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Every nation needs an anthem. There’s no reason the pirate nation should be an exception. Thus, I nominate He’s a Pirate (Orchestral Mix) by Dj Tiësto to be the anthem of the pirate nation.

With the air of adventure and exploration, the song captures the spirit of the pirate that lives on since the golden age of piracy. In addition, the electronic sounds bear witness to the modern state of piracy as well as the projection of piracy into the future.


Though we failed the mission, we were still alive. Our chopper had gained enough altitude that we were relatively safe, no enemy fire, no enemy aircraft, and no anti-air. The only ‘threat’ that remained were a few ants on the ground still pursuing us. They had slaughtered most of our unit on the ground with their swords, but there wasn’t much they could do to us now.

After a few minutes, I looked back. We’d lost a lot of good men down there.The patches of blood were still visible, even from this far away. It’s at this time, that I noticed the enemy was still chasing after us. More disturbing is that they were actually keeping up with our helicopter.

Then, one of them pulled ahead of the rest. Gradually, he was not only keeping up, but actually gaining on us. As he got closer, I remembered him. All of them fought fiercely, but this one, it was like he was possessed. By now, I could distinguish the colour of his armour against the glow of that giant sword. The sword was as sharp as any from these lands, but had to have been over 2 metres long and it burned as hot as Hell itself.

When I began to make out the details of his face, I realised that he was no longer on the ground. He was running in the air. No, not quite. He was stepping on butterflies. Not stomping on them, but gracefully bounding from one to another with every stride.

The situation was quickly turning into a real problem. Alerted, the commander ordered us to open fire with whatever weapons we had left, mostly just pistols. No effect, that which actually hit barely dinted that blue armour.

He disappeared. I looked out the door and saw him nowhere. In an instant, I was face to face with him as he jetted up from below. His eyes were opened wide with that possessed look. As quickly as he appeared, still outside, he jetted to my right, the front of the copter.

With my jaw dropped, I don’t think I moved for a second. But when I did, I could see a beam of light spanning from the left to the right side of the fuselage coming towards me. It sliced right through the helmet ‘protected’ heads of the pilot and copilot. This was it, he was decapitating the whole freakin’ chopper.

Several years ago, I was on a road trip and the Rush Limbaugh Show was playing on the radio. Despite a mild vanity problem, he actually displayed some alright musical tastes cutting in and out from commercials. I remember even Daft Punk on one occasion which really rather impressed and surprised me.

However, on this particular day, the song was Macarena. When I heard this, I saw him dancing the macarena. He was in his underwear, white briefs. So he did the arm part, then came the hands on hips with rotation. It was a unique sight.

People are sitting in beanbag chairs, they’re extremely relaxed. No, that’s an understatement. They’re dead lazy, like too lazy to even get up to use the restroom. However the chairs aren’t beanbag chairs, they’re personal clouds. These people aren’t exactly properly clothed either, some are just wearing the cloud, other’s are going for more an ancient Greek look. So these clouds are all on ice, somewhat comparable to bumper cars or bumper boats. Except, their individual movement is not random, no, quite on the contrary.

Each cloud is rotating. But all the clouds seem to originate at the perimeter of the ice surface, which extends so far that the clouds could nearly form two parallel rows. In unison, all the clouds are moving in a rhythmic oscillating pattern such that two parallel clouds approach each other in each cycle. At the climax of the oscilation, the clouds are synchronsied so that their sides face each other. Now, when two clouds get close together, their passengers haphazardly turn to the side of the otehr cloud and extend the arm of that same side. Ever so carefully, they touch index fingers (Think of Mike’s painting of G and his man A getting friendly). And this goes on and on, almost like a never ending dance.