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Month: February 2011

Captain’s Log: Day 2

Published February 14, 2011 by Editor in Chief

I’m concerned about mental deterioration, as the crew is starting to have self-contained conversations. For example, I heard the following:

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. I didn’t get you anything.  Did you get me anything? Let’s not exchange gifts. Let’s not celebrate Valentine’s day. That sounds good. You’re okay with that, right? Okay good.”

I was foremost concerned with the crew’s cognitive well-being. What could have inspired such gibberish? Was he aware of what he was saying? Did he know I could hear what he was saying? Why did he not wait for a response? I was puzzled by this recent behavior. Such lunacy could only be attributed to mind-altering drugs and sleep-deprivation. I was sure of it.

“Are you okay?” I asked casually. Usually I wouldn’t use such informal diction for my people, but this was an emergency.

“Yeah, I’m just overwhelmed with work. There are so many things on my plate,” he sincerely responded.

“Ah.” So this Valentine’s Day, to prove that even the strictest captains have a heart, I’m giving the crew a pass.

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Captain’s Log: Day 1

Published February 12, 2011 by Editor in Chief

Our condo, which shall henceforth be known as “the vessel,” is in complete disarray.  It has occurred to me that I need to train David, who shall henceforth be known as “the crew,” in a strategic manner.

This thought first occurred to me, as most great thoughts do, while I was sitting on the latrine. I looked around, and I counted four empty toilet paper rolls. The crew’s clothes were scattered about, and the sink was so dirty that washing my hands became an exercise in dexterity, making sure the only part of the sink my body touched was the faucet.  Furious, I began to clean the sink. “CREW!” I yelled out, in vain while scrubbing the sink. The crew, sensing disappointment from leadership, perhaps knew to feign deafness.

Upon completing a cursory sink cleaning, I walked over to the cafeteria, which land-folk refer to as “the kitchen.” Dirty dishes were everywhere, some with food stuck to the plates and silverware. “CREW!” I yelled out again. This time I added context, “What did I tell you about the dishes?! What the heck!?” Overwhelmed with the complexity of the question, the crew responded, “Um…”

“I’m so mad at you,” I stated.

“I’m sorry,” the crew responded, sincerely.

I sighed. Perhaps it is my fault. From this day forth, strategic training begins.

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