For the last five years of circumnavigating I have managed to 1.) earn half of what it costs to eat a healthy diet, and 2.) spend most of it on my boat. The key to this is being mean. Really mean. Mean, as in heartless, cold, and uncaring. “No, you can’t have another pair of flip-flops,” I scream at my downcast, skin-and-bones wife, “And forget about dining out at that fancy, overpriced seafood restaurant. Whatdaya tink, I’m made of money? Those lovely barnacles on our hull are just as tasty as the garlic shrimps at Neptune’s Locker! Why not try the affordable seaweed trailing from the dinghy transom as well? Because you’re too proud, too middle class, too much of a Trophy Wife? Why not harvest a few delicious barnacles while you clean the prop? Is that too much to ask? This kills two birds with one stone, Carolyn: feeding your face and getting lots of cardio exercise at the same time. Now, that’s Sea Gypsy efficiency. Aren’t you glad you married me?”
I never thought I could generate (even) this much income. But, evidently, lots of folks are willing to pay me good money to stay away. Notice how I don’t spend much time in the good ole USA anymore? That’s because patriotic Americans who love their country are paying me to not return and drastically lower the quality of life for all the Christians therein.
… that’s right. The Koch Brothers are funneling me money to stay in Muslim countries, and ‘share the benefits of your wisdom’ with them.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
My whole life is crazy. I’m just about to publish a mainstream book entitled F#@K MONEY that is aimed at rich people with too much of it. I’m hoping the new book will sell like hotcakes and that I won’t be able to count the resulting income fast enough. Ha! That’s right; I’m finally selling-out and cashing-in, like BIG TIME! The basic premise of the book is that you don’t need what I’m working so hard to get.
Finally, I think I have found my natural audience; the terribly-wealthy and none-too-bright.
Oh, America is a great place, alright. People there are so screwed up that they think I can help them! If that isn’t delusional, I don’t know what is.
A lot of dumb people are into ‘self-help’ books despite the observable fact that they are completely incapable of helping themselves; obviously so, because their whole and entire lives are a complete and utter mess.
It is wonderful to have a clear vision of your target audience.
Oh, sure, I’d like to be more compassionate; but my readers don’t deserve to be coddled. I like to believe they are stronger, braver, and far, far sicker than that.
Part of the reason my writing is selling so well is because people think I can sail. This is silly. Knowing how to sail means you get where you want to go. I don’t. I get where the wind blows me, and then Zen-babble about ‘being in the right cosmic place at the right cosmic time’.
… have you ever observed an empty water bottle blowing downwind? Well, that water bottle is just as skillful a sailor as Fatty Goodlander.
If I’ve ever done anything clever, it is to learn to lie in print. Most folks concentrate on lying verbally, which is fine but laborious. I prefer to spread my falsehoods at a much faster rate; why else was the printing press invented?
Of course, I Facebook too. And I tweet.
Twittering is especially nice. It makes us all broadcast journalists, merrily tweeting our obvious falsehoods without having to worry about being interrupted or contradicted. Ah, sweet progress.
The Internet fascinates me: the entire world peering into distant
cyberspace for digital answers as their real world heats up and crumbles around their ears.
Yes, there are definite ‘new rules’ of etiquette in cyberspace. Take Facebook, for example. If you see a post that says, “Well, I’m going to pee, brush my teeth, and go to bed,” then you’re honor-bound to either hit the LIKE button or comment with an affirmative such as, “Marvelous!” Or, “You are SUCH a good person, you DESERVE some sleep!” Or, “You are an inspiration to all mankind!”
Yes, during my first week on Facebook, I used up my year’s supply of exclamation points, and my entire allotment of flowery superlatives too!
Of course, in my yachty-snotty journo-stories I’m always pointing out how wonderful people around the world are. What I really mean by that is gullible.
… like my wife, for example. I told her if she married me, I’d get a job. DUH!
Yes, I’m really appreciative of the Seven Seas Cruising Association and their ‘clean wake’ concept. I follow right behind ’em, just after they’ve lulled the local populace into a false sense of security.
Let’s be straight about something: I never demonize people. Only dirt-dwellers!
I’m currently finishing up a book about cruising cheap/cheap/cheaply. It has lots of handy hints like … not allowing your spouse off the boat. Needless to say, I priced it high. After all, it costs money to read about garbage-picking in Monte Carlo, Singapore, Porto Fino, etc.
Of course, there’s a lot of irony here; a writer who can’t write, singing the praises of a sailor who can’t sail, to wealthy readers willing to spend massive amounts of dollars to have high-school drop-out tell them how save a few pennies.
… doesn’t any of this make any sense on any level? See why I rarely come ashore as of late?
Rotary Clubs always want me to speak at their meetings. I have so many Rotary ‘guest speaker’ pens that I’m thinking about melting them down for the plastic. Is that weird or what? I’m a journalist. I have three rules. They are 1.) will it hurt? 2.) is it unfair to all concerned? 3.) is it blatantly false?
These rules have, somehow, made me in high demand as a speaker in the USVI, BVI, SXM … hell, I even spoke in India, and told them if they purchased my book The Collected Fat, that poverty in the sub-continent would be disappear overnight. (Actually, it was I who disappeared, long before they could come to their senses.)
Oh, those Rotary jokers make me smile. Every time I hear the name Paul Harris, someone is trying to get into my pocket! And all this Service-Above-Self stuff; since when did all the power-people take a vow of poverty, when I was in the bathroom?
The International Rotary really has me spinning. The more I insult them, the more they say, publically, how much they enjoy my wicked sense of humour? Damn, they are some slippery dude and dudettes!
Of course, I’m a marine writer so everything I do has to have a ‘salt-stained slant’ to it. Thus, at writing seminars, I flirt with young girls with nice asses by saying complimentary stuff about their ‘transoms’ and boasting about the length of my bowsprit.
I never thought at 58 I’d still be able to wallow in such immoral, objectionable waters. Is this really what adulthood is all about?
Of course, my Big Dream is to get involved in the U.N. I hear their END POVERTY program have the most lavish luncheons, and their HOMELESS campaign the best resort junkets. I guess this makes sense, starting with one lucky person at a time.
Occasionally I’m shocked by a group’s generosity. One Caribbean yacht club gave me a free year’s membership, twice. I guess I didn’t misbehave enough during the first.
Sometimes, it seems I can do no right. I often tell people how much I hate kids, so they invite me to help out with the KATS (Kids and the Sea sailing problem) and I got so confused, I did. At one point, while teaching little unsuspecting tykes to race, I forced one six year old sailor to hit the mark, and then hi-fived myself when he burst into tears. (Ah, the joys of teaching.)
No matter what I do, some idiot thinks that reveals what a swell human being I am. Thus, within a week or two of me stating in these very pages that many VI youth should be fed to sharks, I was asked by Jimmy Loveland of the VI Game Fishing Association to act as the auctioneer at the Boy Scout Fishing Tournament. I did. We raised hundreds of thousands of dollars, and I never saw a penny of it. Damn! I’d have never gotten involved with those people if I’d have known they were honest.
Ditto, Pine Peace School on St. John. Once they discovered that both my wife and I were helping them out every year during their main Virgin Grand (Westin) fundraiser, they changed their entire school name in embarrassment.
I honestly thought that conning the whole world would be more difficult than merely ingratiating myself in the Caribbean, but not so. Everywhere I go, people (love me) (tolerate me) suffer-me-in-silence (or ‘fall for it’ as Carolyn says).
Wait, that’s not true. The Egyptians didn’t like me, but I think that was because of all those ‘Cleo and the Sphinx’ jokes I told. Hey, if they didn’t want all that bestiality talk, they shouldn’t have sprinkled all those ‘half-man, half wolf’ drawings around the pyramids.
Currently, we’re wintering in Turkey, and, thus, hanging out with the local turkeys. At least they’re more honest about their social standing than most cultures. Because of my writing, I’ve become fairly well known, and the locals like to chuckle at my tales of sexting with Salman Rushdie, writing scripts for Entourage, penning all those quips George Clooney mouths on the late-night-talk-show circuit.
Ã¢â¬Â¦ life is good aboard Wild Card, which only serves to prove there is no justice in the world.
Cap’n Fatty Goodlander lives aboard Wild Card with his wife Carolyn and cruises the throughout the world. He is the author of ‘Chasing the Horizon’ by American Paradise Publishing, ‘Seadogs, Clowns and Gypsies’, ‘The Collected Fat’ and ‘All At Sea Yarns’. His latest book ‘Red Sea Run’ was released in October. For details of Fatty’s books and more, visit fattygoodlander.com