High Tech Cowboys of the Deep Seas: The Race to Save the Cougar Ace
“Listen, mate, all I do is crazy shit,” he says, on a cell phone from his bungalow on Trinidad. “You get used to it.”
Hundred thousand dollar paychecks. Rapelling off stacks of Mazdas. Obscure interests and abilities paying off. There are some huge balls and big brains in this article. Wait — what article? This reads out like a Neal Stephenson novel rather than some pop science piece in a magazine for post-adolescent kids who rearrange their furniture around video games. (My apologies, gamers. You know you love me, X.O.X.O. lulz.)
If I could but rewrite this piece taking place in outer space.
These pirates are incredibly hardcore. Personally, I think this has got to be THE coolest job on the planet. (Next to this one. And next to running copyright infringement on the NXVR tracker, huhlolz.)
So I’m having one of those “you-do-what-for-a-living?” Joycean type of epiphanies again, just reading this, thinking: There. Are. People. Out there. In the world. Doing this kind of thing.