Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge

Hey, I please to aim. Alright, new one. The Vandals Are You Male Or Female? : I'm a Fly Describe Yourself: Crippled & Blind, Viking Suit, Punk as Fuck, Mullet Song How Do Some People Feel About You? : Jackass, How(did this loser get this job?) How Do You Feel About Yourself? : I'm the Boss of Me Describe Where You Want To Be: Cafe 405, Mohawk Town Describe What You Want To Be: People That Are Going To Hell, F'ed Up Girl, Power Mustache Describe How You Live: Behind the Music, Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious Describe How You Love: Sorry, Mom and Dad, My First Christmas as a Woman, Slap Of Love, Tastes Like Chicken Share A Few Words Of Wisdom: Go, Oi to the World, Live Fast Diarrhea

Kreator Are You Male Or Female? : Ruin Of Life Describe Yourself: Servant in Heaven - King in Hell, Stronger Than Before How Do Some People Feel About You? : One Evil Comes - A Million Follow How Do You Feel About Yourself? : Some Pain Will Last Describe Where You Want To Be: Europe After The Rain Describe What You Want To Be: Son Of Evil, Alive Again Describe How You Live: Under A Total Blackened Sky Describe How You Love: Extreme Aggression, Enemy Unseen, Twisted Urges Share A Few Words Of Wisdom: Whatever It May Take, Blind Faith Maybe I should have stuck with Beck... "Are you male or female?: Yodelay!"

Arr, th'dread pyrate Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge be not needin' an arsenal! Nor can 'e use one, fer that matter. Me hooks an' pegs an' teeth be all I be needin'! I used t'have some laser-shootin' bionic eyes, too, but I be losin' 'em in a bet wid Silkie McDonough.

Arr, or make banana chips. Ewwrrr... The words "ew" an' "arr" be not goin' t'gether too well.

Arr, mateys. Be ye knowin' that Raffi be releasin' a single adult-oriented album in his entire musical career, titled "Love Light"? I've a-been lookin' e'erywhere fer it, alas! it eludes me yet again. Now onta this business 'bout bananas. As seamen, sailors, freebooters, buccaneers, an' pirates in general, I see it only right that we be takin' on th'responsibility of cultivatin' the banana t'supply our piratey demand fer the funny little fruit. Remember Mutiny on the Bounty, mateys!

Arr, Pirate's Booty! I be havin' a bag o' that in me captain's quarters. Haven't eaten them, as they be more of a nostalgia item fer me, but I personally don't like the pirate charicature on the bag. T'be lookin' like a thespian, an' I don't be likin' dramatic theatre (unless it be Gilbert and Sullivan, of course). Now, allow me t'tell ye a story. One day, an acquaintance of mine be procurin' a bag of what be called "Crunchitos". I hadn't ever heard of 'em, but he be findin' them under the seat of his car, so I be required t'eat it. So, I be poppin' the cheee puffs inta mine own mouth, an' they be some o' the best damn cheese puffs I ever be havin', despite their health-foodiness. Amazon be sellin' them at $2.29 a bag. Not completely worth it, but they be damn good. Jest take a look at the product's description. I mean, jest look! Chedariffic, mateys!

Arr, matey. I be findin' that th'best way t'be learnin' how'ta play an instrument be t'experiment aroun' with it till ye produce consistent results. Now, I ain't never played a digeridoo, but I did have an aboriginal wind instrument that be goin' along the same principal. I never be figurin' it out, but t'should be easy t'do so if ye have the motivation, savvy? Even if ye only can devote ten minutes a day t'learnin', ye should figure it out in no time.

Arr, Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge be proposin' that we all be gettin' full o' ourselves, jest t-remove all doubts. Mine be a plum brandy. Cheers!

Arr, "Yer booty shivers me timbers", courtesy of a Yahoo! instant messenger advertisement from the days o' the golden age... or just some time ago. Gyar.

Arr, the California mainland be havin' quite the snow, lately. Some don't be likin' it, but not true of Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge! He'd a-walk inta any situation which would most likely result in certain death an' fare inta any weather. So long as it don't be like, ye know, a hurricane or anythin', but that jest be common sense. Anyway, the Salmon Soul be covered in snow fer two 'er three days a week now, but so long as it don't freeze me battery, I be fine. Arr. Maybe I could be makin' a giant sled in th' likeness of the Happy Salmon an' ride it down th'highway? Gyar, now there be an idea.

Arr, iffin ye don't mind, I'ma gonna be puttin' Running Wild stuff separate from the other songs. Tortuga Bay - Running Wild (Fuckin' fast, mateys. Can't not put 'er 'ere.) Chains And Leather - Running Wild The Rivalry - Running Wild Soul Vampires - Running Wild Treasure Island - Running Wild Treasure Galley - Running Wild An' now th'rest of it, me hearties. Balls To The Wall - Accept Son Of A Bitch - Accept Space Pirates - Alice Cooper Just A Little - ARK (Not "The Ark", ARK) Sky's The Limit - Authority Zero Victory? - Cockrasher (Korean punk, bitches. Arr.) Morte aos Ciquelistas - Comme Restus Life On Mars - David Bowie Gute Reise - Die Toten Hosen Zehn kleine Jägermeister - Die Toten Hosen Holy Diver - Dio Through The Fire And Flames - Dragonforce I Am The Captain Of The Pinafore - Gilbert and Sullivan Rhapsody In Blue - George Gershwin Neptune, The Mystic - Gustav Holst Jupiter, The Bringer Of Jollity - Gustav Holst Third Reich From The Sun - Hanzel und Gretyl It's Cool - Instant Funk Starlight's Fury - Jag Panzer (Though the vocals be suckin'.) Es gibt kein Bier auf Hawaii - JBO Black Dog - Led Zeppelin Crimson Rider - Masterplan Badlands - Metal Church Rock With You - Michael Jackson Martini Built For Two - My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult Purple Rain - Prince Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon - Queen Sign Of The Time - Queensrÿche Steelgods Of The Last Apocalypse - Rhapsody Mr. Bojangles - Sammy Davis Jr. Rock You Like A Hurricane - Scorpions The Attitude Song - Steve Vai Lost - Visions of Atlantis Blind In Texas - W.A.S.P. Arpeggios From Hell - Yngwie Malmsteen Far Beyond The Sun - Yngwie Malmsteen Arr, I be knowin'; quite a few sailin' songs, an' half of it don't be fittin' in thar (especially Jacko o'er there). But t'ain't surprisin' considerin' that I be havin' almost five days worth o' music an' given me uniqueness among me roguish peers.

Ray fills a tankard of grog from the tap, and slides the vessel down the counter top directly into Silkie's hand. "Thankin' ye, Ray," says the illustrious piratess. No sooner than she downs her poison in three piratey gulps does Lady McDonough harken to the sound of eighties work-out music rapidly approaching the pub. Arthur Richards from Kent (the very same) follows the sound as it reaches the door. "Be that what I think it be?" says he. Freebird, not accustomed to the lengthy, over-dramatic narrations posted by your humble narrator, looks about, somewhat panicked. Freebird begins, "What--," but is quickly muted by Silkie McDonough's hand. Bursting through the door is a sight to see. Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge, in all his flamboyant freebooter glory jogs in, wearing sweat shorts and a sweater and listening to an overly loud walkman, despite his two peg legs, hook hands, and two eyepatches. It was bad enough seeing the captain sweating and looking like he just came from a Rocky convention, but he had to sing along. "Push it to the limit, Walk along the razor's edge!, but don't ye look down, just keep yer head and ye'll be finished. Open up the limit... past the point-of-no-return! Ye've reached the top but still ye gotsa learn how to KEEP I-I-I-IT! Hit th' wheel an' double th' stakes, throttle wide open like a bat outta hell an' ye crash the gates – Crash the GAAAAAYTES!" Briefly, he pauses, grabs a bottle of motor oil, chugs it, turns around, continues singing, punches into the air with his hooks, and inevitably gets one of his pegs caught in a hole in the floor. Within a second, the jogging pirate is one with the oak planks. Looking up, he greets the newcomer, "Freebird!," causing the pub's band to start up with one of the most stereotypical Lynyrd Skynyrd songs of all time.

Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge quickly peeks back into the pub, quite limbful now that his pegs and hooks have been plundered (Don't ask; I either have hands or hooks, or occasionally one bionic hand. Same with the legs.). "Arr, I jest be wantin' t'be commentin' on the innuendo b'fore I be settin' sail. An' that be that Bjärn's mouth be waterin' fer a good plunder... Arr." The captain hangs in the doorway for a minute longer. Bad idea. A dead Japanese rockstar swings on a rope right at the good captain. The feisty freebooter is knocked out of the pub and a crash is audible as he hits a piles of naval grade barrels in the alleyway.

Arr, a cat a pirate? Why, in me own day, man nor boy woulda heard o' such a thing! But now that we've exchanged pleasantries and me singin' career be over, I'm a-gonna make like a baby and head on out. Cheers, mateys. Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge downs one more Jell-O cup and vibrates out the door. As he leaves, a random pirate waves and turns to Seawolf Bjärn, "I never did get his name, but he sure cleaned up this town." Befuddled, Bjärn makes his response, "You–you're kidding me, right? He said it, like, six times."

Wondering where he got the earrings, Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge grabs a handfull of temporary tattoos and turns to his personal orchestra, giving them a nod. Stuffing the tattoos secretly into the pocket of his red peacoat, he tosses the garment aside and exchanges it for a leapord-print lounge jacket. A double bass player from the orchestra begins strumming strings, and the pianist enters in measures later, playing softly. Then, a side of the captain yet not seen emerges! He whistles the beginning of "Mr. Bojangles", and then sweeps the pub off its foundations with such sweet vocal talent not expected of a pirate. Yeah, he sang that good. Having finished his number, the pub erupts into a clamour! Patrons throw coins of all makes and countries onto the floor in front of the captain. However, the good captain's singing career would soon be over as an unidentified drunkard throws one of those large, stone wheels that they use for currency in Indonesia or whatever at Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge's throat.

Arr, I personally be likin' the guy with the cybernetic implants. If I be British, I'd do the same, but I guess I'll just have t'be usin' space piracy as an excuse. Cut scene to below the decks of a spanish galleon. The view pans across the hold, packed with many a pirate, all engaging in various activities. A number of the renegades are gathered around a dice table, placing bets. Another couple is arm-wrestling, while yet more are drinking and singing. The view finally focuses upon that of a pirate, although young, is scruffy in appearance. He takes a prolonged gulp of grog, stands, and starts walkng through the holds. as he progresses, we see yet more pirates faring in their devilish activites. Barely noticeable is a man conversing at a table, grabbing his blue drink as it floats off into the air. The young man continues to the end of the hold, at a stairway, and walks up to a set of doors leading to the deck. He opens them and is sucked out, much to his surprise into the void of space. He struggles for seconds, then ceases his movement. The body floats for a while before the head explodes. Meanwhile, debris from inside the ship are sucked out to space, and pirates on the inside struggle not to be vaccuumed out. Then, as if with purpose, Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge comes out of his quarters, fitted with a robotic leg, a cybernetic hand, and a bionic ocular sensor, though he still wears a traditional hook, peg, and eyepatch on each limb's relation. Grasping the walls of the hold, he makes his way to the door. He reaches, but cannot work with one hand whilst holding on with the other. Being resourceful, he bares his metal teeth and sinks them into the woodwork so as to use his hand and hook to close the door. Accomplishing this, first mate Scowlin' Hannibal Drake, now endowed with some sort of high-tech breathing apparatus or something congratulates the captain. "Cap'n, that be amazin'! But tell me, why don't ye get a full set o' technological prosthetics?" "Arr, the sea be a harsh mistress..." An eerie silence bequeaths the ship. "... We be in space, cap'n." "Be that so, Master Drake? To the brig with him!"

As Lady Foxmorton carries Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge into the lavatory, the pirate rubs his forehead with his hook and shouts, "I'll be back, mateys!" An orchestra starts up, playing typical swashbuckling music as the doors to the water closet close.

Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge suddemly and unexpectedly spins his stool around, gets on his pegs, and moonwalks towards Maggie Pricklebottom. Reseating himself, he reads Maggie as if a book. "No, I ain't the Mythical Scrabble Shark from which legends be born and tales told o'er the seven seas, many rivers, a few lakes and a pond full o' guppies, tended to by two island guys named Pronto and Gronto. But, he or she be a good friend o' mine and be impartin' his or her knowledge upon me lonesome ol' self. Hey, howsabout you an' me be playin' Engrish Monopoly?" The good captain procures a box which is recognizable as that of the classic board game, Monopoly, except that the title of the game reads "Monopory" and what normally reads as "Parker Brothers Real Estate Trading Game" now shows as "I play of Propertys Brothers of Property of Commerce of Parker". Incredulously, Miss Pricklebottom opens the box, picks up a chance card, and is met with "Jail! Not to pass to go, do not to collect thirteenth century dollars."

Arr, metal? I be partial to classic metal, shred, thrash, an' basically any other kinda metal, though I do tend to avoid death and nu metal. Gyar, anythin' with either crappy vocals or crappy instrumentation, I don't like. Arr, have ye heard of ARK? They be from Norway. The band has since ceased to be, and the singer is now with Masterplan, which be a great band. Also, if ye haven't hear of 'em already, Bjärn, Running Wild be the best damn pirate metal band in existence.

Arr, I be born with hooks fer hands, pegs fer legs, patches over me hollow eye sockets, an' I be sayin' I be inta sado-maso-necro-beastiality, an' I be gettin' a groupie fer it. But ye all be knowin' that. What ye don't be knowin', though, be that I be in a bit o' a mess with the zombie mafia concernin' a brief affair with the Zombfather's daughter. Little bitey, she be. Gyar!

The clamour is suddenly interrupted when the moderately infamous Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge comes staggering into the pub on his peg legs, grasping the walls for support with his hooks, stumbling blindly with two patches over his sockets. He wears a dirty tuxedo which is frayed at its extremities, but is otherwise good-looking, especially for this particular picaroon, though the pirate hat and the scraggly beard diminish the noble appearance. He makes his way for the bar, but one of his pegs catches in a hole in the wooden floor. Down, the ballsy buccaneer falls. A single hook raises above the bar and catches into the wood, right next to the holes he left the last couple of times. The randy rogue pulls himself up, finds his seat, and calls to Ray, the innkeep. "Arr, Ray, get me a dozen o' them jell-o shots I be hearin' 'bout. Non-alcoholic, iffin ye please; I be tryin' t'cut down." The good captain somehow manages to lay a variety of screws, bolts, washers, rivets, and other fastening implements upon the countertop. Ray reaches under the counter and pulls out two six packs of those snack-size Jell-O cups. The captain oscillates his eyeless head while downing the Jell-O. He overlooks Bjärn, then does a double-take, thus choking on the Jell-O. The rascally renegade falls to the floor with a loud thud, arises once more, and approaches the newcomer. "SeaWolf Bjärn! Why, I haven't been seein' ye in... ever, actually. Well, hello thar, matey. Cap'n Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge be the name. But me friends be callin' me Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge. So, I hear ye be a fan o' metal. I be a metalhead meself, ye know. Arr, yes, yes; I be rememberin' now. T'all be startin' in A.D. 2101. War be beginnin'. Somebody be settin' up us the bomb..." The captain continues with a long, detailed description of his adventures which make absolutely no sense. The Viking stares at the cripple with a confused visage. Minutes pass. Minutes become hours, and long after the pub has been vacated, the captain brings his story to a closing. "... so he be sayin', 'The dog...', an' I says, 'Arr! The dog be humpin' my leg like a sea donkey in heat!' Now, t'is quite an odd thing, a sea donkey, so t'is natural for him t'be sayin', 'Sea donkey, cap'n sir?' Well, he be me first mate! T'ain't gonna be I who be takin' that from 'im – 'Yarr, don't ask questions!,' says I.... eye, eye, eye. Anywho, the dog finally be stoppin' the humpin', an' the lousy bilge rat be bitin' me leg! So, all casual-like, I be shoutin', 'NO QUARTER GIVEN!,' an' me crew be comin' outta all sorts o' crevices o' the ship t'be engagin' in all sorts o' piratey violence. And that be why I be wearin' a tuxedo." The Canadanavian's physiognomy is frozen in an appearance of befuddlement. The captain slaps a few packets of Power Bar Power Gels onto the counter and arises. "Well, I be done. Take care, Ray. Nice meetin' ye, SeaWolf Bjärn." The mysterious character stumbles out of the pub on his pegs, whistling the theme from the Andy Griffith show on his way. He makes his way out the door, then loses balance and careens into a bin. *Pirate's Note: The aforementioned event with the dog occured at an uncertain time after the good captain and his first mate, Scowlin' Hannibal Drake, were jailed on false drug charges in 1999 when they explained their odd situation of having their galleon vandalized with anti-drug/alcohol messages by somebody associated with the D.A.R.E. program. The secretary at the police station did not believe their story, had an officer cuff the two, and give them lectures on the dangers of acid and mushrooms. Immediately, they were put ina holding cell with many burly men. Luckily, Blackie Lawless was still outside, so he requested his friend, Chainsaw Charlie, to help the pirates out of jail. Chainsaw Charlie cut the bars on the window, then, in a bright flash, the police station turned into a pet shelter in the year 2005. The captain and Scowlin' Hannibal Drake found themselves on the floor with aching migraines. Blackie Lawless, Prince, and Chainsaw Charlie had since disappeared, and the good captain found an empty gallon bottle of Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum in hand, with a dog humping his peg leg. That's a pretty mediocre piratey adventure compared to some others which I've had.

Arr, I be fairly broad in me own metally tastes. S'ppose t'all depends on me mood. When I be want'in cheesy, I be goin' with Rhapsody an' Kamelot. However, when Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge wants good metal, he be goin' with Masterplan, Helloween, Dio, Metal Church, and the like. Likewise, I can be settlin' with crappy metal like Mnemic and Dream Evil (the former fer extreme headbangin' and the latter fer air-guitarin', arr). Kreator be fillin' all me needs fer thrash metal, an' I really don't be puttin' Anthrax in the thrash metal category (though they be denoted as thrash metal; "thrash" just sounds like it should be attributed to good death metal).

Arr, I used t'be inta necrophilia, beastiality, and sadomasochism, but eventually I realized that I was just beatin' a dead horse.

Arr, I used t'be full o' meself. Then I be emptyin' meself o' meself. That felt weird.

Shouts of dispute over whose tankard is to be filled by whom shake the pub. Shouts turn to blows and blows to... more blows. Then, the swing doors at the entrance of the pub burst inward and quickly return back to their place, knocking the new arrival back out onto the street. The stranger tries again, this time not kicking in doors. The pub becomes silent as everyone stares at the old seaman who has just entered, mostly for his lack of legs, hands, and eyes. The invalid staggers on his pegs, trying to find a surface for which to balance himself on. He makes his way toward the bar, zigzagging every which way. Upon reaching the bar, he falls. A moment later, a single hook reaches above the bar to grip the wooden counter. The strange seaman lifts himself up and rests upon a seat. "Arr, Sam, no, err, Bob... Gyar! Innkeep? Arr, Ray! That be it: Ray, get me a bottle o' yer finest Night Train and a box o' Travel Scrabble. In fact, Travel Scrabble all around!" The convalescent, somehow, puts a handfull of low-denomination American coins onto the bar and looks to the new arrival, Cap.Liamstarwatcher. Putting out his hook, he starts, "Ahoy thar, matey! ye be a new face 'round these 'ere waters. Captain Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge at yer service. That is, unless ye don't be buyin' us'ms a round o' drinks. Mine be a double Pine-Sol."