What can I Say?

Posted on Wednesday, December 19, 2007 by Jefferson Davis

Folks, I apologise for the lack of post. I had hoped to have more time on my hands after finishing with school, but alas I have been very busy working and doing some side charities and the like. I have presents to wrap and poems to write. Every year, I earnestly scribe out a wee poem for me Mum, Grandmothers, and the eldest sisters (All of you know that I have 5 sisters, right?).

Speaking of presents, trees, lights, bows, bells, garland, and all of that other Christamcy stuff, my Uncle has been on my back for weeks about putting a tree and lights up. He swears, "You’re going to wake up one morning with a Christmas tree in your living room, lights ’round it, and a wreath and big red bow on your front door, if you don’t get to decorating, boy".

"Why would I want to do that", I ask him.

"To get in the Christmas Spirit", he says, whilst making odd arm gestures into the air, as if to beckon Santa to kick my arse.

"Let me ‘splain something to you, Mr. Oblivious to the obvious", I say in a fit of laughter.

"What?" He enquires, with a highly arched left eyebrow.

"Do you like being alone at Christmas?", I ask, whilst crossing my arms.

"That’s not an explanation, Mr. Davis", he mutters, while climbing a latter to put lights round the tree.

"Answer the question", I demand.

"No", he answers, as his highly spirited countenance transforms to a scowl.

"Well, why would I want to sit alone in my house on Christmas eve and look at a Christmas tree and the few presents under it, realising that I have no wife/girlfriend and no wee brats to watch open presents Christmas morning?"

Pausing in his pattern of encircling the tree in lights, he steps down the latter, and soberly states,"Quit your bitchin’ boy…Be glad you have a home, a family, and friends…Just be happy dammit".

"Okay, but it is not that simple", I respond.

"Sure it is….Quit your whining and moaning ’bout S******, A***, and N*****, and how you royally screwed things up and you are really down because it is Christmas and you have nobody….So What", he mumbles, whilst handing me a rope of lights.

"Yes Sir"

"Besides, you’ve got your health, looks, and that mammoth genius brain of yours, right?!"

"More of this or that, but it is all good, I suppose", I answer, whilst tripping over the rope of lights wrapped round my ankles.

New pictures coming soon. Thank you all for your lovely and kind comments at this special time of year.

Kilos of Craic: Don’t Eat the Scab

Posted on Monday, December 17, 2007 by Jefferson Davis

Ladies and Gentleman, the latest sequence of Kilos of Craic is ready for your loving ears. In this weeks show, Jefferson Davis, Grandad, Brian F., Baino, and Dr. Don discuss everything from cameras to branding.

Subjects discoursed:

Music brought to you by Poison Fang.

Pictures brought to you by Jefferson Daivs.

Frolicking Seagulls

Posted on Sunday, December 16, 2007 by Jefferson Davis

There is a parking lot not far from where I live that has been inundated with seagulls. The weather has been so out of whack that they don’t know where to go. They fly around in circles, land, and hunt and peck the bare asphalt for food repeatedly. Luckily, a little girl from the Chinese restaurant in the shopping centre comes out every afternoon and feeds them bread crumbs. The bistro that I visit on an almost daily basis is in the same centre, so I observe the birds dodging cars as the careen through the lot at a high rate of speed.

These seagulls have almost become tamed. I can walk within a metre of them, without them fleeing into the wild blue yonder. Of course, I can walk up to almost any wild animal without it running or flying away in fear.

A few months ago, I was sitting up on a hill at my Mums house that overlooks a large grassland. While leaning up against an oak tree in the shade, I drifted off to sleep. I still don’t know how much time passed before I heard a slight huff and snort that sounded similar to the horses that were on a separate piece of land. Cautiously, I barely opened my eyes to discover a fawn (a young white-tailed deer) standing over me. She was sniffing my pants pocket that had an oat bar in it (still in the wrapper I might add), so being the curious and nosey person I am, I acted as though I were still asleep and watched her sniff and pull at my pocket.

After a few moments, she started pulling at the denim with her teeth, so I jumped up and she scurried off into the lower pasture. I aggravated my family members that spend hundreds of dollars on smelly stuff and camouflage wear so they can sneak up on the poor bastards, when all I have to do is go sit out on the land and the wildlife flocks to me. I’m a nature magnet!

Do you know why? Because I don’t have a gun in my hand! Nature is smarter than we think!

Now, excuse me while I clean my house from stem to stern.

Rainy Christmas Prose

Posted on Sunday, December 16, 2007 by Jefferson Davis

I sat down here this evening to write a poem about Christmas, but as I sat here listening to the driblets of rain pelt on the window panes, I couldn’t help but think about Christmas’ past. Back in the days, when families got together, rosy cheeked grandfathers told stories of the meaning of Christmas with their own twist, and children’s eyes danced as the fire would flutter in the chimney. Ah, those were the good old days.

Days, when people married for life, good and bad. Back in times, when it snowed on Christmas, instead of pissing down. Back in the days, when kids believed in Santa Claus and were terrified of getting a lump of coal instead of presents. Back when our moms would leave cookies and milk out for Santa.

I remember Christmas all to well. It was a great day in my families house. It was peaceful once a year. I would pounce out of the bed at 4AM hunting my presents, like a kitten searching for its mothers milk. My heart would flutter, as I would come running down the hallway towards the den. I’d freeze at the entrance to the den, afraid and wanting to savour the joy. I’d clasp the carinate half column at the archway to the den and peek around the corner.

To my delight, I’d usually find presents for me and sister number 1. I would run back to her room, shake her until she woke up, and then go jump on my parents bed, screaming, "It is Christmas". He would reply by knocking me off the bed.

The parents would fall back to sleep and me and sis would unwrap our presents. Well, I’ve never been one to destroy anything, so I’d quickly unfurl the wrapping, while my sister would rip the wrapping to shreds, tossing it all over the room in the process.

Then, we’d go to my grandmothers house, where me and the other kids would tell my grandfather what we got from Santa. The most important thing though was family. My cousins that had a dad in the military would visit, so it was a very joyful day in my childhood. How ’bout you?

The video is Fairytale of New York, by the Pogues and Kristy MacColl. Rest in peace Kristy.

Seven…Umm…Things About Me

Posted on Friday, December 14, 2007 by Jefferson Davis

Baino, in her infinite wisdom decided to tag me with this glorious meme. Most people say that they hate meme’s, but I think they really like talking about themselves. Of course, that would include me, because I love to talk about myself.

Here are the rules of the Meme:
Post on your blog . . .
Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.
Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

…Ehm….I have enough titanium in my right foot to set off a metal detector from 20 metres away. Without the screws and plates, I wouldn’t be able to walk. (Do you really want to know this stuff? I don’t.)
I love Earl Grey tea, which may not seem that odd, except for the fact that it’s an oddity where I live. I’m probably the only person within 30km to actually drink hot tea. Most people in these parts (Yes, even the civilised ones.) drink iced tea, with enough sugar in it to be as this as maple syrup. That might explain why a multitude of country people don’t have any of their teeth by the time they are thirty.
I’m fully trained in the operation of small helicopters and (not licensed though…can’t see good enough.) small prop planes (Cessna). Did I ever mention that my pops has commercial licenses to fly helicopters and prop planes? (not rated to fly jets) He used to own a Hughes 300. Ah, those were the good ol’ days.
I love to play in the rain! Not that sideways rain that stings, but the gentle rain that falls from the heaves in drops that make a rhythmic blooop sound, when they splatter into eternity.
I am very methodical, when it comes to solving problems. When most people give up or get so mad they destroy whatever it is they are trying to operate or fix, I just sit back and calculate a solution. In other words, I am not easily enraged. People irritate me far faster than an inanimate objects.
I was born and raised in the southern United States, yet I write in British English. My great grandmother ignited my interest, when I was a wee lad, but it wasn’t until about two years ago that I started favouring it over US English. I’ve had several bouts with professors over words that they marked as being misspelled or unknown, when the words are in the Oxford and Cambridge dictionaries. It is not my intention to be UnAmerican, just to be who I am. Individualism used to be a good thing, but now people are tattooed as unpatriotic for such a quality.
Speaking of language, I have a mild form of Dysarthria, which basically means that I have a bit of a problem articulating what I am trying to say. I don’t have this problem in a written form, just in verbal communication. Actually, I speak with a much more profound and polished voice, when I’ve had a drink or two. Can you explain that?
I realise that it’s only supposed to be eight, but I like to break rules: I love the chase…..What, you ask? I think you can figure that out.