prepare to unleash your inner Queequeg
It appears that the ban on whale hunting may soon be a thing of the past, and I for one am encouraged. The fat bastards have pranced about without fear of consequence for far too long, and this has only led to laziness and over-population. The herds must be thinned, people. Too often have I found myself swerving to avoid a darting whale on a dark country road late at night or flipped on the porch light only to find them nibbling in my flower beds, garden, or plankton pond.
They may be cute, yes, but the absence of a predator only does more harm to any given animal in the long run. We can all agree that whales have it too easy, and that they need more of a challenge in life than the occasional school of herring putting up a respectable flatulence defense (which just so happens to be the very same defense preferred by my fattened spaniel).
Did it ever occur to you that whales beach themselves out of utter boredom? Of course it didn’t. You’re one of those who presume to know what is best for the whale, and I’ve never cared much for that tendency in you. Neither has the whale, frankly. Don’t get me wrong, your heart is in the right place and all your other traits make you a wonderful person to be around, but you are simply being naïve on this point. Trust me, you insult this magnificent creature.
I tell you this because I care about you like I care for a nice rare whale steak with a side of Caribbean rice and a dry but slightly chilled Riesling.
Afterward we’ll retire to the plankton pond for brandy and smokes and conversation that focuses mainly on second hand stories of Tom T. Hall and how whale meat didn’t quite taste like we expected.
So it is that I welcome this return to the natural order of things and eagerly await the first time I pull up next to a camouflaged pick-up truck with a freshly slain whale strapped to the hood or visit one of my hunting enthusiast uncles and spy an expertly taxidermied whale’s head peaking at me from over the fireplace.
Yes, the ceiling will probably have to be raised a bit.
Anyway, the whale face will no doubt be smiling a blubbery smile of appreciation for having been let back into the natural order of things, and the hunter will feel the pride that only comes from outsmarting an animal that subsists on flatulent fish.
They may be cute, yes, but the absence of a predator only does more harm to any given animal in the long run. We can all agree that whales have it too easy, and that they need more of a challenge in life than the occasional school of herring putting up a respectable flatulence defense (which just so happens to be the very same defense preferred by my fattened spaniel).
Did it ever occur to you that whales beach themselves out of utter boredom? Of course it didn’t. You’re one of those who presume to know what is best for the whale, and I’ve never cared much for that tendency in you. Neither has the whale, frankly. Don’t get me wrong, your heart is in the right place and all your other traits make you a wonderful person to be around, but you are simply being naïve on this point. Trust me, you insult this magnificent creature.
I tell you this because I care about you like I care for a nice rare whale steak with a side of Caribbean rice and a dry but slightly chilled Riesling.
Afterward we’ll retire to the plankton pond for brandy and smokes and conversation that focuses mainly on second hand stories of Tom T. Hall and how whale meat didn’t quite taste like we expected.
So it is that I welcome this return to the natural order of things and eagerly await the first time I pull up next to a camouflaged pick-up truck with a freshly slain whale strapped to the hood or visit one of my hunting enthusiast uncles and spy an expertly taxidermied whale’s head peaking at me from over the fireplace.
Yes, the ceiling will probably have to be raised a bit.
Anyway, the whale face will no doubt be smiling a blubbery smile of appreciation for having been let back into the natural order of things, and the hunter will feel the pride that only comes from outsmarting an animal that subsists on flatulent fish.
It is the circle of life.
posted by Rex L. Camino at 6:23 AM
3 Comments:
You make me laugh.
You were thinking about THIS at 6:00 in the morning?! I'm glad you got up early.
Fuggabunchawhales.
all of the many books i have recently read on whaling make it out to be an honorable, sanitary, and just plain old fun way to make a few extra bucks over the course on two to four years at sea.
it's good to know i might even have the opportunity to experience it for myself. ahoy!
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