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Sea bandits fear

The Sirius Star while held by pirates

Hello and welcome to my column on the "Hidden" arts and entertainment going on behind the scenes. For my very first piece, I wanted to tip my "tricorne" hat to the archetypical underground character: The Pirate. Specifically, the Somali sea bandits taking the media world by storm this year. Note: This article is a spoof based on the actual pillaging of the pirates in the Indian Ocean area. Please enjoy and continue to stay tuned to all the adventures taking place on Atlanta's high seas.

 

Three weeks ago, my nine-year old godson wore his homemade “Yes We Can” sweatshirt to school and pledged to become Barack Obama when he grows up. Two days ago, he was sent home from school after sneaking into the janitorial supply closet and superglueing a toilet bowl plunger to his knee so he could “practice walking like a swashbuckler.”

 

The Somalian sea pirates who hijacked an oil supertanker off the coast of Kenya on November 15 commandeered much more than 2 million barrels of crude. They have also captured the attention of every modern media outlet across the globe. And apart from the obvious contenders (the U.S. Navy, the Saudi owners of the 1,080 foot “Sirius Star” vessel, Jerry Bruckheimer, and a vast array of Islamic militant factions) -- the rest of the world seems positively spellbound, even smitten by the black-eyed brigands: “It’s as if the masked bandits tossed a grappling hook over the side of my mind, climbed on board my brain, and are now holding my every thought hostage,”explains one infatuated spectator.

 

 We’ve heard of the “Stockholm Syndrome,” this is the Somalian sea pirate syndrome by which the public has fallen head over eels for their mental captors. Rather than ridicule, the rogues have won our respect, even reverence. Instead of condemnation, their actions have been met with emulation. One particularly disturbing incident took place on November 19, when a band of 25 second-graders armed with spit (cannon)-balls and a Jolly Roger flag at a California-based Montessori school held their class mascot “Nemo the goldfish” captive until their teachers vowed to permanently repeal the “Cupcake Ban.” The flattery of imitation will also be found in the upcoming haute couture spring fashion shows as waifish wenches strut down plank-shaped catwalks. The “Scalawag Chic” will debut with diamond-encrusted Christian Dior eye-patches and tricorne hats.

 

The instant iconic status of the pirates in pop culture, however, has put some on edge. Clinical psychologists in Europe and North America urge parents to inform their teenagers of the actual dangers of buccaneer life.“This isn’t the fun, devil-may-care adventure of ‘Pirates of the Caribbean,’” stresses one doctor of behavioral medicine. “These young outlaws live in the wide, open seas with no rules or authority. They carry AK47’s, shoot rocket-propelled-grenades, drive high-powered skiffs, and escape capture in the darkness of night where they withdraw to their secret hideouts.” That should quell any pre-pubescent boy’s romanticized notion of a pirate’s life: A fantasy of rum barrels and buried treasure makes way for a severe reality of qat leaves and $150 million a year bounties.

 

Local authorities in and around the Arabian sea have also expressed concern that a shortage of hand hooks, due to a recent run on the pointy metal devices, could increase an already-high number of nubbin beatings across Africa’s coastline.

 

The larger the pirates’ image to the outside world, and the bigger their booties, the greater become the internal rifts among the crew. The outcome of the “Sirius Star” oil tanker sacking has been compromised. One former deck swabber/turncoat who wishes to remain nameless over concern for his safety reports that an ambiguously effeminate “girlie-boy” in green tights has been riling the ranks with make-believe tales of perma-children and swordsmanship. Several sources have spotted the boy using a knife and fork to cut into a plate with nothing at all on it and slurping into an empty glass, after a while letting out the biggest, smelliest burp just as if he had devoured a whole hog."I don't know how the little boy does it," the deckhand says, "but it seems the ship captain is no match for his recorder playing and that badass, dust-throwing fairy."

 

Furthermore, on November 21, a factory worker at a Cleveland, Ohio-based NABISCO plant placed an anonymous phone call to the U.S. Department of the Navy, claiming he knew the sea coordinates for the Somali pirates’ next destination."We received the biggest order in our entire history for Reduced Sodium Triscuit and Ritzbitz crackers by the Pirate's crew,” explains the worker. “It’s for their shoulder parrots, you see.”