THE ALLURING LIFE OF DR. SCOTT MCCREE
Many know me as Dr. Scott McCree, the famous historian who has traversed the earth uncovering the many mysteries that have captivated the world, but since my endless commonplaced entries are rather personal, you can address me as “Scottie,” yes, like the cuddly black bearded dog.
The purpose of this author biography is so you, the enticed reader, can learn a little bit about my complexity. You may ask “Why would I want to do that,” and I would respond saying, “Because my personality is like discovering you do in fact have one more bottle of whiskey in the cellar.” As the educated know, I currently reside in Dundee, Scotland, but was raised in Darvel as the son of a poor potato farmer. Although the idea of prying roots out of the barren dirt located in my backyard sounds both physically and mentally agonizing, this torment was what ultimately allocated for my successful future. As I would endure the smoldering heat of the sun and pretend to enjoy the taste of dust, my father would ridicule my methodology of extracting potatoes. I clearly disappointed him, since he would scream, “That ain’t a pluck, that a darn yank you runt!” After hearing my father’s poor grammar for years, I knew the only way to escape my disheartening childhood would be to receive a proper education, and I did just that. In the fall of ’92 there was a festival that hosted a potato competition. According to the rules, the individual who harvested the largest potato would receive a life changing prize. To many’s disappointment, this prize wouldn’t be revealed till the winner was announced, only elevating the suspense. Many believed the prize would be the newest version of the potato hoe, but I was not convinced of this almost trivial prize. At 4:23 pm on November 16, 1992, I was awarded the prize for having grown and extracted a 78 kilogram potato, and not to brag, an additional 17 kilograms should have been added to the present 78 kilograms if a single gopher bite didn’t diminish my potato’s mass. Like I stated before, my assumption was correct, for I did not receive a potato hoe, I received a college education. When the mayor of the town handed me a diploma from Oxford University, I was instantly set free from a life defined by illiteracy.
Now that I have shared a brevity of my childhood, I’ll share a little bit about my hobbies. Over the years I have developed a passionate love for the sea. When enduring the physical labor on my father’s potato farm, I would inhale vapor that originated from the nearby waters. This smell of salt and a combination of various decaying fish would stimulate my senses, and cause me to day dream of the freedom associated with the vastness of the open ocean. I can only assume that any sane individual would understand my reasoning. Over the years I have spent my extra time trying to unravel the many mysteries submerged in the depths of the sea, and the spawning of freshwater eels along with their role in the market have only caused me to question the species even more. If you were curious why this topic was contained in my many commonplaced works, you now have a valid answer as to why. In addition to my connection with marine life, I am pretty much a pundit ornithologist (a person who studies birds). This fascination, unlike my devotion to understanding the seas, does not stem from my childhood. I don’t have a clear answer to why birds have won my heart, but it may have to do with their ability to roam the skies. Of course humans have conquered flight, but we also rely on the assistance of technology. If I were to list my 3… actually 5 favorite birds, they would have to be: the Peregrine Falcon, Belted Kingfisher, Roadrunner, Golden Eagle, and Rock Hopper. Now that you have learned about my hobbies outside of studying history, you can appreciate my thought processes as I respond to some of my favorite pieces of work.
I know reading about my personal life is quite enthralling, but I have to disappoint you now. Although I love to prattle about myself, the point of the Creemmon place is for you to learn about my interpretation of the many mysteries that lurk in the shadows of history. May I bid you farewell, and let you explore my labyrinth of commonplaced entries.