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Sunday, October 3, 2010

The Journal of Captain Octavius Tushy














Captain's Log, May 10, year of our lord 2007. This evening, after a dinner of salted cod and lemon juice (to prevent scurvy), I was in my cabin smoking a cigar, studying maps and listening to Fleetwood Mac on my record player, when Wilhelm Kristoferson, inspector general of the expedition and citizen of Germany, entered my chambers. Kristoferson had been charged by our main investor, Huxtable Johnny, with overseeing all commercial matters related to our voyage. Gold Dust Woman was playing, the haunting voice of Stevie Nicks creating a mood of intense and erotic sultriness, mystery and yes, that's correct. Heir Kristoferson offered his condolences concerning the Swedish fish incident, and assured me that my squishy red candy creatures played no part in the death of First Mate Wilbur. Heir Fraulein Kristoferson then politely - ever so gently and politely - reminded me that the ship's investor was paying us to search for cumin (and other spices) and despite any losses we must forge ahead with our mission. I reminded my German friend that for me, the search for cumin (and other spices) was not a mere commercial venture, but a lifelong pursuit for the perfect cumin (and other spices) from which to make the mother of all dry-rubs, suitable for goat and other gamey meats, which I had first learned about years earlier while reading an obscure and ancient text known as the September 1973 copy of Redbook. Heir Doktor Fuhrer Blietzkrieg Kristoferson pulled a powdered donut from his box of Entenmann's Assorted Donuts, tapped the delicate and moist cake donut on his head, periodically checking the donut, until he was satisfied that enough powdered sugar had been removed so that it was just right, and then proceeded to take a bite of his treat. He then said "yum." Then, in a demonstration of audacity of historic proportions, Guzenteit Kindergarten Kristoferson proceeded to lecture me on the pointlessness and selfishness of a pursuit of cumin (and other spices) for the purposes of creating the greatest dry-rub known to man, and how Huxtable Johnny wanted to reap a large reward by financing the expedition, so that he could then fund other missions and develop an international super-structure that would allow for the mass discovery and distribution of material goods that would allow all human beings to live in prosperity and therefore have meaningful lives. I stared at the German, his bald head glistening with sweat and powdered sugar. "Rulers make bad lovers, you better put your kingdom up for sale," Fleetwood Mac played. I stood up and walked to my record player and repeated the line once, twice, three, four times even, letting the meaning of the lyrics sink in. The German simply took another powdered donut, rubbed the excess powdered sugar off on his bald head, and began eating. Someone once said there are some people that if they don't know, you can't tell them. The German could not be told of spice-rubs.