By Calico Bonnie Blue

Captain WatWorth announced on Thursday that his ship had reached an agreement with the U.H.I.D.P, the Union of Hideously and Improbably Deformed Persons, to disclose member and alleged writer David Foster Wallace’s “footnotes”. According to unemployed persons who qualify as captains of one-man ships carrying book cargo, a footnote is “a sentence (or seven pages, in David Foster Wallace’s example) explaining the significance of certain words, ideas, or characters” and have nothing to do with actual feet or the process of tying them to the floorboard while writing. Captain WatWorth found these footnotes years ago but mistook them as a decrypted map accumulated from past captains. Out of spite for previous captains, he smothered half of them with coal and dumped them into the water. Joelle Van Dyne, a lady friend of the Captain and character in David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, found a couple of the papers while shaking out a sleeping bag. She immediately contacted the U.H.I.D.P, who know both her and David Foster Wallace very well and claim him as “genius and president” (standards vary off-ship) and contacted WatWorth. According to the U.H.I.D, these footnotes are so famous and valuable they can be bartered for almost anything, even gurkha’s Black Dragon.



Well, even though WatWorth didn’t find his treasure map, maybe you can get one when you get the new copy of Marauder’s Monthly at the Pirate Supply Store!


By Knuckle-Scabs Augusta

Mermaids have faced prejudice for centuries, and continue to assert themselves against stereo- types as harbingers of terrible sea-storms, and that they are all just manatees in disguise. Seriously, a manatee is not going to lure you in with a hypnotic siren’s song so that your ship gets dashed on jagged island rocks. And to top off the litany of indignities our mermaid friends continue to endure, the on-going controversy over Paleolithic mermaids rages on. Scientists, pseudo-scientists, aquato-primatololigsts and doctoral quackery candidates continue to debate: were there mermaids during the dinosaurs? There have been, and continue to be, mountains of proven evidence that, yes, mermaids did live alongside the aquatic beasts known as Plesiosaurs. Every mermaid I’ve ever known has keepsake photographs of ancient ancestors swimming the high life with big leaguers like the Nothosaurus or Kronosaurus, and there’s no way that its just a part
of some international mermaid photo-doctoring conspiracy. That would be ridiculous.

Fortunately, a recent discovery of fossilized mermaid scales, tears, and hair has been discovered off the north-western coast of Turkey confirms what mermaids have always told us and what we should have believed from the beginning: mermaids evolved when the Assyrian goddess Atargatis and her half-sister Josephine decided to go for a swim in the Baltic and forgot to stop. Eventually they got a bit chilly, and decided to make their way down to the Black Sea and from there, it wasn’t long before a series of ocean floor road trips brought the joy of mermaid-hood to all the prehistoric seas. I hope we can all move on now and let mermaids do their thing.



Come sift through our sand at the Pirate Supply Store and maybe find your own mermaid fossil! And while you’re here pick up the new Marauder’s Monthly at 826 Valencia!


By Rot-Thumbed Samuel

In a shocking turn of events fit for daytime melodrama, Zigfried the giant squid, who was charged last month with premeditated ship-wrecking of the privateer vessel Incoherent Rambler, was acquitted of all charges thanks to the surprise testimony of his estranged twin brother, Gaillard. Gaillard confessed to the court that he used a large fake mustache to impersonate his brother during the ship-wrecking. When questioned about his motive, Gaillard remorsefully expressed that his actions were purely spiteful and intended to get back at Zigfried for not planning a joint birthday party with him as they had done so in previous years.

However, before Gaillard could be booked on charges of his own, the court was double-shocked to discover that neither squid was in fact responsible for the ship wreck, which was actually caused by a sea storm accidentally willed into being by the ghost of the squid brothers’ childhood intramural cricket coach. We don’t know if maritime law covers this kind of thing, but we’ll keep you updated.



Ol’ Rot-Thumbed still hasn’t followed up with us on the new details of this story. Maybe it’s in the new Marauder’s Monthly available at 826 Valencia!


By Samuel G. Stankfoot

It’s been a tough week for Flanksteak O’Flannigan, Captain of the Plundering Bat-Fish. After what seemed like a successful plundering mission at the dreaded Forbidden Island, the faithful ship returned to sea with more than just a snazzy new monkey idol.

“We knew something was awry when we all got the same cryptic message in our cereal,” says O’Flannigan. “The marshmellows in my Plunder Puffs said we were all a bunch of jerks. Ridiculous, I say! We’re not jerks at all!”

Up until this point, all seemed perfectly fine. The crew had arrived at the Forbidden Island perfectly on time, entered the abandoned temple without incident, and successfully plundered the prized monkey idol—all while narrowly escaping precarious pitfalls and treacherous traps. Upon exodus the Bat-Fish team was flying on high, but as we know, things soon took a dramatic turn.

Just after the cereal incident, First Mate Skippy Jones Jr. began experiencing some particularly odd curse symptoms.

“For a while there I thought I was a poodle!” says Jones Jr. “I barked at the captain until he gave me kibble. Then I demanded a tick bath.”

At first the crew mistook this as normal behavior; regular tick baths are generally recom- mended for us seafaring types. The barking and walking on all fours, however, also went under the radar for a few days.

It became all too clear when the entire crew had the same nightmare, wherein they showed up to algebra class without their home- work. “We always do our homework,” says O’Flannigan. “Any claim stating otherwise is purely fraudulent. We were outraged.”

At this point the crew realized that they had no choice but to return the cursed idol to the Forbidden Island.

“Sometimes you just have to swallow your pride,” O’Flannigan says. “But it should all
be smooth sailing from here. We won’t be returning to Forbidden Island, but we push on. Forward ho, I say! to our next mission: Hex Island!”



That was a wise choice by the boys on the Bat-Fish to return that idol wasn’t it? We’re sure they had better luck on Hex Island, come find out in the latest issue of Marauder’s Monthly at 826 Valencia!


There is a health crisis of epidemic proportions currently bedeviling the high seas, and
its skittering, crawling culprit is the common weevil. Some land lubber got the idea that
these crunchy critters are filled with protein or some such “scientific” babble. I chuckled at the thought, but then found out that deckhands are actually subscribing to this asinine theory. Any vessel in the Caribbean is bound to have a handful of sailors huddling on deck, sliding the wriggly buggers down their gullet; certainly not a pleasant sight. Compounding the unhygienic nature of the pest as a food item is the limited preparation and cooking options available. Most heating methods would outright obliterate the bug, so the only option left is devouring the foul creature raw, and all the sea pepper in the world couldn’t make that bearable, I mean seriously. It couldn’t.

And the thing is, you can’t just let the weevil- eaters do their gross thing without it harming the rest of the crew; a pair of weevils can lay eggs in the food storage and in a matter of days ruin the entire ship’s stash. This leaves the crew to ration whatever scraps are left, and sharing is up there with interpretive tap-dancing on the list of Things Swashbucklers Are Bad At. Did I mention some weevils enjoy wood as much as any grains? An unchecked infestation could leave you not only foodless, but ship-less as well. Don’t believe me? Ask Captain, or should I say Ex-Captain Chiggers next time you are at the local tavern in Barbados. He is anchored there in a constant struggle with the weevil infestation that haunts him to this day. If you keep your eyes trained on his beard you may notice a few strag- glers fall out, but don’t mention it; he enjoys living in denial.

Heed this warning and schedule a regular inspection for weevils by looking for the insects amongst the biscuit stores and check for small holes in any grain kernels. Catch them early and you will be able to save a majority of the stock. Lastly, avoid listening to any so-called doctors that haven’t spent a lick of time on the water. Stick with a healthy regimen of grog and all will be well on your voyage.



Thank goodness for those helpful PPSE’s! Remember to check your biscuits and check out the newest issue of Marauder’s Monthly at the City’s only independent Pirate Supply Store: 826 Valencia.

Mysterium Mysticeti: a new line of whale-care products

Mysterium Mysticeti, made exclusively for 826 Valencia by subject-object. See the full line at San Francisco’s only independent Pirate Supply Store. And now, a short, very important video to celebrate this day.


By Darius Blythe III

Reports of a ship manned by crocodiles have spread across the Caribbean. These bands of reptiles are led by a Macaw, who started a mutiny after his captain called him “Peaches, the cutest Cockatoo” one too many times. Since the initial mutiny, the bird and crew have accumulated a small fleet, each ship filled to the brim with hardtack and prisoners, who will be divided up amongst the crocodiles at a later date. “I never understood why humans cart around heavy, useless metal.” said one crocodile, “so much space on the boat is wasted on shooting machines and pieces of gold and silver. Why don’t they just fight with their teeth?”

Any ship unlucky enough to be ransacked by the crew describes a similar event. It begins with a single feather drop- ping from the sky and a few chirps heard in the distance. By the time the feather touches the deck, the crocs have dismem- bered half the crew. The other half “learn to fly” as they are pushed off the edge so Peaches’ crew can get some aerobics in before they take their pay cut, which consists of two limbs per plunder.

When asked how the crocodiles found themselves under this peculiar leadership, they said, “It beats waiting for food to fall in the water. He doesn’t bother us with chit chat and he knows to stay out of reach when we get hungry. All in all it is good deal.” The Macaw himself didn’t have a statement, but would periodi- cally yell, “SQUAWK! hardtack please. SQUAWK!”


It’s incredible that Mr. Blythe was able to get all the details on this story without being taken Peaches himself! For more harrowing reports pick up the newest issue of Marauder’s Monthly at San Francisco’s only independent Pirate Supply Store.


By Brine Foot Jacob

Lard-hands Bernard was recently appointed Acting Navigator on the Good Ship Disgraced Gastropod, and wouldn’t you know it, a week didn’t pass before they had a minor collision with another ship, the Good Ship Petulant Urchin, while leaving port. Nothing too bad at the time really – it would have been little more than a fender bender if either of our vessels had fenders. Don’t put fenders on your boat. They look gaudy at best, and deeply foolish at worst. But I had a feeling something was up, so I sent my carrier pigeon Susan after the Urchin to check up on how they were doing, even though the cabin boys kept telling me we were over-reacting. Well, joke’s on them because Susan is a four-time winner of the International Non-Verbal Avian Spelling Bee, and great Caesar’s ghost, the calamity she did happen upon!

Nobody noticed at the time, but it turns out that when the Urchin was hit, the force of the impact knocked the crew’s meteorite collection loose from its display case. The biggest of these interstellar rocks was sent smashing through the ship’s store of Scurvy Begone, knocking the precious medical supplies through the floorboard cracks, down into the ship’s bilge and it wasn’t long before the rats had themselves a citrus- themed feast.

Conditions on the Urchin were dire by the time Susan got there, and I can only imagine how much further the crew’s health has deteriorated in the time that Susan was arranging her alphabet blocks into just enough sentence fragments to tell us how urgent things are for those poor, sickly sailors. We hastily called up Susan’s old college study buddy, Ludmila, who, as luck would have it, is now a real mover and shaker in the Semi—Royal Order of Flying Fish Couriers. Ludmila’s team’ll have more than enough Scurvy Begone delivered to the Petulant Urchin in no time. Bravo, you heroes of delivery. Bravo.


Cure your scurvy now with our remedies available for sale at San Francisco’s only independent Pirate Supply Store. And, while you’re getting your vitamin C, also pick up the newest Marauder’s Monthly!


By Rough-footed Marceline

What’s scarier than a ship crewed by ghosts and made out of ghost stuff ? Well it turns out a number of other things, particularly cursed ships. I’ve always been scared of storm drains because I don’t want to drop important things down them, but I would wager a cursed ship is scarier. A recent poll actually found that 80% of all buccaneers find the prospect of sailing on cursed ships much more frightening than their spectral counterparts, citing that most people know a ghost ship when they step onboard, because if the rest of the crew are all ghosts, they can’t wait to spook you. You simply see it coming a mile away: not scary. Like, less-than-a-tenth- of-a-boogeyman-scary. Cursed ships, on the other hand, must have learned something from all those found-footage horror movies that got big a few years back and keep getting sequels because they got good at waiting. First two weeks on a cursed ship, everything is totally normal. But by the time you get about a month in, creepy stuff really gets going and then after that it’s hard-tack and powder barrels flying around day and night. I do not care for these sorts of things and it’s a good sign most people don’t either.


Newest issue of the Marauder’s Monthly now available at 826 Valencia!


By Brodrick Leadfoot

Following the policy negotiation stalemate of last month’s preliminary International Congress of Water Deities, we can all breathe a sigh of relief as the Congress has reached consensus on the Schedule of Winds and aquatic deity might see fit to kick your way.
I haven’t gotten a chance to look it over very thoroughly myself, but I know I could do with fewer squalls this year, because those catch me particularly off-guard. Like, I’d say back in 1998 or so, I was playing cards on deck and the hand I had was just marvelous. I was about to clean the ship’s cook out for all he was worth but then a bad squall gusted in and knocked the cards overboard. I’m not looking to repeat that this year.

When asked how the policy gridlock that caused negotiations to break down was resolved, Mazu the Chinese water goddess and protector of sailors explained,“We just kind of sat down,ate a big thing of popcorn, and started fresh. It went pretty smoothly from there.” When we pressed her on whether the popcorn was buttered with real butter or some margarine-esque artificial spread, she explained that such information is actually protected by a nondisclosure agreement that was instrumental to finalizing negotiations. Further questions became awkward from there, so we moved on to discussing Mazu’s new hobby of collecting vintage animation cells, the most recent addition to said collection being a pristine cell from the 1923 classic short Felix in Hollywood. Congratulations, Mazu!


For the latest issue of Marauder’s Monthly come to 826 Valencia and San Francisco’s only independent Pirate Supply Store!

This Sunday only, we finally have a pirate band!

Normally the ship’s band gets to rest on Sundays but this Sunday, March 16th at 5pm we will be graced by the sweet sounds of The Louis A. Botto Choir. For their tenth session, LAB X, they will be singing songs themed around “Piracy and Treasure.” Stop by the store for a once in a blue moon event for our humble crew.

A little back story on the group: About four years ago, the Chanticleer’s, one of the only full-time professional, all-male singing ensembles in the United States, started a youth choir. Their aim was to encourage singing in schools and give talented young singers small ensemble experience with access to professional singers. They named the youth choir after Chanticleer’s founder, Louis A. Botto (LAB).  The LAB Choir gives free concerts for Bay Area schools, retirement homes, and the general public. This is currently the tenth LAB session also known as LAB X – which inspired the Piracy theme.