swirling images in the troubled waters: tales of the WHIRLPOOL, part III

Here be another memory just pulled from me brain concerning that blasted WHIRLPOOL.

In its depths, we saw images arise within the swirling madness. These images were accompanied by a soaring melody, the type of tune completely absent from me crew’s usual drinkin’ tunes. It inspired in me something which is alien from the pirate’s heart: nationalism, or allegiance to any state in the world. Or, more specifically, any flag other than the Jolly Roger!

This here swirling image suggested something to me about the nature of the ugly world in which we live, that the problems of a state be not traceable to that state, that thar be others to blame. When in doubt, say these images, look for a scapegoat. Now this particular state be having troubles with wars and poor responses to natural disasters, and looking back on this memory, I believe it offers its own suggestion, not only for who is not to blame, but also as to who IS to blame.

This image be short, so ye will want to watch it a few times. Get the general idea from it at first, then watch it a couple more times, gathering in all of the images, and ask yerself whether or not ye agree with it’s general argument. Eventually, search the images for what may be a suggestion as to who the Creator of this image may be blamin’ for the problems of this particular state. If ye think ye have found it, leave a comment here and expose it to the world.

rescued by “The Prophet”: how we escaped the WHIRLPOOL

Arrr, thar be much, much more to say about this here WHIRLPOOL, for it be a merciless foe, and it was something I would ne’er wish upon even me worst enemies.

Suffice it to say, we got out. Here’s how.

This be a man we found in the whirlpool (sorry, the caps are waring me out!) who snatched us out of certain death and defeat. His name be Jon Stewart and he go by “The Prophet,” and he found the only thing that could stop the swarthy seas of a whirlpool: satire. When we learned to laugh at the spinning waters, we learned our freedom. A freedom that ne’er felt so good.

From time to time, we be bringing ye more stories from this dastardly place, but for now, we move on. Sail ho, scurvvy dogs! We be headin’ for the horizon!

beware, the Man of the Silver Helmet! tales of the WHIRLPOOL, part II

As ye can see, this particular memory be especially foggy. But, my mateys, it be particularly important.

The levees were breaking in Louisiana. People were dying, others were forcibly stranded in a filth-ridden football arena, and it all amounted to a scene of needy, desperate, suffering humanity so convincing that even the commandeer of the Moustache Enthusiasts’ United Front, Geraldo Rivera, could not help but be thrown into confusion and anger.

But, thar be a man.

Thar be a man who spoke to me in the WHIRLPOOL, a man who whispered in me ears the promises of nationalism and patriotism and all things good and American. He had a smile that could wash away humility or healthy suspicion of the limits of one’s own knowledge. He be the Man of the Silver Helmet, more commonly called “Sean Hannity.” Here he be, reminding Geraldo and Shepherd of the perspective to which, being on the scene itself, they were not privy on the whole incident.

Arrr, he be a man who can force yar TV on without ye even touching the remote. Tread lightly about him, mates and wenches.

a rare survivor’s account: tales of the WHIRLPOOL, part I

Arrr, it be good to see ye all again. Me and me crew began to think that we’d never again glimpse the faces of the scurvvy dogs and wenches back home, as we faced one of the most ferocious, horrifying natural occurrences in these tracherous waters of ours. We never saw it coming, and when we realized it was there, it was all we saw.

I report to ye, mateys and wenches, of that most terrible of obstacles, the WHIRLPOOL.

The WHIRLPOOL has been rumored in ages past to swallow ships whole, to destroy vessels both wooden and fleshly, in a single encounter. Few live to tell about it, and those who do, rarely do tell about it. The survivors typically roam about the streets of their new alien home inland, with vacuous eyes searching for nothing. Most of us, ye know, search for meaning even in the slightest sights – which way does this road lead, where are me keys, which arm needs to stech out for the object which I intend to grasp, which foot of mine is extended right now. But these poor, lost souls, their eyes are done searching.

Well, I intend now to give ye a report of a WHIRLPOOL, a report of dread, droning voices found in that swirling, chaotic world of spin that is its nature. I, still being miraculously of sound mind, will break the silence and warn ye of this terrible affront to any pirate who roams these wicked seas.

Here be the first voice, one which intended to soothe us into the bottom of the sea with its assurances thatterrible deeds done be not that terrible after all, and that thar be someone else to blame, always.

Be advised, dear friends: this be not for the feint of heart, or of mind.

why using yer mind might cost ye yer head: the incredible adventures of creflo dollar, part III

Welcome back ye scabs! We find ourselves still entangled here with the scurvvy Creflo Dollar, who here gives us the strongest evidence ever presented that American Christians should not be allowed to read the Bible. Watch, and enjoy. 

Our dealings thus far with this scoundrel have been on account of his gospel of prosperity. It be shinin’ through a little here, where ye may notice he adds  a little “in power to prosper” after “blessed be” in verse six of Matthew 11. But the main issue here be two things: One, be Creflo’s total disdain for reasoning. Uh, I be not using pirate hyperbole here - he actually says that it be John the Baptist’s reasoning mind that costs the dude his head! Arr, that be a hefty price, says I.

I be no fan of the Enlightenment project with its King Reason and all, but thar gotta be a place for it somewhere, think ye not? Ye notice that Creflo’s prosperity gospel has a good amount of play here: we be in charge of our own destinies, and we make our situation what it be, and blind faith in God the Banker be preferable to any intelligent questions.

By the way, how does anybody get “you take off what you believe, and end its process” out of the word offend? Be this the actual Aramaic? Crazy, seaman. Crazy.

Me second point be this: Creflo preaches every week. To a big audience. He’s on TV. People turn on their TVs, flip to the Christian channel, and see him as a preacher of God’s Word. Troubling? More than a bit, aye. And it bring up an important question: who really should be trusted with the Word of God? Do we really let anybody interpret it, because if we do, is this not the natural result? How many others out there come up with how many different wacky interpretations? Does it lead us to admit that the project of Protestantism is deeply flawed, and that we need a new Christian project?

Arr, I have only questions here, not answers. Let us hope that in questioning, we be not inviting decapitation, as did John the Baptist, apparently.

Here we leave Creflo in his broken ship. Life be too short to dwell on his rants-as-sermons any longer.

start storin’ yer booty, slackers! the incredible adventures of creflo dollar, part II

Well, I’ve heard thar be a few of ye who wonder why these poor seem always to be with us. Pesky, are they not? Here be Capt. Dollar to clearly explain to ye why they be here. Doubt no more, mateys. 

Quite simple, aye? How did ye ever doubt it? Poverty be in yar head, scum. So says God, so says Pastor Dollar. I told ye he be fearless! Can we admit, though, that many preachers proclaim this same message: that Christianity be all about the booty (pirate speak here, mates; booty = treasures)? How many of us expect the Good Lord to reward us with beautiful treasures of health and wealth when we be good little pirates? For how many of us is this message from Creflo reflective of our politics? If so, doesn’t it seep into our POLITIK?

 So this be, so far, Creflo Dollar. Oh, this be not the end, friends. Consider it only an introduction. Wait’ll ye see what he’s got to say about John the Baptist!

in christianity, bling be king: the incredible adventures of creflo dollar, part I

Now here’s a doozy, mates. I do believe ye’ll love me forever for this one. Knuckles brings us word of another pirate on the seas. His name be Creflo Dollar, and he be not a figment of me imagination. His ship go by the name Prosperity Gospel, and I assure you there are many others in his fleet.

In order to understand this clip, ye need to know . . . well, I should warn ye by saying . . . uh, we should probably discuss the theological implications of . . . oh shoot, let’s just let the man speak.

Arr, it warms me heart to see a man claim the practice of greedy consumerism and crassly excessive waste of the good Lord’s earth, all the while draping it in Christian faith and rebuking the Devil at the same time. That be multi-tasking, mates. He be a true pirate in the way he rapes and pillages the earth in the name of the Lord, going further then I could ever allow meself to go. I mean, a pirate’s gotta have boundaries!

I know this video be short, but be not worried. With Creflo, we’ve only just begun.

confrontin the clergy of the isle of lunacy: the glories of godtube

Arrr, here we come upon a new ship, something strange, something unusual, something… a bit tasty.

http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=a6c76c2723b7e014fccb

Aye, I be not savvy enough to understand how to get videos from this particular site to appear magically on this screen as I do the others, but this link should suffice.

This ship be the ship that carry the clergy from the Isle of Lunacy. It’s name: Godtube. It’s captain: Ray Comfort. Capt. Ray be a man of both vicious and fearless constitution. He is like no pirate operating in these waters today. He be a fierce enemy, but an enemy nonetheless.

I mean, seriously, how many pirates do ye know with the balls enough to preach condemnation to an entire unwillingly captive audience waiting for their morning court appearance. I be prayin’ me own court appearance to settle that unfortunate People v. Capt. Whitebeard case concerning a few harmless Cayman Islands plunderin’ coincides not with a starboard barrage from this master of manipulation.

The ship, Godtube, be a new ship which isn’t supposed to launch until May, but it is already wrecking havoc on the shores all across the Atlantic. It operates on a very simple assumption: Youtube’s in need of savin’, and if ye can find a way to reach the “ghost ride da whip”home video auteurs with a brand of Christianity that is just as feeble in the face of human logic as these stunts performed daily for the edification of less-than-intelligent teenagers everywhere, then ye’ve performed yer earthly duties.

Arrr, Ray Comfort, ye may try to drown us, but we live to sail another day. I be sending word of this phenomenon to me good friend at mr. beale’s epiphany, to see if he might have a few things more to say. In the meantime, float lightly mates!

don’t walk the plank like i did: the chronicles of radiohead, part IV

Arrr, this be the finishing touches on me series of lessons from Radiohead. Here we find the Captain hisself, Thom Yorke, striking out in his little raft to plunder a bit on his own. The result is a complicated but rewarding statement on human relationships as well as the war in Iraq. This tune was written, in part at least, in memeory of David Kelly, a British intelligence officer who committed suicide (or perhaps did not) near Thom’s old stompin grounds, Harrowdown Hill.

Arrr, war be a painful thing, and morally confusing as well.

Now that this Radiohead series be over with, we’ll be flying our sails high and plundering some tasty imperial dogs on our own. Knuckles brings word of a beautiful ship on the horizon. Stay tuned, mates!

thom dives into davy jones’ locker, comes out clean on the other side: the chronicles of radiohead, part III

Another lesson from the boys of Radiohead. When ye be watchin this one, think of ye daily routines, and the way they make ye sometimes feel when week piles upon another week. Consider this a fair warning: if ye currently see yar life as “one damn thing after another,” this tune may ring a little too familiar.

Arrr, no alarms and no surprises. Now I, Capt. Whitebeard and me motley crew no precious little of alarm clocks and pretty homes and gardens, but our land-faring buddies assure us that, while they be a good thing from time to time, they have a tendency to attain a permanency in ye brain that makes ye think that that is all there is. They say ye begin to desire nothing strange or unexpected in yer daily life, and that such a thing would unsettle ye quite sprightly. According to Thom and his cohorts here, such a life be like death by carbon monoxide or, worse yet, drowning in an astronaut’s helmet in a room found inside the ship from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Thom appears to attemtpt a dance with death in this video, and I believe he’s trying to tell us that a life planned out, a life devoid of surprises on account of our obsessive attempts to control its pace, is eerily similar to death itself.

Or at least, I think that’s what he’s gettin at. Like I says before, I be a pirate, and know not the vicissitudes of land-faring life.