A Pirate Looks At 44

I meant to use that title four years ago, when I turned 40. Then today, when I turned 44, I figured that using the title unchanged would confuse Jimmy Buffett searches. Buffett’s song, “A Pirate Looks At 40”, is one I have not heard before, but I’ve read the lyrics, and I understand it’s one of Buffett’s better tunes. So I replaced “40” with “44”, to set it apart.

Originally, I planned to use “butt pirate”, but there’s really only one definition to that phrase, and it’s not one that describes me. It would have made a funny title, but it also would have netted me a lot of attention, mostly unwanted. From pirates of butts, I’m guessing. They’d email me pictures of their hooks and peglegs, with the message “YARRRRR!!! I BE PLUNDERIN’ BOOTY!!!” Right? I’m not caught up on my pirate culture.

I dig the symmetry of “44”. At 33, I was scripting the first draft of John’s Arm: Armageddon. That’s a tough act to follow, so I hope at 55, I’m eating some really tasty fried chicken. Like from Popeye’s, for example. I’m not too picky.

44 is also a caliber of bullet, which is cool too. That’s kind of inspirational; “The Bullet Year”. P-CHOW!!! Or, I don’t know, “Gun Year”. “Twelve Months of the Bullet”? Eh, that sounds like first-year screenwriter crap.

Maybe “Two Years of the Bullet”, since 45 is a caliber too. Now it sounds like a bad Chow Yun-Fat film guest-starring the RZA.

4/4 is a musical time signature that I generally dislike unless it’s Ramones or motorik. Imagine if the Ramones and krautrock were combined. Ramotorik. That combination is my idea. If I see it in the paper, I’ll stone you on the kidneys. I call dibs.

Here’s the 44th page of Ceaseless Fables of Beyonding. I don’t see how it applies, frankly. Seems like a cheap plug.

I’m sure one could draw a conspiratorial parallel or two.

On the eve of this birthday, I watched Rosemary’s Baby for the first time, correcting another “glaring oversight”. There’s your proof that I work hard for this website; I gladly subjected myself to Ruth Gordon and several other elderly folk screaming “HAIL SATAN!” at 2 in the morning. I even ate supermarket fried chicken, to ensure awful dreams. These are the lengths I go to for your entertainment.