That ol’ Andy Griffith’s skit about football is my favourite of all time! I can actually talk like that, when I want to. 
Saturday Gags
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Monthly Archives: November 2008
Thanksgiving
The ol’ turkey seems to bring out the worst and best in people. All of it in one afternoon.
There was enough muttering, whispering, yelling, arguing, and laughing going around yesterday to last a lifetime.
I got up early yesterday and went to my grandmothers house to get everything in order. I am the official chairman of orderliness. I bring order to chaos. I bring peace to the warring tribes of my family by reciting a few words that I usually come up with at the last moment.
“We are privileged to be gathered together in this place to give thanks to the fruitful bounty of our labour. Also, to treasure our families and friends here today and those that are away yet so close to our hearts.
And, let us never forget the ancestors that came before us. Those that fought and died for our freedoms, and those that suffered because of their religious beliefs or nationality.
And finally, everyone in this family should recognise how special this day is, for most of you, being of European and Cherokee descent, can greatly understand both sides of the story and the importance of this day.
Now, dig in!”
While chowing down on turkey, dressing, gravy, candied yams, green bean casserole, potato salad (me Mum’s specialty) and cranberry sauce, I got into a wee bit of a spat with my cousin. She weaved, wobbled, and pecked at me like a turkey, as I stood and smiled. I don’t remember what it was about, so I don’t reckon it was too important. Something about my sister, I presume.
In the middle of eating, I got called down to my sisters to repair a phone line. To say I was irritated would be an understatement. At every family event, I am badgered with technical questions. They usually want to know what kind of TV to buy or what the best mobile on the market is at that time.
I shouldn’t be insulted by such questions, but I am. Mind you, I kindly answer their questions. But, I know a heck of a lot more about a myriad of other subjects than they would every give me credit for. It is an insult to my intelligence to think that information technology is the only thing buzzing around in my head.
After repairing her phone line, I went back to the festivities and ate entirely too much. When I got ready to leave, my little niece and her mother came over to say goodbye. She said she wanted to be just like me. Can you imagine such a thing? I asked her why, and she said it was because I was really…wheelly smart and go places.
A ten year old looking up to me? Well, that makes it all worthwhile.
Everybody that had argued through the afternoon conciliated and the three dozen chocolate oatmeal cookies I made were gone!
Happy belated Thanksgiving my ‘merkan comrades.
Lottery
I had the wildest dream last night. I dreamt that I won the lottery. It was a magnificent dream.
Just as I left the petrol station with my ticket, I heard the numbers over the radio of a passing car and realised that I had won fifty million dollars. I leapt in the air, and yelled, “YeeHaaw”.
I ran inside, knocking people over on my way to the clerk, and slammed my ticket down on the counter, demanding my cashola. The clerk called the officials and the local news media. People swarmed around me, as I kept a tight grip on the ticket like a child to a bottle.
The state lottery officials arrived and validated the ticket. They shook my hand and offered their felicitations.
We were directed outside where hundreds of people had gathered. The media van strobe lights were beaming into my retinas, as I ran outside. The clickety-clack of camera shutters reverberated through the station, as I stood in awe of the mass of people here to see little ol’ me.
“What do you plan on doing with the money?” A reporter from a fox affiliate pleaded, whilst ramming her mic in my face.
A great silence swept over the crowd awaiting my response.
“I will give a large sum to charity, and go make things right with an ex.. And, I’ll deposit the rest of my money in the Bank of England.”
A great gasp echoed through the crowd from right to left. People stood still, with their mouths agape.
“I’m just kidding…the Bank of Ireland”, I laughing muttered, as I took in the seriousness of the matter.
I had to go to the Supreme Court to get my money. By then a quarter of it had been sucked up by blood sucking lawyers.
I put my money in an international bank just to spite the haters. I picked up Dr. Don, Brian F., and we headed for Dublin.
The last thing I remember was buying everyone in the Temple Bar district a round of drinks.
What would you do, if you won the lottery?
I’d try to make a difference in this whacky world. Of course, I’d have to have Guinness and Bulmers air shipped to me wherever I would be.
I’d have to by the Playboy mansion for weekend excursions. 
I could ramble on about lost love and how much I wish I could rewind the clock, but I’m not going to. It’s not over ‘til it’s over.
Never underestimate a Davis.
P.S.: I sincerely apologise for not being around to pester the lot of you lately.
Ghost Speak
I’ve spent the past month researching my families history. I have really concentrated my efforts on my father’s mothers side this past week. The things I discovered have just about blown my mind.
I’ve been using Ancestry.com, along with archives at the library and my grandmother’s memory. It’s quite easy to pull up info, if you have proper name spellings and dates correct.
Today, I ventured out to the cemetery for that side of the family. I jotted down names and dates. And, I paid my respects to the departed.
When I got home this afternoon and started inputting the data, I was truly amazed at what I found. I had enough info to go back nine generations on my grandmother’s side. My cousin in Baltimore had went way back. But, several other people spread out in the massive family tree had done research as well. Their info popped up along with my cousins.
I triple checked the dates and names to make sure everything was accurate. It was! I merged it with my information. Just this wee part of my family tree goes back to 1294 AD. A fellow by the name of John Reve from Kent, England.
I’m related to a hell of a lot of people! It all goes back to my 2nd great-grandmother, Sarah Jane McCoy. Her family tree is littered with US presidents and authors. My 14th great-grandfather was Christopher Martin. He came over on the Mayflower. I had heard this before, but I now have proof!
And, oh yes ( I mean no!!!), George W. is my 8th Cousin 3 times removed! Cringe! Ah well, I guess I’m allowed a few drinks on the ranch since we’re related.
It’s a Bad thing
Right, anger is not a good thing, no matter how many times Martha Stewart tries to say it is! It lurks in the dark and weak recesses of our souls awaiting the chance to erupt and cause destruction upon our lives.
You see, I don’t take losing easily. I’m not the type of guy to just give up and forget about his dreams. I’m a stubborn mule that won’t take NO for an answer. I’d climb every hill and eat granite to get to the summit. Never would I just turn around in shame and go home.
But, that is almost exactly what I did. The very fact that I gave up so easily has been driving me mad (not a very far drive. ). I should have never ever given up so easily. It is not in my character to be a quitter. When I was younger, I had to fight just to wake up every morning. Even in the last few years, I’ve had to fight the state for the right to drive a vehicle. And, I had to prove that I was competent enough to control me funds. They all wish they hadn’t messed with Jefferson Davis. Don’t even get me started on doctors!
I’ve been mad at myself for months for letting such an opportunity slip out of my hands.
Tuesday night, I was walking from the local shopping centre to my truck. A young man came running out from the darkness encircling a block of cars. He pleaded that I give him some money so that he and his girlfriend which was still at the petrol station could get some gas to get home.
At this point, I asked him which station. His eyes began to cross, as he pointed in a zig-zag motion. I asked him what her name was.
“Ma…Maa….Mary, yeah”, he slurred whilst pointing into the darkness.
“Do you know how many times I’ve heard this story, boy?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“No!”
At this moment, I was still moving towards my truck. I discovered two more young men hunched over behind a muddy and tattered Toyota Supra.
“I need the money”, he yelled whilst leaping towards me.
“They are going to rob you, you idiot”, I thought, as I reached for his collar.
He was no more that eighteen and slender like myself. So, I screamed for a guard that was on duty and threatened to beat him to death if he tried to get away. The two blokes lurking in the shadows ran off, leaving their friend behind.
“What in the hell did you and your pals think you were doing?” I demanded, as I shook him like a nut shaker shakes a pecan tree.
“They put me up to it”, he muttered, as the rent-a-cop made has way to us.
“What’z he dun?” The officer asked whilst relaying to the radio operator what was going on in the parking lot.
“Made a move to rob me”, I said whilst letting the kid out of my grip.
“Come on inside, I need you’z tah sign sum pap’r w’rk”, he mumbled, as he dragged the youngster through the entrance.
The security officer, with his belly hanging over the top of the desk, asked me what happened. As it turned out, the boy was only seventeen and had no prior convictions so he was released, but not before I had the chance to talk to him. I told him to stay out of trouble, but gave him one lifelong tip.
“Never ever mess with a white man with his head down, chances are he’s got more problems than you or just a nutter!”
“I’m ah…white man”, he said, as his eyes twitched.
“Do you want someone fecking with you, when you have your head down?”
“No!”
“Then why in the hell did you see fit to fuck with me”, I yelled while the rent-a-cop laughed.
He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. His father came in and apologised for any trouble. He said that he was a good student but was mixed up with a bad crowd like so many other young people.
I saw something within myself out there in the midst of the pallid street lights. There is part of me that loves the fight. I could chalk it up to my Cherokee ancestors. They did enjoy scalping their enemies.
Seriously, it is not good to let anger build up. Thankfully, I handled myself in a rational manner. I have not always been so refrained though. My short fuse must be gettin’ longer. That, or the kid got lucky.
Right! The three glasses of Chardy that I had with dinner are beckoning my attention!
Peace!!!
Don’t let anger build up in your soul. It’ll destroy the the loveliest part of you – your soul –, if you let it.
May the Schwartz be with you…
