Most pirates spend their downtime at their favorite watering-hole, dockside brothel, or the local jail awaiting trial.
On the other hand (assuming you have another hand, and not a hook), Walter the Pirate had always dreamed of winning an Olympic gold medal.
He was a pretty good windsurfer, and none of his shipmates could beat him at Ping Pong, but he was best at freestyle swimming.
But what national team would sponsor him?
France?
England?
They had bounties on his head.
Eventually, Somalia sponsored him. (Somalia loves pirates), but he was disqualified for having a dagger clenched between his teeth.
Tag: society
Atheists In Foxholes
Back in World War 2, US Army regulations clearly stated that there were to be no atheists in foxholes.
Atheists that would ordinarily be assigned to foxholes found themselves reassigned to trenches, bunkers, and pillboxes.
However, the Clinton Administration’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy allowed atheists to join their religious brothers-in-arms in the foxholes.
It also allowed them to engage in all the gay sex they wanted to in those foxholes, just as long as nobody asked them why they weren’t shouting OH GOD, YES while climaxing.
As for the atheist chaplains, there’s no explaining some shit the Army does.
Art Deficiency
I was walking down the street on a beautiful day, when I was overcome by a strange feeling.
My balance failed me, and I collapsed.
An ambulance arrived, and the paramedics quickly checked my vital signs.
“When was the last time you were at a museum?” one asked.
“I don’t remember,” I said.
“THIS MAN IS SUFFERING FROM A LACK OF ART!” shouted the other paramedic, and I was loaded into the ambulance.
“The Downtown Contemporary is on drive-by,” said the driver. “But we’ll get you to a local gallery. It’s just two blocks away.”
And the siren wailed on.
What do you want to drink?
The stewardess asked me what I wanted to drink.
I said “The tears of every bully who picked on me in school.”
She checked her cart.
“We’re out of that sir. Care for some Pepsi? Or juice?”
“What about their blood? Do you have their blood?”
“Sorry, sir, but we don’t carry that either. Maybe you’d like a glass of milk?”
“Just don’t give him any booze,” growled the guy next to me.
Frankie?
Frankie Podhoertz.
Sitting next to me.
He used to beat me up for my lunch money every day.
“Just a straw,” I said. “A sharp straw.”
Oh By The Way
My least favorite words are: “Oh, by the way.”
Whenever someone says that, it means they forgot to tell me something important, and they’re about to make it my fault for not knowing about it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” is not the proper response to an “Oh, by the way.”
Instead, you should say “I’d like you to put your oversight in writing so that I can hold you legally responsible for any consequences that result from your failure to keep me informed.”
They never do.
This is why I record everything…
Oh, by the way, I’m recording this.
Charity
I don’t give to charity anymore.
Once, I participated in a Fun Run to raise funds and awareness for some disease or another. Sure, it was fun, until I stopped running. That’s when the cattle prods came out, and I was aware… that I was in danger.
Then, I volunteered to be jailed so I could call my friends to “bail” me out with contributions to the Cancer Society. But the cops left me in jail. In Maximum Security.
So, I don’t care if there’s a tax deduction or a free t-shirt. It’s still too high a price to pay.
Pray For Them
Sometimes, people ask for me to pray for them.
I don’t pray.
If the invisible man in the sky needs for me to put my hands together to tell him what shit in the world needs fixing, fuck him.
He’s an idiot for not knowing, a pathetic sack of shit for not being able to do anything about it, or an asshole for not wanting to do anything about it.
And I’m certainly not going to thank him for all the blessings, either. Because whatever he doesn’t take away through death or entropy, the government takes away through taxes.
Amen.
Captain Proton
I’m sorry, but there is no Captain Proton. I just made him up.
So, you can stop shouting for help. Oh, and please turn off the Proton Signal. You’re just wasting electricity.
I mean, it’s not that we don’t need a hero to save us every now and then, but for a while, we were doing okay when there was just the idea of one, right?
People treated each other nicer. Arch-criminals laid off the worst capers.
Things were going good.
Until people actually wanted Captain Proton to show up.
Now, things are worse than before.
Try to explain that.
The Shinbone
I know a man who had his leg amputated because of bone cancer.
The shinbone was a wreck from all the awful chemotherapy, but the other bone… the fibia? Fibula?
Whatever you call it, it was just fine.
So he had it hollowed out and he made it into a flute.
On the Fourth Of July, he’d be at the head of the parade, hopping down the street and playing his bone-flute for the whole town to hear.
The town couldn’t help but stare at the guy.
And they booed. A lot.
Because he was a really lousy flute player.
Bad Spelling
Most school kids participate in spelling bees.
My school? It had a spelling hornet. It was much nastier than a spelling bee.
But the private school in the area was even worse. They had a spelling wasp. Some kids ended up in the hospital after that.
All throughout the county, kids had angry red welts on their skin. Allergy medication was scarce, and the schoolyard drug dealers pushed epipens instead of ex or weed.
The state board of education intervened, and standardized all schools on spelling spiders.
Why spiders? Well, why bees? Charlotte was a spider, not a bee, right?