This Isn't Who It Would Be If It Wasn't Who It Is

Yesterday, my friends, two important things took place in this world of ours:

1. The rescue of Capt. Richard Phillips.
2. Angel Cabrera won the Masters after a 2-hole playoff.

What do these two seemingly unrelated stories have in common? Almost nothing.

Almost.

On the high seas, we've certainly sent a message to the Somalian Pirate community that we don't appreciate their ongoing efforts to disrupt shipping around the Horn of Africa, that is, if you think shooting them in the head with high-powered rifles is a message, which I do. Now that they've raised the ire of the United States of America, what are these poor, poor pirates to do?

Don't worry, my violent, wayward, yet somehow possibly useful friends. I have a plan for you.

In case you were wondering, this is where the Masters comes in...we've all been watching a golf tournament, slipping in out and out of consciousness on the couch, and listening to the dulcet tones of Jim Nantz and Verne Lundquist when something terrible tears us from our final descent in Dreamworld.

Yes, all too frequently, it is the golf fan/idiot who feels compelled to screech "GET IN THE HOLE!!!" on every single shot. One particularly desperate individual even let loose "GET ON THE GREEN!!!" at one point on Saturday afternoon. That's not creative, that's not original, that's just lowered expectations, folks, and frankly, it's just sad.

You know who I'm talking about, ladies and gentlemen. These are the morons who also go to concerts and yell "FREEBIRD!!!" for three hours while still thinking they're somehow original. The Somali Pirates need to find these people, eliminate them from the gene pool, and restore Saturday/Sunday afternoon golf viewing to its proper place in the Pantheon of Napping.

I don't want to know when they do this, and I don't want to know how they do this. All I care about is finishing the job. Somali Pirates, a nation turns its hopeful eyes to you.