Pirates of the Apocalypse

by Katemandi, Last Girl on Earth

Arrr, mateys. The apocalypse be nigh, or so the ancient scrolls be tellin’ me. And I ought to know, as I am also the sea-farin’ captain of the Pirate Pub, currently on a trip ’round the world amassing the most accurate data on pubs to be visitin’ around the globe that will reward yer piratical thirst.

All right, enough of Talk Like a Pirate: I’m serious here. Think about it: as the polar ice caps continue to melt, sending denizens of the white wastes ever southward, we have to face facts.

We’re lurching toward Waterworld.

No! Not that crap film: the real thing! As the sea levels rise, how ready are you for the Aquaeous Revolution? How are your sea legs? Have you got:

a) hat
b) bandana
c) cutlass
d) gold earring
e) peg leg

How’s your chantey singing coming along? Long sea voyages, as the Vikings well knew, require entertainment. If you’re not whittling a new fo’c’sle or weaving new herring nets, you’ll probably have to be tanning leather, silversmithing or telling stories. And they better be good stories or into the drink you go. Sea-faring folk are a tough audience.

Want a great role model? I give you Grace O’Malley/Grainne Mhaol, the Pirate Queen.

So, if you’re wise, you’ll start working on your knowledge of ocean-going vessels and get to know the common seabirds (and how to fricassée them). Practice glowering with just one eye and barking orders without spitting. Get rid of those city hands. Say a quick prayer to Yemaya. Bring me that horizon! Oh, and learn to tie a few knots.

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