the jatsman

"... marvellous Flea, loved the image too..." Jats comments having just returned from the delightful IF thread again, happy that his own stuff is safe now, for what it's worth "...and in my comparative little experience, its funny how, barring one exception the axe has always fallen on me from a woman, and so, even though I do love the stunning imagery of some of your threads of lone men battling* against a sea of male authority, the reality, for me anyhow, has been a foe of a different kind, maybe I just attract them..." putting on his new shades with the red tint to them now, and stepping back into the sun, it occurs to him how everything looked a little better somehow.

the jatsman

"...I have not had an email for 12 hours..." Jats checks all his settings again "...not even some spam..." settling down to watch a film instead then, thinking "...how did we cope before our technological intravenous drips where plugged in..." he wonders while putting the kettle on "...without these tools to do the same old thing that humans do, and would still, for sure I can see the appeal of these shiny things that keep us 'connected' being a self confessed ex gadget freak, yet as I move into my Luddite years I am coping perfectly fine without an I-thing in sight and am probably the only person in my street without a gigantic flat screen TV, seeing the same propaganda on the ones I got for free, so I think I will let evolution continue without me from now on, or am I just evolving to my needs then..." watching how it all started now, the battle with God.

the jatsman

"...my words posted back randomly from LeeRain, an oddity that he has used before, who has so many profiles and interests from Bikes, computers, naturism, et al, a novel kind of spamming from this one then, spamming nothing but his name on a hundred forums or so, which now gives the chameleon a list of forums to post something worthwile on now then..."

"...why thank you sir/madam, although I suspect there are better posters than me tucked away here, busy doing other things, or banned because of insecure jealousies, elsewhere then, for sure, and I am human, though JATS is a mixture of personalities, a Chameleon you see, a handy thing to have, this multiple anonymity disorder, to avoid the incessant machines in their chase, using different voices, different faces, complete new identities, to strike at your vulnerability, your honesty and truth, and sending out tracers to look for you, when you no longer answer their calls, yes the robot machines are everywhere, we sometimes call them 'spammers', 'identity thieves', even 'Nigerians', and we sometimes call them 'trolls', whatever they are, they can't be human surely..."

the jatsman

Butterflies danced by silently while the chorus of crickets filled the air and leapt from his oncoming boots in the hundreds as they swished through the bracken heading towards the centre of the meadow. He stood atop an isolated large flat stone looking out toward the sea, several miles in the distance, instinctively scanning for approaching rogue dark clouds before noticing the snake a few feet from his boots basking in the mid day sun, which turned and looked him in the eye before slithering away into the grass. Sitting down, he too felt the warmth of the stone and as he pulled out an apple from his rucksack he studied several bees hopping systematically from the pretty pink flowers that had colonised the clump of brambles to his right, enjoying the foreign feast that produces some of the finest honey in the land. Jats chuckled to himself as he remembered the conversation with the farmer of the adjoining lands earlier, where he had told of attending a conservation planning meeting where the speaker 'some woman with a bit of paper from London', as he had described her, who, when asked how the brambles would be controlled had replied 'we don't plan to plant any brambles' . Jats then stood up, reached for his lance and destroyed the flowers "...ah good to be back..."

the jatsman

a repost from elsewhere, prompted by a Facebook thread...

"...why yes the mob, such a fickle creature, swinging this way and that, and so hard to see when you are caught up in it, children and grown ups alike, take this weekend when my lot rushed in asking if they could go on Facebook before they had even taken their coats off, as to my dismay it had been allowed, and also by the parents of half their classmates it seems, with their children now addicted to Farmville, being drawn back to plant crops, buying chickens and cows, all busy outdoing each other, caught up in the hysteria, with 'friendship requests' appearing every five minutes from who knows, in those shark infested waters..." Jats sips his tea, shaking his head in dismay "...by Sunday I had had enough, after several long chats it was banned, and distraction plans put in place, armed with telescopic litter pickers, dayglo jackets donned, they were pushing a wheelbarrow of bug boxes, tools and bags along the canal, and became part of a small group of volunteers who proceeded to clean up a wild-flower meadow and woodland fringe, seeing then a glimpse of the true nature of man as they shrieked with delight/disgust at finding bags of faeces, animal and human, amongst all the other rubbish, and was finished off with a lesson in coppicing trees shouting 'timber'* as each one fell to their cut. As we marched back, looking more forward to Sunday lunch, it was then that I answered their earlier questions, of 'why are we doing this Dad? We are not getting paid' as they played swords with the litter pickers that they had been allowed to keep, were warm and proud, despite the cold, with their logs that they had cut stored in our rucksacks, and a flue chimney for my log burner worth £80 tucked under my arm, given to me by one of the ladies who I discovered had been about to throw it out and just gave to us and plus, much to the boys delight, a guided tour of her narrow boat. Yes it was then that I answered their questions, smiling and saying 'I think we did quite well out of it don't you' and Facebook was completely forgotten about..."

the jatsman

Jats escapes a little, a momentary pause knowing he will be late now, the weather turning in his favour, and so stares at the blank page, only his imagination feeding him then "...ignore it, it will go away, no, no not I, for if I escape the ban I can go on and on, as others feed me elsewhere, and then there's that imagination and past imaginings to draw upon, still, it's only fair that you feed them back then..." Jats chuckles at the view counts "...selfish in your silence, so, like a bee floating above a field full of flowers, I will just pick and choose from the endless supply, let some float on by, leave them to their miseries, revisit perhaps in a couple of years, see how you are getting on then, but, I will keep one, regardless, just for amusement or a damsel in distress..." he bows now with a flourish on the way out of the door.