Like most people, I trudge this earth daydreaming about being the person to come up with the next big thing. It’s either that, or becoming a famous writer who commands the respect and admiration of all who read my work. Having checked back on my typical blog posts, I think we can all agree that it’s safe to scratch the famous writer option off of the pipe dream list. I was strolling through the bedlam of weekend shoppers at my local grocery store in just such a daydreaming state. As I steered my cart to avoid ramming a pair of hungry cougars, I noticed the sign below. Look closely, and you may notice something a little strange.
If you were too stunned by the sticker shock to notice anything else, take another look. That’s right, the store in question is advertising both types of fish as “wild”. A quick inspection of the rest of the offerings found farm raised shrimp, salmon and talapia, but no larger ones like tuna, swordfish or hammerhead sharks. I headed toward produce aisle and the wheels in my mind began to turn much like the ones of my cart ( That is to say, three of the wheels turned and one of them skipped across the floor pointing the wrong way and not really doing its job. It’s not easy having a mind which can only function with a maximum of 75% focus on direction at any given time). I thought about the lack of farm raised swordfish. Was this my niche? Logistically, it would take several rather large tanks to raise them, and catching one for harvest might prove nearly as challenging as it is for the guys who hunt the wild ones. Then that fourth wheel in my head briefly struck the tile floor and put me off in another direction; what if I raised swordfish like the veal of the sea? I could market them as more tender than their rough-living, sea-faring brethren. Little pens would save me the expense and challenge of maintaining of a 10 acre ecosystem. Of course, raising a noble beast like a swordfish in a restrictive box would have the animal rights people up in arms, but I could just ignore them. Greenpeace can whine all they want. All I need to do is convince the foodies of the world that farm raised is the best source for sustainable, tender fish. I’ll take a page from the beef folks and come up with a different name for my crop so that fewer people are offended. It was a stroke of marketing genius when they decided to call it “veal” instead of “adolescent cows imprisoned in vertical coffins and fed milk“. I could set the whole thing up in some remote harbor in Belize or Panama. Hire a few locals to run the show. I could fly in on a float plane every month or two and spread the pesos around, big man on the fish farm. Then I’d hop back up to my gated estate and sip rum while writing blog posts about how hard it can be to find a good snow shovel when living in the tropics. The key would be to keep myself out of any sort of photos connecting me to the operation, just in case Pamela Anderson or some PETA goon-squad start nosing around. If things got too dicey, I’d sell the whole operation to Donald Trump and make a tidy little profit. I was on the verge of coming up with some schematics for expandable fish cage designs when I saw something else which derailed my train of thought completely.
How is it that nearly every other loose vegetable in the store is picked up by hand, but the Brussels sprouts somehow rate a dedicated set of tongs? More importantly, who could possibly be expected to be able to pick up more than two sprouts on any given attempt? Is leashing the tongs to the bin really necessary? Is that a security thing, or are they just trying to keep anyone from cross contaminating the tongs by using them for the sugar snap peas? My swordfish farming scheme had already faded into the back corners of my cavernous head as I pondered the conundrum of the Brussels sprouts. Before I could untangle the riddle of the tongs, I turned the corner and saw this:
I know, right?! That slob is talking to his kid while he sits his fat ass right in the cheddar – you can just see her little feet! As a parent, you’re constantly setting examples for your children. He may well have been teaching his daughter how to cut the cheese in the cheese. I was just about to go deep into my mind to ponder how anyone could be so inconsiderate when my camera began chirping in my hand. That’s right, my camera is also a phone! Technology, huh?! Anyway, it was my wife, wanting to know why the hell I wasn’t home with the groceries yet. I glanced down at my nearly empty cart and quickly stammered to her that the store was very crowded. She told me to remember to pick up some fish and Brussels sprouts for dinner. I turned the cart around.
Reblogged this on 1pointperspective and commented:
I liked this so much, I just HAD to reblog it! To read about that One Point Perspective at the supermarket was a dream come true. He’s really some kind of genius! Has anyone noticed that I’m writing this crap about myself?
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It’s obvious you need some assistance. You can’t keep a good mind down so I offer to help you bring your swordfish farm fantasy into the land of reality. I’m packed and ready to relocate to Belize. Because we can’t expect you to manage every single brilliant idea you have, as soon as you have them. So I, and my fellow Nudge Winkers, are there for you.
You just keep pushing that cart around and before too long, your ideas will generate cash allowing you to retire that cart and move up to something more luxurious. Like a second-hand golf cart.
You keep dreaming and we’ll keep helping you on your journey to greatness. For a small monetary fee. *grin*
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Thanks for the support, and gentle bit of reality. I’m thinking float plane, but a dented golf cart with duct tape on the seats may be more my speed.
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Also, if you really want to lend a hand, could you swing down the cereal aisle and pick me up some shredded wheat? I’m already in the checkout line and I really don’t want to lose my spot.
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Done. Because we don’t want your wife to have to call you. Again.
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Funny you should mention that, she just called me from the living room. She’d like another cup of tea and a foot massage. Gotta run!
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Reblogged this on UPSIDE OF SIDEWAYS and commented:
This week on The Nudge Wink Report, Dave reveals his true nature. That he gets his best ideas while pushing a grocery cart. He’s also a bit of a squeaky wheel so bring your can of WD-40 and head on over to NWR!
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Where’s the “like” button for this comment?
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What about the post? Don’t you want to “like” the post?
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I have WP Happiness Engineers working on this. They’re having problems ’cause Dave’s got a really big…squeak.
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Due to disuse atrophy, that button shriveled up and fell off.
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So much great material here, Dave, I don’t know where to start. Can’t get “Cheese Boy” out of my head. You got your Gouda, your Swiss, your Butt…
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Reminds me of what my wise old uncle used to say, “Get your head-cheese outta your butt-cheese”
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Need another like button, right damn here.
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Uncle Jack, who was from Monterey, would smile to know you liked his saying. Sadly he passed away. He’s a moldering in the grave as I write this. He’s gor-Gone-zola, but not forgotten.
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Haha! Groan.
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My understanding is that swordfish aren’t well- suited to farm life. New York is where they’d rather stay. They get allergic smelling hay. They just adore a penthouse view. . . .
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I can only imagine those poor fish stuck outside of Hooterville, a million miles from Park Avenue..
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Got that song stuck in my brain now, so thanks for that .
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Having that song stuck in your head can’t be any worse than imagining one of the Gabor sisters with a 28 inch fish bill where her nose should be. So…thanks for that too.
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Which Gabor sister?
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Eva Gabor starred on Green Acres, but I’d prefer to see Zsa Zsa with the fish bill.
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In my defense, 1PP started it, with his pie-in-the-sky, I-am-gonna-be-a-swordfish-farmer scheme. For the past 24 hours, I have not been able to shake the image of swordfish in overalls, baling hay with their pointy snouts, sneaking forbidden love with cute little farm-raised catfish up in the barn loft. Darn you, 1PP. Darn you. 😉
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Ever ready to play the blame game, I in turn blame the late Mr. Frank Zappa, who sang decades ago about moving to Montana raise himself a crop of dental floss. Anyone who’s ever had a bit of sword fish stuck in their teeth can see the logical progression in my mind.
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Personally, I think you have found your niche. You should start some kind of training program for people who absolutely hate shopping more than they hate anything else in the world. People like me. I have been known to throw a tantrum having been tricked into a grocery store, yet again. My husband (who loves grocery shopping as much as I hate it – I know, right? Perfect for each other.) and my niece play a game with who can trick me into going to the grocery store next. Once there, while I am throwing my tantrum, they message each other and laugh their asses off at me. This post is the most fun I have ever had in a grocery store. Seriously, you have a gift.
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I do have a gift, but luckily I also have a receipt.
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I’d rather grocery shop than do any other kind of shopping. A few years back, an organic and very friendly market opened one suburb over. It’s my paradise. They carry just about one of everything, and what they don’t have, they will try their best to secure it for you, calling to let you know when it arrives.
I was so smitten with their coffee offerings, that a few years back, I went in and did a photo shoot of the selections. No one bothered me.
Maybe those fish prices were wrangling the high Sierra’s because they were non GMO’S? I best stop here. Someone will come looking for me, wanting to know why I fear Genetically Modified foods.
I’ll be in my cave.
😉
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I suppose the store can’t advertise the fish as “organic” or “Non-GMO fed” because as wild animals, they have the potential to eat whatever they damn well please. I’m planning on only using Purina Organic Swordfish Chow in my operation.
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OMG, too funny. Your fish will either, “Mew” or “Aarf” depending upon the variety you use.
P.S. Be sure the food source(s) are not from China, or you’ll have to label your product, “Product may be harmful to your health.” (Especially if gluten is a bi-product.)
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Gluten free fish? I wouldn’t doubt that could boost sales. Too bad it’s tougher to be able to label swordfish as “mercury free”, but if I raised it in a pen without ocean access…hmmmm
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Sorry, for the confusion…I was referring to the feed you would give your little fishies.🙀
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If the feed is gluten free, then the fish can be too! Don’t mess with it, my marketing campaign is already building steam.
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LOL! You are a person on top of things!!!! 🙂
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You don’t get to be a pipe-dream millionaire by sitting around wishing…oh wait…yeah, umm never mind.
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I was going to say that your grocery is definitely more up-market than my local – that is until I saw Cheddar Man.
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That’s the problem with retail – they’ll let anybody in there! I alerted the concierge about cheddar man, and he was escorted from the premises. Too little too late I’m afraid, my craving for a nice chunk of Stilton was ruined by then.
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But it was the cheese section. It’s not like it doesn’t all smell like farts.
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To an untrained nose, I suppose it does. To a more discriminating honker, it smells more like unwashed feet. No offense, I hope.
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I tease, of course, my market doesn’t have a concierge, and their Stilton prices are prohibitively high.
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That about covers it (and not just the cheese). 🙂
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People who put their asses in the cheese section end up trumping almost anything else.
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I feel very sorry for the person who visits that section of the store after cheese-man leaves the premises, wants to buy something in that section and wonders why every package is dented. 🙂
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Now that I’m going dairy free, I can take some comfort in skipping the cheese aisle. Guess I can thank my allergist.
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I think you need tongs to handle the Brussels sprouts because of all the E. coli.
Also, you may also want to use tongs for the cheddar.
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So we can deduce that the sugar snap peas are e coli free, since they have no such tongs…
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I wouldn’t think that the peas are safe just because the tongs are missing. But that just me, probably, because I think that veggies are evil in general.
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Trying to be helpful, I checked the slang dictionary for the phrase “fat ass right in the cheddar.” You don’t wanna know.
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Reblogged this on shemaestro and commented:
I disagree completely. You do have a future as a famous writer.
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You’re very kind. Glad you enjoyed the post. By all means, feel free to check out my latest offering, “Bruce Jenner’s Bucket List” I hope you’ll find it nutty with a hint of mint.
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