Oh, Lubbie Dear…

Oh, Lubbie Dear…

Hey, it only takes three years apparently, but we eventually get things right. There have been some good boat shows and some rougher boat shows, but by far and away, GBL probably got the best show yet. The survey hasn’t been officially canvassed yet…

Jason Blanchard, Dave Paterson and I hit the boat and first dressed the room. That meaning getting it ready for a show and not a cruise, providing (unfortunately) everyone a clear view of us (ugly) instead of the islands (pretty). We moved the chairs and tables around like it was comedy-show Tetris. We clipped up a spotlight to provide focus to the sole stage area at the bow (How’s THAT for nautical jargon? Here’s more: take-him-to-the-brig-and-sodom[snip! – H!ITVA! Ed.]) GBL did their part to step up the sound system with a wireless mic so we were poised with an ace in the hole against our old adversary.

The castle.

Boldt Castle looms large in the waters of the St. Lawrence, well-lit like a sinister angel at night, a destroyer of sets, eater of audience attention, pillager of punchlines. Little did it know as it lay in wait that we were ready. Enter Titus Malcolm. With the deftness of a Kung-Fu master, he used his opponent’s strength against itself, making fun of the stables (Stables? You had to be there), the porn room and the poorly placed clock. The castle slumped onto the darkness. Titus left the victor. Jason took the stage and did what he did best: talk about vaginas and killed.

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