I am somewhere over the Pacific Ocean in an airplane. You betcha I am uncomfortable and pissed off. I hate flying. I realize there hasn’t been many blogs go up lately, sorry. It has been a busy couple of months. I have been planning a wedding, working a lot, trying to fix up an old truck, buying a house and getting ready for this trip. I am currently flying to Hawaii, specifically the island of Oahu. It will be my first trip to Hawaii even though for my entire life, up until this past July, I thought that the reason I was brown-skinned was because I was Hawaiian. It’s a long story, filled with ironic commonalities and the kind but formidable passing of time. This blog will mark the beginning of my story (title pending) about how – at the age of 27 – I came to know and meet my biological father and grandfather and my true ethnicity. I have a camcorder and I’m going to film a bunch and edit it down into 5 parts maybe, with some writing for explanation and some video. So, stay tuned and subscribe to the blog via email so you don’t miss anything.
Why does the Man in the Yellow Hat (MYH) ride the bus?
He has a car–I’ve seen it. He drives out to his country house in it.
He has a country house. He owns a bright yellow apartment building. Why does he not have a limousine on retainer, complete with an angry but deferential driver who bows and scrapes dutifully, but dreams of squandering his dead father’s life insurance on a liquor store scam?
Perhaps he wishes to save the environment. Perhaps he likes to pretend to give a shit about the hoi polloi, to rub elbows with the less fortunate and share with them the savage joy of a monkey who ruins lives with the kind of reckless abandon normally reserved for Ponzi-schemers and East African dictators.
But today, MYH was late for a very important presentation. He had scribbled some drawings, childish representations of pigs and horses and smiling snakes, of which he was proud and about which Curious George was…curious. Professor Wiseman wanted a distinguished colleague–from Paris–to see these drawings, and so she sent word to MYH to meet them at a swanky restaurant.
MYH had ten minutes–the length of an episode–to make it to this restaurant and show off his art.
This bitch decides to take the dadgum bus. Even better, he gives the route map to Curious George and trusts him to plot their journey.
MYH makes it onto the bus. Curious George does not. At the last second, he drops the map and it blows away, so he goes scampering after it.
Nine minutes until presentation. MYH does not stay on the bus. He does not ask the driver for route information. He panics and gets off, shouting for George.
He leaves his bullshit drawings on the bus and it drives away. Seven minutes.
Curious George catches up with the map. Some kid on a bicycle, who is inexplicably fine with a monkey clutching his head and screaming in his ear, takes him on a quest to find the bus, on which MYH most certainly is not.
It is at this point I meet the most put-upon and pathetic creature in George’s universe, a man who did not expect his day to go this way, a man who is simply trying to make a living, a man who managed to live his entire life without tangling himself up with MYH. He is a taxi driver. Brown, because all taxi drivers are brown, but blessed with the kind of Brooklyn accent that dwells upon phrases like “Hey buddy” and “Listen, Mac” as if they were part of a rosary.
MYH gets in his cab. He demands that the taxi driver follow that bus, find a monkey on a bicycle, find his pictures, and get him to a specific downtown restaurant.
Wat. Hey buddy, five minutes.
Taxi driver is confused. “Where to, Mac?” did not produce the desired answer. Instead, taxi driver now has to listen to a diatribe about monkeys and bicycles from a guy that looks like a pencil.
He asks what we are all thinking, “Hey buddy, you want me to follow a bus? Why didn’t you just ride the bus?”
MYH does not wish to give a coherent answer. Three minutes.
Cutscene to Professor Wiseman, sitting with distinguished guy from France in the restaurant. She remarks that MYH has NEVER been THIS LATE for ANYTHING before.
I now believe Professor Wiseman is not at the restaurant. Such an asinine claim could have only been made by a replicant of Professor Wiseman that was built that very morning and did not know what monkeys were.
George finds the pictures. He gleefully brachiates through Central Park with the pictures clutched in his feet. He knows he will beat MYH to the restaurant, and he has a few minutes to kill, so he briefly drops down from the trees into a buggy pulled by two horses. The horses freak out and stampede away through the park. The man in charge of the buggy watches his livelihood thunder away, and no doubt wonders how long he will be in prison when the horses accidentally trample somebody.
George returns to the trees, unbeaten and unkilled. Zero minutes, time is up.
Guy from France says he cannot wait any longer, because he has a plane to catch. He leaves. He runs into Curious George outside on the sidewalk. Curious George shows him the pictures.
He loves them. He praises them effusively, especially the one of a spotted snake which is smiling as it contorts itself into the shape of a staircase. They are brilliant and inspired. Matisse should have chopped his hands off. And etc.
MYH comes running up. Taxi driver probably goes off to an AA meeting or something.
“Oh. So YOU’RE the artist who painted these wonderful pictures? Amazing. Stupendous. I absolutely need these pictures to be displayed in a children’s hospital in Paris. Do you and your monkey want to come to Paris?”
Yes. Yes they do.
-Professor Zac Showers
Ah, restaurant chains… We all have our various opinions for these mass producers of cuisine. Personally, I’m not really a fan. I’d rather have a small mom and pop style restaurant. The kind with twenty tables or less, local beer on tap, and the owner(s) working the dining area showing their appreciation.
However, there are is a benefit or two that comes with a mass produced international brand of dining establishment and its food. The first being familiarity. When you’ve been away from the wonderful country you call home, without and family for a few months, nothing helps curb the significant onslaught of home sickness like familiar food. Food is universal; and the title “comfort food,” in my opinion is quite relative to you and your needs in the moment.
Now, as I discussed in the last installment of Life in the Kingdom (LITK), there are many cultural differences that affect the day-to-day life of “expats.” In the case of Saudi Arabia these cultural differences steam into what restaurants can legally serve. In the Muslim culture, alcohol and pork products are not allowed to be consumed. Therefore, if you have an urge to eat a bacon cheese burger and wash it down with a beer, it better be beef or turkey bacon and a non-alcoholic beer. However, there are some upsides to the cultural differences on this subject. For instance, absolutely EVERYTHING here can be delivered to you. Whether it’s something standard, like a pizza delivery, or a third-party service app, like Uber Eats or GoWaiter, everything here can be brought to your door. Or in my case, to the outer security gate of my compound. Even fast food! Heck, I even have my groceries delivered to me every Saturday morning which is cheaper than driving to a store.
With all that said, I have done my absolute best to take these factors into account when making these lists in attempt to be fair, but honestly these factors carry a heavier weight on some of the establishments. Without further delay, here are the best and worst five American restaurants in the Kingdom:
Texas De Brazil
Easily the most expensive establishment in this post; Texas De Brazil is usually something myself and my co-workers save for special occasions, like a promotion, or someone ending their contract and returning home permanently.
For those who aren’t familiar with Texas De Brazil, and other Brazilian steakhouses let me explain. This style of restaurant is a carnivorous dream of grilled, smoked, and roasted; beef, chicken, lamb, shrimp, veal, and in non-Muslim countries, pork! Brazilian steakhouses are a form of buffet in which you are brought different types of meats on long steel spit rods, by the staff where they cut you a portion directly to your plate.
When you are seated you are given a way to indicate if you do or do not need to be served. In the case of Texas De Brazil, this is done by using a drink coaster with a green side to indicate you want food, and a red side to indicate you do not require more food at the time.
Now, it is not only a continual heavenly onslaught of decadent meats. Oh no, my dear friends! Typically, there is an extravagant salad/cold bar that is included. Also depending on the establishment, hot sides are brought to you the same as the protein, or like Texas De Brazil, there may be a hot bar.
The Texas De Brazil in Riyadh does an excellent job of holding the high standards of the brand started in the state.
Bloomin’ Onions, endless bread, and Wild West Shrimp are in high supply here in the kingdom. In true Outback fashion, when you walk in the door it looks exactly like it would if you would walk into one of the franchise’s locations anywhere in the U.S. The décor on the wall, the tables, and even the staff’s attire are on point in every way.
The one thing that sets the Outback here apart from others in the chain is something that you can find in most steakhouses here, but only in high hand establishments in the states. Waygu beef! This kind of beef is so spectacular, it can’t be over-hyped. Simply put, I makes Kobe beef look like freezer burned USDA Choice sirloin from Wal-Mart.
I feel like people may be surprised by this choice, but please let me make my case before you scoff and quit reading. Remember, food here for many in my situation is about finding anything to feel normal. With certain things being banned or inaccessible, achieving that normal feeling sometimes means pulling into a McDonald’s drive through after a bad day at work and ordering a large fry and a Coca-Cola. Typically, I’m not a fast food fan, but honestly no other franchise is able to bring the consistency, a world over, quite like that of the “Golden Arches.”
In my opinion, McDonald’s outside of the U.S. are usually better. I don’t really know why that is, but that is my experience. In the case of Saudi Arabia, Mickey D’s sure is! There are certain things I just find awesome about them. Plus, they are everywhere here! There are legitimately eight locations within a five-mile radius of where I live.
The breakfast menu is quite different due to pork being a no-go here. They do a heck of job filling in the gaps though. My favorite way this is done is them adding all of the chicken sandwiches and nuggets to the breakfast menu. That’s right, if you’re feeling like a special kind of fat kid one morning, YOU CAN HAVE McNuggets FOR BREAKFAST! To boot, you can also have French fries before 10:30 in the morning. If you’ve never had the chance to eat a spicy chicken sandwich, fries, and large coffee at nine in the morning, I highly recommend it.
Texas (Church’s) Chicken
This choice was a surprise to me, honestly, but like I said before, I’m trying my best to give an honest evaluation. Because it can’t associate with the Christian faith, the franchise is forced to change its name from “Church’s Chicken” to “Texas Chicken” here in the Kingdom.
Now, this is not the best fried chicken chain I have found in Riyadh, but it is the best American franchise that is here. Really, I don’t even care for Church’s in the states. Typically, I’ll choose a gas station deli over it, if I’m honest, but here it is higher quality.
At “Texas Chicken,” the mashed potatoes and gravy are insanely good for some reason! The honey-butter biscuits are also seemingly better quality than their “Church’s” equivalent. Combine that with an order of 3-piece spicy dark meat to dip in it, and it’s just straight MONEY. Finish it off with delivery, and it just puts a pretty little bow on the meal.
Krispy Kreme Doughnuts
Now this is just quite simple; Krispy Kreme Doughnuts are hands down the best doughnuts there are, anywhere! If you want to fight me about it, let me know and we will get you on the schedule for when I’m home on vacation. This franchise maintains its high quality of fresh products as it does in the states and it’s honestly impressive how it’s done here.
One thing that is interesting of the locations here is, like McDonald’s, there are so many, but they’re small locations. Unlike their U.S. counterparts, the locations here in Riyadh do not make the doughnuts in house. They are made at a nearby site and transported as needed the various locations. The fresh quality is still maintained, but without the tempting and iconic “Hot” sign. Which, for a fat kid like me, is essentially a “Bat Signal”.
Well there you have it! The five best American chain restaurants that have made their way to Saudi Arabia. Be sure to check out Part 2: The Worst 5, which will be published very soon!
This is a long story, but if you read it I feel like you may be glad you did, so buckle up.
Last Thursday, November 9th, I was at work and got called for mutual aid just outside my jurisdiction. We responded to a man who threw a brick through a windshield and threatened a woman. When we arrived, he had already fled into the woods. Myself, Chief and Asst. Chief were on scene holding it down until the county units arrived. When they did, we went back in service and headed back to the city limits. On our way back, we came up on a man walking North on the side of Highway 167 carrying a heavy-duty trash bag and a back pack. He looked the same age as the man from the previous call, so I pulled in front of him and approached him with caution to ID him. The suspect from before was said to be armed with a knife and “all methed out” according to the person reporting the incident so, as with most situations involving people who could likely be under the influence of drugs, I was ready for anything.
When I asked the man for a driver’s license or state ID he very quietly informed me he had none. Sometimes when you’re identifying someone, for whatever reason, people don’t have their ID on them or anything to prove who they are. When this happens you get their name, DOB and social security number so you can call it to dispatch and make sure that they are who they say they are and don’t have any warrants. When I asked him for that information he advised me that his name was James Martin Lloyd and I’ll leave his birthday out of this, but he gave me it. He said that he didn’t know his social security number and that he had never had any form of identification because he has been homeless for most of his life. After calling what I had into dispatch nothing came back, from Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Tennessee, and Mississippi. Dispatch widened the search parameters while I contacted the deputy on scene to get a better description of the suspect in question. The homeless man, James, stood behind my car with the other two officers with me. After getting the description from the deputy and no positive results from dispatch I determined that after I had a look in his bags to make sure that he didn’t just change, I could let him go and go back to work. My chief waved me over to the side and said to take the man north just past our jurisdiction just to help along his journey. She gave me her credit card to buy him a meal at Hardees on our way out of town. After checking his bags and finding no clothes matching the description of the suspect, we loaded up in my car and went through the drive-thru where he ordered a mushroom swiss burger, fries, and a cherry coke. We barely exchanged 10 words during the ride, partly because he was very timid and soft spoken, but also because the cage in my patrol unit makes it hard to understand anything said from the other side.
When I got to the jurisdiction line I decided to go a bit further to the gas station up the road. We got out and I brought his food to a picnic table telling him to sit down and eat and I got his belongings and sat them next to him. I asked him if he needed anything and he was hesitant to tell me, so I went in and bought an assortment of water, snacks, potted meat, medicine, and a few Ziploc bags with my own money. I say my own money, not to brag, but because I didn’t clear it with my Chief to use hers and because I noticed something after the interaction. I noticed that I didn’t really check the prices on anything before buying it. I only spent like $36 so it’s not really a big deal but I realized after the fact that in most cases when I’m buying something for myself I always try to find the cheapest option, I am on a police officer’s salary after all. It was odd. I brought him the stuff i bought and sat down at the table and asked him if I could ask him some questions and talk or if he just wanted me to leave. He said okay, and we talked for about 15 minutes.
James is a slender, tall man around 34 years old. His skin was in terrible condition because of being in the sun all day and not having a place to clean up. He was wearing black shorts and a light blue t-shirt, had long hair and patchy facial hair, both lighter in color like a dirty blonde. He spoke with an accent that almost sounded British, but later told me that it was because of his teeth, they were in bad shape because of his situation. In his back pack he had a few items of clothing, socks and shirts, and a book that I didn’t get the title of. In the trash bag was trash and some half empty coke bottles and half eaten protein bars. It was apparent that he did not litter because of all the trash he had with him, which I thought was cool. Just as you wouldn’t throw trash on your bedroom floor, he doesn’t litter along his journey because the earth is his home. He seemed like a prideful man, didn’t ask for anything and was skeptical of accepting things from me and even hesitated when we offered him a ride. May be because he doesn’t trust police officers, but from the homeless people I’ve encountered they all are kind of prideful and don’t ask for help unless they need it. There is a difference between actual homeless people and begging pan-handlers.
He told me he was going to St. Louis and when I asked why, he said “St. Louis Good, Florida Bad”, which I found funny because Florida is a garbage place. The whole time I talked to him he spoke in short sentences, communicating like I would imagine an alien would. It was like talking to someone from another planet, probably because he doesn’t really interact with many people and it was apparent that he was a little nervous because I am a cop. He said he has been stopped a few times by law enforcement and hadn’t had a problem so that is good. He said he was coming from south of Ocala, Florida best he could remember and had been travelling for almost 3 weeks he thinks. I did some rough math and that averaged to somewhere between 20-25 miles a day. So, I asked him if he hitchhiked at all and he said every 2 or 3 days someone comes and offers him a ride, he said never purposely “thumbs it”, but he doesn’t always accept the offer. The conversation got a little deep when I asked him why he was homeless. I did not press him to speak to me, I assure you.
James said that at an early age, maybe 9 or 10 years old from what he can remember, he left home and never looked back. He said that his parents were abusive and that he remembers just leaving one day, with nothing but the clothes on his back. I was taken aback, I asked him how, how did he make it this long without either being picked up by some form of authority and put into the system through DHR or died because of the lack of any formal survival training, let alone just life skills. He said he learned. He said no one was around, and the forest was his home. My mind was blown. I asked him where he was born when I initially stopped him, to help dispatch with identifying him, and he said he had no idea. Unbelievable to me. After our conversation I told him to hold on and went to my car and got a flash light, pocket knife, old pair of boots and a boonie hat to give to him. I also wrote down my PO Box address, Email, and phone number on a piece of paper and folded it up with a business card and the rest of the cash in my wallet, put it in a Ziploc bag and told him to hold on to it. I told him to contact me if he ever got the opportunity, a post card, email, or phone call, anything. I said I’d love to hear from him along his journey if ever possible. He shook his head in agreement, we shook hands, and as I backed out to leave, he was throwing away the trash he had collected thus far in the trashcan at the gas station.
This isn’t a story about how I did a great deed and should be praised for it. This is a story about how I was in the right place at the right time in the right circumstances to not only help a fellow human being, but to learn a little bit about myself. If I hadn’t been called to help the County I would have never been looking for a man in that area and even if passed James on the road later I probably wouldn’t have even stopped. Then, he would’ve just continued his journey along the road drifting from place to place just free as a bird. It made me think that if I took the time to follow a whim more often, stopping to talk to someone or doing something out of kindness, maybe it would be a good thing. I envy James in a way. That man has no responsibilities, no taxes or bills. He has no sense of time, just “walking in the sun and sleeping in the moon” according to him. He isn’t obsessed with trivial meaningless things like social media and what silly thing the president said on twitter. Call me crazy, and I realize that I am blessed to have what I have, but there is something appealing about wandering freely in nature. The only thing he must do is survive. He is living like our cavemen/hunter and gatherer ancestors did, working together to live another day without being mauled by a beast or starving to death. It made me think of all the recent mass shootings and acts of violence going on around in this country. Maybe that is what this world is missing, a common mindset of community and survival. Maybe we would stop killing each other and realize that we should care for our fellow mankind, regardless of their status or appearance, to live harmoniously and happy, and cure this sickness we most certainly have. Now I realize that he could just be a man running from something or a murderer that gave me a fake name and story to avoid prison, but I’m glad that I met James Martin Lloyd. It was a good thing. Hopefully he makes it to St. Louis and if I hear from him I’ll be sure to update you all.
As I write this, it’s a little after 6:30 pm on a Friday evening in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. The first day of the weekend is winding down and the Isha’a prayer can be heard outside from local mosque loud speakers.
For the past thirteen months I’ve been living in the capitol city of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I work for a company contracted by the U.S. Army to work on the “Modernization of the Ministry of the National Guard” project. This project is only a small part of Saudi Arabia’s “Vision 2030”, in which the new government hopes to stand up several modernization projects across the country. I hope to talk about “Vision 2030” in more depth at a later date.
As I’m sure you can imagine, the cultural differences from the United States to Saudi Arabia are endless. To start, as you may have noticed at the beginning of this post, I referred to Friday as the first day of the weekend. Although you may start your weekend on Friday after work, the work week here is Sunday through Thursday. Friday is the Muslim holy day, and Saturday rounds out the weekend. This, coupled with a seven to eight hour time difference from your friends and family, really throws a kink in many aspects of life I consider normal.
The hardest thing for me to get used to, by far, are prayer times. Throughout the day you can hear the Muslim call to prayer ring out from the many mosques scattered across the city. Without fail, anywhere from ten to thirty minutes before prayer time, all businesses close. They open back up about ten minutes after the end of the prayer and this happens five times a day, seven days a week. It begins with Fajr, the dawn prayer, continues throughout the day with; Dhuhr, Asr and Maghrib, and ends with Isha’a, the night prayer I mentioned in the beginning. Other forms of salat (ritual Islamic prayers) occur as well, either weekly or for special occasions like Ramadan and Islamic festivals. You must plan all of your daily activities around these prayers. I’ve been caught many times, on my way to run errands or visit a restaurant, seeing stores dropping their blinds and locking their doors. You learn quickly to check prayer times before leaving home or work to prevent sitting in a parking lot for forty-five minutes. Unfortunately, due to many factors, sometimes you still end up browsing Instagram to kill the time until you can get your tacos.
Then there are differing religious laws, which are enforced by both police officers and religious authorities, that prohibit things that we as Americans can do freely every day. Like meeting your Tinder match (for you single folk) for a drink after work. Yeah, you just broke multiple laws doing that, if you were here. First off, alcohol of any sort is illegal here. My boss and I can’t even order isopropyl alcohol to use as a cleaning agent. Secondly, you aren’t allowed to be in the company of a female in public without being related to her or having a male member of her family being present. Both crimes are cause for being immediately arrested, which comes with prison time and/or harsh physical public punishment. Those punishments are comprised of; lashings, stoning, and extremity amputations including beheadings if it’s deemed a severe enough crime. All of those take place downtown in a spot us Westerners have nicknamed “Chop-chop Square,”. Yes, you read that last sentence correctly! Now these aren’t open to the general public, at least not anymore from what I’m told. Such events are by invitation only to Muslims of status in high political and religious standing, and those somehow linked to the criminal. Personally, I just stay away from that part of downtown no matter if it’s choppin’ day or not. Really puts being single in the USA into perspective, huh? Obviously both drinking and single men and women getting together still happens, and we may get into that when I’m a little surer that every keystroke isn’t being watched. Trust, me these guys will give the NSA a run for their money…. Oops!
All in all, I haven’t felt threatened while being here which is good. Mostly because I make sure to respect their customs and abide by the directives my company security division issues. At the end of this I have no doubt that I will return home to my wife with a great new-found appreciation of the basic freedoms that we Americans have. Until then, I will try to learn what I can about this different culture and find things to enrich my time here and share with all of you.
-Author: David Cannon Follow David on Twitter
If you haven’t heard about this story yet I’ll give you the rundown; 2 Women, Jennifer Appel & Tasha Fuiava, Left Hawaii in May for a 2,600-mile trip to Tahiti in their 50-ft. sail boat named “Sea Nymph”. They were rescued by the Navy the other day, 5 months later, 900 miles off the coast of Japan and 5,000 miles from Tahiti. During their journey the two claimed to have endured 3 major storms, 2 attacks from groups of tiger sharks, and lost function of their motor and normal radio communications. Pictured below are the women, pictured above is a rough diagram of the trip they made.
Now you might be saying to yourself, “What a harrowing adventure! The grit and determination of these two ladies is noteworthy and I’m so glad that they made it out alive!”. Well I’m saying, “Lemme ponder the many variations of what actually happened because I am bored, and this story seems fishy” (if you’ll pardon the pun).
First, I’ll give you a breakdown of what I think these women look like. Jennifer Appel looks like if Carrot Top and Willem Dafoe had a child and that child decided to compete on the TV show Survivor. Tasha Fuiava looks like Queen Latifah with a hangover. Although I don’t actually know the nature of their relationship, I would assume because of their appearance and mannerisms in the video ( click here for video ) of them thanking the Navy, Tasha & Jennifer are familiar with The Game of Flats together in a romantic way. They also had two dogs aboard the boat named Zeus and Valentine, not relevant but cool dog names.
Initially when they were interviewed about being lost at sea, they said that it was “hopeless and depressing” and on many occasions during the 5 months thought they would die saying, “…there is true humility to wondering if this is your last day or night…”. After further questioning by the Coast Guard and many media affiliates they changed their story stating, “…we never truly felt distressed…” when asked why they did not use their Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon. Take it away Aretha.
The women also said that within the first few days at sea, they were met by a fierce storm responsible for most of the issues with the vessel. Which was proved false by the NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE. Yeah, that loud annoying voice that comes on cable television when inclement weather is present, rendering the dialog of your show unintelligible and spiking your heart rate from the volume and alarm of the notification, even though you can clearly see the weather outside and it’s been like this for 2 hours. I imagine that they might know what they’re talking about.
The Coast Guard may be the inferior branch of The United States Military, wishing it was more like its flamboyant sister branch, The Navy, but it was key in exposing these women for the frauds they are. A modern day “Deepthroat” some are saying (if you’ll pardon the pun). In June, after they claimed to have their radio communications wiped out by the ghost storm, Coast Guard officials contacted the Sea Nymph near Tahiti and records show that our heroic females stated they were A-Okay. Our sea women claimed to have left detailed plans and an itinerary with friends and family of the trip after they meticulously mapped it out. Coast Guard comes back with another slam dunk releasing a statement saying the women, by their own admission, told no one about the trip.
Other than Discovery Channels Shark Week and Sponge Bob Square Pants, I have no knowledge on sharks or the sea but my dude, George Burgess (the director emeritus of the Florida Program for Shark Research at the Florida Museum of Natural History) is for sure at least familiar with sharks and stuff. Ole Jen stated that on two separate occasions while stranded that they were vetted, stalked, and attacked by tiger sharks. She said that five 30-foot tiger sharks coordinated an attack, “ramming” their boat and slapping it with their tails, to teach two other smaller sharks in the water how to hunt. All of which lasted for 6 hours.
Confirmed by our man George, those were all fabrications. “It sounds like something a 4-year-old would tell you,” he said. “No. No, no and no and no. There’s not an iota of accuracy relative to our knowledge of the tiger shark in any of that.” Tiger sharks are not social, do not teach their young in that way and have never been known to grow that large, he said. When asked, Mr. Burgess added that it was also unlikely that the women were describing another type of shark. “The only one that fits that pattern was the star of the movie ‘Jaws,’” he said. My boy George with the BURN. Comparing their story to the tall tales of 4-year-olds AND referencing Jaws… Man, what a hero.
Questions & statements I have for these women after reading all the news stories and watching random videos of them talking:
- The fact that they didn’t pack toothbrushes for a 2,600-mile trip at sea is not only questionable but deserves a punishment of life in prison.
- Why is Jennifer not more sunburnt? You would think after 5 months on the sea with the sun reflecting off the ocean that she would be all red like a strawbrary.
- Jennifer said in a video that she was surprised by the Navy’s performance in a foreign situation. THAT IS WHAT THE NAVY DOES LADY NOTHING ABOUT THAT SITUATION WAS FOREIGN TO THE NAVY.
- Were the pink Crocs yours or given to you by the Navy? Because the Navy issuing PINK Crocs would make sense. Respect for the brand, a big ole NOPE for the color.
- What inspired you to name your 50-ft. sail boat “Sea Nymph”?
- What is your obsession with glow sticks all about?
- Will you go to sea again?
- Why didn’t y’all bring a camera? Or cell phones? And again toothbrushes?!?
- If you’re telling the truth, for real, why didn’t you use the Emergency Beacon? But really, Why?
And now for my theories on what ACTUALLY happened:
- The wonder of Sharknado has struck in the Pacific.
- Pacific Lesbian Fun Cruise gone awry in the form of:
- Infidelity… Passion murder… Cover up
- Abuse of psychedelic drugs… Accidental death… Cover up
- Actually getting stranded… Cannibalism… Cover up
- Argument about “Lip-stick Lesbians” … Murder… Cover up
- Actually made the trip but made up the story in an attempt to get a book/movie deal or become famous
- They’re mercenaries and they killed someone out there and made up this elaborate story to cover that up
- Killed a rich relative out there to get their fortune
- They are North Korean spies
- Failed attempt at smuggling any of the following: Dogs, flannel, fanny pack, drugs, Indigo Girls memorabilia, unreleased episodes of Orange is the New Black, corduroy pants
- And the least likely, women being bad at sailing
Listen, if these women actually set sail for Tahiti in May and everything they said is true then they are pretty dope ladies. Although I love the ocean, I don’t imagine I would have lasted any longer than 3 weeks in the same situation. I would have selfishly eaten everything I brought in the first week, hallucinated more food in the ocean and been bitten by a shark trying to retrieve it, pity murdered my dogs because I ate all the food and wouldn’t want them to suffer by starvation, fell into a spiraling depression because of loneliness and remorse for being the reason for my dogs deaths, and succumbed to my shark bite injuries, meeting death just at the moment I remembered about the Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon that I drained the battery on trying to connect it to my phone somehow to Tweet: “Sailing is easy, “sea” yall in Tahiti! #ifyoullpardonthepun #itsamansworld #becauseoftheimplications #imonaboat #prestigeworldwide #betterslowdownontheuncrustables” on day 2, and using my last breath to let out a muffled laugh, thinking about Always Sunny and the episode titled; “The Gang Buys a Boat” … But DAMN IT I will pack a toothbrush!