The McBournie Minute: That be enough from ye, Boston

Boston, despite what you see on television and the movies, is actually a fair place indeed. It even has a decent social scene for the young and hip, because o’ the plethora of colleges in the area. For a while, Boston has been enjoying some o’ the limelight, much in part brought on by the Red Sox World Series victory in 2004 (a nice piece of booty that was). With that, people suddenly looked at the city, they had to, because it was bein’ crammed down their gizzards in the media, and they got kind of interested if they weren’t totally repulsed.

Nay, I didn’t grow up in Boston. Instead, I visited it every few weeks for most of me childhood. Now I see it almost exclusively at Christmas. I grew up in Vermont (where there is no ocean), and both my parents came from Boston, so we would constantly take trips down to see me relatives. Me relationship with the city is one o’ admiration at times and aversion at others. We all enjoy seein’ our home town or someplace famous we’ve been to shown in a movie, but I’m startin’ to wonder if all this hype about Boston is any good. Let’s just focus on the movies.

And nay, I not be not talkin’ about Good Will Huntin’ and Robin Williams’ terrible accent. I’m talkin’ about Boston portrayed as a den of criminals, cutthroats and pirates. Continue reading The McBournie Minute: That be enough from ye, Boston

Doubloons be sparrrse across th’ Seven Seas

Due to the overindulgence of a few landlubber thieves on Wall Street, times be tough for Buccaneer-Americans of all shapes and sizes. But we be not the only ones keeping an extra eye on the treasure chest these days: the Brits and the Russians are lacking in the booty department.

In fancy-pantaloons England, parents no longer give their younger crewmates their fair share of the loot! Average pocket money for the little hearties fell from 6.24 pounds a week in 2009 to 5.89. 5.89!? How much grog can you get for a lousy 5.89? Certainly not enough for fresh, pink lights and livers.

And in Russia, where pirates drink vodka with their limes, the local constabulary’s shanghaied a debting lass’s Shar Peis! What’s next? Marooning malamutes? Lashing labradors? Keelhauling koolies? Wenching Welsh corgis?

Keep the cannon o’ launchin’

In additional news that be sure to turn your nose more than a swabby that just came back from a two month trip to Tobago do, something be stinking quite heavily it would seem o’er in the land of Springfield, Massachusetts. It would appear that a mighty volume of trash is produced by the local shop-keeps of that area, but they can’t just throw the trash over the side of the ship. That’s probably b’cause they be a group of landlubbers, rather than real men that adventure out to sea for fame and glory.

What can be done to solve this vile, most nasty, simply foul smellin’ o’ troubles? A few of the shop-keeps say that more trips by the waste seagoing vessel need be provided, but the admirals in charge of this be keeping their mouths shut. We suspect they may even take their decision to the bottom o’ the deep and briny depths.

Next time, launch him out o’ a cannon

Ahoy there, mateys. In case ye hadn’t heard, yesterday was Talk Like A Pirate Day, but since we don’t write on weekends, we’re celebratin’ today instead.

To get us underway, we have a seafarin’ tale for ye. Scott Lasky died on land, but he wanted to be buried at sea. It was a wish his family honored by travelin’ down to Florida, hopin’ on a ship, and throwin’ him overboard, thinkin’ he was bound for the locker o’ the leader singer o’ the Monkees.

Lasky washed up on a beach a few days later. And kiss me blunderbuss, he likely didn’t smell too good, either. Yet another foul thing to wash ashore on a beach in Florida.