hmm.

say what you will about jack rackham but the man knew how to serve cunt. I don’t just mean his dandy little outfits, either. or the fact that he remained best friends with his gay ex. or the fact that he imprinted on a het beefcafe like a duckling and spent much of his life navigating the messy waters of “do i want to be him or do i want to be with him?”. I mean that Jack Rackham got arrested by a homicidal colonist, was facing imprisonment (if not outright execution), and literally his first instinct was to read woodes rogers for filth over his memoir. my guy really sat down in his office, took a gulp of his wine, and said: “you’re shit, you look like shit, your self-importance is shit, and your book was a snore. your memoir is literally in my dnf pile. it sucked ass.” every time i watch black sails i mourn the fact that jack rackham didn’t live to see the invention of poppers.

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