As dumb as a dock!

June 29, 2011

Yar! matey’s. Ol’ Pappa Curley bringing ye the daily scuttlebutt!

Three days the saltier and infinitely the wiser! Or so I’d like to think. In truth, no matter how deeply I meditate on the sea— believe me—I can’t seem to open my mouth on this boat [ed. note: it is a ship, not a boat] without sounding like—in the words of Admiral William Smyth—“a dirty dog and no sailor.” Well, the latter description is applicable, certainly. As for the former, in fact I’m quite clean; and—while I’m divulging—I’m really more of a peppery (defined as sharp and stinging in style or content) than a salty dog.

Catch my drift? Me thinks not! Well, then, perhaps a dialog my finer moments will better illustrate my point...

Captain Smith enters library.
Smith: “Just confirming with you that we are definitely going to Rijeka, not Split. As soon as I find out, I’ll let you know the name of the berth.”
Curley: “Name of the birth? Like a Caesarean?”

Cadet Patrick Collins checks out a book.
Curley: “Man, did you hear about the whale sighting this morning?!?!”
Collins: “What about it?”
Curley: “What about it? C’mon, it’s not ever’ day you see a whale, for Jonah’s sake!"
Collins: “We see whales all the time on watch. All they do is blow their blowholes.”
Curley: “Isn’t that all any of us does, matey?”
Collins (rolls eyes): You should come on watch sometime. We see all kinds of stuff. Flying fish, dolphins—lots of dolphins—sea turtles...”
Curley: “...mermaids, Loch Ness...”

Ye see? And I’m not trying to be clever or snarky here, folks. Honestly, I’m bowled over by being at sea and seeing a whale! But I discovered that my asking a grizzled salty dog [ed. note: not sure if a cadet is really a 'grizzled salty dog'] whether he saw a whale is rather like his asking a smart aleck peppery dog (who happens to be a librarian) like me whether I’ve ever heard of a book they call Moby-Dick. “Uh, yeah, dude. I’ve heard of that one.” Talk about a role reversal!

I’m used to being the sophisticated cynic and indifferent to bubbly enthusiasm. Yar!I wish I had some saucy sea tales to relay, but, alas, everything has been—shall we say?—smooth sailing so far. I do, however, have these messages:

Zach Davidson says, “Hey, mom.”

Michael Carew says, “Love you, mom. Love you, Jackie.”

James Caracciolo says, “I love you, mom.”
Tim Bourke says, “What’s up, mom?”

And I, Curley, say, “Love you,” to me mum as well. Mum, they’re going to make me fat with the food they’re feeding me, thus ruining our long and illustrious lineage of scrawny! OMG! (Read about it in my next blog post.)

I am a rock, I am a...
-Curley