On the Scottish temperament...

#2 There is an unusual element of joy roiled in the Scottish ire. Some redder-than-most Scotsmen, broken capillaries and glazed-over eyes, say the drink makes them wither. Subsequently, I have met a number of lads who stray from the fine whisky beverage. The weather and rugged terrain also contributes to the Scottish temperament.

Lastly, pride put the fire in their loins. Their Highlander history speaks volumes for this. Thus their heritage withstands the Queen (and never ever, do you call them British before Scottish).

Theirs is personal.

Tracing Scottish descendants is fundamental to identity (and all inter-related in the end).

Your family name determines where you hail from, how you used your working hands, how thick the accent, how you hang your hat and what colors your kilt is woven in. Aye, for each McGuinness man and child, a unique a new tartan pattern is fitted.
In spite of all these assertions, Scots loathe themselves and “take the piss”—they live for a laugh and their quips are swift to the cheek. My Scots friends were cruel to each other’s individual ruminations yet permitted me, the spirited entrepreneurial American, to pontificate in public without fear of reprisal. Social structures are a tight unit, like family. Some units are old, long mates who might not have much in common any more, but remain close because they don’t look to difference as any talking matter. This is strikingly opposite of Stateside creative types who make great strides to demarcate themselves from “mainstream” (and suffer from their sense of “alienation”).

Thus, make that two tea bags in every pot; and two pints (or rounds) after work.