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Old 02-05-2011, 02:35   #1
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Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: South East Asia
Boat: 122 year old Historical Sailing vessel
Posts: 121
Real life UFO's: Well, Sort Of Anyway

Couldn't resist posting this. You can imagine the giggles as I was writing it.

At last UFO's understood to be Unidentified Floating Objects

I was chatting with Poseidon the other day. He’s a great lad for a Greek god and with a powerful sense of humor. There we were sitting under a palm tree, sipping frosted daiquiris, and watching the sunset, when out of nowhere he says, “Have you noticed all the UFO’s floating around these days”? I nodded, trying to look wise as I took another sip from my daiquiri. After all what do you say to a half drunken Greek god who starts chatting about UFO’s?

I know you must be wondering what an unrepentant traditionalist like me is doing hanging out with the likes of Poseidon. It’s not that I’m anyone special. I own an old wooden sail boat that keeps me busy, get back and forth around the moorings in a sailing dinghy, and write a column for this magazine that helps keep the rum barrel topped up. Not much of a recommendation for Godfriendom I’ll admit.

Truth be told, I just hang out with the old boy to put the make on his sexy lady friend who keeps popping half naked out of sea shells. That woman has fantastic hair, along with a few other magnificent endowments. Poseidon may be old and dress funny, but the guy really knows his oceans. So when I ask what oceans and little green men with antennas sprouting from their heads have in common he just laughed and said, “UFO’s not UFO’s”.

OK, call me thick but the difference seemed a little thin and I said so. With an exasperated look he spoke slowly and loudly, like people do when speaking to idiots and foreigners, “ UFO’s you pratt, Unidentified Floating Objects. All those strange things you people keep putting afloat on my oceans”. “Ah, you mean like catamarans, racing boats, and those kind of things”, says I. He simply nodded as I smirked. It’s always a pleasant feeling when one is in tune with a god, even a drunken one.

One of the best things about having a Greek god friend is that he invites me along when he goes wrathing. I sit on his shoulder and watch as he wreaks revenge on those who enter his domains with out showing the proper respect. Great stuff with waves crashing, Borealis blowing his lungs out, and the odd crash of lightening if Thor happens to be passing bye. Sort of a gods’ version of Saturday night out with the boys.

You see wrathing is the god’s way of keeping things in balance. Back in the good old days gods patrolled their respective domains wrathing those who didn’t show the proper respect for their particular element. They still patrol mind you punishing the most flagrant of offenders. But it’s not like it once was.

Sailors used to fear Poseidon’s wrath. Just being out of sight of land gave most of them the creeping jitters. They would toss money in the water, burn offerings, and in general go through all manner of contortions to keep him placated. To Poseidon it wasn’t the money, barbecue, or giggles, but the show of respect for his oceans that really mattered. He was always willing enough to let some over loaded leaky old wooden tub, held together with string and prayers, slip by if those sailors were respectful.

The old sailors had three things in common. They were all, to a man, cowards when it came to braving Poseidon’s wrath. Those old boys would do anything to stay in port when Poseidon looked like going on a rampage. They were also lazy as bed bugs. They had enough work to do bailing out their leaking boats and hauling heavy bits of rigging about. A race to them was what happened between tying their boat to the pier and arriving at the local pub. Finally they were devoutly paranoid, completely convinced that the oceans were out to get them. Knowing Poseidon’s sense of humor, I wonder if it actually is paranoia to think the oceans are out to get you if, in fact, the oceans really are.

As Poseidon pointed out from flat on his back under the rum barrel’s tap, a steady drip of amber liquid wetting his lips, “sailors just don’t give a damn any more. They go to sea in anything that floats, don’t have the slightest idea what they’re doing, or how to get where they want to go. I love killing those little electrical boxes they use to navigate just to watch them sail around in circles. It’s not as much fun as smashing them with giant waves but most of those UFO’s couldn’t stand up to even a light smashing. It’s simply ruined my wrathing it has”. And that’s when he started crying. Tears are always a bad omen from a rum sodden god.

I first met Poseidon after a party. I was having a difficulty navigating along the beach to my dingy when this deep resonate voice said. “ Had a few to many have you”? Looking up I saw an old man pushing a shopping market trolley filled with what looked like a donation for the Salvation Army. He came over to where I was helplessly wrapped around a palm tree and sat down. “ Don’t have any of that rum left do you”, he asks. And that my friend is when I first met Poseidon. On other, shall we say sporting, days he masquerades as a Rastafarian windsurfing instructor or an out of work rock musician.

I won’t bore you with the rest of that days activities, except to mention that the lady with the long hair and great body failed to show up, and how we managed to seriously damage my rum stores while creating a catalogue of certified UFO items that should not be taken to sea under any circumstances. After that insightful day, I guarantee you there isn’t a single cactus growing on my boat, nor will I ever take a rhinoceros onboard as ships boy.

I usually post my giggles on our website if anyone is interested or on our blog site.
H/V Vega is offline   Reply With Quote

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