Verily, 'tis been a long dry spell for the Cap'n. And yet, it's mainly because I have been trying to RAISE THE BAR and not just blow every Latino I see. Not that I'm seeing many, lately. My new office is about as white as the population of Provo.

I worry I'm going down a road of celibacy, or that the 13-year-old girl inside me is trying to find a nautical equivalent of Team Jacob, and so I'm bloody saving myself.

Furtive cam sessions have been my ONLY release and now, even that I'm hesitant to do. A) it's gotten boring - no one ever talks and I like the VERBAL! B) Now that my new job demands some discretion, camming isn't really an option.

But at least I'm not this guy! While trolling craigslist, I saw this and the rules this guy had were wacked out! He's Asian, so the English has to be forgiven:


1. Please be under 45 years old! :-)
2. Please I am into only gay guys, NOT bi guys...
3. Please don't send me a message
if you are geeky like gamers and anime etc..
4. Please do not talk about sex at the beginning! :-)
5. Please be educated, intelligent, and gentle! :-)
6. Please don't send me any your dirty dick pics or stink
ass pics! :-)
7. Please send me your current face pic at first if you
wanna know about me! :-)


Mmmm ... potatoes! Who wouldn't want to apply to be his friend? If only I had more than stink ass pictures to send him!

Inspired, I made up my seven rules. Notice how I, too, am polite and say please, like my mother taught me:

1) Please have an ID certifying I won't go to jail for having sex with you :-)
2) Please be male and have papers certifying you have always been male, and were not once named Chastity :-)
3) Please send me a message if you like D&D or Magic, but don't always play with Red/Black decks, that is boring, dude :-)
4) Please tell me what your sexual limits are at the beginning. If you ain't cool with pushing boundaries, I'm better off throwing you back :-)
5) Please be too stupid to have your own opinions, and simply agree with mine, as I am smarter than you anyway :-)
6) Please send me chest pics, bicep pics, dick pics, and face pics in that order, as that's the order of importance for me:-)
7) Please don't ask anything about me, I captain a pirate ship and would have to run you through if you know too much:-)

I expect a plethora of new friends from this post by tomorrow.

Today's Sea Shanty:


I've been licked, washed up for years
And I merely survive because of my pride
- Many Rivers to Cross - Jimmy Cliff

From the journals of Cap'n Jonas Porksword
Eleventh, March in the Year of our Lord, Two-Thousand and Ten:

Arrr, I be tired from fighting off the hordes of deep-sea deviants. We docked at an event for sexual suffragettes, and it wore me down to the nub of my peg leg (even encased in a latex sheath as it was!)

I endured transgendered tritons with slanted and broken dental work whom I mentally nicknamed "Tusky." She kept pushing closer and closer to me, and I ended up dashing away to pretend to help a husky lass from the Isle of Lesbos look at frontal enhancement technology rings.

Fleet Admiral Fistus flirted with a young slave lad from the dungeons of Kentucky and the sight fair turned me lunch to bilge. Fistus is a potbellied nellie of a man and whilst he's commanded the fleet for several years, I find myself unable to pay him any respect.

This is partially because of events such as occurred yesterday. In discussing new color schemes for the ships of the line, I showed him how we'd been using the same paint on all ships, it sometimes looked different in a wanted poster, because paint on metal is different frome paint on paper.

He wanted to find some color that would stay the same in bright sunlight or dark night on the ships. I stroked my beard, unable to know what to say to the man. In bright light or absence of light, color shifts.

Crackers offered only a curt "SQUAWK! Perhaps we can just change the laws of physics for you, too?"

I be fairly certain he didn't hear that, though.

Sea Chanty of the Day:

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own

- The Minstrels of Coldplay

From the journals of Cap'n Jonas Porksword
Tenth, March in the Year of our Lord, Two-Thousand and Ten:

Truly, it is a wonder that thy good Cap'n can not get some people to respond to him via carrier pigeon, messages in bottles, or e'en these newfangled iPhonic devices.

And others will reveal their most intimate secrets to him as though the Cap'n Porksword, the Moste Hornye Pirate docked in San Diego was their very own psychiatriste.

The lad who perved upon me in the gymnasium shower hath not returned my electronic mailings or cellular calles. Yet, tonight in ye olde adult emporium that the Cap'n sometimes mercenaries for when pyrating is slim, a lad wanted me to explain him how he might become a better bottom.

He then went on in a quite direct and detailed diatribe of how his ex-matelot didst harbor anal plugs in his buttocks daily.

Had I been in a more sarcastic frame of mind, I might have said, "Wait ye by the phone for calls that never get returned."

But I didn't. I retreated to the crow's nest to sulk some more.


Sea Chanty of the Day:

Shes got the love monkey riding on her back
We all need the human touch

- Sir Rick of Springfield

From the journals of Cap'n Jonas Porksword
Ninth, March in the Year of our Lord, Two-Thousand and Ten:
I've been struck down for the last few sea-days with a stomach bilge as crippling as saltpetre on the tallywacker. I'm not sure where I contracted this vile disease, but it's laid me low, even though I had a bit of pervy fun in the community showers at the landlubber's gym, and then dipped me wick in my old cabin boy.

Still, I'd kill for some salty crackers and not the evil imaginary voice of Crackers as my stomach heaves to and fro like a dinghy in a storm.

Sea Chanty of the Day:
Like a wave you keep pulling me under
How I'll ever get out of this, i dont know
I just know that there's no way to fight it..
Whoa...oh...
- Dame Belinda Carlisle

From the journals of Cap'n Jonas Porksword
Fifth, March in the Year of our Lord, Two-Thousand and Ten:

Despite the setbacks I've encountered on this voyage, today I am elated. Some treasure was found in the form of a new assignment, so we may not have to scuttle the old Money Shot just yet.

Crackers, ever the negative bird, had only this to say:

"SQUAWK! It'll all end in tears!"

So decided to carve out some of what they call "me-time" on deck this afternoon. After sending the churls down below, I had my fiddlers come out and I had a bang-up of a time dancing with the figurehead to some of my favorite sea chantys.

I did suffer a splinter as I performed some acrobatic hip and hop-like maneouvers, but they hardly reduced me to tears.

Fooey on you, Crackers. The celebration continues.


Sea Chanty of the Day:

Head under water,
And they tell me to breathe easy for a while.
The breathing gets harder, even I know that.

- Madame Sara Bareilles

From the journals of Cap'n Jonas Porksword
Fourth, March in the Year of our Lord, Two-Thousand and Ten:

Crackers finally hounded me down from the crow's nest and I attempted to quell my despair with feats of gymnastic derring-do. However, by mid-morning, my mood turned even more foul and I attempted to drown myself in work.

The Money Shot has been undergoing repairs, and I've even toyed with the idea of a new schooner. However, the Ship's Chartered Accountant proved we needed far more doubloons than previously thought to turn a profit. The C.A. is wise in the ways of Accountancy, but does tend to ramble on at inopportune times, such as when I have orders to give about upcoming pillages, or punish some of the lads for not polishing the cannons.

I headed ashore to attend a daguerreotype shoot for some flyers I want printed up to boost the Money's Shot's reputation. 'Tis a thing I learned of at the Teach Academy for Pirating and Wenchness - if your reputation is fearsome enough, you acquire more treasure.

The lad I'd hired to be the focus of the daguerreotype shots was a hairy, swarthy lad of a muscular build. Perfect to project the fearsome, yet corsair reputation the Money Shot needs. Several bits of his chain and leather attire were too large, and the daguerreotyper asked me to hold it taut. I was forced to nearly bury my hands in his swarthy, hirsute chest to keep the harness in place.

The lad and I quickly established a rapport and suddenly, all thoughts of the Windy City's Buccaneer flew from my head. I wondered if I hadn't found succor in my time of despair. However, he indicated his preference for being a cannon target rather than a cannon loaded.

I'd almost swear Crackers was laughing as I escorted the lad safely home. Blast this port of no man rugged enough to fire the cannons!

Sea Chanty of the Day:
Give to me your leather
Take from me my lace ...
- Stevie of the Nicks

From the journals of Cap'n Jonas Porksword
Third, March in the Year of our Lord, Two-Thousand and Ten:

Crackers, the scurvy parrot, was right. I be sitting alone in the crow's nest like a surly teenage girl. The Buccaneer never called. Nor type a message to me on his celle phone device, or even stuff a note in a bottle, as is the custom of those who are shipwrecked by their "client dinners."

I am listening to a fair maidens' sea chanty about bleeding love, which is exactly what I'd like to use my cutlass for - to bleed some love out of the cad.

The crew is probably making fun of me, and one went so far as to boast about their sexual prowess and the married man he nailed whilst in port.

He'd best shut his face, or he may find himself keelhauled. I've found the best remedy for heartache is to take it out violently on the crew.