A Line in the Sand
In the past, the Prohibition Pirates of the Parkway have taken a laissez-faire attitude toward our brethren throughout the world. While the PPoP choose a different path, we certainly enjoy the antics of our fellow pirates. In particular, we have taken great pleasure in celebrating the successes of the pirates off the coast of Somalia.
At first, they seemed like harmless thrill seekers. Most reports described the experience as something similar to being held captive by a host family while studying abroad. (I have heard particularly good stories about nude family sauna hour in some Scandinavian countries.) However, in recent days, the Somali pirates have proved to be unsavory, blood-thirsty scoundrels and not the horribly confused men living out a 17th-century delusion that we previously believed them to be.
Their actions over the last several days leave the PPoP with no alternative. we must disavow our ties with them immediately. Incidentally, it has also lead us to reconsider contracting them to find us a left-handed pitcher. In retrospect, we probably shouldn’t have suggested they accomplish that goal, “by any means necessary.”
Alas, while we can tolerate mildly inconveniencing European tourists on overpriced cruises, we cannot stand idly by as they engage in gunfights with U.S. Navy SEALs and fire upon planes carrying U.S. Congressmen. It is diametrically opposed to our goals of curing global warming and turning crisp double plays.
As a formal declaration from all rostered PPoP players on the thirteenth day of April in the year of our Lord two thousand and nine, we let it be known that no pirates who engage in foul play in the waters of the Indian Ocean will receive safe harbor along our Parkway.
We understand there may potentially be collateral losses as a result of this edict. Most notably, pirate groupies with relaxed moral standards. As a corollary to this PPoP Doctrine, we will grant asylum to any of these poor women who require shelter from pirates better endowed with the ability to care for them. Acceptance of loot, booty or anything else of value will be determined on a case-by-case basis.
This funny business has gone on long enough. Sure, we all had a good laugh at first. But just like Baseball Fantasy Camp, eventually you realize that your chance to be an infamous swashbuckler is never going to come to fruition. You can keep trying, but eventually Bill Mazeroski will kindly break into your sobs and, straining his voice over the 5,000th rotation of “We Are Family,” will tell you it is time to go home. Someone needs to let these guys know that their week is over. They can keep the uniforms, but they have to go home.
