Aaaargh!

I was reading in the New York Times about how pirate impersonation is an up-and-coming fad. I don't know if that's really the term, and I'm too lazy to go look it up. The point is, there's this growing movement of people who, whenever they get half a chance, hold get-togethers in places like South Carolina and Wyoming and pretend to be bloodthirsty, yet colorfully-dressed, brigands.

How does one pretend to be a pirate? Well, apparently, the main thing is the pirate outfit, closely followed in importance by pirate lingo ("argh") and, as an optional, wooden legs and rotten teeth. I think anyone with the latter attributes receives immediate promotion into the Fake Pirate's Hall of Glory.

The problem (Ay, matey, there's the rub!) is that the Pirate Wannabes have become divided in recent years into factions, the Johnny Depps (apparently local vendors do quite well with their black eyeliner sales) and the Old Skool Pirates. The latter feel that their territory has been unjustly usurped.

Here they were, pretending to be pirates all these years when nobody really cared about pirates, sewing their own underwear, cooking up grog and whatnot, and then all these upstarts come along in their Walmart costumes to take all the best parking spaces at the Pirate Fest. It just doesn't seem fair.

The one thing the Old Skoolers and the Johnny Depps seem to agree on is the need to say "Argh!!" with great gusto and at frequent intervals.

For this reason I have been contemplating a brilliant solution to my "Gym Problem". My Gym Problem is basically that many of its members feel the irrepressible urge to say "Argh" with great gusto and at frequent intervals. This siren call is supposed to express--what? I am not quite sure. I think it's code for, "Hey everybody! Look at me! No, not at him, at ME ME ME ME!" In any case, it is most distracting. Sometimes you can hear it all the way in the group fitness room with the doors closed.

Another gym sound, not quite so popular perhaps with the masses but very effective, is the "hoccchhhkkkkk!" sound. There was a white-haired man in Oakland who used to walk around with a puffed-out chest and spandex shorts hocking incessantly. Then he would spit in the water fountain. He clearly considered himself a fine figure of a man.

And then of course, there is the belching, the farting, the lewd comments, the flinging of weights with great abandon--do you see where I'm going with this? I believe that my gym, unbeknownst to itself, is harboring a potential enclave of award-winning pirates!

The next thing to do is get them on a bus to Idaho, ASAP!