Friday, September 19, 2003
Aarrr.. So would you like your swash buckled or your buckle swashed?
Woe betide any swab who dare speak like a landlubber on this glorious day. The high-seas be ready to swallow any soul who crosses a pirate. Hope ye that your plank be short, for the sea be a refuge from your fate at our hands.
Aarrrr!
And me timber could use some shiverin' too, me hearties!
