Sailors know the best ways to pass time on the water, and as it happens all of those ways are drinking. unfortunately the Captain drank all the fine brandy, the doc used all the gin for an amputation, and that no good first mate stole all my rum.



Princess Pooterin: Little girls with no pants
Princess Pooterin: that are part plane
Princess Pooterin: fight aliens
Princess Pooterin: in World War 2
Princess Pooterin: with magic
Princess Pooterin: and guns
Princess Pooterin: best show
Princess Pooterin: they are also lesbians


Princess Pooterin: there isn't that much wrong with him
Princess Pooterin: I mean
Princess Pooterin: yeah he hates a lot of people for no real reason
Princess Pooterin: but that isn't a problem



"They rammed flesh and bone against ice walls and burning timber, and the Lord let them pass through, relatively unscathed. And the Russians—all 70,000 or so of them—stood up, shouted, and accepted God into their hearts."

What in Davy Jones’ locker did ye just bark at me, ye scurvy bilgerat? I’ll have ye know I be the meanest cutthroat on the seven seas, and I’ve led numerous raids on fishing villages, and raped over 300 wenches. I be trained in hit-and-run pillaging and be the deadliest with a pistol of all the captains on the high seas. Ye be nothing to me but another source o’ swag. I’ll have yer guts for garters and keel haul ye like never been done before, hear me true. You think ye can hide behind your newfangled computing device? Think twice on that, scallywag. As we parley I be contacting my secret network o’ pirates across the sea and yer port is being tracked right now so ye better prepare for the typhoon, weevil. The kind o’ monsoon that’ll wipe ye off the map. You’re sharkbait, fool. I can sail anywhere, in any waters, and can kill ye in o’er seven hundred ways, and that be just with me hook and fist. Not only do I be top o’ the line with a cutlass, but I have an entire pirate fleet at my beck and call and I’ll damned sure use it all to wipe yer arse off o’ the world, ye dog. If only ye had had the foresight to know what devilish wrath your jibe was about to incur, ye might have belayed the comment. But ye couldn’t, ye didn’t, and now ye’ll pay the ultimate toll, you buffoon. I’ll ♥♥♥♥ fury all over ye and ye’ll drown in the depths o’ it. You’re fish food now.

bRuh