Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Yer a Crew of Scurvy Bilge Rats!

Arrrrrgh! It be that time O' Year, Matey! It be the 19th day in the month O' September, so time to hoist the black flag and swill the rum. But first, yer in fer' a keel-haulin.

This day in the month O' August, I posted to this page a counter, to count ye. It's been rising like the tide the whole month. I've been anticipatin' the counter reachin the right good sum of a thousand, and askin' me-self whether it'd be today, so I could call out: "I netted a good round thousand in one month!"

Arrrgh. By naptime today, I had only Nine Hundred Nine-and-Fifty. And I was sore in need of that nap, too.

As one scurvy old seadog once spoke:
Before an hour's out, I'll stove in your old block house like a rum puncheon. Laugh, by thunder, laugh! Before an hour's out, ye'll laugh upon the other side. Them that die'll be the lucky ones.

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