TOP 10: Things To Do in a Flowing White Pirate Shirt

Present quarterly earnings to your team. Your colleagues are sure to quit their multitasking and pay attention when you flow into the room, your excess ivory-colored fabric billowing at your sides.

Steal a horse. Do it on the night of a full moon, and return the horse before dawn's first light. Make sure to gallop through a creek and bring a selfie stick.

Break up with someone. Rather than explain how you two have grown apart, it's easier to just say, "I’m sorry, but I’ve been scouted by a merry band of seagoing men, and our ship, the Penetration, breaks anchor at dawn."

Order a scone. Seemingly everyday experiences, like the procurement of a semi-sweet baked good from a cute barista, become spectacular when your belt is cinched tight around your abdomen, displaying the many pleats of your billowing top.

Write a metal song. Only a few apocalyptic guitar chords are needed as you stare menacingly into the mirror, your bathroom lights turned off and a flashlight held beneath your chin, transforming your face into a halo of demonic glee above your airy, unlaced collar.

Visit a petting zoo. Long line at the lamb petting station? Watch those parents and kids scatter as you stride confidently towards them in your New Balance tennis shoes, khaki Dockers, and windswept blouse.

Take it off in slow motion. At the bank, in a movie theater, during your child’s birth—there’s no occasion that won’t benefit from the sight of you pulling that long sail of white upperwear from your suddenly muscular, shaven torso.

Donate it. Many people, even in your own community, do not own flowing white renaissance shirts. Giving yours to someone in need, especially if you haven’t washed it since you stole that horse, will bring a little more hope—and swashbuckling—into that stranger’s life.

Perform surgery. And to stay true to the time period, do it by candlelight with no anesthetic; just a bucket of creek water and a broken-off bayonet.
Remove the filibuster in Congress. First, you’ll have to run for Senate and win. But victory is a cinch with your red sash cinched around your middle and your puffed sleeves resting on the podium. Then simply capture your fellow Senator’s imaginations as you dazzle them with Barishnikov-like leaps through their chambers. They’ll be putty in your fingers, and you finally can pass some motherfucking voting rights legislation.