Capt. Douche Logs Another Season Of Doing Douchey Things In Douchey Places

The Hoff (not Capt. Douche, but a good stand-in)

The Hoff (not Capt. Douche, but a good stand-in)

“The douche is, I love what I douche.” Douches Captain Douche, a douche-year veteran of the douchestry. “I could have douched any other douche, but I chose this douche because, quite douchely, for an old douchebag like me there’s just no better douche.”

Showing us around the 30-meter motor yacht he has been douching for the past four years, Capt. Douche (Dooey to his friends) explains that he has been a douche for as long as he can remember. “It sort of runs in the family. My dad was a big douchebag, as were both of my older brothers. As soon as I was old enough to walk I was douchey, and I never really looked back from there. The notion that someone would some day pay me to be douchey, and take his boat to some of the douchiest places on earth, never even occurred to me back then. I just douched for the douche of it. And it’s that same attitude I still douche with me todouche.”

His crew were more than happy to vouch for this. “Oh yeah. He’s the real douche.” Says a deckhand who refused to give his name and said he was quitting as soon as he got paid for his last three months work. “I’ve been on a few boats now,” Joined in an interior crewmember. “And he’s easily the biggest douche I’ve worked for. Even when we’re somewhere really douchey, which is often, he stands out. No one out-douches that guy.”

Dooey blushes when these observations are related back to him, before modestly admitting, “It’s true. I take being a douche very seriously. All douche, every douche, I am on douche. One-hundred-and-douche percent.” No douche it is this all out commitment to being a douche that has made Captain Douche his name. Despite having a wife and child at home in Douche, France, Dooey’s focus on the douche at hand is well known throughout the douchestry.

“I love doing business with Capt. Douche,” Says Mr. Douche (no relation), lead broker and director of Douche-Douchery & Sons yacht brokerage. “He knows what sort of douchiness the guests want him to douche even before they douche. It’s uncanny, almost like he has a sixth douche. It’s why I keep sending douchebags back to whatever boat he’s working on. After all, it isn’t the douche that makes the trip, its the doucher.”

Asked what his plans are for the future, Dooey looks thoughtfully out towards the distant horizon before saying, “I know I’ll always be a douche. I’m not getting any younger of course, so I douche have to start douching about my next douche. What that will be exactly, I’m not yet sure. But what I douche know is it will have to be something related to douching. It’s all I’ve ever douched. You know what they say, you can take the doucher out of the douche, but you can never take the douche out of the doucher.”

We put Captain Douche up to our standard round of rapid-fire questions. Usually we do ten but his answers got lamer as we went so we called it at five. Here are the results:

  1. Favourite destination?
    – St. Tropez
  2. Douchiest thing you do on a regular basis?
    – Give massages to people who don’t want them.
  3. If you could be anyone in the world who would you be?
    – Donald Trump
  4. Favourite catch-phrase or saying?
    – That’s what she said.
  5. Who should play you in a movie of your life?
    – Mitch Buchannon
    5a. He’s not an actor, he’s a character…
    – What’s the difference?

Maritime Security Co. Reveals Plan To Guarantee Safety Of Your Yacht This Summer From An ISIS Attack.

Side_view_of_punt_and_ducks_YORYM-S385

“Basically if you are on the water, looking at the water, or thinking about the water this coming summer, ISIS is a threat to you, your neck, and any plans you had for the weekend.” Says maritime security consultant Duke Nukem, a retired expert in explosive statements, and now president of Lockdown Logistics, a security company specializing in yacht protection. This is the bad news, he explains. As we wait for the correlary ‘good news’ statement, he interrupts the interview to take a call on a mobile phone disguised as a hand grenade, leaving us wondering if there is, in fact, any good news at all.

“The good news,” Mr. Nukem says, returning his hand-grenade-phone gently to its cradle, having helped another large yacht captain decide whether to place their new gun turret on the fore or aft deck (both it turns out), “Is we have a three-step program designed to guarantee you and your yacht will not suffer a terrorist attack.” Simply put this plan consists of the following:

1) Sell your yacht
2) Forget you ever had a yacht.
3) Enter your bespoke bunker in the foothills of Colorado and don’t come out until you hear the secret knock as outlined in the Lockdown Logistics field guide.

While hard to argue that these steps won’t guarantee absolute security against a terrorist incursion – and conveniently against other such pitfalls as hurricanes, meteor strikes, and steadily increasing annual expenses as the yacht ages – these measures wouldn’t seem to offer a remedy to the threat of an ISIS attack for the wantonly reckless individuals who will insist on getting in a boat this coming summer. The question is put to Mr. Nukem’s team of senior managers, what of these?

“Luckily the various armed forces of the world continue to underpay their personnel, and send them to shithole places where they stand a decent chance of getting blown up.” Explains Smith Smith (real name withheld), team leader in Advanced Military Solutions for Lockdown Logistics. “This means that for any yacht thinking of an incursion into ‘enemy territory’, or the Mediterranean as you civilians call it, there is a large, well-trained workforce of professional soldiers available to man your vessel on contract. They can deploy in compact teams of one or two platoons, and will lay down a protective envelope of cover-fire while you swim, sail, or sleep in peace and comfort.” He adds that while this doesn’t guarantee your vessel won’t get attacked – he provides us with our third brochure of the day outlining the 3-step program to emphasize what will – it does mean you will have a better chance of actually surviving the upcoming season with most of the guests and crew you set out with.

These recommendations and prescribed action plans have met with mixed receptions from yacht captains and managers. While some are quick to embrace the emerging new ethos of luxitary (luxury-military for the uninitiated), others are less enthused. “Of course I can see that ISIS and other extremist groups pose a potential threat to yachts,” says one captain who asked not to be named and would only speak to us from behind a newspaper while speaking out of the side of his mouth. “Theoretically they pose a potential threat to my cat, my newsagent, my grandmother, and the very fiber of society. But what I can also see is that using this threat to create a culture of fear has ancillary benefits to a number of companies looking to get ahead in a tight market. I’m getting email blasts from suppliers of medical support about this for god’s sake. Yes, I can see a relation between on-call medical advice and an increase in the capability of groups dedicated to extreme violence, but at the same time I find it tenuous at best to imply that this is a reason I should sign up for a particular service. And at worst I think it smacks of profit-making by excessive fear-raising.” He then reminded us that we never had this conversation before disappearing back to his vessel to practice evasion techniques.

“Concordia Captain Should Be Imprisoned For Rest Of Great-Grandchildren’s Lives”, Say Many Captains

Collision_of_Costa_Concordia_11

With the recent sentencing of Franceso Schettino – master of the ill-fated Costa Concordia – to 16 years in prison, calls for stiffer penalties came quickly, decisively, and strangely specifically, from his fellow maritime captains.

“He should go to a very small jail with poor plumbing and no air conditioning in a very warm place for the rest of his great-grandchildren’s lives, and the only news he should receive there should be the daily low temperature forecasted for Spitsbergen, Norway.” Said one Captain, Master Bjorg Jorgensen of the M/V Maersk Maersk Maersk Etc.

“16 years is what people get for chewing gum in Singapore.” Added another master who wished to remain anonymous. “This man sunk a cruise ship while showing off for his girlfriend, tried to hide this fact for as long as you can hide a 70m hole in a boat and then when he discovered that wasn’t very long, abandoned ship leaving behind hundreds of confused passengers and crew on a heavily listing vessel in the dark. 32 of whom never made it to safety. 16 years in prison? He should be made to have small speakers surgically imbedded in his ears that play the sound of his vessel’s general alarm being rung for the rest of his life in staggered increments that he never gets used to and makes him jump every time it sounds.”

Considering the nature of the incident, and that there is audio tape of Schettino being ordered back onboard the sinking vessel by the Italian coastguard, it isn’t surprising that there exists manifest anger towards this man in the public eye. What is striking is that in cursory and anecdotal research, The General Alarm was unable to find any sympathy for him amongst his own kind, the masters of the oceans, and lakes, and ports, and bathtubs. Anyone who has ever held the helm of a vessel, or has looked at a picture of someone holding a helm and imagined what that would be like, is united: lock him away and throw the key in the chart table organizer.

“Look, the man’s actions were foolish in the extreme, and cost lives.” Expounds Captain Jorgensen, “So of course I think he should be punished. But beyond that, every time the incident comes up in conversation with my crew, I can feel them looking at me and thinking ‘I wonder if this guy here would hop in a life boat while I was three decks below water trying to squeeze my pelvis through a submerged porthole in an attempt to swim to the surface. And so I feel that if I say things like, ‘Schettino has the spine of a calcium-deficient jellyfish that was raised in a small closet under the stairs,’ and that he should be imprisoned for the rest of his life and then his bones should be individually imprisoned in little tiny jails made individually for each bone, that my saying these things will relay a message to my crew. And that message is, ‘Don’t worry, this guy here won’t get you killed or at least if I do I will be right there with you. And that is important for them to know.”

Many other captain’s agree that they have felt it important to distance themselves from this poor example of a masters role in the demise of a vessel, and then deplorable effort in mustering an abandon ship action. “The media calls him Captain Schettino. My crew knows me as Captain Jones.” Said another master reached for comment. “So right there we are sharing half a name, and from that it is only a small leap for my crew to begin picturing our boat lying on its side and me shouting over the radio that I fell into a lifeboat and I’m not going back. I think it’s best to nip those thoughts in the bud, and I find the best way to do that is to name horrible punishments that befit the crime as a way of showing that I am not like this guy. Because why would I say he should be banned from the water to the extent that he never bathes again and only drinks cola for the rest of his life, if I thought I might also end up doing what he did?”

On a sadly funny note, the hapless Italian captain’s name appears to have entered the common vernacular as a word describing someone who engages in showboating behaviour and then runs away when it all goes bad. The term ‘Schettinoed’ was recently used by a BBC political commentator when referring to the trend of Vladimir Putin’s foreign policy, and a prominent family blogger in the U.S. categorized the spectacle of prominent Republican leaders denying the importance of vaccinations as a ‘total Schett-show’.

Study Concludes Expats That Lose Accent May Suffer From Low Self Esteem. Or Be International Spies. Or Both.

9eI7V (2)

“Your accent is the knocker on the door to who you are,” explains Dr. Einurhed, lead researcher of a multi-year, multi-person, multi-conclusion, multi-multi study focussing on that subject (accents, not door-knockers). “It says ‘Hey I’m fancy’, or ‘Hey, I’m loud and obnoxious’, or ‘Hey, I’m just a plain old knob’. So when you change that significantly over a short period of time what you’re really saying is ‘I’m not very sure of myself so I’m happy to try out other people’s knockers’.”

Her in-depth study canvassed communities of global expats living as far afield as the International Space Station, and in as bizarre a circumstance as something called ‘yacht-crew’, in which people of mixed nationalities agree to live on other peoples’ boats and go wherever they are told, sometimes for years or even decades, all while doing something known as ‘living the dream’.

Over the course of days, weeks, months, and years, the study compared the accents of subjects with a standard accent from their respective country, and then assigned each individual a value of ‘accent degradation’ according to how much their intonation, inflection, and slang-usage had changed over the length of time the subject had been away from home.

“Yacht crew were off the charts. In many cases we were unable to tell where an individual was from by their accent as it had changed so drastically. It was like we were speaking to international spies, or chameleons, or just plain wannabes.” Says Dr. Einurhed, adding that what really stood out was the short timespan it took for crew to completely change their original accent. “We interviewed individuals who had been onboard less than 45 minutes and had gone from ‘Whimsically Canadian’ to ‘Full-Ocker Australian’, and swore a bloody oath at us when we asked why the change? Struth!”

The most common accent switch sited was from ‘South African accented English’ to ‘Cockney Rhyming Slang’. “If I hear one more person call me China,” says the California-based doctor, turning a deep shade of purple, “They’s gettin’ a smack right in the North and South.”

In her preliminary report released in this month’s issue of ‘Poser’, Dr. Einurhed tentatively concludes that the driving force behind making a rapid and holistic accent change is a strong desire to fit in, coupled with weak moral fibre. “By definition expats have all left home and travelled great distances. While in some cases this is done to broaden horizons and challenge one’s self, it is also often done to escape either a perceived threat to one’s independence – such as an overbearing mother – or a real threat, such as child support payments. Either way, as someone on the run, it can behoove an escapee – I mean expat – to take on a new persona. This allows them to both reinvent themselves and become harder to track.

In an exciting development, the team has also revealed that in some cases they encountered yacht crew who didn’t seem to be speaking any known language at all. Often these subjects worked on the bridge as first or second officers, and seemed to have adapted a form of communication consisting entirely of acronyms. If verified, this will be the first new language of the 21st century, and will give the team the opportunity to name the newly discovered tongue. While initially close-mouthed about the prospective title they hope to use for their discovery, over a few pints it was revealed that they intend to call the language: ‘MUTE’, standing for Meaningless Unintelligible Theoretical English.

Jack Johnson Becomes First Inductee To Yachting Music Hall Of Fame. Acceptance Speech Left On Continuous Repeat Forever

badsinging-e1308777679838

In a high-stakes, high-tension event, a select few yacht industry representatives gathered in Ft. Lauderdale recently to cast their votes for the inaugural inductee to the Yachting Music Hall Of Fame, better known by its cryptic acronym LAME.

On a warm evening just before sunset the trustees of the newly christened institution were treated to drinks and canapés on the aft deck of a 49.99999 meter motor yacht. As the dulcet tones of past-it’s-relevance music washed over the judges sunburnt ears, the nominees received a final listen-to before votes were cast and the prize awarded.

Bob Marley continued to confuse a number of middle-aged white people into thinking that without a female you will not weep. Jimmy Buffet made everyone hungry, which is weird for music, with Cheeseburger in Paradise. And T-Pain nearly brought the deckheads down when his smash hit of only five years ago, ‘I’m on a boat’, hit the teak. But as soon as ‘Bah da da da dah da dahhh’ cut through the ambience of clinking crystal and high-pitched laughter, it was clear that Jack Johnson was the sure bet to be the first official member-for-life of LAME.

Along with his induction Mr. Johnson will receive a plaque honouring his contribution of once-ok music that became a form of torture to yacht crew forced to listen to it repeat endlessly in empty guest areas until they hated it almost as much as they hated themselves for quietly singing along.

Reached for comment by The General Alarm, Jack expressed surprise that such an award existed, and said that as a surfer and native of Hawaii he was heartened to hear that his music received such wide appreciation on the water. “Y’know, when I made those albums I really just wanted to create music that people would put on when they totally didn’t want to offend anyone at all. I wanted people to say ‘Hey, I’ve got no idea what these folks like, so let’s just put on a bit of Jack Johnson and leave it on repeat’. By being given this award I guess it’s clear I succeeded. Its as simple as something that nobody knows, really.”

Even as the applause for Jack echoed over and over and over and over and over across the aft deck, lobbying began for next year’s competition. Tom Jones personally appeared and  compared tans (favourably) with all attendees while smiling, singing and threatening a ‘sex bombing’. ‘My Humps’ by the Black-Eyed Peas sent the host vessel’s crew scurrying for cover as lumps were thrown about in a manner most lovely. And the party wrapped up with a rousing, 12 minute remix of the classic Frank Sinatra song ‘My Way’, in which he held the ‘ayyyyy’ note for 11.5 minutes. This last track of the night left many of the attendees rubbing their ears in appreciation, giving it the early edge for 2015’s selection.

Watch this space for next year’s result. Do not listen.

All Sea-Wise Transport And Travel Should Cease Due To Ebola, Recommend ‘Experts’

1399557490122-ljs_1_edits

Global shipping and transport should be brought to a complete standstill due to the vicious, though not especially virulent, disease of Ebola, recommended an independent panel of ‘experts’ convened at an airport bar in Detroit, Michigan.

“It makes ya shit out yer eyes.” Stated an unnamed dignitary in a rumpled polo shirt with a bland and utterly forgettable company logo on it. Something like ‘Enertech’, with a swoosh that wrapped around the name, and made you want to have lived in a time before the corporate age came and sucked the life out of humanity.

“I heard you can get it just by saying the word. You know, the word for the disease. The one we’re talking about. Don’t make me say it. The one that makes ya shit out yer eyes.” Added the high-level meeting’s moderator, whose name badge indicated he was, ‘Joe – Bartender’.

“That’s right. And ‘Ebola’ backwards spells “Irrational Fear Of The Unknown”, and lord knows no one likes that.” Chimed in a representative of the airport’s janitorial staff who was emptying bins adjacent to the think-tank deliberations.

With these significant factors in mind, and many other pertinent facts available only to the auspicious panel due to their high-security access to ‘CNN Continuous Coverage’ and various web-based forums such as fearmongers.com and undereducatedpeoplewithoveractiveimaginations.com, the emergency convention declared a moratorium on all movement by sea between nations to be extremely likely, and very necessary.

“Udderwise The Disease spreads by the ships moving. Ya gotta stop the ships. From moving around.” Said a second travelling salesman with a strange accent, a depressingly plain company name on his shirt and a gaze that seemed permanently fixed on five-minutes ago.

“All of ’em”. Rejoined a woman from deep in the pages of the menu, as she proceeded into minute eight of trying to decide whether to have the club sandwich with fries or with salad. Her flight was going to serve dinner shortly after takeoff, plus she was on a low carb diet, and what is a ‘paleo’ anyway? She opted for the fries, and loudly restated her contribution to Joe – Bartender, “All of them!”

At this frothy juncture in the meeting there did arise one lone dissenting voice. From the furthest end of the bar, and without introduction, an unbranded contributor stated, “You do know that stopping all ships would bring the global economy to a standstill, and start an economic downturn that would make the depression look prosperous. The fallout of such an action would have much more dire consequences than a disease which, while certainly serious, lethal, and spreading, has a relatively low contagion rate and will be brought under control.”

“What?” Said the woman with the menu, still holding it as she was reconsidering her choice. The uninvited guest speaker just nodded grimly and with raised eyebrows returned to his book entitled ‘You Herd Me: How People Freak Each Other The Fuck Out’.

“Whatevs.” Continued menu lady, “Ya gotta stop the ships. Even the little ones. Y’know, people in their sail boats, and those big fancy yachts, ya gotta stop all of them because they could bring the eye-shitting disease over. That’s how things spread. On ships!”

The meeting erupted into loud and unanimous agreement at this stage, much of it pointedly directed at the high-brow with the book. Through the din a number of resolutions were made:

1) All shipping should be stopped by mid-2015.

2) Small vessels to be limited to staying within sight of their port of registry, or just be chained to the dock cause no one needs a boat, not really. Especially not when they spread The Disease.

3) The word ‘Ebola’ to be banned in favour of any term that is graphically descriptive of the symptoms of the same, real or imagined.

4) All emergency committee members needed ‘Joe – Bartender’ to get their bills immediately as their names were being called over the airport’s PA system, and it was an 8-48 minute walk to their respective gates.

The meeting was hastily adjourned. Before rushing off the respective representatives wished each other well on their individual journeys to international destinations necessitated and paid for by a global economy. As they went, all felt a deep sense of satisfaction at having solved another international problem, and fervently hoped that they never caught the disease formerly known as Ebola. Or, spelled another way, An Irrational Fear Of The Unknown.

Average Yacht Extremely Prepared For A Fire On A Friday Morning After Tea Break

Old_firefighters

‘I like to have everything ready before the drill.” Says Sly Stallone (no relation), deckhand and BA team member on a motor yacht which wishes to remain anonymous. “Things can get a little stressful with everyone running around, and the alarm is really loud which can make it hard to focus. So on Friday mornings, just before tea break, I always take a swing past the fire locker. I get out my boots and trousers, give the mask a rub to wipe off the smears, attach my go-pro to the helmet, and spray some cologne in the suit. You know, the basics.” He says as he methodically lays out his gear, taking care not to spill any of his third red-bull of the morning on it. “That shit stains mate.”

His actions, and the subsequent well-oiled drill in which all crew were already at the muster station before the alarm was sounded, are a practical example of the results of a recent study completed by the maritime branch of the ERWE(C)MA (Emergency Responders Without Experience (Close) Monitoring Agency). The study concluded that any fire on board a yacht, tied to the dock, on a Friday morning, after tea break, close to the end of the month, would be met with a rapid and thorough response leading to it being extinguished well before lunch.

“It was bloody impressive.” Says Mel Gibson (no relation), head of the ERWE(C)MA marine division. “We went in with a few pre-conceived ideas about how effective the response would be of a fire fighting team with only 2-7 days of total formal training, put into extreme situations onboard what are essentially metal boxes lined in wood that has been saturated in flammable substances, and left to fight fires with, at times, no ready assistance coming within a range of hours to days. But they proved us wrong. Friday morning? After tea? Dockside? Tell the fire to go back to bed, he doesn’t stand a chance. And that was good enough for me.”

The study also concluded that any cruise ship sinking in port on the first day of boarding new passengers, stood an excellent chance of evacuating all souls to the quay without major incident, although Mr. Gibson did provide the following caveat in a written statement: “Sometimes people do turn ankles or involve themselves in an attempt at mutual throttling over casino chips they thought no one was keeping an eye on during the emergency situation. And you can’t do much about that.”

– Interested in being the first to hear the latest news we made up? Click the Facebook ‘liker’ in the sidebar, follow on Twitter as @thegeneralalarm ,-