Blackbead

Ahoy, there mates! "Blackbead's Treasure Chest" will be open for business in the pirate fort at Middlefaire! This Renaissance Faire runs the last weekend in September and the first weekend in October in Hillsboro, Texas. You can find more information by going to their website at www.Middlefest.com. There will be several special events there this year: 1) Period/Not Period Trivia Contest with prizes each day of the faire! 2) A book signing for Raising Black Flags with at least five of the poets in attendance! 3) A presentation by the performing group of the Brotherhood of the Gulf which will feature a premier performance of the new pirate protest song, "God Take the King!" 4) A game of PYRAT (Bingo) with prizes for the winners! So, come on out to the pirate fort at Middlefaire - get your picture in front of the fort with the twin six pounders! - and have a great time with the Brotherhood of the Gulf and the crew of the Adventure!! Blackbead

Ahoy, mates! Raising Black Flags, an anthology of over 90 pages of poetry and artwork by fourteen different pirate poets and two artists is now available at Blackbead Books for the low, low price of $10 plus shipping! The poets include Rumba Rue, Captain "Slippery Jack" Beaver, Red Bess, Captain Tito, The Right Reverend Morrigan "One Eye" Blythe, Captain Maevous O'Connell, Captain Taffy Saltwater, Captain Emerald Shaunassey and Diamond (both of the Ladies of the Salty Kiss), Captain Jane Jasper, and yours truly. Take a look at the preview at the store and order up your copy today! Thank ye fer yer interest and fair winds and a slow galleon to ye! Blackbead

Talking about voting in America's political system is sort of like talking about the pacifist's response to Hitler invading Poland. By then it's too late. The only way to take action and make a change is to get involved early and work within the system to try and put someone in the nomination process that you respect, admire and believe in. Unfortunately, in our polarized environment, which is more about winning than it is about coming up with something that is good for the Country, it is less and less likely that you will get the chance to vote for someone that you truly get excited about voting for. Maybe that is the final definition of a "great" president - someone that a majority of the Country actually gets excited about voting for and someone who can galvanize the huge mass of the middle class who sits in the middle and watches the parade pass by without getting out and marching. There's one for you - who was the last candidate, in ANY election, that you were excited about voing for?

Ahoy, mates! We currently stand at 98 pages with probably one more piece of artwork and one more poem to be submitted. That will definitely put us over the 100 page goal that we set so long ago! I applaud everyone, including our two newest poets, Shana Martin and “Captain Tito.” The deadline is still two weeks away; there is still time to get in poems or artwork if you wish. But the turning of the tide draws nigh. Soon we will be away on this great adventure! Putting on the last touches of paint, Blackbead

Me favor pirate song, eh? Here's one I like: God Take the King! Ye ask me why I sail the seas beneath a flag stained black, Why I risk both life and limb and take the pirate track? The answer is an easy one, a song I love to sing, After years of his bloody taxes, I’ve come to hate the king! I bear the marks upon me back of scratches from his cat: Too many times I’ve come up short when ‘is Majesty passed the hat. Between his taxes and me debts I were stretched as thin as a blade And it doesn’t change me hate one bit that this bed is one I made. O-o-o, God take the king! O-o-o, God take the king! My countrymen, they may choose another song to sing, But as for me, and forever more, I say, God Take the King! For a king sits on the throne by grace to lift his subjects up And not to snatch the bread and meat of which their children sup. I’d’ve paid me taxes if I could, I swear to this on High, But I fear I’m weak, because instead, I heeded me family’s cry. Now taxes are a necessary thing, of that I be quite sure, If a governed land we want to have these levies we must endure. But never get behind, me friends, pay all your taxes now For paying but the portion you can the damned King will not allow. (Chorus) And once he’s got his hooks in ye, yer life is a living hell, Ye canna’ rest a moment ‘cause he comes to where ye dwell. At pike point he collects your pay before it can be spent On niceties like milk or shoes or even to pay the rent. Me youngest he died coughin’ after a winter without a coat, Me eldest drowned in a summer storm workin’ on a fishin’ boat, Me daughter traded her childhood for pennies to help our plight, Until one foggy evenin’, we lost her to the night. (Chorus) Me wife, me darlin’ Maggie, could’na stand to live like this, So she drank a dram of poison and waited for Death’s cold kiss. But the poison didn’t kill her; it simply stole her sight, And lost in all this darkness she became a Bedlamite. Now all me stanchions are overboard, me children, me lovely wife, So I spends me time in the sweet trade, I live the pirate life. No more will I pay me taxes with coins a coppery-red, The only tax I’ll pay this king is shot that’s made of lead. (Chorus) But don’t ye waste a tear, shipmates, feelin’ sorry for the likes of me, For, in truth, I’ve come to love this life a’sailin’ on the sea. There’s rum, there’s women, there’s adventure, and sometimes even gold, And maybe me own ship someday if I live to be that old. And don’t forget, me hearties, death is everywhere at sea. The life of a seadog is a dodgy one, as I’m sure you’ll all agree, And someday I’ll find me doorway among these many harms And go to spend eternity in me lovin’ family’s arms. (Chorus) Stephen Sanders ©2008

He will be missed. Those two were part of the reason that I started going to Renfaires. May fair winds take him to rest.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RUMBA RUE!!! I wish you all the happiness in the world and all the success there is! I'd sing an ODE to you but you know that one's going out to the whole world in November! Keep your sails tight, your mood light, and your eyes bright! WE LOVE YOU, RUMBA!! Blackbead and Captain Jane

Ransom, It ebbs and flows like the tides (and with the shows.) For every Lawton, there is a PyrateCon, for every show where there are a plethora of people that stop and say, "Oh, that's beautiful! I'm not buying it, but it's beautiful!", there is a show where there are a bevy of buyers who stop and say, "I'll have THAT!" Keep at it and the sales will come, I promise you! Your merchandise is too bold not to command some sales! Blackbead

From one jewelry maker to another - very nice work! What sort of cording do you use? Blackbead

Aye, there's the rub - getting people to buy your wares! The last show I did, a small RenFaire in Lawton, OK, showed me how this economic environment is going to effect small businesses like ours, Ransom. Folks paid to get there (gas), paid admission, paid for food, and then bought their kids souvenirs. The big people didn't buy as much as they normally have in the past. I only sold two flintlocks, three pieces of jewelry over $30, but lots and lots of pirate toys. I made over $150 in sales of flintlock water pistols! Welcome to the jungle, amiga! Blackbead

From another jewelry maker - VERY nice work! I love taking old things and making them new again. And it's amazing the things you can pick up at estate sales or even garage sales to use for new jewelry fodder! Blackbead

CONGRATULATIONS and well done! A well deserved broadside of kudos to ye, Lady Barbossa! Warms me cockles and shivers me timbers and floats me boat and fills me mug and . . . well, ye get the idea! Excellent! Blackbead

64 pages and counting! There be another from Rumba and one entitled "God Take the King!" from me. Soon, me hearties, soon we set sail!

That's only if they have teeth left. Of course, the maggots/weevils that I'm talking about were in the meal before they made the hardtack. When they cook the stuff, the little buggers shrivel a bit and get crunchy. That's why the krispies worked as a stand-in.

Will Ferrell or John C. Reilly. And who's going to play Levasseur? Steve Carrel!

Check out http://www.kenanderson.net/hardtack/recipes.html since I'm pretty sure that the recipe for hardtack (Soldier Bread) is not all that different from you're looking for. I even have a metal form for making them that comes with a punch that has nails where the holes should be in the crackers. We had a contest at an event one time and guys were bringing them in with berries in them, cinammon, rice krispies to replace the maggots, all sorts of things. I'll try to find the website where I bought the press but it isn't that hard to do just cutting out the pieces and then sticking them with a toothpick. I do recall that the winner had stored his 'tack in the freezer for while, wrapped in foil in a ziplock bag. The idea is to completely eliminate ALL moisture from the biscuit. Blackbead

Ah, now there be some fine memories! I have'na been back to the Islands since the summer of '79. For five year a'fore that we made regular trips down there almost every summer. The water, the fish, the sun and sand and flora and fauna! And the women! James Clavell, it was, Shogun, I recall. Sitting on the beach reading and eating a bento box while a lovely Japanese girl talked to me about fish cakes and rice cakes and cone sushi . . . Thank ye, Time Keeper! Ye be aptly named and a blessin' to this old seadog! Blackbead

The next book on me shelf - Barlow's Journal it is! Now, let me find a copy . . .

Mission: Isn't there some evidence out there that blood-letting caused a lightheaded feeling and a kind of euphoria? I seem to recall reading a long time ago (while doing some research about Civil War medicine) that this was noticed in some patients and resulted in a sort of psychological addiction to blood-letting. In another life-time, I dated a woman who was really into tattoos and piercings (another topic for a long, rum- supported evening) and she talked about how the pain and the process were so addictive. I recall how the governor who provided the comic relief in "Captain Blood" seemed almost excited to get another blood-letting. Any thoughts? Blackbead

"I hope they don't hang you, precious, by that sweet neck. Yes, angel, I'm gonna send you over. The chances are you'll get off with life. That means if you're a good girl, you'll be out in 20 years. I'll be waiting for you. If they hang you, I'll always remember you." "Oh, it's all right, Joe. It's all right. It's my dog. And, uh, my wife." "Well you might have mentioned me first on the billing." I loved the mysteries but it was the dialogue that made these films special.

There are many things which I disagree with in the philosophy of Aldus Huxley, but I see wisdom in his thought that (to paraphrase him) after silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music. I believe that poetry falls somewhere on that continuum line. What do I think of poetry that does not rhyme? I’ve written a great deal of “free verse” in my time (I won’t force you to endure any of it here!) I don’t care if it rhymes or not if it creates within me a feeling or an image that provides me a chance to grow. I do tend to be a big fan of introspection so long as it doesn’t become an obsession. I wrote a poem about the difference between aloneness and loneliness once called “The Middle Watch” because I wanted to say something about the power and the necessity of taking time to look within yourself. And the life-sized statue of the velociraptor? At least it isn’t a T-Rex. I spent several evenings in Germany trying to acquire a taste for single malt and all I got for it was a great friend and a boat-load of those little crackers to cleanse my pallette. I will be happy to share a bottle of burgundy or a bordeaux with you, however, and if you enjoy rum then we have a lot more in common than we think, fatuous poetry aside. (And I dream of coming to PiP . . . perhaps if the book takes off this winter then I can come out and do some poetry readings and sign some copies. I'll give you fair warning before that starts so you can find a sound-proofed room!) Some people like poetry, some don't. Some people find no reason to watch films about hard-boiled detectives, some do. Some watch porn, some watch slashers. We are a strange brew of breeds and while I still turn my head in parts of the new version of "The Demon Barber of Fleet Street," I wouldn't have it any other way. When the new book comes out, there'll be an autographed copy reserved for you. For $9.99, of course . . .

I, too, love a good murder mystery. Hence, the Chandler book of short stories. He didn't write that many but they were some of the best. Someone dated, I agree, but there are elements of the stories that appeal to you regardless of the times. Has anyone here ever read any Dashiell Hammett?

Madam Hester: I humbly apologize to the fair Ransom; I assure you it was a thoughtless mistake and not intended as a slight of any kind. Thank you for your kind words; praise, like constructive criticism, is always welcome to a scribbler. Actually, I like to think that my best works are those that speak to the "Everyman" in all of us instead of the high brow and the obtuse. Hopefully, after a few rums, all of my poems get better rather than more vague and unclear. Blackbead

Mission and Ransom: Gentlemen: Let's not make such an ado about something that is of so little consequence. The Pub is a very large place; there is absolutely no reason why we should ever have to all sit at the same table. Mssr. Mission: I wish you all the best and a successful and thriving surgical practice. Since I presume you to be a doctor of medicine, I completely understand your total lack of imagination, soul, wit, humor, tact, passion, love, honor, lust, or any other feeling held in common with those of us who belong to the human race. If we ever do find ourselves sitting at table together, I would be pleased to buy you a tankard of whatever tasteless swill you prefer (forgive my presumptiveness in this matter since I base my impressions on what you care to drink on your preferred reading material) and attempt to explain to you the thoughts, emotions, and ideas expressed in the following simple, easy-to- understand, poem that I attempted to write in words of two syllables or less: Farewell, Brave Lion I took you from a Spanish captain, Back in seventeen-oh-two, I knew it was your maiden voyage: Your sails were still brand new. You handled like an Irish racehorse, Headstrong but steady and true, And with the slightest breezes There was nothing I couldn’t ask of you. You managed fourteen cannon Without giving up a knot And in every fight but the last one You gave better than you got. It was my mistake to fight a carrack With a twenty-four gun array And now you lie forever ‘Neath the blue of Santiago Bay. It’s been years since first I boarded you, Now your sailing days are through, Your guns have all gone silent: I finally asked too much of you. (Stephen Sanders ©2008) Mssr. Ransom: I sincerely appreciate your kind words and the thought and I look forward to sharing a cold pint or two when the day comes that we meet again. Fair winds and a slow galleon to you both, Blackbead PS: Nah-nah, nah-nah, naaaah-naaaah! I got you to read a poem, Mission!! PPS: Since we are writing this in email and not speaking it face to face, PLEASE know that my intent is to turn this in a humorous course and not one that is truly adversarial. In the spirit of the Pub, Blackbead

Misson: The world is a surprising place - I'm surprised that someone who finds poetry inane, foolish and stupid would be quoting Dewey. Of course, it could be me; perhaps I need to go back and reread "Art as Experience." Regardless, your point is taken and your insult registered. Fare well.