Gus Openshaw's Whale-Killing Journal AT LAST!

Simply THRILLING news. I shall have to alert dear snuggs as to the impending somethingess that is about to happen. And perhaps to refurbish our decent funereal wear in case Gus' dire warning comes true.

Ahoy, shipmates, Gus Openshaw here. Hope you all are still alive. I am, for now anyhow. (Yeah, I know, most of you probably guessed that given that I'm writing up this here blog entry now, but for those few of you who didn't, George...)

Reason I might buy it is I'll be going out to sea again soon. Big news on that (that's why there's a scrimshaw of my typewriter below (though truth be told I'll probably type on the computer)) soon.

In the meantime, can you guess what Jesus, me and President Hoover have got in common? If you guess right, there's a pile of scrimshaws in it for you. To submit your guess and/or get on my mailing list, send an e-mail to gusopenshaw@yahoo.com. So I guess the postman really has got nothing to do with either.

We had better issue a Call to Arms, Legs, and sundry other Limbs. All hands on deck (DRAT! PARDON! It's been so long).

Guests Coming Out of One's Orifices

With the decline in the pirate trade (everyone seems to have gone Temperance or some such) life has become very quiet here at the Grog Shoppe. During the touristic season the guests come and go and there's very little of note to report.

Howsomeever, we seem to be headed into a much more busy time, as the nice rugged Kiwi fellow's firm has contracted for rooms again for their madcap incentive contest or travelogue or whatever it is. However, I had the presence of mind to have my solicitors (Messrs. Obfusc and Wigtape, Esquires) look over the agreement this time, and I have the right to offer alternate accomodations to anyone for any reason.

Oddly enough, this year it's gaggles and gaggles of 'Merrikan families. My dim friend warned me of this, and I thought I knew the oddities of 'Merrikan family life tolerably well, but each new arrival (or rather, each new set of arrivals) would appear to offer new challenges. I have a guest list, but have no idea which family will arrive when.

The Black family was the first to arrive - that is their name, I mean no disrespect. They are lovely people, and the two young boys are very well-spoken and charming. They seemed quite, quite downcast at being the first to arrive and so I and my staff have done my best to find them interesting things to do and enjoy their rather forced vacation at my humble establishment.

All well and good, but the next family to arrive smelt of gunpowder and lamp oil, and the father did nothing to ingratiate himself further. He seemed to be casting blame all about except on himself for some reason. The young teenage son was quite comely, but I sensed trouble if any future guests should turn out to be teenage girls (which according to my guest list may be the case). So I not so reluctantly found them accomodations at a soulless modern hostelry out by the motorway.

The father had complained of the smallness of my rooms and of the scent of delicious tipples wafting up from the barroom, so off they went said I.

In other news, I've done a spot of housekeeping, and evicted a rather strange Japanese gentleman who seemed bent on running a business out of my very premises. The cheek! He has been summarily ejected.