What is a pirate? A privateer? A buccaneer?
There are people in this world who are driven by greed and a sense that they have nothing to lose by risking everything to take what belongs to you. They swoop in on their fast pirate ships, swing on board your little boat, hurt you, steal what you have, and eventually kill you. Movies romanticize swashbucklers as somebody who takes from the rich and the villainous as a sort of cosmic comeuppance. But the reality is they are criminals and murderers.
But they don’t carry swords any more.
They are the CEOs of banks.
Bank-o’ Merricka is an excellent example who sailed their Jolly Roger right up to the gunwales of my little boat. I underwent a debt reduction program because of five hospital stays in five years that drained my personal treasury. $35,000 in credit card debt reduced and paid off in three years. But Bank-o’ Merricka, after they learned I would not be able to pay all the interest I owed, immediately stopped calling. The debt disappeared from my account. They had sold the debt to a debt collector and quietly sat on the bill as I paid everything else off. Then, they filed a lawsuit for the entire amount I owed, plus interest, and plus legal fees. If I hadn’t hired a lawyer and fought the lawsuit, they would’ve won the entire amount by default. That’s how they clean out most of their victims and prey, because people generally surrender to pirates who come over the rails with swords in their teeth and burning cannon fuses in their beards.
I may still lose the battle in this boarding action, but at least I haven’t simply surrendered. But there are other pirate ships circling my little boat as well. My evil health insurance company are also buccaneers, and they demand higher and higher premiums and co-pays, and routinely deny all claims. Diabetic supply people keep calling me and offering free meters and stuff the health insurance pirates are supposed to cover one hundred per cent. I just paid them $260 dollars of a $500 dollar scam bill that hit my little boat like a cannon shot.
So, the pirates are out there. I am still fighting off the boarders. But I think my little boat is sinking.
Catch a Falling Star 
Doom is Imminent, It’s Time to Sing!
Yessir, the Cubs have a chance to win their first World Series since 1908 tonight. They have not won the title since Tinker to Evers to Chance was the double-play combo of poetic proportions. They have never won in my lifetime, and I am quite old. So, there is proof positive the world is about to end.
Yes, I can even describe the mechanics of the thing. Donald Trump will be elected President of the United States thanks to Mr. Comey’s timely reveal of more scandalous emails that he has not read and chuckled about yet. You know, the ones that he couldn’t have actually read yet because they come from potential pedophile Anthony Weiner’s computer, and he had to have a separate warrant from a judge to read anything that may have to do with Hillary, even though probably none of them contain nude pictures from Hillary, and she probably didn’t even write those emails. The world had to know about that right before the election, especially members of the Republican House Committee for examining Hillary’s every boo-boo. So, the Donald will win, because nobody is doing any press conferences on the FBI investigation on his ties to the Russian government through the biggest bank in Russia. ‘Taint important, Pogo.
And once the great orange pumpkin-head is our next president, our health care will no longer be under the misguided protection of Obamacare. Instead, it will will be taken care of by “something terrific” that will make high profits for somebody, and make certain that I will never be able to pay another medical bill (since those who are deceased rarely do).
And, of course, President Pompadoodle will be able to declare that we no longer have to believe in the climate change hoax. The result being that we will soon be able to buy beachfront property in Iowa and Missouri, be able to purchase our breathable air in factory-made brick-form, and possibly grow a helpful third eye from the mutating effects of nuclear radiation.
And, lastly, I would like to thank the late great Walt Kelly for illustrating today’s post. One wonders how a cartoonist can look so far ahead from the 1960’s to do such a fine job of illustrating the problems of 2016? Will miracles never cease? I mean, really, we could probably do with a few less of these industrial grade miracles made out of recycled elephant poop.
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Filed under angry rant, comic strips, commentary, conspiracy theory, feeling sorry for myself, goofy thoughts, humor, politics, satire
Tagged as Chicago Cubs, Donald Trump, doom, end of the world, Hillary Clinton, humor, politics, satire, Walt Kelly