Men, we live in a world that has oceans, and those oceans have to be navigated by men who sail. Who's gonna do it? Landsmen? Lubberly, milk-fed pussies? We have more responsibility here than they could possibly fathom. They weep for being on dry land, and they curse the wild ocean. They have that luxury. They have the luxury of not knowing what must be done in order to be a sailor. And that our existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to land lubbers, is noble. I know deep down in places they don't talk about at parties, they don't want us on that ocean, but they need us on that ocean. We use words like honor, hard alee, yar, tack and jibe. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent sailing. Landsmen use them as a punchline.
We have neither the time nor the inclination to explain ouselves to land lubbers who rise and sleep under the blanket of the very freedom we provide, then question the manner in which we provide it. I prefer they said thank you, and went on their way. Otherwise, I suggest they pick up some foul weather gear and a VHF radio, and climb into the cockpit.
Either way, I don't give a damn what they think they're entitled to.
4 comments:
Especially in their Faggoty land lubber Uniforms!!!!
Non sailors are non men.
I do not care for your foul weather, Brandy, a robe, and a fine smoking item for me, That is what sailing is all about right?
I'll translate Leiostomus Xanthurus' sentiments:
"I don't give a good god dam about your pussy-ass preoccupations about foul weather. You can shove your brandy, your comforts---like silly robes and fine smoking items---up your asses. For me, I merely need the most minimum of life's modern conveniences. Hard tack and salami is what brought Columbus's bugger-ass to America, right? That's what sailing is all about, isn't it? Or are we meant to believe that men are men because of a woman's charm?
I didn't think so ... " --- L.X.
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