Excited about imminent vacation?

Well, don’t marvel at that vast azure sea in too much wonder.

’cause Kurt Cobain was right. Mother nature is a whore – a whore of the shores. Like the aqueous lovechild of some Odysseyean whirlpool and a fortune cookie, the ocean’s been vomiting a plethora of treasures onto sparkly sands willy nilly – ranging from legos to leg-bottoms.

(“…and that’s how ginger fish really got her legs. A reading from the Disney of Grimm. Amen.”)

As would a cat proudly gifting your doorway with dead rodents, the waves have been gently shoving shoes full of feet back to us for a while (mostly ’cause the shoes are sturdy enough to hold all the decomposing nastiness into place once they lop off of dead bodies).

Not one to be biased, though, Mother Nature is ever injecting yin where there’s yang and making things come full circle. Which is why the sea served up the opposite body end. What’s more – it returned to someone it was once friends with back when it still could think and blink.

It happened about seven years back, when a fisherman Steely Dan style “reeled in the years” – years long gone head of his late friend, that is.

With his net. By chance.

Kinda sweet, when you think of it. He came back for his buddy, right?


Sure. Nice try, Dexter.

As for the Legos? It would have been a lot cooler if an experimental artist hadn’t claimed credit for their unprecedented appearance on the sands. But he’s not fooling me. Everyone else might think they’re just inanimate overgrown toys. But this bitch knows they’re Trojan horses just waiting for us to let down our guards, after which an army of late-adolescence-Bieber clones will pour forth, all making the same James Dean-meets-Angelina squint face in unison.

But I’ve a very spiritual plan for receiving the popstar Army upon arrival.

One that involves finding a loving, common ground.


Finally, there was allegedly a “beaked hairless carcass” that washed up onto a shore and no one could identify what it was. The tale became even more mysterious after locals learned the fact that it was near “Plum Island” – a place whose quaint name belies a secret government lab rumored to experiment on animals like a floating Area 51.

I knew The Island of Dr. Moreau was f’real.

Then again, anything marinating in salt water past a week is going to look like a mange infested inverted water balloon. So, the rule is – if you see something disgusting on the shore – no matter how big it is – just stay very still and ignore it.

Just like the time we visited Jurassic Park and the power went out .

Eventually, it’ll flow back out into the watery abyss. And till it does, you’re forbidden to post pictures of it online. All it does is ruin my imaginary vacation filled with fantasy oceans of liquid morphine that bask in the fuschia glow of two suns that set on opposite sides of the horizon.

If it went in the sea, we’re meant to leave it be.


So, unless it’s a priceless diamond, get outta here with that shit.