Skip to main content

Singing with the Admiral in Alaska

Image
By

Admiral Mussorsky declared that he would be playing Bach over the sonar tonight, to tickle the Narwhal’s delight.

“Has he gone mad?” asked the first mate.

“I’m not sure and I’m not sure that there’s anything we can do about it,” said Gilligan, “But the admiral was swearing in the bar last night that he would do this by the end of the week, if that old Exxon Valdez wasn’t settled. Sort of a way to settle the score to pay back the whales and minnows for all their grief.”

Gilligan continued, “As I recall, Captain John Hazelwood, became tipsy by drinking 100 O’Doul’s in a twenty-four hour span. He fell over and wrecked the skip fantastic, just as his last chorus of ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, came to a crashing close.”

“This is why the Admiral is pissed.”

“Admiral Mussorsky said that he has a rare recording of Albert Schweitzer performing Bach, I heard the accompanying tubular bells coming from his cabin, late last night, after the bar closed.”

“Now he’s down there tinkering with the sonar, applying his best Bach to treat the whale underworld.”

“Personally,” said Gilligan, “I hope that nobody mutinies, and that this will be a nice neuroacoustic change for them. Much better than the Zappa, we’ve been zapping them with.”

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Old post from the Anthropik network

By
"I noticed, when she delivered the plate of fruit, that my Balian hostess was also balancing a tray containing many little green bowls-small, boatshaped platters, each of them woven neatly from a freshly cut section of palm frond. The platters were two or three inches long, and within each was a small mound of white rice. After handing me my breakfast, the woman and the tray disappeared from view behind the other buildings, and when she came by some minutes later to pick up my empty plate, the tray was empty as well. * On the second morning, when I saw the array of tiny rice platters, I asked my hostess what they were for. Patiently, she explained to me that they were offerings for the household spirits. When I inquired about the Balinese term that she used for "spirit," she repeated the explanation in Indonesian, saying that these were gifts for the spirits of the family compound, and I saw that I had understood her correctly. She handed me a bowl of sliced papaya and...
19 comments
Read more

Country Bumpkin Charm

By
Each time I fly back to the big city, I sneak up on my old friend Tim. After surprising him with a traditional Inspector Clouseau / Kato maneuver, we drive around for Auld Lang Syne. While we hit most of our old haunts, the past we worship briefly resuscitates, through the well-regarded stories we share. We exchange our lively anecdotes; some unspoken for decades, as I cruise an old beater past the house where we dropped off a dropsy friend with a fine-feather we adorned in his cap, so his dad could get a good laugh at the boys out on the town. After a sentimental pizza, I hit the free-for-all freeway, where I drive in the slow lane. Tim says I drive like a country bumpkin. We come to a stop light and glance over at the racecar next to us, booming out rapid bass beats from its speakers. Tim doesn’t stare at the people, but I do, ‘cause I’m freshly fallen off the spud wagon, landed directly at Dulles Airport . Fifteen years in Idaho changes my outlook. At the airport, I watched pass...
2 comments
Read more

May Writing Prompt

By
Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea Hello fellow aspiring Idahoans who are chalk full of creative jangling juices, while dangling over precipices. What we are hoping for here are the most imaginative things that you think a fortunate diver might find at the very bottom of Redfish Lake. The more far-fetched the item -the better. Please dig deep and try to touch bottom here. Stretch that flaccid imagination out for a walk around the sparkly lake and shake off those Winter Doldrums. We encourage your comments:
4 comments
Read more