for E.C. Segar
Though he wasn’t really
a pirate per se, the old
man who panhandled
in front of the Safeway
would let me rub his
hook for pocket change
and a can of creamed
spinach.*
for E.C. Segar
Though he wasn’t really
a pirate per se, the old
man who panhandled
in front of the Safeway
would let me rub his
hook for pocket change
and a can of creamed
spinach.*
I guess this is as good a time as any to say goodbye to everybody. I clicked on the blogad for “Say Anything”, purely for the political interest, and I found her.
Imagine, something good, damn good, keeping-you-up-at-nite-changing-your-sheets good, from FRANCE!
So I’m off (er, as it were) to stalk, um, no, win her over with my rapier like wit and piles of oil for food vouchers.
And if that fails, I’m taking a tranquilizer gun.
Wish me luck!
Very clever. Argh, argh. What say we try Walk Like an Egyptian Day next month?
I’m practicing for the “International Talk Left Like a Pirate Day”, myself.
“Avast ye scurvy dogs of capitalism! Unhand yer gold that it be distributed fairly to those that ha’nt got none! Oh, and I’ll just keep 40% fer meself, I will. Laywers gotta eat too, y’understand. Har.”
It works best if you imagine the pirate in a Brooks Brothers suit. The parrot is optional.
Still gotta have the eyepatch! You know, evil.
Pirate Haiku:
Arrr, ye scurvy scum!
I’ll keel-haul the lot of ye
and then I’ll laugh, Arrrr!
SB: yes
I will
So we wrapped them up in the mainsail tight
With twice ten turns round the hawser bight
Then over the side and out of sight
With a Yo Heave Ho and A Fare Thee Well
And a sullen splash in the sullen swell
Five fathoms deep on the road to hell
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
The Derelict
You rubbed his hook and all he gave you was pocket change and a can of creamed spinach?
Damn, either you really suck at hook-rubbing
, or the going rate where you’re from is pretty low!
Hey TomB,
Wait for me; I’ll be there as soon as I find my rapier and peg leg. We can’t be absconding with the Winches with out a woody and a sword.
That would be a cutlass and wenches me hearty unless your fencing with some foppish Frenchman or hauling your damn truck out of a ditch. And a woody is …. aw never mind.
Oh well, my bad. My mother always told me I’d die ilightorate.
Winches?
Okay, I stupidly clicked on TomB’s link…
JESUS EFFING CHRIST IN A YARMULKE!!!!
I may have to rethink my obsession with Jeff Gannon’s cock. I’m also pretty sure that a tranquilizer gun is the only way anyone is getting close.
TW: Standard – “Oh nothing, Honey. Just your standard Info Babe”
ummm…errrr…great post, Jeff. Arrrrr and all that.
AVAST THERE YE POACHERS!!
I SAWS HER FIRST!
we’re sailing back to Portsmouth
we’re loaded in Mexican gold
the breeze is fresh, the skies are clear
there’s rum to fight the cold
in about three weeks we’ll be there
with money in me life
and then it’s off to Dublin
to home and me wife
the boyos, the boyos
the boyos won the day
and then they put the rogues in chains
you know
the boyos
and now it is a peaceful day
to sail in the Spanish Main
as we rounded Barbados
and caught the homeward stream
comin out w’ the morning sun
a schooner topped which mean
she’s blowin faster than Hades
her kindness all a fly
the watch dropped to the deck
with terror in his eye
she’s flyin a jolly roger
she’s portin forty guns
she’s wantin to have her way with us
we’d better turn and run
but the cap’n said not so quick
we’re going to fight it out
he came about and headed right
down her dirty snout
the cannons blew the smoke it flew
her mainmast then went crack
the rogues they tried to board us
but the boyos beat them back
we fought with sword and pistol
we grappled head to head
when the air it cleared we took a count
of wounded and the dead
the boyos, the boyos
the boyos won the day
and then they put the rogues in chains
you know
the boyos
and now it is a peaceful day
to sail in the Spanish Main
(with thanks and appreciation to Michael Knott)
tw: cold. There’s rum for that, remember.
I see the Say Anything babe is back. (Is babe as offensive as bimbo to the PC thought police?)
Since yesterday was talk like a pirate day, let me say this about that:
Pirate talk
Arrrgh!
Arrrr, Melissa Teary—Theery—arrrr, Melissa T.
A fine figurehead she’d make on the prow o’ me dinghy!
She likes it when I call her MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMelissa.
Unfreakingbelievable. TW: “yes” as in YES! YES!, er I mean OUI!
as we rounded Barbados
and caught the homeward TRADE
comin out w’ the morning sun
a schooner TOP WATCH MADE
she’s blowin faster than Hades
her CANVAS all a fly
the watch dropped to the deck
with terror in his eye
but hey, bitchin’ song, I love it