Aarrrr, me Hearties!

"Books, like friends, should be few and well chosen," wrote Samuel Johnson, a long, long, long time ago. In fact, everything he wrote, said, and did was a good long time ago seeing as he got his ticket punched, turned in his dinner pail, left the stage, and exited the building way back before the travel-sore delegates showed up at the U.S. Constitutional Convention. As I write this, this cool, damp September Sunday marks 302 years since Dr. Johnson, biographer, essayist, & accomplished definer of words, came into the world (a tired old world even then). I'd wax on a bit about him - or not - if you all were going to be reading this today, but this post is scheduled to appear tomorrow morning, i.e. Monday, allow me to note that today, September 19, 262nd day of this tired old year, is the day, me proud beauties, upon which countless land-lubbers are advised to talk like a pirate. [Aye, do be casting your bleary eyes on this'un.]

So a responsible poster would commend you to check out handsome books by the likes of Gail Gibbons, Val Garwood, Pat Croce & Tristan Elwell; and here's a beauty for you, maties: J. Patrick Lewis's Blackbeard, the Pirate King. You'd best be checking out Eric A Kimmel's Blackbeard's Last Fight, but best of all, for my money, is the glorious book PIRATES, by gentleman/poet David Harrison and Dan Burr, a most accomplished illustrator.

What do you do with a blockhead nation?

What do you do with a blockhead nation?

What do you do with a blockhead nation, ear-lye in the mornin?

Give 'em a book and make 'em read it!

Give 'em a book and make 'em read it!

Open it up and turn the pages, ear-lye in the mornin'!

Learn 'em 'bout the country and its hist'ry! .... Ah well, belay that. 'Nuff o' that. What really interests me just now is my need to be getting back to a big-ass painting depicting my town's smelly glory days back when boatloads of emigrants were crowding into Independence,MO, & other 'jumping off' towns along the big bend o' the MO River, readying themselves for a godawful trip along the westward trails [for some history panels hereabouts/what was I thinking] AND the fact that today (tomorrow. 19 Sept) also makes 130 years since poor old suffering 20th President James A. Garfield finally got released and kicked the bucket thanks to his assassin[s], among whom I'd count his germy-handed doctors, according to a new book, about which I read in this morning's paper. Ahoy there, Jimmy Garfield, off 'n' away up there in the Blue Beyond! Any pirates thereabouts, any who made it through the gates o' gold? Sure enough in this wicked old world, e'en Dr. Johnson would agree that there's many a robber or thief who needs no pirate ship to plunder treasure, as Woody Guthrie well knew:

“Yes, as through this world I've wandered I've seen lots of funny men; Some will rob youwith a six-gun, And some with a fountain pen”.

Gee, what rhymes with laptop?