In September of 2005, I started this whacky, artsy, and slightly insane blog.  I was flipping through the archives the other day and realised that I have grown up a lot.  There is still much maturing that needs to happen to me and the blog, but who wants to grow up, really?

I used to post intimate relationship matters.  Thankfully for me and the kind readers, I don’t do that anymore.  I’ve learned a great deal about people and the world through this harebrained experiment we call the blogosphere.  I’m grateful that I’ve met so many interesting and inspiring people.

This thing started because I was planning for a trip to Ireland and was searching iTunes for a podcast that might give me some tips.  I happened upon a podcast hosted by two expats living in Belfast, Northern Ireland.  I learned a considerable amount from their show, albeit most of the information was a twisted version of the truth.

The chap producing and hosting the show was inspiring, so I started a wee blog over on blogspot.  I don’t have much use for the guy, but like it or not, his podcast is the reason I started this crazy thing.  It has died and been reborn several times in the last six years.

Blogs are strange things, really.  They are our own personal space filled with our thoughts, dreams, and opinions on whatever subject we choose to discuss on a given day.  It feels private, but it is far from it.  Reading another persons blog is like breaking into their house and reading their diary with their permission.  It’s odd, but the world is odd.  The world is a smaller place because of it and I am very grateful for all of the friends I’ve made.

It is my greatest hope to keep blogging and learning from others.  In 2006, I was in a local pub having a pint and giving the poor sod beside me an earful of my relationship woes, when a nerdy (young version of myself) bloke came running up to me asking if I was the guy on that infamous podcast.  By late 2006, I had started my own podcast, so I was hoping that he was talking about my show.  He was talking about the other show that I was on in June of 2006.  I said that yes it was me and he brought his girlfriend over to meet me.  I told him what really happened on that particular show and he insisted on buying me another pint that I didn’t need.

After that I decided to work hard on the content of the blog and the podcast.  I managed to get the infamous Dr. Don to join the show.  He added hilarity and honesty that you can’t find just anywhere.  In Episode 25, Brian F. made his debut.  He made sure I didn’t go off the deep end with my rants and kept the facts straight.  He also added even more humour to the show.  A few months later Dario Sanchez graced us with his presence.  He’s hilarious and brilliant.  Not long after that, Brian managed to get the smart, funny, and talented Baino to join.  At around the same time, that famous and cantankerous auld fella, Grandad, joined the ranks on episode 44.  And finally, the infamous and hilarious K8 the Gr8 made her entrance and exit on Episode 50, Kilos of Craic.

I thoroughly enjoyed the podcast and would hope to produce one in the future.  There was no money in it, just the joy of getting together with people you know and talking about the craziest topics.  We all knew that we were having some sort of effect on someone somewhere.  When we stopped doing the show, we had several hundred listeners.  Not that many in podcast terms, but enough to encourage us to keep it going.  However, it was taxing on us all.  We had to line up a time to meet across 15 time zones.  It was far from easy but well worth it.

This blog has died off since those pioneering days of blogging and podcasting.  I was going through my own hell and everyone seemed to be going in different directions.  The content started to suffer, so I almost pulled the plug.  Thankfully, I kept it up as more of an archive than anything else.  I started to fall apart like an old stone wall ravaged by storms, but I am gradually rebuilding the wall, one stone at a time.  I can only hope I put them back in the correct order. 

I would not be the man, good or bad, I am today without the lot of you  Thank You all…

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I haven’t posted anything in over a month.  Even Google has written me off.  My apologies for the absence.  It has been a tumultuous couple of months.  I don’t enjoy admitting what I’m about to admit, but in order for you to understand what I’m talking about, I feel that I must tell you folks what has been going on in my life.

After repeated job declinations, I went down to the local Disability office and applied for Disability.  I never thought I’d be in a position where I’d have to do such a thing, but the sun doesn’t shine on the same dogs arse everyday.  In the middle of July, I went down to the office and handed the lady that was interviewing me a two page list of conditions and ailments that I have and another list of doctors that could corroborate my story.  It has been almost six months and everything that I stated has been verified.

I was not brought up to take from the government.  My father recited JFK’s famous line, “Ask not what your country can do for you, but ask what you can do for your country”.  I grew up in a house where we didn’t want the government intruding upon our lives.  My family shells out six figures a year in taxes to the state alone.  I thought that I had paid in a considerable amount as well.  In my naive stupidity, I reckoned that my country cared about my well being and would help me out during these trying times. 

All I really wanted was assistance until I can finish up my degree, but the fact is that they really don’t give a damn.  I’m not Black, I’m not Hispanic, I’m not Asian, and I’m not enough Native American to claim it.  So, what it comes down to is the fact that I’m a disabled white man that is supposed to pay for every one else to sit on their fat arses.  And, I’m supposed to work my fingers to the bone so a minority or an immigrant can go to college (no offense to my friends and folks I call family overseas, but you all would get free college over here.) and barely pass.

My GPA for this semester is 3.75.  It’s not perfect, but I try really hard and study for hours on end.  I’m a hard worker.  All I’ve ever expected is the chance to succeed and move up the social ladder.  However, this is not what one receives when one works his or her arse off.  Several months ago I went in for a job interview to do Audits for a large commercial company.  Trying to be honest, when the application asked if I was disabled, I checked the yes box.  Big freakin’ mistake.  The lad half my age asked me why I marked that box, so I tried to downplay it and said that I’ve always excelled past anything anyone has ever asked for me.  After a few minutes of asking me questions, he looked over at me, and asked, “Why don’t you take a job as a cashier or janitor like other disabled people?”

I wanted to knock him the feck out, but kept my composure and left after he said he’d keep me on file.  This past week has been a hectic one.  I asked everyone to do their best to leave me alone, so I could properly prepare for finals.  Of course, they did not.  I should have just said I’m free all week  On Tuesday, the day of one of my hardest written exams, I had to go with my cousin to work on a house for me Mum.  Now, I love me Mum and would do anything for her, but it was a bad time to be asking me to paint and install tile flooring.  Dr. Don and myself finished up about two in the afternoon and I came home. 

When I arrived home, I noticed that the mail lady had been here.  With hesitation, I checked the mailbox to see if I had received a letter from the disability office.  By chance, there was a letter in there from them.  I hesitated in opening it, but I did anyway.  I was hoping and praying to get the assistance, so I could finish school unimpeded, but alas, it was a denial letter. 

I called them up and said, “Let me get this straight, I applied for a gub’mint job and couldn’t get it because I’m too blind, but when I ask for assistance as a last resort, I’m not blind enough.”

My vision was just one wee thing on the application, yet they used it as an excuse to deny me.  Yes, I’m a Southern American and I’m Caucasian.  So the feck what?  Look, I’m not a xenophobe.  However, when I’ve seen blatant evidence that minorities are treated better than the rest of us, I tend to get cross!  I used to work with a chap that was Hispanic.  The government paid for his University fees as well as giving him rent and food money equalling about $1100 a month. 

Everyone should be on a level playing field when it comes to jobs and education.  When I finished secondary school, there was no free access to third level education.  Parents of all races and cultures had to save for a long time to send their kids to college.  As it is in the states now, if you’re an immigrant or are anything other than Caucasian, you can go to school for free and have free lodging and food.

I’m not a racist.  I’m just stating the facts as I see them.  We are in hard times.  I realise that.  All I was asking for was assistance for the next few years so I can finish University and make a difference in this world.  But, they couldn’t do that.

I have a new outlook thanks to this denial.  The US government can fuck off!  I will always support the troops, policeman, and fire-fighters, but the politicians and greedy officials can screw somebody else over.  I, and my family, have been screwed over enough!  Don’t ask me for another mother fecking thing, government.  Fuck off with ya.

My sister said it best the other day as we were shopping.  She said, “Everyone from doctors to family and friends have called you retarded and written you off.  You’ve out lived some of them and have done more in the last six years than any of them have in a lifetime.”

I will succeed.  I will hike through rain, sleet, and snow. I will climb the highest peaks and never give up. 

Do you know what happens when you kick a Mutt?  He comes back stronger than ever and chews your effing leg off!

Have a grand week all…

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In this massive episode laced with craic, Brian F., K8 the Gr8, Grandad, Dr. Don, and myself hash out everything about nothing.  K8 and Grandad savour their Curry while Brian collides with the law.  We discuss the pork industry and the hysteria that is H1N1.  Brian bitches about the cold and Dr. Don and myself reminisce about radioactive snowcream from a bygone era.  We ramble on about a main street trampling and deer whistles.  Do they attract or detract?

Later, we learn the meaning of deer jerky along with every other kind of jerky.  Christmas and wee sprrogs are mentioned as well as court dates.  I wonder about my future wanderings through Ireland with nothing but a backpack, a camera, and a smile to keep me company.  We debate whether Indian food is slimming or fattening.  Saint Patrick’s Day and the roaring Celtic Tiger are uttered.

In the final bit of the show, we discuss electric pipes, podcasting microphones, the best version of Windows, celebrities, the media, camel toes, metro-techies, and much much more.  Please tune in for the next instalment.

Download it Now:  Dust of Yer Boots

Being that I’m a country boy (can’t escape it no matter where I go), I decided to add this hilarious song about a chap that wins the lotto.  It’s called “Toes”.  That’s relevant to Boots, right? 

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A few days ago, Dr. Don and myself went over to my mothers ranch to clean out horse stalls.  We spent two days hauling truckloads of horse manure and soiled sawdust out of the stalls and barn.  We replaced it all with fresh and clean sawdust. 

On the second day, we finished the arduous job and I proceeded to wrangle the horses back to the field that leads to the barn.  I grabbed a scoop of my mothers specially mixed equine feed and walked out into the muddy field where I had them secured. 

I walked close to the six of them, including one gelding and five mares.  I whistled for them to follow and shook the feed bucket.  They happily came running thinking that it was feeding time.  At the same time, Dr. Don was watching from a safe distance.  He’s afraid of horses!

Before I knew it, I was surrounded by them with nowhere to go.  As I laid the bucket down and started shooing Sunny, one of the mares, back, the gelding decided he wanted the entire bucket for himself.  Docxy, the eldest mare and my favourite out of the bunch, side kicked him in the arse coming within centimetres of me.

Remembering my father getting kicked and almost killed, I turned to Dr. Don with an ashen face and eyes as big as feed buckets and waited for him to say something.

He’s always insightful.

He walked up with a blank countenance, put one leg up on the rustic fencing, spit his beloved chewing tobacco, and said, “Yep………..I told you women are cruel, and you didn’t believe me”.

I couldn’t do anything except laugh.  The gelding is fine except for his pride.  I guess he’ll stay out of the head bitches feed bucket from now on. 

Me?

Life is grander than it has been in a long while and only getting better.  I’ve been out chasing after mares every night since.  The two legged kind.  

P.S.: The song, I’m Alive, is by Kenny Chesney and Dave Mathews.  I had to add something a wee bit country western to any post that speaks of horses and manure. 

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On the 13th of this month, Dr. Don, his three boys, and myself went on a camping trip up to the mountains.  I had promised them a camping trip several months back and the start of school was near.  So, we headed up the winding roads with camping gear and food.

I made the campsite arrangements over the phone.  I asked the kind lady to give us a riverside site close to the trail entrance.  I knew we’d be carrying a lot of gear up the rocky trail and wanted to make it as easy as possible on the lads. 

We arrived and geared up.  I carried 80lbs. worth of supplies in my backpack along with the tent and a lantern.  After going about a mile up the trail, we collapsed at the first bivouac.  It was number eight, so I left the kids and headed further up by myself to see what the next number was.  The next one was number nine.  I surmised that the lady put me at the other end of the trail which was another seven miles up a craggy path.

After talking to a few hikers, we decided to take number eight since no one was using it.  After all, I paid for a full size site, so it was not like I would be cheating the park service out of any money. 

The kids went fishing while I put up the tent.  Dr. Don’s only duty was to bring dry wood.  He brought WET wood.  It took us about half an hour to get the fire roaring.  He crashed in the tent, and I started unpacking supplies.  The boys returned with a bucket full of wee trout for eating.

I decided to return to the truck to get some fuel for the lantern.  I discovered the ranger looking at my truck, when I got to the parking lot.  He asked what site we were on and I explained our wee dilemma.  We went to the rangers station to see if anyone would be staying on #8 that night.  Unfortunately, someone was supposed to be on that site that evening, so he checked to see if anything close was available. 

Luckily, #9 was available, so I headed back up the trail with the bad news that we’d have to move.  I told the lads that there was a much better site on the other side of the ridge and proceeded to pack up the tent and supplies. 

Again, we headed up the rocky path to our new destination.  We arrived and unpacked yet again.  The youngsters played in the river, as I worked on yet another fire.  Dr. Don took another nap!  You would truly be amazed how quickly a fire can boost moral.

Dr. Don’s oldest son and myself worked on the fire for almost an hour before we got it roaring.  The lads wanted to cook their fish over the fire.  I laughed and told them how good they were going to taste when the guts exploded.  So, I taught the boys how to clean fish.  We cooked steaks, trout, and beans over the open flame.  Protein is a must when out in the wilderness. 

As darkness fell over the pine laden mountain range, the lads roasted marshmallows and told scary stories.  I sat back and inhaled the crisp mountain air.  There’s nothing better for what ails you than a bit of time with nature.  It helps us appreciate what we have. 

We all turned in quite early, exhausted from the trip.  But, about midnight nature called and I had to oblige its beckoning.  When I returned from the woodlands illuminated by a lantern, I discovered a figure sitting by the fire.  Dr. Don’s eldest was up as well.  He couldn’t sleep, so we decided to make a late night trip back to the truck to get more water for the morning. 

Only illumined by the wee lantern, we found the trail brimming with life.  We encountered field rats, eastern diamondback rattlesnakes, and king snakes.  We were very wary of the diamondbacks!  It would be unwise to leave one’s tent open at night.  They like warm places.

The next morning we got up and made a unanimous decision to hike up to Rainbow Falls which is only about three more miles up the trail.  However, it is one of the hardest trails to hike around due to the 2,000 foot ascent.

The boys were so excited and in such a hurry that we missed the turn off.  We continued on Jone’s Gap Trail ‘til we reached Jone’s Gap Falls.  We were content with that, so we settled down and let the boys play on the slippery rocks for about an hour.  They climbed the rocks and slid down to the collecting poll at the bottom of the falls.  I had a blast just watching them have so much fun.

We arrived back to our tent without any water.  I have excellent water purification skills but did not want to take a chance on the lads getting sick.  So, we packed up and headed home.  The lot of us went home exhausted yet happy.  The lads are still telling stories of our escapades in the woods, and I have a new appreciation for the loo!  

P.S.:  Like a true eejit, I left me camera at the door on my way out.  All photos were taken with my phone.  A bit crappy, but eh? 

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Tap…tap…tap

Whack…whack…whack…

Bang…bang

“This better be good at…4AM”, I yelled whilst wiping the muck from my eyes.

“Who the f*ck is it?”  I demanded, as I treaded across the frigid oak floors towards the back door.

“It’s Dr. Don.”

I unlocked the door and swung it open in anger of be awoken.

“What are you doing here this time of the morning?”  I pleaded while rubbing my dreary head and heading to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

After putting the water on to boil, I realised that he was sporting a green t-shirt with a big shamrock on it.

“Shite”, I exclaimed whilst running to my bedroom.

“Happy Saint Patrick’s Day, dude”, he said, as he looked through the cupboards for something to snack on.

I grabbed my camera gear and supplies and headed out the door a few minutes later.  We got on the main highway about 4:30AM.  It’s quite fun to drive early in the morning.  The roads were empty at that time of dawning, so I could use two lanes if I so desired. 

Just as we started making good time, it started misting rain.  I turned on the windshield wipers to alleviate the haze overtaking my view.  The drivers side wiper started acting erratic, veering way off its predetermined course, so I turned them off and back on.  It fell over and hung precariously off the drivers side of the windshield.

“This is not a good omen”, I cogitated whilst looking for a place to pull over in the pitch blackness of an empty road.

We pulled into a rest area and inspected the damage.  We couldn’t help but laugh, when we discovered that the gears in the wiper motor were stripped.

“I hope the rain stops”, I laughingly muttered whilst getting back in the truck.

“Ah, throw a string on it and yank it every time it starts to mist”, Dr. Don muttered, as he stared into the vacuous rest area.

Luckily, the rain clouds dissipated and we continued down I-385 S.  Once we got on I-26 East, the driving was a breeze.  I put the truck in cruise control mode and relaxed a bit.  Dr. Don freaked out a bit, when I pretended to be asleep and let the vehicle veer closer to the concrete median. 

After breakfast somewhere near Columbia, SC, Dr. Don went to sleep and I sliced about a half hour off the trip by speeding.  When I saw the Savannah River in the distance, I turned up the radio to wake him.  We arrived about an hour before the parade.  People of all colours, shapes, and sizes were painted in green.  The one’s that weren’t covered themselves with a lovely green beer.  It wasn’t Guinness, but eh?

After fighting through a crowd of a half million people, I finally found a spot to take pictures.  I normally hop from place to place to get different perspectives, but because there was a mass of people and I was trying to stay within seeing distance of Dr. Don, I stayed in one spot the entire time. 

It was an all out celebration of Craic.  Some whacky and legless college guys ran out into the parade street and high fived everyone while screaming, "Éirinn go Brách".  Others would run up and yell, “Irish, yeah”.  It was a party on wheels. 

I watched bands march by from about thirty US states, including:  Georgia, Wyoming, Florida, New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, and Delaware to name a few.  Heck, there was even a bagpipe band from Edinburgh, Scotland. 

An African-American woman with a hellish attitude and seven kids tried to root me out of my spot.  I didn’t mind the kids getting a decent spot, but when she tried to push me out of the way, I got irate and decided to leave before saying something and causing a riot. 

Dr. Don was arguing with her husband, so I grabbed him out of the crowd and walked away.

“On the one day when American’s with Irish ancestry can celebrate their heritage, someone has to start some shite”, I muttered, as we walked away.

“She was just dreaming that Obama was in the parade and had to get a closer spot, being that he’s Irish and all.”

“Yer not Irish, unless yer born in Ireland”, I muttered, as we walked into a quaint little cigar shop.

“Does the north count?”

I laughed and we picked out some proper cigars.  We sat by the river and watched babes in short shorts and skin tight T’s compete in a wet t-shirt contest. 

We hung around for about another hour talking junk to the fairer sex.  One woman thought I worked for a paper, so I went with it.  

I hadn’t been down there since I was knee high to a grasshopper, so it was nice to go back even for a day.  When we returned to the truck, we decided to take a wee side trip to Charleston, S.C..  It is older than Savannah and even more picturesque.  The city was formed in 1670 and was once the fifth larges city in the United States. The first shots of the Civil War were fired there as well.  So, it is truly a historic playground.  One of my ancestors, a Mr. McManaman (can’t remember his first name at present) from County May, died there during the Civil War. 

We hopped on I-95-S  and sped away from Georgia.  I stayed behind a big rig that was speeding, so we made good time.  We crossed the massive Cooper River Bridge around 4:30PM.  It is the largest cable-stayed bridge in the Western Hemisphere.  And, people say we’re a bunch of hicks in South Carolina!?

I took a few shots of the coast and the Cooper River.  We walked through battery park.  The architecture of the plantation houses and mansions is awe inspiriting. 

After observing the rich women (A person has to be well off to reside in auld Charleston.)  jogging through the park, we treaded down some side streets.  The streets are very narrow, so I was not surprised when a lady in a minivan ripped a mirror off the side of a painters van.  The painter ran out into the street discovering his drivers side mirror laying shattered on the paving stones.  The nice lady returned and apologised to the gentleman. 

“dun’t w’rry ‘bout it ma’am…these types ah t’ings happ’n down ‘ere”, he muttered as the lady helped him pick up the mirror shards.

She offered her insurance information and her number, but he wouldn’t take it.  After she left, he got all of his things together and proceeded to leave.  As he pulled away, the rear bumper fell off.  He parked, got out, rubbed his head, and yelled, “Shit’”. 

Dr. Don and myself got a good laugh out of this and headed back up the road.  When we arrived at his house, my hands were stuck to the steering wheel, and I was unable to bend my arms. 

“So, how long is it gonna take you to get this on the blog?”

“I’ll have it up by the time I pay dearest deeds to the moon before it fades away.”

“Yer full of shit…”

“Within a fortnight”, I mummbled whilst puffing on a cigar in the mountainous night air. 

Dr Don sighed and went in the house.

I drove a wee bit over 600 miles in a day not including all of the walking.  We had a blast!  I look forward to doing it again soon.  Although, next time I may have a chickidoo with me. 

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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. 

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Over the past few weeks, I’ve been doing a bit of yard work and styling of hedges for family and friends.  It started out as a way to bring in some extra greenbacks.  At first, I had a few customers I’d do every ten days.  Through word of mouth my workload has tripled in the last week.  So, the infamous Dr. Don has joined the ranks.  I get to do a few of my favourite things while being outdoors.  I get to help people that can’t physically do the work, artistically style the lots, hedges, and other flora. 

In the fall, we will rake leaves, plant bulbs for spring, and build new flower beds for those that can afford it.  Actually, it is profitable business as long as I keep a good rapport with the customer base.  People seem to trust me from the start; in fact, I’ve been told that I have a face that can be relied upon.  I wonder why? 

The grand thing about this gig is that I’ll have more time for photography and writing.  We are in the process of setting up a calendar with folks, so that we can be off by five and have the weekends for play.  By February, I should have enough cashola to shoot off to Ireland for a month or so.  

On another note, I’ve been reading a lot and having weird dreams about Albert Einstein and Lise Meitner.  Of course, I am reading E=mc2, by David Bodanis.  Tis a fascinating book!  

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Whenever I need to clear my head, I go fishing.  It is very therapeutic.  You sit there for what seems like an eternity, then if you are really lucky, one of the slimy beast will gnaw on your bait.  If you are quick enough, you’ll snag the little bastard and reel it in.  Come to think of it, fishing is like dating.  You put your best bait out there for the lass’ and hope that one stops to check you out.  And, oh the thrill if you snag one! 

I like to fish for catfish.  They are the slimiest and the most atrocious critters to swim in fresh water.  Once hooked, they fight, splash, run under logs, and do anything to keep from being brought into the sunlight.  When you do get them up on the dock, they hiss and poo like some sort of hideous creature from the underworld.  I’ve been pooped on before.  My hand has also been sliced open while fighting the buggers!  They are quite tasty, even if they do eat other fish’s poo.

Dr. Don and myself will be heading to the lake house in the morn.  I hope we catch something! 

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Dr. Don and myself went hiking Friday morning.  We did a four hour hike down and back up a steep ravine that opens up at a large river.  It is a six mile trail that we managed to traverse in one and a half hours.  I came home and collapsed for a few hours.  Then, I went downtown to the Friday night festivities.  Cheap beer and terrible jokes abound! 

Anyhow, I’ll post more pictures tomorrow night.  This one is of Dr. Don (my cousin) gazing out into the distance.  I do a lot of thinking up there above the city. 

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Ladies and Gentleman, the latest episode of Kilos of Craic is ready for the taking.  In this weeks show, Jefferson Davis, Brian F., Brian Damage, Baino, and Dr. Don hash out everything from Whiskey Suicides to Communist.

Topics discussed on this weeks show:

JD’s Finest

Jameson’s Whiskey

Southern Comfort

Tibet

Crikey English

Bollywood Movies

Stupid Americans

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Tuesday, I was off of work (Yay!), so I spent the day installing a new TV me Mum bought me.  And, hanging out with friends and family.  I’ve got to give props to Dr. Don, who always comes through for me.  Whenever I need a favour or help, he leaps into action without a thought.  We are mere cousins, but two of the closest cousins you will find.  In fact, we call each other brothers when referring to the other.  Brothers to the end, we are. 

He and his boys helped me install the enormous TV my mother purchased.  She is almost sick at the thought of me going back to Ireland.  She doesn’t want me to go, so she is doing anything within her power to get me to stay.  She believes that I’ll fall in love with some whacky Irish or Scottish lass and never return home.  I wonder why she’d think such a thing?    You can’t blame her though.  I am her one and only son! 

Anyhow, here are a few pics of my walk in Falls Park Monday. 

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So, I’ve blabbered on about drawing and painting enough.  There is a very logical and respectful reason as to why I don’t display my work.  I am a great admirer of the female form, so a lot of my drawings are risque.  I enjoy drawing faces more than anything, but sometimes I like doing the entire body.  After doing the podcast yesterday with Brian and Dr. Don, an image popped into my head, and I commenced to drawing.  The drawing is purely from my psyche.  Please do not be offended by it.  I am a fine and honourable young man that just so happens to enjoy drawing the female form. 

It is a study drawing more than anything else.  The finished piece will be on a recycled medium surface acid free 483x610mm. sheet.  I have no formal education in art, but I do have an eye for it.  Notice I said “eye’, instead of eyes.    I have already fixed her hair, arm, and nose since uploading the image last night. 

As I said, please do not be offended.  Think of it as art instead of me just being an amative fecker. 

Here’s the link.

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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:

1. Canon Digital Rebel XTi
2. Grandad’s talent is celebrated and awarded.
3. Grannymar
4. Smoking Pipes
5. Crazy Drinking age laws.
6. Brian bitches about the weather.
7. The Mall Shooter
8. Dr. Don goes mental
9. Tramp Stamps
10. Human Branding
11. Flags and English, or the lack there of in America.
12. English a minority in London, England?
13. Compulsory Voting
14. Selective Service
15. Bertie Ahern
16. New Zealand Pubcast
17. Granny, K8 the Gr8, and TAT

Music brought to you by Poison Fang.

Pictures brought to you by Jefferson Daivs.

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The Going Commando Episode of The Jefferson Davis Saga.

In which, Yours Truly, Brian F., and Dr. Don discuss flags, national pride, freedom of expression, Father’s day, Women, and cars.

Music brought to you by, P.O. Box

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The Overflowing with tricks and schtick Episode 46 of The Jefferson Davis Saga.

In which, Yours Truly,  Brian F., Dario Sanchez, and Dr. Don discuss our love for the CRAIC.  I discuss my cousin Pee Wee, Brian salivates over a rake, Dario gives a few words about Biology, and Dr. Don babbles about his love for Mustangs.  All of this and more, on your very on L8 but always G8 episode of The Jefferson Davis Saga…

Music brought to you by, Starlight.

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Hello all, this is the raging Dr. Don.  Jefferson, Jeffy, Shane, Shawn, Sean, or whatever he wants to call himself these days has disappeared.  Before he left I was instructed on how this thing works, so if I do it write, if not oh well…  He said he was going on a walkabout or something like that.  Been going through a rough patch, so give him a wide berth if you see him in Ireland or wherever hes going too.   Seems like he was mumbling about Baltimore, Banff, Belfast, Boston, or one of them other B cities?  (He didn’t  bother inviting me, bastard.)  Anyhew, he left the post below and an irate email, threatening me to post this or be beat to death like I’m scared of him, oh well?  He said he’d be back in a week or so…

The – Holiday in Ireland Tips – Episode of The Jefferson Davis Saga.
In which, Yours Truly, Brian F., Dario Sanchez, Grandad, and Dr. Don give our best tips for holidaying in the Republic of Ireland.  Grandad tells of his love for the West of Ireland, Brian discusses beer commercials, I tell an untold story about my stopover in Limerick, and Dario makes a plea for a guest blogger.

Music brought to you by Craw.
Download Episode 44

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The – Don’t Wake the Sleeping Goliath – Episode of The Jefferson Davis Saga.
In which, Yours Truly,  Dr. Don, and Dario Sanchez talk about Putin breaching the CFE – Nato Pact, Dr. Don discloses his love for Hillary Clinton, Gordon Brown (Will he be a good PM, or would somebody else do a better job?), a new immigration bill in The Republic of Ireland, a literary festival in
Galway, anti-speeding commercials, the uselessness of MySpace and Bebo, and Dario teaches us an Irish Phrase,.  All of this and much – much more, as soon as I can sober up.  It should be up and ready Sunday evening, I hope.

Download Episode 43

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The – How to properly drink Guinness – Episode of The Jefferson Davis Saga.
In which, Yours Truly, Brian F.,  Dr. Don, Dario Sanchez, and Grandad hash out Don Imus being shafted, Al Sharpton, race relations in America, Iraq (of course),the right way to drink Guinness, the state of affairs between Brian and Kate, and Data’s prediction of a united Ireland by 2024.

All of this and much more on this monolithic episode of The Jefferson Davis Saga…

Music this week is brought to you by, Philip Flathead.

P.S.:  Please feel free to email me (Jeffersondavis1 (at) gmail.com) or Brian, if you have suggestions or enquiries pertaining to the show.  Also, if you’ve emailed me and I haven’t responded, it’s not because I don’t care, it’s just because I get around ten to fifteen emails a day about the show, so it’s hard to keep up.  I will respond to all emails, I promise. 

Download Episode 41

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The – Are all politicians wussies? – Episode 40 of The Jefferson Davis Saga.
In which, Yours Truly, Brian F., Dario Sanchez, and Dr. Don discuss everything, including Vegans (We respect vegans on the Jefferson Davis Saga.), Pork (The other white meat), Merkan’s, Good Friday, the Newt Gingrich fiasco, and the multi-lingual American society. 

Download Episode 40

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