An Ode to Plunderpants

I purchased a new pair of plunderpants,
and thought it was time to report
that I purchased a new pair of plunderpants.
They’re brown, they’re cotton, they’re short.

I’d considered my old pair of plunderpants,
and all the adventures we’ve shared.
So saggy and baggy and tattered and stained
with stitches where the butt’s been repaired.

My old pair of plunderpants is still my best pair of plunderpants.
They’re piratey. They’re mangled. They’re hemp.
But for fancy occasions, they’re the wrong pair of plunderpants
cuz they’re more than a smidge too unkempt.

On most days I dress like a drunk washed-up swab
happy to wipe sword with sleeve once I run ya through.
But soon I’ll be gussed up in sharp Bilgemunky-fashion
and a fresh change of plunderpants seemed long overdue.

Prepping for some piratey action in Long Beach has got me planning. And thinking. About plunderpants, and how they just don’t get enough love. Hats get loads of love. Coats too. And with good reason—a glorious tricorn or frock can single-handedly define a pirate ensemble. Boots get their due, as do buckles and baldrics, tankards and tattoos (which aren’t exactly clothing but sort of are, kinda like having a favorite pair of stripy socks you refuse to ever take off).

But not the plunderpants. So little love for that single piece of clothing that serves as the foundation upon which all other items will be tucked, draped, pinned or hung. So here’s a toast to that most basic—yet essential—piece of pirate garb: the noble, sometimes striped sometimes not sometimes splattered sometimes cleanish ever present always important plunderpant.

Pamper yerself. Pirate-style.

You work hard. Between vet appointments and housecleaning and the 9-to-5 grind at the acid mines or nail factory or law dispensary or whatever you do for a living, you’re beat. And you long for nothing more than to cut loose and blow off steam in a manner most piratey. You reach for the rum and cigars, but then remember the doctor told you to cut back. You’d settle for striking a jaunty pose, but your knee isn’t what it used to be. You could say bugger it all, grab a flintlock and raid the neighbors poolside tiki bar, but there’s that damned restraining order to think about…

So what’s a modern pirate to do? All you ask is the chance to swash the occasional buckle, but Talk Like a Pirate Day is months away and your hearty crewmates are all busy with their kids at judo practice and ballet recitals. You’re too landlocked to steal a dinghy, and too broke and/or out-of-shape for any respectable carousing.

Whenever the call of the sea is thwarted, it’s good to remember our pirate forebears of old, and how they dealt in such times. When Blackbeard had to let the Queen Anne’s Revenge sail without him while he stayed behind for jury duty, did he mope around the docks, morosely stabbing strangers with a sad little “yar”? Probably. But it didn’t help his sour mood—that could only be remedied with a pirate spa night. Continue reading

Pirateyness Chart of Beer, Wine, and Spirits

A little something I found while digging through some old files. I don’t believe I ever got around to posting it here, so it seems time to remedy that. I present my carefully researched Pirateyness Chart of Beer, Wine, and Spirits. And a special thanks to “How to Speak Pirate” for the inspiration for labeling the pirate archetypes.

My hope is this chart will have a timeless and limitless impact towards the betterment of humanity. That, or at least encourage you to tease your mate for being a milquetoast next time they dare order rosé wine in your presence.



A map. And rum. A map of rum.

So the fine folks at Coconut Bay Resort saw fit to create an interactive rum map. It’s sort of like playing Sid Meier’s Pirates, except you don’t have much chance of winning the Governor’s daughter. Loads of great rum, though, so click the map below to check it out!

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Something to be Thankful For: Surprise Rum!

IMG 1642All right, I admit I’ve been derelict in my Bilgemunky duties of late. Life happened, and I’ve been pretty well immersed in non-piratey endeavors of late. But hey, look what just showed up at my doorstep! RUM!!! Nothing says, “wake the hell up and say something Bilgemunkyish” like an unexpected visit from rum.

Normally a white rum wouldn’t get me so excited, although there have certainly been exceptions. And this appears to be one of them. It’s called Caliche Rum, it’s aged up to four years, and it looks pretty awesome. Can’t wait to break it open (but I should at least wait until after lunch.)