Since you were a wee lad, and you stumbled on a basic cable airing of Braveheart in the early hours of the morning when your parents thought you were sound asleep in bed, you have wanted to be a Scotsman. Sure, your family was confused and even concerned when they woke up the next day and all you could talk about in your newly-found Scottish accent was how oppressive English lords are, and scream the word “primae noctis” repeatedly at the top of your lungs at the breakfast table.
You had no idea what it meant and you still don’t (because Latin is hard), but one thing was for sure: when your father said your accent was offensive and to never ever speak like that in front of him again, it broke your little 7-year-old heart.
But now you are a man! And you live your life like your hero William Wallace, by your own rules, with a claymore on your back to ward off anyone who tries to tell you what to do. Sure, your therapist told you your obsession with Scottish culture might be a psychological safety mechanism to deflect from the real problems you have in your life. You did what any true Scot would: looked her dead in the eye, shouted “Yer aff yer heid, lassy!” and marched your kilt-wearing behind out of that office forever.
Okay, so you are not really a Scotsman named Irving McAvoy. You are actually an American who dyes his hair red and styles it in a ragged mullet, but you know something that others don’t. Being Scottish isn’t about where you were born… It’s a state of mind! Scots live by their own rules! They value freedom and hard work, and they were so crazy the Romans had to build a wall to keep them separate from their empire. You are a true Scot at heart, and that’s what really matters.
Who cares if your parents kicked you out of the house because you kept cooking haggis on a camp stove in your closet? At least you still have your job as a caddy at the local golf course. The players get a kick out of having a caddy in full Scottish regalia. It’s fitting since the Scots invited golf (a fact you tell everyone you come across at the country club multiple times a day). Your stirring bagpipe rendition of “Sons of Scotland” brings tears to the eyes of everyone who hears it, and you can clear a fairway of slower players by screaming like a crazy person and waving your giant sword over your head – it really helps rake in the tips.
You also have yourself a StorBox unit to keep all your kilts, golf clubs, posters of Kenny Dalglish, swords, and the other Scottish knickknacks you have collected over the years. It’s climate-controlled and they have sizes to fit every need. It just fills your heart with joy seeing all your Scottish things stuffed together inside of one storage unit for you to enjoy. And remember, anyone who has a problem with your life choices is “all bum and parsley.”