The following was transcribed from Esperanto, which is my favored language when journaling aboard seafaring vessels. This record dates from 2007, but is important and as relevant today as it was then:

Currently, I am in a smallish clipper ship, sailing the world for more interviews with pipe makers, collectors and smokers. Having recently stopped at a Portuguese port, it may not surprise you any at all to know that upon departure we found ourselves with more cork than we knew what to do with and possibly, even probably, more cork than sense. Portugal holds about a third of the worlds cork tree forests, so you can imagine the redundancy of the trade offers we received while at port.

We set out from Portugal to venture around the bottom of Aphrike (commonly known now as Africa for some ridiculous reason or other) in search of some Aphrikean pipe carver who did not use ironwood, you're thinking "Good luck to you Sir!" and you would be right.

Once we reached the Indian Ocean and nearly to the beaches of Madagascar, Timlinningost (rhymes with "grim-grinning-ghost",) our ship's cook informed us that we were running dangerously scarce on preserved meats. Immediately, I asked him, "Think back, sixth grade, traditional mathematics or new math?" My suspicions were proven wildly correct when Timlinningost answered my query of this way, "Boss Baron Sir, you know I was born and raised on a starboard bow Sir. New math of course." New math indeed!

I ordered Timlinningost to save the rest of the meat until further notice and to find other ways to feed the crew, self included. A sparkle came into the bony man's eye (a hot broccoli spear claimed his left peeper some 20 years back when we were near Tonkin) and when you see a sparkle in a cook's last eye, you know you're about to get the best meal of your life, or the last one. A shiver climbed my back like a spooked caffeinated lemur.

No less than three sailor's hours later, the dinner bell rang. The crew and I sat down to a warm and tender entrée that had a light crispy outer texture and nicely chewable inside. The spice seemed partly Thai, partly Inuit, but completely fresh and new. This entrée was chicken fried cork, or as Timlinningost named it, "Shubu."

We have now landed on a Madagascan beach and I am looking forward to having one of my favorite Madagascan meals (which can also be found in South Carolina, especially in the town called Irmo) Malagasy rice.

Signing off and wishing you a good evening,

The Baron

—Olie Sylvester
Baron, International Oom Paul Society of Non-Typicals

AuthorOlie Sylvester