"But I grow weary, weary," he was heard to say when he thought the microphone was off. "I miss the old crew, the old excitement, the old joy & lust and bloodletting, the old savagery, the old sailing under dripping canvas in leaky wooden vessels, I miss protemplorating with Kellnerin at the helm, Theophile hanging by his toes from the bowsprit, Atreides & Blixco making merry in the foc'sle with the rum flowing from the bung hole. "
"I am tired now," he concluded. "I will put my favorite Enya CD into my portable player, and I will put on my headphone ear-goggles, and I will press Play."
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