Pirates for Sail

Be it known far and wide that even in this time of great tragedy in the world, the Fiddler is still king.

The evidence for this began with the first exploits of one Bryan McCrae, born a little over a quarter-century ago in the Mecca of the whiskey world that is County Cork.  The tales of his travels and triumphs could span the length of the Internet itself, so we will focus on more recent additions to the legend of the Fiddler.  More specifically, the evening of Friday last.

The place for these auspicious events was none other than Piratz Tavern, wherein a great many goodly people gather to share in the ultimate joy of food, drink, and fine music.  The son of clan McCrae ventured there, as it often his habit, after a two-week respite, to reclaim the former glories vested on him by the great goddess Brighid, his matron.

Alright, so I’ve been reading Homer again.  You try reading The Iliad and not find yourself spoutin’ forth with verse poetic.  In any case, let us continue the tale in a manner slightly less “epic.”

So I’m at Tavern, enjoyin’ myself, puttin’ forth the best of musics piratical we’ve offered in quite some time, and it occurs to me that the hour of nine draws near and we’ve not even finished our first set.  That’s right, as bonny Flint said, we spent an hour and a half in the front.  I think we ended up only doing two sets that night- one forward and one back.  The crowd was one of the best I’ve seen, particularly in that it was rife with the scourge of many a Friday evening- unaccompanied lasses!  I call such a bountiful gift from the powers above a scourge because it evidences a serious problem with the men in this land- there aren’t enough of them, leaving the fiddler to clean up the mess!  Yes, this vast burden of lechery and wenching falls upon my shoulders.  Fortunately, the fiddle has made them strong and able, with an iron will to match.  There I go on my own epic again.

With table after table of bonny lasses shouting “MacIntyre” and stuffing all manner of currency into my breeches (I love this job), I call the evening a success.  Let us only hope that tonight will bring as much joy, luck, and craft.

The day following brought an activity called “ice skating,” where one fixes sharp blades of steel to his boots and glides about on a frozen surface.  I enjoyed that much immensely, though the near-misses with small children who can’t seem to pay attention to the other people out on the ice with them… Let’s just say I failed as a ruthless pirate, because I didn’t kill anyone.

Yet.

But Flint didn’t kill anyone either, and she actually tries after the reputation of ruthless and bloodthirsty!  I’m a lover, not a killer!

Well, so maybe I’m a killer too, but a man can be a balance!

I’m turning this post over to the good folks at CD Baby, who do such a stand-up job selling our music online:

The earthquake and its aftermath in Haiti have touched all of our lives. Many in the CD Baby family have already contributed as individuals, but we wanted to do more to help the victims of the horrible earthquake tragedy.

Starting on Monday, January 25th and continuing for two weeks, we will donate $1 of our cut from every CD sale through our website, and $1 from every download sale over $8.99 on our site, to the American Red Cross and to Mercy Corps, a Portland-based relief organization with a large presence in Haiti. With your help, we hope to raise tens of thousands of dollars.

That’s it, really. If you buy one of our discs, or a disc by one of the thousands of other fine artists on CD Baby, $1 for each CD will go straight to Haiti relief. Sounds good for all involved.

Dear Powder Monkeys,

If ye insist on ice slidin’ yer way in front of a pair of pirates with cutlasses strapped to their feet, do not be surprised if ye come within inches of yer own demise on several occasions.

Yers Truly,
Flint Locke

An hour and a half first set at Tavern last night. A male patron’s rousin’ rendition of “General Taylor” that out-soprano’d me. Dancin’ with Maia (not allowed by m’self) ‘n watchin’ Fast Fingers get lucky with a bar full of ladies.

Life is bloody good.

Now, off to strap a pair of cutlasses to m’feet ‘n walk on water! Wish me luck!

I’ll grant that I haven’t actually seen this movie yet, but with a title like “35 Shots of Rum”, how can you go wrong?

Right about now our dear Professor Skippy is probably at rehearsal with the rest of us, where he’s no doubt just been informed that his pressgangin’ has turned into full-fledged crew status.

…However, he’s also been told that in exchange for said status it was decided that we’d welcome him by showing a lovely photo of a certain pirate in a certain other pirate’s corset.

So, without further adieu…

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WELCOME TO THE CREW, SKIPPY!

…What? Ye thought we were talkin’ about you?

So we’re in a new year and a new decade, and how did I, Fast Fingers Bryan McCrae, mark this occasion?

By partying with rich aristocrats at a resort in West Virginia Territory, of course!  Where else should one find an Irishman such as myself other than where one can find a pot still of moonshine brewing up fresh and ready every mile or two in the hills?!  Granted, moonshiners aren’t nearly as numerous as they once were… Aha!  Now, there be the true cause of global warming!  Some place the blame on lack of pirates, such as ourselves, but I say ’tis the lack of moonshiners!  What this world needs be potcheen!

No, wait… More moonshiners would be a good thing, says I, but methinks the world needs more promiscuous wenches far more than it needs additional hill-dwelling potcheen-makers.  Besides that, if all the potcheen is up in the mountains of West Virginia, how am I to enjoy it?

Then again, a booze-drinking siren call sounded this past Saturday night, from one of the bonniest lasses I know… and I turned it down.  Losing my edge, am I?  I need to think of something more… edgy… Aha!

Why does Lady Gaga wear half a dress when she’s just going to have a damn skin-tight bodysuit underneath?  What purpose does that serve but to look silly?  Half  a dress meets the needs of modesty and convenience, but when tempered with a complete and utter lack of nudity, it destroys the whole achievement in a single efficient blow!

That might be edgy enough to restore myself… I did drink an entire pint of grog in one quick shot at Tavern on day-after-New-Year’s, which is also my mother’s Birthday.  Getting tossed on my mother’s Birthday has to be worth something, right?

Hah, so seein’ as how tonight’s Piratz Tavern ensemble includes Finn, Rackham, Professor Skippy ‘n m’self, I’d say there’ll be plenty of crazy to go ’round.

And by that I mean it’ll be a bloody party!

Well, not bloody-bloody… Not unless someone gives Finn a shot’ah pure caffeinated madness ‘n a pointy object. T’wasn’t pretty the last time. We’ve all learned our lesson since then.