Happy International Talk Like A Pirate Day, me hearties!
I’ve been celebratin’ this pro’ound holiday for several years, includin’ two columns in The Guys’ old prov’n ground, Radford University’s newspaperrr, The Tarrrrrt’n. It’s been gainin’ interest since the release o’, from all sources, Disney’s and Bruckheimer’s Pirates o’ the Caribbean; but now that the series be over, what perchance should happen to our favorite holiday?
It be a terrifyin’ prospect for considerin’. Once Marilyn Manson became passé, Halloween became all about the infernal Powerrr Rangers again. Christmas only witness’d a massive cultural upswing with the release o’ Reindeer Games, but now ye’d be lucky to find decorrrations as early as June. On the other hand, The Passion o’ the Christ scar’d the bilge out o’ so many lubbers that Easterrr feels like celebratin’ yer first keelhaul. (In other words, undesirable.)
Aye, the faithful shall remain, but be that enough for maintainin’ a sense o’ dignity every September 19?
Some would argue for keepin’ this day exclusive, but it be more important to be sharin’ the buccaneerin’ spirit with mateys at all four corners o’ the charts.
For instance, do ye think the Chinese be free to express their piratical natures? It be laughable to think so. Why, these poor rats be forc’d to shanghai (har!) their way into the Interrrnet for pornography. Yarr, it aggravates the senses further to think that this be happenin’ in plenty other countries to boot!
And take into further consideration the plight o’ the moderrrn cube rat. Most pirates got their start workin’ for The Man (o’ in this historic case, The British Man). They were flogg’d into submission to autocratic rulin’ and had no liberties to speak o’, save their evenin’ ration o’ grog. What did they do? They got fed up and turn’d pirate, they did. But there be no sign on the horizon o’ anyone today takin’ a stand and sayin’ no to extra unpaid hours when they’d rather be home watchin’ Survivorrr.
And, o’ course, there be the recent case of Andrew Case, the young lad that the University o’ Florida Police felt in need of a taserrrin’. Case ‘tis the very example o’ why the old salts left the British Navy in the firrrst place, or why another group o’ lubbers pitch’d tea off o’ diversities into Boston Harbor–“diversities” be meanin’ old, old wooden sailin’ ships.
‘Twere briny depths that day indeed!
I’d be remiss to not point out that the constables were already settin’ Case in shackles b’fore even makin’ him dance with Jack Ketch–all because he broke a rule about not speakin’ out o’ turn in a “town meetin.'”
It be a sign o’ the times. We’d rather be goin’ ’bout our business then be inconvienc’d for one second of unsettlin’ liberty. And why? Because we want to follow the rules and not be getting’ the boot. We’d rather be acceptin’ our pint o’ grog than to be takin’ 40 lashin’s in the public square.
So that’s why it be so blast’d important that this day survive Johnny Depp and Kiera Knightley. It be a fun day o’ confusin’ classmateys and office crewmemberrrs, but it also be a celebration o’ the spirit that originally found’d this nation: captainin’ our own fates, rather than lettin’ some other lifeless lubber do it for us. International Talk Like A Pirate Day cannot remain in our exclusive lot’s coffers, but shar’d with the disenfranchis’d all around us.