Lobsters Wednesday May 17, 2006

Two things really freak the shit out of me: The Undead and Lobsters.

While I have learned to live with the new breed of fast moving Zombies, lobsters continue to freak me out. To me they just seem to be getting weirder and weirder.

Why I am I bringing this up? Well, a few times over the past year I have been invited out for a nice lobster dinner. Unfortunately, I just can’t stomach the whole lobster dinner fiasco. I can stomach skinning a deer, a roasted rabbit, and maybe even axing a chicken’s head. But shattering the tail of a lobster; forget about it. Crushing a lobster’s claws. No thank you. Sucking boiled lobster cartilage from a severed leg. No dice.

Sunday night I was graciously invited out for another lobster dinner. My hosts were extremely wonderful and made a side dish of chicken for me. Still it was a little too much exposure to those scavengers of the ocean. That “Oh crap this is really uncomfortable” expression plastered on the little guy’s face really got to me. It pushed me to the verge of uncontrollable projectile vomiting. Even when I’m not eating them I just can’t stand the bastards. Anyways the whole experience got me thinking. Why do lobsters freak me out?

The above picture would suggest some horrible childhood trauma with the scaly bastards, But I can’t recall anything. My family was usually too poor to splurge on fresh seafood. Up until two years ago, the closest contact I had with a lobster was through Futurama and Dr. Zoidberg. Anyways, I just had to add this picture, because I believe it encompasses all that is wrong with mankind’s relationship with the lobsters. Look! He’s going right for the little girl’s jugular. I just can’t imagine a worse form of parental torture. So where does this uncanny distaste come from?

After some intense contemplation, there is only one logical source: the Swiss surrealist H.R. Giger.

The movie Aliens happens to be my all-time favorite flick. I have spent countless days and night’s memorizing every moment of that movie. Images of Apone, Vasquez, Dietrich and Drake being torn apart are deeply ingrained in my mind. My theory is that deep down I think lobsters are Earth’s equivalent to Giger’s seven foot aliens. Think about the similarities. Lobsters are about the size of a face hugger. They have a similar limb and body configuration. If you look at the head structure of your common east coast lobster and a solider alien; you’d swear they’re from the same species. James Cameron might as well have replaced his aliens with massive ass angry lobsters.

I figure when I watch people eat lobsters; I must sub-consciously image them eating a big plate of xenomorphic legs. Every time somebody cracks open a claw; I am half expecting acid to come raining down on my chest. Is that a rational explanation? Probably not, but its the best I can come up with.

So that’s my theory and still doesn’t change anything. Those little bastards freak the hell out of me. So if you want to be cute and place a live one in my bed. Go ahead. Give it a try. I’m sure I’ll freak out. But be warned. We’ll see who’s laughing when I get my revenge.

Note: That grotesque photo was taken from somewhere in the Flickr universe. I’m not exactly sure which flickr account I found this on, but I promise I will have a proper reference soon.

Categories: The-Personnal, The-Craziness,

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