Thursday, September 28, 2017

My Main(e) Man is a Lobster (Journal Entry 9)

Where to start with this article. Maybe my reason for disliking it is because it is indeed exploratory and I cannot recall ever reading another exploratory piece of literature? Who knows. All I know is that reading that article was like re-reading a paper I bullshitted my way through to meet the word count. He goes into the greatest amount of detail possible for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

He has almost three full paragraphs on the science of a lobster, the genus of it, where they're from, where they go. He talks about how lobsters feel about being put into the pot, alive, breathing. How would he know what the lobster is feeling? IS HE A LOBSTER?!

That's it. That's why he wrote this article, the only possible reason to go into this much detail is because he wants to become a lobster, he wants to rule them and put a stop to thier unnecessary annual slaughter by the glutonous American deities. Like. Wallace, babe. Please calm down.

He has a whole paragraph on his cab driver! Please, Wallace. Slow your roll.

Just because I've never eaten a lobster doesn't mean I don't know how they work. I imagine a lobster festival is the same as any themed carnival- a central idea with booths and tables and a big ol' picnic surrounding that main idea. Ive never touched a lobster, but I've been crabbing. Crabs and lobsters are basically the same thing.

Probably the only thing I liked in this article: When he goes into the detail of why/how a lobster's shell color changes when it is killed. For some horrible reason, my favourite thing about emptying crab pots and preparing them, was indeed killing them. I don't even like crab meat! But shaking the crab pot into the big wash bin, watching the crabs crawl on each other, confused, and then heating up the kettle and pouring the water on them. The brown and blue shells would turn bright red and hey'd scrabble about and I know I'm probably a serial killer for thinking so, but that's my fav part. I love to cook, and maybe it's a primal thing? Killing your food? I don't know. Shut up, Wallace.


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