Thursday 28 May 2015: I am out-to-sea, as happens from time to time when you are confined to a ship for the aged and mentally deficient, so I will make this CAUTION entry brief.
da ol’ Captain must have hit da main nerve … Certain power sports industry types, a few with impressive titles, an award winning ‘racer’, a non-related industry leader, a race promoter now spending his off days in ‘meetings’ and one ‘pseudo-exec’ who, like the others, refused to provide her name – but should definitely replace the filth-filter between her brain and her mouth – have taken exception to what has been previously written. They think to a person their comments are going to deter me from the objectives, I’ve got news for ‘em: It just reinforced my conviction that what appears here must need to said. I have heard a lot of bluster and trash but I have not had one person tell me it’s not true… not even ‘Ms. Trash-Mouth’ who rambled on well past curfew defending the persons and singular entity she perceived to be the targets… The sum and total impression she left me with is that while talking to herself in her Magic Mirror, no one disagrees with her, ever, so of course the actions, decisions and daily activities of her alleged client(s) all makes perfect, logical sense and rings true with absolute authority. Hmmm. This does not change da course of this ol’ pirate and so to the client (person / entity) ‘Ms. Trash-Mouth’ allegedly represents and is hovering over, I say you have to be able to take leadership…you have to be able to stand tall. Make the damn calls (decisions) that can and will be to the commercial benefit of the personal watercraft racing sport and its participants in the US; that’s what they think they pay you for. They pay you to lead… not execute the self-serving will of the collective asses teetering in a dissolving dynasty.
No, Mr. ‘F’ this column isn’t about you, though knowing your sense of unbridled entitlement and delusion about your place in the personal watercraft racing world, you would so desperately want it to be. No, this column is about me; Capt. MiddleFinger Needlemyr, and what I’d do if I became King of the personal watercraft racing world. For some, this news would be akin to being told you were being reassigned to a worm farm or leper colony somewhere far into the Sahara, or worse. In fact, for quite a few of the go-along-to-get-along hordes that go through the motions in the personal water craft racing sport, this news would be an untenable twelve pound butt-load of ‘tan turkey turd’… well, tough shit, as we say here on da asylum- ship, because no sport needs more commercial assistance, direction and guidance, as well as a dose of reality–brought on with a reassuring whack of a 2×4 to the forehead, than the personal water craft racing sport.
Aye… there’s a storm brewin’! Gotta get below-deck. Until next time.
Capt. Middlefinger Needlemyr