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September 19, 2006

BULLETIN BULLETIN BULLETIN, ME HEARTIES

(Thanks to Nachum Hurvitz)

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I saw this and was going to send it in but didn't want to overload the blog's e-mail! *snork* at ya Paris!!!

First to say "YAY!"

FIRST?

No great loss there!

"However, the melody lingers on like bad fish"

...there's just too much material here

Arrrr! The wench screeches like me parrot Mad Dog after a bit of grog and an unfortunate attack of parrot flux.

"Parrot Flux" WBAGNF Paris Hilton's next album.

Yarrrr.
Truly a sad day. Stripped of her livelihood, will she be forced into a life of....
pirating?
We can only hope

HARRRRRRR *snorrrrrrk*

Enough with the Hilton twit stuff, this is serious business. I never go out, as my evil twin takes over. So now I know who Pirate Suzy Sword Test Dummy is [I quote, 'quit talking like a pirate and help me find my shoes'], but just who is Rhonda and why do I have a date with her tomorrow night? Huh? How am I supposed to recognize her? I splurged my entire 4.5 extra IQ points last night and I am in deep grog-bowl.

"The strangest thing about Paris might be her publicist...Elliot Mintz has fashioned himself as Yoko Ono’s public barricade... It’s hard to imagine two clients less alike than Paris and Yoko."

Unless of course, you go by singing ability.

Avast me beauties! Even the Texas Women's Anglers Tournament is in on it. But belay that acronym me lads, else ye'll be a-walkin' the plank for sure! Harrrrrr!

Cap'n Brett- another round of rum will solve what ails ya

Aye, that be an unfortunate acronym, indeedy.

HARRRRR @# th' Sword Test Dummy!

Yarrr.
Her career be cooked faster than Davey Jones' Pop-Tart.

So it's a win-win!

...other big actual recording stars

*snork* Ouch. Talk about a dirty wench, though. Yuck.

HARRRRR @ the acronym!

MYH, 'twas the grog that placed me here, on this desert island. I recollect helping the bartender find the right amount of Rumplmintz to replace the mint in mojitos.

I have already asked my office if it would be OK to die in a workplace accident tomorrow. Aarrgghh!

"The costs on Paris are said to be ridiculously high, probably around $1 million considering travel, video and dog food."

Dog food?...I mean, how much can tinkerbelle consume???

Oh, and...ARRRRRRRRRRR

Yarrr
It be really hard to not make all sorts of pirate-related jokes regarding how easily-accessed Paris Hilton's naughty bits ARRRRRRRRRR

Garrrr!

'Ang the scurvy wench from the yaaaaardaraaaam.

And while yer at it, mizzen the mains'l and swab up that poop.

*Does a happy jig on the rum keg.*

If ye mizzens the mains'l, ye need not swab the poop. She'll pitchpole, @ss over teakettle, washing the poop deck smartly.

Yar, I'm just a flag. How'm I t'know all them technicalities?

Avast me hearties, caught in a 24-cheri simul sandwich. I need a cigarrrrrrette.

Neil G = Pirate Thomas the Fashionably Late

I think when "Banksy" put his own songs in her album back in England, he was actually trying to do her a favor.

-PB (NC)
p.s. Arrrrrr!

Arrrrgh, me like, hearties, the rum like, totally did me in. Can a kind mate point me in the direction of the head?

Doncha be gettin no ideas, matey, I been Fashionably late since yesterday. just sayin.

Which kind, Annie? It be the perpetual question...

got lazy here... so i just fed the lyrics to 'stars are blind' into a pirate-speak generator...
Pirate Speak:

Arrr, just hangin' har with you
Cuz I don't find too many guys
That treat me like you do
Those other guys all wanna take me for a ride
But when I walk their talk is suicide
Some people ne'er get beyond their lily-livered pride
But you can see the real me inside
And I'm satisfied, oh no, ohh

E'en though the gods be crazy
E'en though the stars be blind
If you show me real lo'e baby
I'll show you mine

I can make you nice and naughty
Be the de'il and angel too
Got a heart and soul and body
Let's see what this lo'e can do
Baby i'm perfect for you

Gar.

arrrr! it still reeks of rotten fish!

*sharks* @ the Valley Pirate.

I notice there is like, totally, no advice on how best to approach my, like, date tomorrow.

Anticipated fact, Rhonda will send her 'girlfriend' over to the jukebox at 6pm, while she waits at the bar.

I am, like, so walking the plank....

Annie, it be over heeeeer.

Yaarrrr! Cap'n Brett mayhap needs to explain what that means to me- I be feelin' like me parrot ... um ... did something to me brain.

Me ship is sailing soon- I be at the Port of Columbus waiting for Delta to decide when the winds and the tides are right. The lectures and the updates are over for now, and I can't belive I managed to stay awake for the whole thing. Me mates made it a varrrry interestin' time.

I'll be sailing momentarily- see ye all in the port of Atlanta!

Not a prob, CJ.

Just whack her over the head with a stick and drag her back to your cave.

No wait. That's talk like a caveman.

Never mind.

Avast, Jollyroger, not to jolly lately, eh? I'd be needin' of me spyglass to like, find THAT head! Totally!

A salty simul with the Jollyroger....just give a sh!t and a star to sail 'er by.

Saggingsails! On a wench! Now that's funny.

Darling wife still doesn't get the irony of wearing sweaters made by "Sag Harbor".

She just chose the wrong songs maties.

But ya can't go wrong with a rousin' tune of "Fifteen min on a dead m'n's chest"

YO HO HO A A BOTTLE O RUM!

An' ha' a good voyage, too, Cap'n Saggingsails!

May the wind be a' yer stern, an' th' porpoises guide yer path.

Saggy, well done, we're all proud of ye!

Cap'n Roughknuckles, how do ye get yerself into such messes? Methinks ye should cast off with yer ship, the lovely Rosie.

Jollyroger - a sailin' tip for ya - don't be speakin' ill of the sag harbor, lest ye have another most awesomer harbor for which to sail. quickly...under cover of like, night.

Annie the Valley Parrot, be ye besmirchin' the beloved head of me possibly betrothed? Just as I ain't sure I recollect the lass, I am sure I recollect having taste. Take back that be-smirchin' ye scurvy, valley dog.

Edgar - give me, like '15 minutes' on a dead man's chest, and I'll like, soooo bring 'im back to life.

Yo, 'ho' my swarthy keester, ya know?

Avast yerself Annie! I been missin' your little jabs (oh, that won't come back to haunt me).

Be sure ye bring the wide-angle spy-glass, and be holdin' it up to yur good eye this time.

Jolly- just for the record, me sails be full and spectacular!

Cap'n Brett - avast, scalawag, I've heard tell that wench o' your'n be deservin' o' like, bigger things. The coxswain mutters that the north wind totally whistles thru YOUR treasure chest, so empty it, like, be.

Aye, Saggy, we've seen the photographic evidence! Though not directly viewable in said photo, the general appearance of ye does ne're suggest any significant sagginess.

Just Speakin', so to speak. ;)

Annie, I been visitin' that one particular harbor for nigh on 25 years now. Buried a bit o' treasure there and like to return to check on it from time t' time.

Swarthy keester? Is that val-pirate for "booty"?

Hehhehheh.

Annie said cox. And muttering cox at that.

Jolly, fer sure - a swarthy booty be had! Seems a true man 'o the seven seas would travel beyond the like, harbor to conquer distant, more awesomer lands and lasses.

*oops, ye was besmirchin' Jolly's 'head' in the thread*

*makes self walk plank towards kitchen*

Fashionably, hadn't seen you lately as I blurked. Today was a planned mess. I had the day off when the football schedule first came out, six months ago. A friend of mine sat me down last weekend and showed me photographs of Rosie's twin sister, then he explained he was leaving the house to buy a Lotto ticket so we could each have one. He didn't win, of course, but what a nice thing to say.

Rosie is my first love. Right now, I have to handle the Suzy the Sword Test Dummy/ Rhonda thing, so I look to Cap'n Helga [Sio], Annie the Pirate, Punkin' [name of the moment], and LBFF to help. I am so screwed.

Avast! Like, more rum for the scurvy Cap'n Brett, afore the worms in his sorry skull do him, like, in.

Cap'n Brett - fair warning from a like, totally fair maiden - don't be castin' your scurvy eye upon a totally awesome schooner when you're like, out with a dinghy, lest ye be sent back to harbor to polish yer OWN plank.

*sharks* @ Jolly.

Annie has to holy-stone the decks.

Cap'n Brett - I'd sooner, like, hoist yer petard to the mizzenmast and use yer gnarly, scurvy beard as a holystone.

Cap'n Saggingsails, no insult intended m'lady. I be sure the sails are QUITE spectacular, when fully inflated. Er, when the breeze be stout. Ah, when an underwire wind be blowin'. Somethin' like that. GAR!

Please feel free to keel haul me and then whip me(repeatedly) with the cat o' nine tails.

Paris Hilton be so like... 'gag me with a cutlass?'

Easy insom. Annie'll be insultin' YOUR cutlass 'fore y'know it.

*sharks* @ insom and the valley pirate. Totally unfunny alert:

Our government, which is us, is about to decommission the Iowa and the Missouri. The Marine Corps is fit to be tied over this, as having those two WWII era battleships in the fleet saves Marine lives. We did not have an Iowa class battleship at Normandy [they were in the Pacific] and despite never-encountered heroism on the part of a heavy cruiser, the allies lost over 10,000 dead in the first two days at Normandy. There is no replacement for the heavy battleships. In 2012, there will be a heavy crusier introduced, but the Marines can't go 6-years without back-up. Jerks, our jerks, in Washington are moth-balling the heavies. They launch volkswagen sized projectiles at beligerents. The last time they were used, Iran was trying to close down the Straits of Hormuz. Iran stopped when a battlewagon steamed in. That is how strategically valuable those old teak-decked capital ships are, even moreso than a carrier group that takes up entire seas. Regardless of your politics, please let your congressmen/ senators know that you might believe keeping these last two capital ships in the fleet is money wisely spent. If you'll help do this, I will give you the dirty details [within limits] of my romantic embarassment, tomorrow night. *end unfunny comment*

CJ,

You seem to have some sort of personal interest in this. I for one have no idea why these ships would be important to the Marines, but my son is a Marine and if they need them they should have them.

I'll do what you ask, hoping (without hope) that it will do some good. At least maybe the jarheads can learn how to talk like pirates while they are using these boats.

*patiently waiting for details of hot date*

Arrrgh, methinks the spirit of the bloggits 'ave infected me computer! I keeps gettin' this ERROR MESSAGE.

iowa and missouri won't be states anymore?
*blink, blink*

*cautiously approaches Wyo's post, him having been a Marine, I believe. I would not be alive, were it not for the heroism of the Marines. They are not Special Forces, snuck in behind the lines. They are out front in a crisp uniform all over the planet as MSGs, Marine Security Guards. They are also the first people on the beach whenever [except for Special Forces], there is a threat. Their own point is that they don't even need to hit that beach if a foe sees a battlewagon. When a foe sends people or cars armed with bombs, just to test the limits, no one can envision what a carrier group can do. They can envision two-thousand pound projectiles that then explode. Every shell is the equivalent of a car bomb.

In people's living memory, they can envision what a battlewagon will do. Losing the Iowa and the Missouri will make us, them, have to storm more beaches as they will think we don't have the guts to do it. The Marine Corps is the smallest branch of the service and they don't have a great deal of political clout. They are asking, please, that we not let the Iowa and Missouri be decommissioned. They are asking, please, that we not allow our politicians to decommission the last two ships in the fleet that prevent what Rommell did at Normandy, or what happened to them at Iwo Jima or Guadalcanal. They will be brave, just not stupid.

TWO good news items in one - Kidnapped Baby Found Safe; and the ears of America are safe again!

ARRRRR!

Uncommon valor was a common virtue, I believe, is the quote.

Yet another reason I cry at night.

I suppose I should expalin, in fair disclosure, that my middle-neice's husband just got back safely. All 5-foot 7-inches of his skinny, red-haired @ss. They are the goofiest-looking couple on the planet as she is easily 6-foot [runt of the family], has a blurkish build, and just loves him to death. She's also gorgeous, which is subjective, but she recently told me on the phone that 'I know I'm hot.'

They are now both starting school together at UNC-Asheville, where they plan to be hippies. No one will ever know that Joe was a Marine. No one will ever guess.

OMG I just have to say that Ahmadinejad just finished and what a bunch of cr*p.

Everybody is equal, well except for those women, they're not equal, or the Sunnis, or well everybody else is a little less equal.

And as for peace and tranquility, I wondered if he had a bomb on him?

Oh year and arrrrgh!

morgana - sounds like he read "1984" and missed the point.

I bet he is just a stall tactic, a diversion. Just like a magician would use misdirection, he is the misdirection...sort of "Look over here!" (not at what I don't want you to see).

And he is mesmerizing in his ability to say things diametrically opposed to other things he's said or the violence he condones.

sorry I'm off my soapbox now. aaarrrggghhh

aaarrrrrrrrggggg....he be a bit loopy

Ahmadinejad:

Jan, a ham died

Damn, a Jedi – ha

Had Maid Jane

arrrrrrr ... yon wench of the Inns sounds like six bobcats tumbling in me dryer on high heat....an interrestin' sound aye...but bad for me pancreas...arrrr.

And Cap'n Brett: Semperrrr Fi! Mr. Birdbrain was a Marine, and I will be happy to fire off a strongly worded missive to my congresspeople!

*looks forward to details of disaster--um, date*

*Snork* to Abi on your anagrams and true true to the Sheik.

Oh, boy, Morgana! My first snork, and on TLAPD! Does it get any better than this?

and a well deserved *snork* it be Cap'n Birdbrain!

Why, thank ye, CHSOFR. I be honored!

*takes out F and adds T*

Now on sale! A wide selection of Arrrrrr's available in your choice of designer styles and colors, at steep discounts! Order yours now!!

Morgana, ye might be gone but I can't figure out which aspect of the comment I was working on was considered spam. Short answer, 25-years ago I was hanging in space on a steel cable with the guy that is now the head of the KGB. His boss, then was Putin. His boss, now is Putin. He told me then, as we were alone, that he knew who Dad was and they were going to take back Alaska and everything else as we would never notice. Just little bite by little bite.

That's when I became scared, as a person, and not just a snot-nosed kid.

Cap'n BR, me timbers are shiverin'. That's a very spooky story.

arrgghh, I'll bite, who's Dad? apologies if I should know... feeling a bit blonde.

and ur, how'd you get off the steel cable?

...and are you watching me right now?

just wondering

Avast! me hearties, mateys, scallawags all- the night has fallen and the stars now guide me to my bunking. It's been fun pillaging, plundering, and having me timbers shivered this day of celebration. I leave you with this...TLAPD may be one day, but Pirattitude is 365 days a year!

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Homage to a true pirate:

Years ago, me Uncle Ray told me a private story. He walked out of Europe, twice, from POW camps. Doesn't sound real. At his funeral last year, the Air Force sent a choir and a 21-gun salute, which is reserved for a head of State. After the funeral, I thanked the commanding officer, a major, and she explained to me that the old stories about Uncle Ray were true. He actually had walked out of Europe, twice, in the early 40s, then re-assumed his command as a bomber pilot. He actually did all of those things that people had told me he had done. In the 1970s, he actually retired as a Lt. Colonel, the same rank he held during WWII, as the most un-promotable SOB to ever wear the uniform.

He always knew I was his kid brother's pansy-@ss son, but I watched 20-year old Air Force kids do an amazing lock-step honorarium to Ray Johnson, on their own. Apparently, he was himself, which was a pain in my @ss and a legend to the kids. Just ask Blurk, when he gets back. When I thanked the major for the wonderfully respectful ceremony, she thanked me for Uncle Ray, the un-promotable. We will never really know what those people did.

I do know he managed to get through Korea, the Cold War, and Vietnam, and never get promoted. The smartest man I ever knew; he could do the NYTimes crossword puzzle in a couple of minutes. Always, he told me, you can buy them books and buy them books, but learn them nothing.

My dad, Ray's little brother, was highly promotable and went to school 'cause his brother insisted. But I learned, when I drove out to Seattle when I was a kid, that Ray came out and found my father at Bremerton, early during WWII, and those officious bastards chased jack rabbits across the Texas deserts, trying to hit them with bourbon bottles, in a B-29 when Ray took dad back home. I can never live up to these scalawags, that insisted I speak English, though I was born in Ecuador and they both knew I was living in Spain when I first brought them a newspaper telling me about Kennedy's assasination, and asking them what the h3ll was wrong with my country.

I now know that Ray only happened to be in the same country and every Air Force officer of rank and geography was rotating out of fueled strategic bombers. That's what that guy was doing, keeping the brake pedal down, while Kennedy and Kruschev played chicken. We are not worthy of our parents or aunts and uncles.

I had so much fun, last night and today, but know I came from lowly pirate-stock. I hope you don't mind my venting this, but I believe my life's little problems pale, in comparison.

Cap'n Brett, thank ye kindly fer yer sharin'. Ye come from proud stock indeed, and, it 'pears, have accomplished a few proud things yerse'f.

I be pleased to know ye, and be even more honored to hear yer tales.

Me own da' were in th' Air Force whilst Kennedy an' tha' peasant bastard Kruschev played guessing games, and he tells of seeing bombers on th' ready line in Florida, guarded by SPs wi' dogs.

Dogs were only used t' guard planes loaded wi' live Oppenheimer toys.

'Twere a scary time, scarier than we knew, an' we be in another scary time, one scarier than we can know.

Amen, Cap'n WB. And muy bien, Cap'n Brett. Tis time for this pirate to wish all favorable winds and calm seas. Good night and God bless.

Oh, and arrrrrrrrr, until the next TLAPD.

Matey Will, so you got that, huh? Meself, I have only to try and figure out which lass is which, tomorrow night.

I noticed also Marie from Korou [or something like that] was despairing at the Pirate talk. I looked at the language and it is mostly French, her language, including the words Pirate and Bucaneer!

Meself, I have to go back to NOLA this weekend, where the grassy area between streets is not a median, but a "Neutral Ground." That is the actual name, the dividing spot between the French and the Spanish. That's what Creole actually means, french and spanish kids sneaking across the street.

That's Funny!

Another reason you don't want to go to hell

BUELLTON, BUELLTON, BUELLTON

Home of World Famous Pea Soup Andersen's, the best green pea soup around.

Thar be no question in this pirate's mind, Daryl.

At least I could have a conversation with Hitler. Make him see the error o' his ways, all o' that.

Failing that, make the place a little more hellish fer 'im. ('E were a little guy, and I be a sizeable fellow wi' a creative bent.)

Arrrgh, that nasty, gnarly, green grog be puttin' hair on yer treasure chest, like, fer sure!
Buellton be but like, a day's sail from me harbor, but tres sad - no mall for the fair wenches to like, cruise for booty....wink, wink.

Arrrgh, time to close this scurvy day with a riddle:

Knock, knock!
Arrrgh, matey, who's there?
Pirate.
Arrrrgh, matey, 'pirate' who?
Pie - right in the face! *splat!*
Arrrgh, ye gutless weasel! I'll cut your giblets out and macrame a Donna Karan vest of yer innards! Oooh, key lime! Like, yum! Fights scurvy and gingivitis.

No more singing from Paris Hilton?

It wasn't long ago she said no more f***ing.

That promise didn't last long, so why expect this promise to last?

Annie, your 2:08 am post is really funny.

ME: Hmmm...let's put the clues together...pea soup...the mall...pie in the face...I know! Is it... SOUPY SALES, Allen?

ALLEN LUDDEN: Ding ding ding ding ding!!! That's right, Stevie! But why do I have to make the sound effects? These producers are so darn cheap. Well anyway, Josefa, show him what he's won. Then go to your orthopedist and have that wrist spasm looked at. Johnny?

JOHNNY: That's right, Stevie, we'll send a limo to pick you and a date up at your door, and take you to Dicker and Dicker of Beverly Hills, or anywhere else you want to Dicker and Dicker, for that matter. Then along Sunset Boulevard past Dead Man's Chest Curve, and we all know how nice some of those chest curves can be (eyebrows raised and lowered repeatedly), don't we?

ME (interrupting): Are you doing Groucho?

JOHNNY: Do I look like a gay necrophiliac to you?

ME: I dunno. I mean, well, I don't really know what a gay necrophiliac looks like. Y'know, 'dead men tell no tales' and everything.

ALLEN LUDDEN: What's taking you so long? Josefa is about to call OSHA.

ME: Never mind. Continue telling me what I've won.

JOHNNY: At Pacific Coast Highway our driver will make for you and your date a lovely right turn shortly after which you'll pass the Mel Gibson Memorial Driving-Under-the-Influence-of-Really-Bad-Judgement-Among-Other-Things Speed Limit Sign. You'll stop en route at Annie's Harbor, the grooviest combo Comedy Club-Internet Cafe-Gentlemen's Club and Drivethru Dogwash ("where the seamen come and go, but the stains remain the same") (okay, I used that the other day but who says wisecracks have to be like women's formal gowns, you know, used only once then sold on ebay hopefully after a good cleaning?)

Finally you'll make your way up the coast to lovely Buellton, California, where you'll sup on the best split pea soup you ever had and maybe even bathe in it (for a slight extra fee), and where the waiters will slap you if you even think of asking them what that fly is doing in your soup, because believe you me, they've heard 'em all.

And to wrap up this romantic evening, we have some loving party gifts for you and your date.

ME: Loving party gifts? Now yer talking - you mean like scented massage oil, flavored blindfolds, maybe a crotchless feather boa?

JOHNNY: Oh, I'm sorry. I meant lovely parting gifts.

ME: Darn.

JOHNNY: I've been at this way too long.

ME: Yes you have.

JOHNNY: Si.

ME: Si.

ALLEN: Say goodnight, Johnny.

JOHNNY: Si.

ALLEN: Not 'si.' Goodnight.

BURNS: Goodnight.

ME: How'd you get in here?

BURNS: I followed the smell of Groucho's cigar.

ALLEN: Goodnight, George.

BURNS: Goodnight, Gracie.

ME: Goodnight, everyone.

Good morning all!!

I'll be away this fine day. On a fieldtrip to So.Be. with my daughter! (the go there to paint).

Ya'll have a wonderful day and I'll see ya's later!!!

Arrrgh! Looks like i missed an amazing day!
Well shiver me timbers.

hip hip....hoooray! hip hip....hoooray!

I need to get something free that is stuck in my throat.


Arrrrrrrr.

Good, it is gone now.

The bulletin was really good news.

yeah I had a left over HAR & ARR this morning too...glad that TLAPD comes only once a year!

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