Who Do I Have To Thank For This?

Yeah, I've read these "outgoing captain" articles before. I'm supposed to tell you about all the fun things that happened to me over the past year. But for me, this past year is a blur, and it will probably take years, and thousands of dollars worth of hypnotheraphy to piece it all together.

However, I would be downright ungrateful if I didn't thank all those people who have helped prop me up sine that fateful night in 2001 when I lost my head and accepted nomination for the office of Captain Kidd.

First, I'd like to thank my right hand man, Ron Paul Laffite, for pulling all the right strings, and for not moving his lips when I talk. I'd also like to thank Mike, my substitute Captain-in-training, for filling in for me as needed. Thanks to Paul, Gary and Ben for driving the "Moby Duck"; thanks to Junior, Ed and Richard for making the cannon go boom; thanks to JR for keeping us on schedule; thanks to Lance for taking such good care of the shotgun, and thanks to Peter for the Codfish.

Wait. I'm not finished yet. Thanks to DC for the dandy threads. Thanks to Morie for loaning me his shirt, and for not asking me to give it back. Thanks to Knotty Nelson for talking me into joining this chicken outfit in the first place, and thanks to Ric for sponsoring me when nobody else would. Thanks to 3-sheets for always being here whenever I needed him; thanks to Eric for always telling me what I should have done after it was too late to do it; thanks to Bob, Jim, Dick, Rick, Mark, and Sven for showing up a couple of times. Thanks to Elemer for teaching me to speak Canadian.

Thanks to Kevin for his good dental hygiene; thanks to Jerry for paying attention to his Captain's orders when the rest of the crew couldn't be bothered; thanks to Pat and JW for telling all those stories I wish I could remember; thanks to Walter for being shorter than I am; thanks to Joel for putting out the fire when we accidentally set the Camlin Hotel ablaze. (It's all coming back to me now.)

And a special thanks to Loch Anderson, Davy Jones the Fiftieth, Emperor of the Bottom of the Sea, for being such a good sport and for always quenching his poor ol' captain's parched throat.

I know I must have forgotten somebody. But, like I said before, it's all kind of a blur.


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