And then there's the matter of timing
He'll have to be quick as a flash,
To get in and out in a hurry
Before Wallace chomps down with a gnash.

So they called up this world famous dentist
In Hollywood, land of the stars,
And explained they were having some trouble
With this pussy cat kept behind bars.

When he came he flew in on a Jumbo
And while driving him up from Heathrow
They explained there idea about dentures
But the Hollywood dentist said “No!”

I think you’d do better to crown him
Aye crowns for the king of the beasts
I’ll lengthen each nasher so a thin bacon rasher
Is all that’ll fit when he feasts.

He got right to work without flinching
Though he said that the job might be tough,
He said, “That lion’ll like thin strips of bacon,
I’ll make his teeth gap just enough.”

To start with he gave anaesthetic
So that Wallace lay still and relaxed
But while bending over to reach a back molar
'Lion gagged and then swallowed by reflex.

It would have been bad but for Sandy
His able assistant who came
To the rescue by giving emetics
So he brought up the dentist again.

He continued, ’e took the impressions,
And he made 'im some nashers so tall
That when Wallace The Lion opened widest
The gap ’tween `is teeth were quite small.















Oh! it did your heart good to see Wallace,
In his cage sitting grandly arrayed,
With a smile on his face like a rabbit,
From the teeth the dentist had made.


Neil Stewart McLeod

The illustrations were drawn by my friend and long time patient Colin Bailey, who has since past away, but whose imagination and humor live on in his drawings.