Aye, he called me Polly once. And it be the last word e’er crossed his land lubberin’ lips.

Thirty years I spent on that shoulder. It’s time I finally set the record straight. First off, no one really talks like that. All this “Ahoy, Matey” and “Arrrrr” nonsense. Total Hollywood bollocks. No one ever walked the plank or shivered any timbers. Completely made up.

And that’s not all. Blackbeard, the most dreaded pirate in history … total phony. He didn’t lose that leg in some swashbuckling adventure. He got drunk and fell off a horse. True story. The mean look he always had on his face wasn’t intimidation. It was nausea. Dude was always seasick. And the hook? He just kept his hand tucked up in his shirt. I’m not even making this up.

Pirating isn’t some romantic notion. It’s a lonely life of broken hearts, shattered dreams and scurvy. We’re not sailing the seven seas with barrels full of rum, singing merry little shanties all the way. And we’re sure as heck not digging up buried treasure left and right. Know why? Because “X” never EVER marks the spot.

Wear this shirt: if ye be a jolly seafarin’ old matey.

Don’t wear this shirt: if ye be a no good dirty bilge rat.

This shirt tells the world: Pirate parrots are so misunderstood.

We call this color: We’re goin’ legit. We’re in the NAVY now.

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