I'm a big boat advocate.
My wife Carol and I are having, in terms of nautical lingo, "a squall." My wife, she's kinda uppity, even for someone who's uppity. Even uppity people think she's uppity. And the most uppity people just think she's a bitch. Uppity boaters refer to her as an anchor. I thought that was just a figure of speech until my uppity friend threw her off my boat The Los Angeles Police Department. We had a pretty good laugh about it until the Coast Guard got there and they had to fish her out of the reef. Those guys at the Coast Guard wouldn't know a good joke if it dodged military service, shamed their father who was in the Navy and reported directly to their funny bone. They give boats a bad name.
I got this joke:
Knock Knock. Who's there? My wife Carol. My wife Carol who? Yep, she's in the reef again.
They never laugh at that one. They always get all uppity, more uppity than Carol and they yell "This is battery!' And then I yell back "No, that's Carol."
Geez, with all the times I had to call them, they should know that by now.
Apparently, the court system does not have a sense of humor, either. They threatened to take my boating license away if they had one more complaint from the Coast Guard. Damn Coast Guard. They truly are the Bendict Arnold of boating society.
She can swim. That's what makes it funny. If she couldn't swim, that's what would make it a crime. You know what else is a crime? Taking my boat away. That would be a crime against humanity. That would also be a crime against boats.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
I like boats. I don't like golf. I've already blogged about this. I said that I wouldn't play golf unless they somehow managed to build a golf course on a boat.
Well, they did. This is a picture of the S.S. Tiger Woods. That's right, Tiger Woods has made so much money that he was able to purchase an aircraft carrier, design a golf course and build his golf course on his aircraft carrier. Mr. Woods, I applaud your enthusiasm for boats. You are truly a visionary in the boat golfing community. People right now are seeing this picture and literally falling off boats in amazement. It's a boat miracle. If I could, I would give you a gold medal. On that medal would be a picture of a boat. And under that boat it would say "Tiger Woods is a boating bad ass."
I cant waste my money on medals though, cause I have to save that money for more boats and boating insurance. Oh, and I have to save up money for one of my boating related lawsuits. PETA is suing me for bludgeoning a dolphin to death with my seven iron. They say I shouldn't have flogged the dolphin with my club, but I say, if you're gonna squeak like a dog toy stuck under a jackhammer, you are gonna eat PING ZING. Suck on that Flipper!
And I might have also thrown my putter at a Coast Guard employee. But, come on, that's not even a crime in most states now. My love of boats knows no bounds, but even I wouldn't join the coast guard. That's the equivalent of being an unemployed clown when the circus is in town. It's just embarrassing. Boating embarrassing.
Tiger, all I can give you is a hearty salute and an invitation to my annual "Captain Club" dinner. It's on one of my yachts called "It's no a U-Boat, it's a We-Boat." I expect to see you there Captain Woods. Wear your green jacket.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Now Mr. Howell, there is a guy you could count on. He was a billionaire! You don’t just wake up one day with that kind of money. You have to earn that money by swindling honest, hard working people out of millions of dollars in shady real estate transactions and monopolizing industries such as diamond mines and railroads. The man owned downtown Denver for God’s sake! That has to make you at least partial mayor or possibly supreme dictator of Denver. Imagine he and his bear Teddy, ruling Denver with an iron fist filled with crisp $100 bills, just snarking it up and perusing the streets, looking for floozies. I would have happily let Mr. Howell take the wheel of my boat and drive it all the way to the bank. I can tell you this much, he would have never stood for the laughable Denver Nuggets.
Also, he went to Harvard. All boatsmen know Harvard to be the boating elite. The joke at Harvard is, “How do you steer you ship into Harvard’s port?” Answer: “You hire somebody else to do it for you. You didn’t buy that diamond mine to do your own yachting.” I mean, this is the same man who brought tens of thousands of dollars in cash on a three hour boat ride. Being rich means you gotta be prepared to buy your way out of any situation. Any situation, except being stuck on some desolate island in the Pacific. Even then, it’s good to have some liquidity in those types of situations and Mr. Howell knew this. You can bet your ass he would have bought the first boat that came ashore and sailed right back to Denver. This is called crude boating acumen. You either have it or you stay stranded on islands for the rest of your life.
He had a wife named Lovey. His wife had a sense of “noblesse oblige.” That means that rich people gotta act rich, but they still have to take care of the other people who aren‘t as rich. That’s where the phrase “the rich get richer and the poor get brutally lectured,” comes from. I know this because I have Wikipedia on my boat and all of the Gilligan’s Island episodes on DVD.
What’s my point? What does this have to do with boats?
Mr. Howell didn’t have A boat, he probably had like 1000 boats. They could have called “Howell’s Navy” and he could have had a 1000 boat march in the marina to protest to faulty navigation systems or possibly the Coast Guard’s inefficiency in finding lost billlionaires on a deserted islands. . He could have sailed on Washington via Lincoln’s reflecting pool. You want something to reflect on? Reflect on several hundred cannon laden yachts and warships launching cannonballs into the Jefferson Memorial. Imagine all those yachts filled to the brim with hoighty-toighty tightwad billionaires screaming, “Nuah, Nuah, Fire the cannons, Lovey! Nuha Nuha.” I bet you weren‘t counting on that Department of Homeland Security!
That is of course, if he could have gotten off of that island.
Now as I have stated before, I like boats. This guy was a land baron and I still liked him more than the Skipper. He owned a diamond mine, a railroad, and several large corporations. I don’t know for sure, and have no factual information to back this statement up, but I like to think that one of those corporations made boats or boating accessories.
And this is why I am making Thurston Howell III the first member of the Boating Enthusiast Digest’s Hall of Fame. Congratulations Mr. Howell, now if you can just help me get through all the red tape in buying my Cold War Era aircraft carrier, I’ll be on my way.
You can't fathom that someone would waste his time on yours on such a ridiculous, far reaching boating premise? What I can’t fathom is how I didn’t think of this sooner.
"Speaking of "portly." I guess we know where all those "Free lunches went."
I like boats. I like stories about boats, I like books about boats, movies about boats and of course television shows that revolve around boats and/or boating. I sometimes watch/read/watch and read about boats while I am on my boat, boating at the same time. That’s like 2 times the boating power of just regular boating. Actually that’s like boating squared. It’s ironic and enjoyable and ironically enjoyable. You know what else is enjoyable? My boat “The Los Angeles Police Department.” I enjoy schooning the hell out of it.
I like the show Gilligan’s Island, even though Gilligan had no right to lay claim to the Island as his own. He was completely out of line by declaring himself supreme ruler and namer of the island. They didn't even vote! Those people should have revolted in order to bring the tyranny of the dork in the red shirt and goofy hat down.
I didn’t like the Skipper either. He wasn’t just a bad captain, he was a bad human being. The Skipper sucked because he was a boat ruiner. He was the captain of that ship and only had to go on a three hour tour. Let me repeat, a three hour tour. And what did he do? He wrecked his boat and put the lives of his fellow boat enthusiasts and passengers in great peril by getting caught in a storm and wrecking a perfectly functional nautical vessel. There's this thing called the National Weather Bureau. You should look into that before reenacting your version of what happened to the Titanic.
First of all, a good captain is always supposed to go down with his ship. That’s not an option, that’s a rule. It’s boat rule # 3, right behind always have automatic weapons in case of pirate attacks and don’t steer your ship into rocks. You broke all three, and so you go down with the S.S. Minnow. When that tiny boat sinks to Davy Jones’ Locker, you sail that baby right down into the deep blue abyss. No pit stops at Burger King for Double Whoppers or chasing the Gravy Boat to Turkey Town. Your fat ass sinks with the Minnow. It’s that simple.
Then when he got to the island, he could never fix the boat. They were on that island for like 10 damn years! You couldn’t fix a hole in the hull in 10 years? They ought to revoke your captain’s license and your man license. Grow a pair and fix the hull you fat moron. And take that hat off because it’s insulting to all the other boat captains who haven’t crashed their boat into a rocky lagoon and been stranded on a deserted island for the past 40 years. It was a tiny ship. I know this because it said so in the song. Now take your tiny brain and grab a bamboo wrench and get to fixing fatty.
You were in the Navy for god’s sake, you should know how to do these things. Did you work on a destroyer? Because you are a destroyer. A destroyer of boats!
Were you in the regular Navy or the Lazy Navy? I guess by the size of your gut we can assume it’s the later. How could you be stuck on an island with nothing to eat but coconuts and fish and still get fatter? Are you gonna fix that boat or just keep being not skinny. The Harlem Globetrotters where there like 7 times and they got off the island every single time. No problem at all, they would play a game and a day later they would leave. 7 freaking times! And I bet they only had a limited knowledge of boats and shipmanship. They were basketball players and even they found a way to get off that island. The only basketball person who didn’t know when to flee a sinking ship was Isiah Thomas and the Knicks ended up pushing him off with cement shoes somewhere in the mighty Hudson River. How do you keep being a monumental screw-up and still call yourself a captain? You couldn’t have been in McHale’s Navy or Mama’s family.
Is Gilligan always thwarting your attempts to get rescued by another boat? Kill him. Just get it over with. He screws up everything anyway. Just take him out to the cove and hold his head under the water till the bubbles stop coming up. Tell him there’s a goofy hat sale out there and he’ll probably drown himself trying on trucker hats that say “I suck at life.” You wrecked that boat and you owe it to those people like Mary Ann and Mr. Howell to get them off that island. I mean he’s a moron, dead weight. He always mentions how he misses television. Won’t he be surprised when he gets back and finds out he’s actually on television. Another case of boating irony squared.
To be contimued...