Home > Experiments, Postaday2011 > I Could Probably Write For “Yachting” Magazine If I Really Wanted To

I Could Probably Write For “Yachting” Magazine If I Really Wanted To

Since this Blog is very quickly turning into my personal quest to become rich, I went ahead and came up with another idea. I was thumbing through a copy of Yachting, a magazine about boats that rich people utilize to vacation in exotic locales, cheat on their wives, and, this is just a guess, urinate into the ocean from. It features articles written by richer-than-thou men of status talking about Italian-craftsmanship-this, I-winter-in-such-an-exclusive-location-I-can’t-say-the-name-that. This is just another guess, but these guys are probably getting paid pretty good to write these fancy-pants critiques. So I prepared a fictional review to send into the magazine to show them I belong in their ranks, but upon finishing I went to their website only to find that you can’t even get their email address without subscribing to their magazine (the copy I had been originally reading was inaccessible by this point). That, my friends, is a true rich move. So if any of you have connections at that fine periodical, please pass this along.

Symphony of the Seas

I recently had the privilege of setting sail upon what is sure to be this season’s most opulent seafaring vessel – The Symphony of the Seas. Crafted by a reclusive Scandanavian poet-warlord who only emerges from his enigmatic fjord domain once every nine years, Symphony left me speechless. The ship boasts a 10,000 gallon fuel tank, allowing for a liberating travel distance of up to 200 miles before a refill is needed. The sun deck provides ample room for you and your guests to drink scotch and discuss the pressing issues of today’s society, such as illegal immigration, while the three undocumented aliens that come standard with each Symphony clean the hooker blood from the bunks below. Speaking of bunks, Symphony has the largest dwellings of any yacht on the water today. The three bedrooms – each with a private bathroom complete with seperate hooker boudoir – all measure in at an astonishing 500 square feet; unprecedented in the world of yachting – until now. The engine room comes equipped with a dog kennel for the migrant workers to share. The pièce de résistance, though, has to be the fully operational “hooker cannon”, stationed midship. When a hooker’s antics have gotten old, or it say, passes out or “dies”, you will undoubtedly wish it to be gone. Unfortunately, this is one of life’s few problems that won’t go away when it is pelted with a stack of hundred dollar bills. Fortunately, though, it is a problem that free immigrant labor can solve. Simply have one of your confused illegals stuff the body into the canon’s chamber and pull the lever. Now freshen your drink, kick back, and watch that baby fly in a beautiful arc of evidence-erasing flight into the horizon, never to be seen or heard from again. Needless to say, this ceremony is at its most awe-inspiring in the waning crepuscular light. Is this not why we have become rich, ostentatious yacht-owners in the first place? We are the precious few who are able to experience first-hand the joys of promising desperate foreigners 20 cents an hour to clean up bodily fluids for the duration of a three week pleasure-fest, only to have them deported without pay when the voyage is done. Symphony of the Seas provides the perfect backdrop for this debauchery of the high seas to take place. Vivant la bonne!

Fin.

Here’s the Blong. Black Keys – Goodbye Babylon.

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