It was somewhere around 5ish when the sushi craving began to take hold.
Don’t ask me why I referenced Fear and Loathing just now, but I expect it’s likely the fact that all I could think of was that scene with the melting reptilian bog dwelling creatures as I went from having said craving… to reading this article about a walking fish. Perfect timing. Not that I eat fish anyway anymore, but every once in a while, the old familiar craving’ll arise and I’ll quench it with avocado stuffed critterless rolls. Never fails to satisfy. But it was just fascinating – and perfectly timed – that I should stumble upon this article in “Popular Science” called “Teach your fish how to walk”.
So, I read on about the Senegal Bichir (still not sure if that’s “bitch-urrr” or “beach-uur” or “Bee-SHIR”
“It’s French; Kinda cool, actually.”
(Relevant media side lesson: Were you aware that a mullet is a type of fish? #TMYK)
Anyway, so as I carried on with the piece, I was stunned. Because, basically, what you’re doing is playing Darwin-God. You turn your own aquarium into early earth by providing all the environmental ingredients for this fish to begin his life swimming in your tank, and then suddenly start doing the haters-gon’-hate swagger out of its formerly aqueous address. The thing is, this guy (unlike the other loser species he left behind in the puddle), has a primitive lung that lets him breathe moist air. In a way, he’s kinda got the anti-superpower of the Supersoul Sunday fish. Whereas the Opah could roll harder in the deep than Adelle, Bichir’s got the surface covered. What’s even more wacky about this wriggling finned anomaly is that it’s not just a temporary improvising thing, either. The bony structures in his actual fins alter after so long to meet the needs of his terrestrial slalom trek. And even though he’s done all the effing work, you still get the congratulations for doing evolution in your bedroom. I’d say it’s like the wicked Human Centipede surgeon, but seeing as the victim has to torture himself, it’s really it’s more like Jigsaw. With a labcoat.
Wait… what’s that you ask? What’s this thing look like in motion?
Good question. I couldn’t tell just thumbing through the pages (though I suspect soon we’ll have hard copy Harry Potter magazines with gifs embedded). But, before coming home to research, I at first I was imagining something akin to that merman above from Cabin in the Woods. My follow-up thought, however, was that that’s just a fantasy horror movie, so we all know that fictional missing-link depiction ancestor that looks like the lovechild of King Titan and Smeagol can’t possibly be accura-…
Oh. Wait. That’s exactly how it looks:
In the end, my cravings for anything remotely sushi-esque were temporarily quelled.
It seeming too human reminds me of my personal, peripheral, compassion-related reasons for keeping veganism (that trail on the very long, peacocky tail of vanity). But it does call on another, less-diet related ethical question. I mean, sure, I myself am having fantasies already about slipping a little leash around my new floppy phallic pet, and then walking him down the street (still would be faster than my shih-tzu). But is it humane? It is right to force your sashimi to sashay? I’m torn. Especially since I’ve already added it to my “Things you may get me for my birthday” list.
But I suppose it’s like they say: Better to walk than be in a wok.