Hey! You've reached DJ Davis McAlary. I'm not answering this shit right, but if you leave a message I'll get back to you.

Unless you're a bill collector in which case, how many times do I have to tell you the fucking check's in the mail? Stop calling!


Feel free to leave an IC or an OOC message for Davis in the comments.

Davis heard gunshots going off, and ducked himself down behind his car. He tried to think of anyone he'd pissed off lately enough that they'd be shooting at him.

His parents - but no, they're gentility, not the gun toting type.
Aunt Mimi - he did kind of authorize some charges on her credit card - but it was for business purposes!
His station manager at WWOZ, but hell - hadn't firing him been enough? He wouldn't be firing on him.
His gay neighbors - but the kind of piece that Donald handled wasn't a fire arm---

Hell, really the list of people he'd pissed off lately went on quite a long way -- but none of them were the type to just go shooting at him on a Saturday night. He cautiously ducked his head up from behind the car. Another series of shots rang out, and he hunkered back down.

"Look! If it's about DJ Davis and the Brassy Knoll -- if you're some kind of political assassin, here to silence the truth - the truth won't be silenced!" Davis called, with more bravado than he felt. "The truth will not be silenced!" he shouted again, though his voice cracked a bit at the end.

"--- the hell is that whack shit? Brassy trolls?" someone called back in the darkness.

Davis poked his head back up again. It was a young punk, a kid on the street corner with his friends. One was wearing a do-rag and had a long string of firecrackers dangling from his hand. Oh. Heh. Firecrackers. Davis's heart leapt back into his chest. Man, he had to stop smoking up so much- it was making him a little paranoid. Well that, and watching the news. People getting shot all over the damn city - no wonder he's jumpy.

"Brassy Knoll!" he shouted back to the kids. "Like grassy knoll, only with brass-- hell. Don't they teach you guys history anymore? That's fucked up right there."

He opened his car door, and ducked his head in to rummage about. Now that his life wasn't in mortal peril, he might as well give them a demo cd.

Dj Davis and the Brassy Knoll - check it out, we've got a sound that's a fusion of hip hop, bounce, rap, and brass band with a political twist. This is about that Road Home shit that went down, only it didn't really go anywhere but down, you dig?

That's what I'm saying, you can't trust the government to do shit for you. You've got to take a stand and do something yourself. Like make a music video, and an album which incidentally will be available at a bargain price in a store near you in the very near future. You can't afford to miss it! This is some seriously groundbreaking shit in the future of music. You'll be the envy of all your friends for discovering us first. Provided you have friends, of course. If you don't go out and make some while you're waiting for our album to drop. Anyhow, here's the video - ready, set, go play!




((Mun note- sorry this is just a clip, couldn't find the full video))

I dropped mine in the yellow dye then went off to nuke some peeps. Microwaved peeps are the shit!

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Someone was indeed foolish enough to make me the DJ of my very own live radio show!

I work the overnight shift at WWOZ (that's in New Orleans, Louisiana in case you live in a hole - we stream on the internet so you have no excuses for not turning in.) When I'm not being fired working on my other concerns, I'm playing everything from Mystikal to Coco Robicheaux . Here's a little clip of me in the studio playing Indian Red shortly after Katrina. Someone put a montage in of people around the city doing their thing - we're a resilient people won't bow no how. I'm no Howard Stern or anything, but I have been known to get up t me antics on the airwaves. You got to keep things fresh to keep them listening though - and you might as well have fun while you're working. Otherwise it's just... well, work. And work blows.

I do some occasional in studio interviews. When I invited Coco Robicheaux to be my guest on the show, he cleansed the new station. Though the chicken sacrifice portion of that was a complete surprise. Entirely not my fault. I got fired over that though. The station manager gets a bug up his ass usually when I'm not playing enough standards to attract the donating crowd during pledge drive season so my firing and re-hiring is sort of a game we like to play. Occasional unemployment can be annoying as hell when you have bills to pay amusing, but the only thing I enjoy more than DJing the music is making my own.

Music can supposedly summon up any of a hundred emotions. Today, share a song that you find funny.

This was on my Davis Can Save Us Cd. It's a funny kind of song sure, but it's got a serious message. Shame, shame, shame on you now Dubbya. Got a lot of fine musicians working with me on this one. It's a great CD - you should pick up a copy. It's still available in many fine retail outlets throughout the city.




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My friend Henry and me walking around the neighborhood a couple months after Katrina. That's the National Guard. I think this might have been shortly before I liberated my CDs from Tower records - they were liquidating their store there. Assholes.

I don't think the guardsman I called a motherfucker is in this picture. But I'd just like to say that I was unduly arrested for that. Freedom of speech - it's a constitutional right, even when your town's under siege.

Merry Christmas, folks.

May all your days be merry and bright.

Are you neat/organized or messy/cluttered? Or do you fall somewhere in between on the spectrum?

I can see the floor in places when left to my own devices. Sometimes. Things tend to wind up in piles, or groupings according to function. I understand my system. It gets me in trouble sometimes at work because the station manager gets pissed off when I leave things a mess after my shift. But hey, I need an acceptable level of clutter to work in. I can't function when things are too neat.

Since Annie's moved in with me, my apartment is a lot neater. That's all her doing. She's got these crazy things she does sometimes, like mopping and vacuuming (there's actually enough floor visible to do these things. And I didn't even know we owned a vacuum! maybe she bought it?) and she does LAUNDRY. Even mine! She's like a domestic goddess.

I still have some piles of things - like my sheet music, and my collection of classic records that needs to someday be somewhere other than randomly thrown into milk crates -- but for the most part the place definitely has Annie's touch.

I kind of complain about it sometimes, how I can't find anything because everything's put away somewhere. But really, it's not so bad. A guy could get used to shit like this.

What were five milestones in your life this year?
1. Breaking it off with Janette.
2. Getting together with Annie.
3. The Davis Can Save Us Again Gulf Benefit CD.
4. Getting re-re-hired at WWOZ.
5. Mardi Gras.

Five years ago?
1. Motherfucking Katrina.
2. Having my city flooded to shit.
3. Getting fired from WWOZ.
4. Meeting Annie.
5. Davis can Save Us campaign.

Ten years ago?
1. Getting my own radio show on WWOZ.
2. Playing with Kermit.
3. Finding a really killer weed connection.
4. Getting temporarily disowned by my parents.
5. Meeting Janette.

Ten years from now?
1. Having the fruit of my loins running about - little Davises to terrorize the city!
2. Holding a political office.
3. Playing my music in all the best clubs.
4. Owning my own radio station.
5. Still having that killer weed connection.

Never know, it could happen.