It seems to me that there comes a time in every person’s life when the Doom itself just seems to have decided to practice its punting skills on your dreams.  You know, a time when The Doom of All Things, Fate, Karma, Life, Luck, Chance, the Wyrd, or Whatever Cosmic Gobbledygook you choose just decides to pull your name out of a hat and make hay all over your world. (Note: I didn’t say God cause He’s cool.  Jesus you’re Aces!)
Maybe your dog and your girl both up and run away.  Or maybe your radiator blows for the fourth time in a month even though the mechanic promised that this time it was fixed for real.  And then you realize that your last stash of pure Kona has run out and there is no way to get anymore till Christmas at the soonest, but if you do then there ain’t gonna be no Christmas, cause Kona is expensive and you can’t restock the good beans AND buy your bratty little cousin that dang play set, and if you don’t your Aunt Angie is gonna get all angry cause she wants him to have the play set!  To top it all off you have to come into the job you realize you hate to work with people who despise you but you can’t leave because of the lien on your car on a SATURDAY!  A SATURDAY PEOPLE!  And none of this is your fault!  You tried to do right.  Tried to be nice.  Tried to follow the rules.  And this is how the World thanks you!  Well you can show them!  You’ll show them all!
Or maybe you just got the blues.

Git me some good food!

So what do you do?

I am thinking, move to New Orleans.
Seriously. 
See you must first realize that the only cure is to leave all of your problems in the only place they could possibly exist ( your current location) and trick them by moving to a new location!  Only by changing your location can you lose the evil vibes that are wrecking your life.  Don’t fool yourself into thinking that by bravely battling through and seeking to grow personally from your situation that you will find joy.  No.  You need to realize the only way to get happy is to chase and run after a better place.
Second you must realize that a lot of bad juju has just racked the big Easy again and again.  So they are due for a break!  Just like you.  And if you could just get there at the right time you can climb up on those coattails and ride on to easy street.

Third, you need to realize that even if things get worse for the Crescent City, that is still good for you.  Having only reached bout 60% of pre-Katrina population another serious catastrophe could knock at least portions of Orleans Parish into a dystopian Mad Max style existence.  Then the lack of tons of easily accessible makeup would keep you from being pestered by that cursed bionic legged pirate woman!  WHY CAN NO ONE ELSE SEE HER?!?!!!

-Bob

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Avast thar me mateys!  Yarrgh!  I been paryusin’ them thar headlinesand be pleased to announce to ye all, scurvy sea-dog, worthy seaman (no ribaldry if ye please) and lilly livered land lubber a’like, ‘at the Age O’ High Seas Piracy Be Retarned!  No Joke!
Three Cheers fer arr dread Somali Pirate Cousins what have attacked 120 vessels  and ransomed away millions o’ dollars this year alone and taken a worthy peacefulvessel full o’ black crude worth $100,000,000.00 and are holdin’ it fer $25,000,000.00 in spite o’ all the worlds navies! Hip, Hip, HYHAARRGGHH!!!  Hip, hip, HYHAARRGGHH!!!  Hip hip HYHAARRGGHH!!!
Truly this here be a black day for any merchantman ‘pon the briney blue!  No national navy’ll come to save them thar servile merchant marines, no power they say.  Harharharharhar! Dja hear that me lovelies!  Powerless!  The mighty American Navy, the storied Royal Navy, none of ‘em can do a dem thing!  The best proof of that, me hearties, be that the Oonited Nations ‘ave voted ”sanctions” against Piracy!  HAAAAAAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
Oooooooooooooooohhhhhhhh!  Now I just ‘ave ta give up me freebootery so’ssome silky smooth civil sarvant won’t make yars truly ”subject to an asset freeze and travel ban.”  HAR! That’ll stop us! 
These har buroowcrats are sae afeared o’ arr kind and what we could do to ‘em and thar precious reputations once, ‘at they won’t even tink about what we can do to ‘em again and again!   
True, they say they won’t pay the ransom fer the crew, but they also say they can’t do a thing!  So whats to stop arr buccaneer brethren from scuttlin’ the ‘ole tanker and crew to Davey Jones Locker and spillin’ all ‘at crude into the bright blue deep! Nothin’ me hearties!  They’ll rue thar skinflinterry afterwards I’ll reckon, thinkin’ ‘ow paltry $25 million was compared tah the grief they bought fer themselves.

And soon enough it’ll not just be freighters and tankers, but cruise ships full of fat rich tourists, as some of our poltroonish Pacific pirate brethren ‘ave already tried, and even ports and cities just like in the days of William Kidd, John Hawkins, Francis Drake, and the great Blackbeard hisself, Edward Teach!  The blood and gold ‘ill flow through the arr ‘ands and arr names ‘ill be writ’ large in the nightmares of every seaman and child!

Unless of course the world, or one powerful nation more likely, wises up and begins to hunt these dogs down just like they did in centuries past.  Hunt them down by 1.) building and maintaining big enough navies to actually control all of the major shipping lanes in the world, then 2.) burning the pirates out of every port, cove, and hole they even dream of slithering in to regardless of what any corrupt, bought off local authority or prince says about their sovereignty being violated, and 3.) killing every last pirate and pirate protector, either on sight on the seas (preferably) or on the gallows.

Carse, me hearty lads, ’at’d mean a real, radical, substantive change in fareign policy away from policin’ the waves to rulin’ ‘em.  Away from folks bein’ loved, to bein’ respected an’ feared e’en more than us pirates. An’ we can’t let that happen.  An’ ’at’s why I voted Obama!

-Bob

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