William Brand

I couldn't say, but today's special is pork medallions in chunky pineapple rum sauce...

Today's special is perogies...

I didn't realize it was drawn so much later, though this does explain the strange interpretations of the hilt, or lack of interpretation. I've never liked the Rackham flag. It's overused by the hobby and I've always found it to be crudely drawn, but without purpose. If it were simply drawn to mimic a style of the period or the applied effort of a sailor with a talent for sewing and not art, I think I could like it better.

Army

In the sea Despite his rough exterior, unsettling gaze and not a little disregard for the niceties of society, Durand was still a romantic in his heart of hearts. He often saw his own brutish acts as purposeful and important. His decision to fling himself from the evil purchase of the Navarra had seemed brave, openly defiant, and maybe even…what? Righteous in the moment? He imagined the deliberate act of passing his sword and dislodging himself from his heavier garment would be remembered after with sobering reflection and admiration. A statement against tyranny. Durand was now certain that departing the Navarra in such a fashion was the most foolhardy and wasted act he had made in his time, and he was just as certain that he might not live to see one worse. He knew then that his departure would remain no more in the memories of anyone aboard the Navarra as poignant as he might remain alive in the sea for ten minutes together, but was certain now that it had just seemed foolish to all who witnessed it. It was just a wasted demonstration. He also thought on how he had come aboard the Navarra to better serve the purposes of all three ships. He believed under the circumstances, that this had been his second most foolhardy decision. The third worse was now taking it's first turn in his innards. He thought all this in the two seconds between the deck and the sea. When he surfaced sputtering he realized another thing. He had never been a good swimmer, and even the 'bear' for which he was so aptly named in all other respects, was better in this element than himself, for it could bear up its own weight and coat in water. He was now too heavy for his poor experience and even the thin shirt was a sea anchor. Still, he surveyed his surroundings in that instant perspective lent to the suddenly desperate. Adrenalin had flooded all parts of him, as had the shock of the cold. He turned first to the Navarra as she was bearing away. The merchantman slowed no more for him then she had for anyone else. Durand had applied many adjectives to ships in his time, but now a new one occurred to him. The Navarra seemed…Indifferent. Indifferent as the sea. Durand turned his attention to his only other hope, Patricia, for she wasn't so much bearing towards him as he had hoped she would, but past him, and he would have missed her altogether if not for the most certain way in which some sailor had taken a recent order aboard ship. Just as the Patricia would have slipped past him, the line which dragged her went slack. The poor passenger who clung at her was at first carried up out of the water by act of stalling, and then drowned again as Patricia tried to right herself. 'Corks'. It was the only word Durand could think of in the moment, and nothing in his life had ever made him feel so small.

I see travel posters in the background, don't I? There's a story to this picture.

Fleas

Welcome aboard. Have you built a custom 'pirate' bike?

The only pirate mention that I know of from Dogtown... "Black Neil, also known as Cornelius Finson, was another freed slave who lived in Dogtown. Neil was a clerk for the fisheries, as well as a hog slaughterer. He lived first with Molly Jacobs, . in the cellar where he thought money was buried - perhaps by the pirate Captain Kidd. Later he moved in with Judy Rhines. When the roof collapsed, Neil moved his quarters to the cellar. Black Neil lived in the cellar-hole for some time. It was in the winter of 1830 that the Town Constable found Black Neil with his feet literally freezing, and he was taken to the poorhouse. He died a week later. He was the last resident of Dogtown."

Maiden

Now, regale us with tales of adventure.

And I see that we all had a few minutes to kill today. I am soundly corrected. I'll fetch something that's had a few minutes to kill since it was laid up eight years ago.

An incoming anthracoid maybe. Anthracoid (ˈænθrəˌkɔɪd) adjective 1. resembling carbon, coal, or charcoal Word of the day...and probably the first and last time I'll ever use it, but I had a few minutes to kill.

Baseball

We'll keep them and a bucket brigade in stock.

No, I mean the internal and more specific activities of the body that are happening in addition to the narrative. I would love to have a modern surgeon agree or disagree with the flow of symptoms and the procedures. See what a pathologist would make of the information as it was described.

"This Observation I thought fit to insert in this Place, to let you understand how such Patients may sometimes be cured, contrary to all Opinions and Expectations; to the end that the Chirurgion may not despair, but use all possible endeavours for the Recovery of his Patient.” That's a great line and a good addendum to the narrative. I would love to have a modern doctor interpret these very visual explanations and symptoms.

I've always imagined that it's highly stylized or simplified. 'Implied' rather than replicated exactly. A great many skulls of the period are not drawn realistically, but this might be attributed to the varying talent of one artist to another and the lack of a good reference in the moment. I wish we knew who created the image. Rackham himself or some other person that was persuaded by Rackham.

Gordon

Brigade

pants

That is an awesome, very detailed account, and having known a great infection in my jaw from a tooth that cracked at the roots, I empathize with her Majesty.

Hold

Shot

Halloween evening. Tracy snapped off a picture of me between trick-or-treat duties.