Team Shorgasm

CLEARWATER OR BUST. 🏴‍☠️

Team Shorgasm is pointed south with one thing on the mind.

Took a whole lot of chaos, favors, grit, busted plans and pocketbooks, and a lot of stubbornness to get here.

Pirates don’t turn around because the seas got rough. Especially with a mermaid in tow...

We adjust tsails.
We tighten the straps.
We. Keep. Moving.

Clearwater… ready or not.
Team Shorgasm is coming.

Full send.
No retreat.

Team Shorgasm needs to borrow a quiet generator for race weekend.

Key word: quiet.

Not the kind that sounds like a pissed-off lawn mower fighting for its life behind the tent.

Something dependable to keep the essentials powered without making the whole pit area hate us.

If anybody has one we could borrow, we’d seriously appreciate it and take damn good care of it.

Small team. Big adventure. Questionable decisions.

Help sum pirates out. 🏴‍☠️
Will return with fuel, gratitude, and hopefully no new noises.

Captain’s Log –2001 September 11

Heard it first on Drew & Mike . a plane into the tower.
On the deck, washin’ down the boat . a shout from shore sent me below.
Turned on the TV . just in time to see the second strike.
Knew right then . we were at war.

Called a mate in the Renaissance Center . told her to clear out... no tall mast felt safe.
Watched in the salon . towers fell . the world changin’ before me eyes.
Later-
Metro Beach . setting up for the boat show . the skies over Selfridge roared with warbirds . the air is heavy with fear.

End of entry.

🇺🇸

I REMEMBER
Twenty-four years past, I remember it clear as if it were etched in the hull of my soul.
I was ridin’ to wprk, Drew & Mike on the radio, when the word first came... a plane strikin’ a tower in New York.
At first it felt like rumor on the wind, a private little plane, the sea went dead quiet in me gut.

Not long after, I was on the deck, washin’ down a boat when a passerby shouted somethin’.
I ducked below, turned on the galley TV, and right then the second plane struck.

That was the moment the keel dropped
You felt the world change in a heartbeat.

I knew war was comin’.
I called a mate who worked high in the Renaissance Center in Detroit, told her to get the hell out because no soul could tell which tall mast they’d aim for next.

I stood there, starin’ at the screen in the salon, and I’ll never forget the towers fallin’. Steel, fire, glass.
Thousands of lives gone in the blink of an eye.

Later that very day, at Metro for the boat show...
Selfridge skies roared alive, warbirds circlin’ overhead, the air thick with fear and fury.
A day of madness, never to be forgotten.

And now…
two dozen years later…
it sickens me heart to say the danger no longer sails in from foreign shores...

The rot has crept within.
We fear not invadin’ fleets or skyborne raiders, but our own people—neighbors, countrymen turned against their kin.

That be the most pathetic curse of all.
The disgust runs deep, like bilge water that never pumps clean...

I’ll never forget 9-11
NOR THE UNITY WE HAD WHEN THE SMOKE CLEARED.
But it cuts like a cutlass to see how far we’ve drifted, losin’ that bond, turnin’ on ourselves.

That’s the true shame, and aye, it disgusts me more than any foreign flag ever could...
-Capt Shorgasm ☠️