Capt’n Kenny Kennesaw Who hasn’t dreamed of being a Pirate? Did you know that Pirates were government sanctioned?
That’s right they were called Privateers, and were hired to pillage and plunder other countries during war.
When the war ended, they were essentially laid off. Of course, there were no government programs such as unemployment at the time, so they became Pirates.
They then commenced to pillage and plunder on their own; hanging was the Pirates primary retirement plan.
Imagine a Pirate standing in line at the unemployment office.
“What is your employment history?”
“Well, I plunder, pillage, scare folks and generally say YARRRRGGGG a bunch.”
“It would appear you have few qualifications. About the only thing, I think you would be good at is being a politician.”
Jimmy Buffett wrote one of the best songs ever written. A Pirate looks at forty. The cannons don’t thunder, and there’s nothing to plunder, I’m an over forty victim of fate. Arriving too late, arriving too late. Well imagine my surprise to find out he was wrong.
As most of you know, I try to keep a job as my writing doesn’t understand it’s supposed to support me, instead of my supporting it. This week I was hired as a first mate on a Pirate ship.
The job requires that I do the typical first mate stuff. Cast off a line or two, help passengers on and off the ship, entertain the children, admire the mothers and try to keep the daddies from annoying either.
I’ll need to point out notable attractions around Biscayne Bay and tell a few tall tales, I can certainly do that. I must act and talk like a Pirate.
Are you kidding me, I do that now, well if I’ve had a few beers or simply woke up in one of my strange moods. At the interview, I found out, I must dress like one too. Wait, how much do I have to pay to do all this? What, they pay me? I swear I’d do it for crackers.
I almost missed my calling. I get to dress funny, talk funny and in general act the fool. I been doing that all my life and on one has paid me to do it, so far. Who knew there was a job out there which required one to be a lunatic?
I’m over qualified; remember I’m from Milledgeville, Georgia, affectionately named asylum city, I can’t fail.
Now for a little update on Miami. If you think you want it, someone is selling it on the sidewalk or in the median at red lights. You can buy tacos, burritos, quesadillas, rotisserie chicken, only here they call it pollo a la brasa, and it’s plumb yummy.
There are newspapers, gym memberships and we must not forget drinks of all kinds. You can buy tickets to everything, give to a hundred charities, buy phone cards, and I imagine you could arrange a date pretty easily.
There are no corners left for the homeless to use for panhandling. A bum better be pretty quick on his feet if he wants to survive here. I bought a five buck hotdog from a vendor yesterday. I ordered it with mustard, catsup and onions.
The vendor looked at me like I was speaking another language, which I actually was. What I got was a bun covered with pink sauce, whatever that is, cheese, bacon, onions and potato chips. I never found a hot dog, and I looked, but it was delicious.
I have seen four bicycles frames chained to bus stops. How can you strip a bicycle in broad daylight on a busy city street? Apparently it can be done. Imagine getting off the bus after a hard day at work to find a bicycle skeleton. The bicycle then becomes a lot like my writing. I’m carrying it instead of it carrying me. If you have a prosthetic leg, you better learn to dance with it. It’s harder to steal a moving target.
Cyclists here know better than stop at red lights; instead they circle slowly until the light turns green. Twice I’ve returned home to find my drawers gone. I can’t imagine how someone stole them, or more importantly, why they would want to.
If you don’t learn to move quickly here, you will be perpetually in the right lane, you may lose a bunch of drawers or false teeth and bicycle parts don’t have a chance. I’ve managed to keep anyone from stealing my birthday, but of course, no one steals something you don’t want.
The other day someone stole the taste out of my mouth, wait, I’m sorry I was eating at a soul food restaurant in Jersey.
Unwad your panties; I’m just poking fun at Miami.
Miami has no more or less problems than any city its size, but it wraps them in such beautiful packaging.
“The weather is here, wish you were.” Jimmy Buffett.