The Doctor

mercury toxicity

Chevy Chase

OK, enough already! Storm season can be over. Here's the hotlinked track and past forecast for Ophelia.

Duh! Got it now!

But it is a Clapton classic! :)

Cocaine...

:: With all appropriate care, Jack makes his way toward the crew spaces. This damnable business with two crewmen assaulted, a missing Dutchman aboard, and that French warship... Strange business, indeed. His makeshift cane thumped against the steps leading down to the crew's quarters, and Jack smiles wryly about his speed and stealth as of late. He hears the squeak of hinges, a loud thud, and the sound of a running man's bootheels. Jack rushes his progress to the crew deck, pulling his pistol as he clears the doorway. He cocks the weapon as he yells out :: You there! Show yourself! It shall be better for you if you end this folly now! :: He listens for a moment, letting his words hang in the air, know full well that the person had already escaped by the aft companionway. Jack begins surveying the crew's effects as he quietly makes his way along the deck. About one-third of the way, he notices an unlocked sea chest with a bit of clothing poking out of it. He keeps his eyes up, scanning for any movement as he uses his cane to open the chest. The sound of the hinges fails to produce whoever had been so curious about it's contents, so he sets about searching within. A shift or two of clothes, a Bible in Dutch... Jack opens the from cover, and reads the name on the coverleaf - "Van Buren". Beneath the bible is a warm-weather shirt, wadded up unlike the other neatly folded clothing. Jack looks about the deck again, and picks up the shirt. It is far heavier than it should be, and he soon discovers why as he turns back the fabric... A doglock pistol. Having just spent a good deal of time in the Armoury, Jack knows immediately that this weapon was never declared. "Well, Mr. Van Buren," he thinks to himself. "Just when I believe you have hit bottom, I look, and you're digging..." He concludes his search of Van Buren's sea chest, and returns to the main deck to present his find to the Quartermaster :: Mr. Lasseter! A word with you sir. In private, if you please. I have something of interest. :: Jack and the Quartermaster stand away from the crewmen. He presents his discovery, and explains where and how he managed to come by it ::

Stairway to Heaven - Led Zeppelin

I've seen the reports on those replacement disc trials. Incredibly encouraging, and they should end up revolutionizing the treatment of degernerated discs. I'm glad you're a trial candidate, Ciaran! My fingers are crossed in the hopes you're selected and that it brings you relief!

Jesus slippers

Oh, Rumba, I wish you could have seen Apollo today! He was amazing! :)

tossed salad

Try playing PotC with the addon Build (number 12, I believe) from Pirates Ahoy!. More ships, more items, more options, extended game play, more missions/stories, more realistic ship and weather behavior, and a ton of bug fixes. :) Plus you can drop off Clement and Danielle after the main quest is complete. Clement is a waste of resources, but Danielle is immortal. And she makes a nice bosun, if ye catch me drift... :) A bit curt, but what Froggy ain't?

:: Jack and Armand were carrying on quite the conversation when the Watch Dog heeled over hard to larboard, and a rush of air invaded the Armoury carrying the scent of heavy rain with it. Jack grabbed an armfull of musquets that threatened to topple over. He hopped upright, careful to put no weight on his right leg :: Seems like the weather has turned. Come, help me secure these weapons.

I'll be in front of the TV, with popcorn and Guinness!

Pissed off. Completely, utterly pissed off. I thought that my days of wearing a knee brace to ride were over, but If I'm going to ride Western pleasure at all, I have to drag out that damned infernal contraption. I should have known something was up when my knee started complaining about long bike rides. But this relatively new ACL wants to be a whiney baby about getting worked hard. Bah! I wish they could have reused my old one and be done with the whole business.

Armand, I must regretably, and only briefly, desert my post. I will leave you, as able as I know you to be, to guard the Armoury. :: Jack loads the the third English pistol, with grenado cup, stuffed with grapeshot and double-charged. He took up his makeshift walking stick and pressed into the companionway :: I shall be back in no more than 10 minute's time. Of that, I assure you, my new friend. :: He took off down the companionway, and in minutes found himself before the Tailor's door :: Miss Kendra! Do not be alarmed, for I am coming in! :: Jack opens the door to find Kendra frightfully clutching a pair of shears. Her eyes are frantic, not knowing what to expect next :: Miss Kendra... :: Jack's tones are soothing, attempting to calm her frightened mind :: All is well. We are in dialogue with a French ship, but I cannot warrant their intentions toward us. You are being looked after, on many different levels. If your Giant is not here, I can only gather he has gone above to assist the able hands. In his absence, dear Miss, I can only offer this... :: Jack produces the double-charged pistol, and hands it to her, butt first :: It is loaded with grapeshot, so you will need to make the first volley count. I have no doubt you are most fearsome thereafter with your shears. :: He ensures that she understands how to cock and fire the pistol, and he smiles reassuringly to her as he brushes her hair away from her pale face :: No harm shall come to you, as long as I draw a breath, Miss Kendra. :: Jack kisses her on the cheek, and departs her cabin, locking the door behind him. He makes his way back to the Armoury to a waiting Armand :: How did I do, monsiuer? :: Jack settles into his corner, resting his throbbing leg :: "Twelve minutes, monsiuer. But, who is counting?", smiled Armand.

:: Jack steels himself for what may or may not come, noting mentally that the Moon is becoming new; the time of things coming to fruition. He concentrates upon the rocking of the ship, and softly hums the song "The Rose of Tralee" ::

:: Jack has by this time made a chair out of an ammunition box, and has found more than adequate rest for his leg. He squares his shoulders, feeling a satisfying crack along his spine. Within seconds, he shivers... :: Oi! Armand... have you ever felt like someone just walked over your grave? :: Armand looks back from the companionway outside the Armoury, his face like stone :: Oui, monsiuer. When battle and death are upon the wind. I always make sure that it is I that walks over their graves, mon ami. You would do well to do the same. :: Given that admonishment, Jack checks his pistols and blades, then settles back against the bulkhead :: I've never been one for dying at the hand of another... :: he smiles in a gallows sort of way :: But killing has never bothered me one whit. Aye. We'll show them more mettle than they could ever hope to muster.

:: Jack finishes the arrangement of arms to his satisfaction. He leans heavily against the bulkhead, drawing Armand's attention :: Non. Non, monsieur. Just a bit winded after not being active for a stretch of time. Nothing to worry about. I'll be hobbling about in a few moments, as normal. :: He laughed wryly, then became a bit more serious :: Tell me, mon ami; the commander of this frigate, is he known to you? And if so, is he an honorable man? I do so hate killing men who would otherwise be known as "honorable"... No fault of their own, to be sure. Wrong place, wrong time, and all that. I'd like to give him an honest turn, that's all.

:: As Jack is preparing the arms for deployment, he runs across three short Enlish-made pistols fitted out for grenado cups. He looks back Armand and grins like a young boy at Christmastime. He latches the cups in place on two of them, and tosses one of the destructive weapons to Armand :: Looks like we might just have us a bit of fun today, eh, mate?

chestnuts (a medical condition that arises from an unfortunate bicycle accident)

beer nuts

Very well, Armand. I do appreciate the company, sir.

tennis balls