Ask A Depressed Pirate. New Advice Column!

Dear Depressed Pirate,

I'm having some trouble with my girlfriend, well really mostly with her Mom, who always criticizes me and seems to think I'm some kind of loser because the construction business (I'm a carpenter) is in a downturn around here. She also hates my full beard, which Cindy used to like. The problem is Cindy never stands up to her Mom, and because she takes this negativity to heart, it seems to be hurting our ability to trust each other.

How can I stop Mom from interfering in our relationship?

Mike in Manitoba

Ahoy Mike, Tis a shredded mains'l and a lee shore, a black-hearted Mum. Was a great snag-toothed bitch like that what drove me to Sea when she hove into view on me and me ole sweet lass Wendy and crossed our T with the Devil's own tongue and a salt blast from a blunderbuss. Knocked me out, she did, and after I woke up, sore-arse'd from salt shot and auctioned off as a waister on that rotten piss-tub Edward Grey bound for Java, I found she'd hocked all my sea-gear and married Wendy off to the Earl of Ipswich's chamber pot emptier, Barry. Took me old pirate's heart and dropped it in the butter tub of melacholia for a good ten years churnin.' Sorry, Lad, don't head out hoping for a fair wind when she blows full foul. Your girl's too weakly will'd and bound for her own "Barry," near as I figures. Where a fair wench be ruled by her Hoary Harpy mum, we're all at sea. Ditch the witch and keep yer beard - its one of the few things I know ye don't have to pay for.

- Depressed Pirate X.

Dear Depressed Pirate,

I've been a bonds trader, and I've been working 12 hours a day for the last four years at my firm here in Manhattan. Things are going pretty well, but I was really hoping for a promotion at work and from a conversation I had with my manager, I thought it was coming. It turns out that the CEO's nephew was hired instead, a totally inexperienced former intern who doesn't know a bond-end fund from a unit investment trust! Now he's going to be my boss!

Can I do anything? Should I move to another firm?

Tradin' Tommy

Ahoy, Tradin' Tommy,

Ah, lad, I had dreams once - big 'uns, too. I was the 2nd mate on the Bachelor's Delight when we chased a great fat galleon from Port Royal to Cape Fear, her hold so full of ingot and coin her decks were near awash - she practical swamped when a short sea came round the Keys. All we had to do was follow, keep her top'sls above the horizon- a quick run out of the guns and the prize was ours, and riches all 'round, as the Delight was a fast little brig and right powerful in guns. With equal shares of that Midas scow, I could have bought me own ship-Aye, I would have painted her green and called her "Wendy." Then I'da been Cap'n.

We were a-gaining and a-gaining on that galleon. Well, I was a more a melon-headed lad then, my skull clogged with what I figur'd fer Hope, and I stood the first dog-watch, and of course in me avarice I were crackin' on like smoke and oakum when a squall blew up and carried away the foretop mast because I wouldn't take in sail in me eagerness for the prize. We lost way, went all-aback and the prize slipped away like a ghost in the squall. Capn' stipped me of rank, and strapped me sorry carcass to the mainchains for a week, dipping in the sea with the bottom of the roll. Arr, like I neer saw that comin'. I knew I'd foul our anchor somehow.

Look, laddie, why bother yerself? Yer just butterin' yerself up- oh, ye could take a tot or twelve of Dutch courage and find that little wetnap and slit 'is gills till the decks ran red with gore, but that'd get you nothing but a hemp necktie and a deadman's dance. T'ain't worth it, boy. Ye want my advice- find a cosy cable tier and cheap harlot and drink till ye the blot out the very black of the night from that gooey grey sponge twixt yer ears- that's as good as my life ever got.

-Depressed Pirate X


Dear Depressed Pirate,

I had this impression Pirates were lusty, merry sea-dogs. Was I mistaken?

Curious Kate

Ahoy, Curious Kate,

Alas, Lass, Alas not all the brethren all raise their glasses and sing and shakes the ship's knees with a brave laugh and the merry hornpipe. Some of us be a little more cognizant. Some of us be readin'. (I takes rightly to Candide.) Some of us know you take a prize today, and it mere 'goes to rum and the gaping maw on the morrow. One glass turns and its Buckets of blood and jolly jakes, the glass turns again and it all be nothing but buckets of howling horror, and that's all afore you're become a bucket of bones. We're all on a gilt Venetian galley with broken oars - nothingness on the weather side and despair on the lee.

Arr....

-Depressed Pirate X