I Cannot Be Any Moar Pacific

I Cannot Be Any Moar Pacific! A welcome reprieve against blistering hazy, hot and humid meteorological suffocating air found me voluntarily hermetically sealing myself within a climate controlled one bedroom apartment this Schwenksville, Pennsylvania (actually originally Lake Woebegone) transplant getting acclimated to the summer weather in Zaire, this country determined, sans while "blindfolded," directed, and guided while seated in my state of the art bedchair, hence such chance decision, where yours truly, would spend the following year gunslinging, fellow shipping, and engaging with bountiful mutineers while piloting corsair outlandishly ludicrous, incredibly flimsy, and carelessly held together by wirehair with an equally ratty motley crue forcing yours truly to "FAKE" being debonair, this (Baritone Horn playing) privateer did veer really did mark hood lee did quickly twain tubby chief engineer accomplishing (as resident poetic web stir) re: alias Muddy Waters ("Roger") unclear breathing sigh of relief, I did not go over with my trademark mind boggling flair to sow confusion within the mindscape of one or more readers will cause him/ her to go thermonuclear ready to choke, gas, or throttle me as he/she doth glare intimidating such prediction analogously like Moby Dick reacting violently when Cap'n Ahab thrust a spear!