As you may already know if you've read my autobiography, running CapnChris.com is my full time job. While my mother is always quick to remind me that I could make more money if I went into the family business of second-hand hat stores as I promised my father I'd do while he was on his death-bed, what I'm doing makes me happy and allows me to never have to actually leave the house. I make just enough revenue to pay my hired help and to add a new Fabergé Egg to my collection each month, which is really all I need. Some of you in the States may be wondering how I can live such a lucrative lifestyle off a website whose main draw is erotic Ted Koppel fan-fiction and games where you hit monkeys to win free iPods. But like most people you're overlooking a whole 25% of the world, the part that lives outside the United States. For you see, Cap'n Chris is huge in Europe.
According to this webpage, Cap'n Chris is huge in Europe. Who knew?
We've had a few laughs here today, but please, let's not forget about the true reason we're all here - to Free Mumia.
I don't care how bad they taste, I'll never stop eating them.
Proudly Presents
AN ARTICLE I WROTE SO PEOPLE WOULD STOP COMPLAINING AND I COULD PROVE THAT I SOMETIMES KEEP MY WORD ABOUT UPDATING
Just this past weekend I was in Spain, promoting the opening of the 22nd Cap'n Chris Ski Shop in Barcelona. It doesn't matter that Barcelona is a sunny beach resort, they can't get enough of our products. One of the highlights of the trip was when I was actually honored enough to meet the President of Spain. Which I hope gives you some idea of just how big of a celebrity I am over there. Does anybody care to remember back to a time when we sold those sassy Cap'n Chris Action Shirts? Well contrary to popular opinion that we had to stop selling them because The Gap finally
The European version is a lot like the American one except Bowser is replaced by Hitler and all the Koopa Troopas are Frenchmen
caught on to our shoplifting and our parents made us give all six dollars we'd made to charity, the truth is that they had become in such high demand that fathers were literally selling their children's organs on EBay to afford them. Except they were European organs so no one wanted them. After the third annual Cap'n Chris fashion show in Milan that consisted of us unveiling yet again the same T-shirt with the slogan "Jonny is lame" printed on it, we decided that it would be best for the future of humanity if we simply stepped aside from the fashion industry. There was a riot for the shirt and three died in the ensuing fire. The was some talk on the part of the Italian government about prosecuting us for starting the fire when we carelessly threw our cigars onto a hobo we had previously doused with vodka. But it was decided to be in the interest of the public good to simply let us off with a stern talking to. The popularity of Cap'n Chris is so huge overseas that I even once got an e-mail from a girl who said she wanted to be pen pals.
Most people are unable to fully comprehend the multiple shades of meaning that weave themselves in and out of Hilary Duff's seminal work "Metamorphosis". This album haunted me like a pigeon that I'd hit with my car. It manifested itself to me in all aspects of my mundane life, when I was showering, going to the bathroom, or even just having sex with my mail-order girlfriend, Duff's song called to me, ensconcing my mind with its familiar melodies and ethereal vocals. However, I was still unsatisfied. No longer, I decided, could I exist as an outsider, merely a visitor in a foreign soundscape of untold wonders. So in an effort to better understand this masterpiece, I went to dictionary.com and looked up the word "metamorphosis" which it turns out means "a change". Suddenly everything made sense, this album represented Hilary Duff's "change" from someone who doesn't have any albums with her name on them to someone who does.
Every night I fall asleep to the sweet sounds of this album as I pleasure myself and weep.
After meeting with Julio DelSpaino, the Spanish President, I boarded the first flight that would take me away from that seaside resort hell-hole full of beautiful, scantily clad women and local flavor. Unfortunately, that plane took me to Detroit where I had to join a local gang and rise in the ranks until I became leader of the gang by defeating "Il Diablo" the previous leader in a Cantonese style knife fight. And all that was just so I could leave the airport without someone cutting me and taking my pants. When I returned home I found that I'd forgotten to feed my cat, Sir Mittens, and it had sustained itself solely on chemicals found underneath the sink. It turns out that just the right mix of Jet Dry, Drano and edible underwear makes quite feline delicacy. Sir Mittens's diet had turned him into a formidable foe and we struggled for what seemed like days in epic combat until finally I plunged my blade deep into the foul heart of the beast and watched the flame of his eyes finally fade into the shadow
So in conclusion, what did I learn during my summer vacation? Never tell a girl how much she resembles Nicholas Cage and then expect her to put out unless you tip her really well.
