Posted in 1 Point Perspective, Humor

Swordfish Gone Wild

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.

These prices are great!  Maybe I'll pick up extra for the cat! Photo by the author. "May I help you sir?" "No thanks, I'm just taking pictures of the fish"
These prices are great! Maybe I’ll pick up extra for the cat! Photo by the author. “May I help you sir?” “No thanks, I’m just taking pictures of the fish”

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.

Brussels sprouts and tongs - photo by the author.  Yes I take photos in the supermarket, doesn't everybody?
Brussels sprouts and tongs – photo by the author. Yes I take photos in the supermarket, doesn’t everyone?

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 took this photo before my allergist told me I was allergic to dairy products.  Every time I have a hankering for some chedduh, I'm going to think about this guy and his choice of places to plant his ass.  Photo by the author -  some people see a supermarket, I see opportunity for artistic self expression.
Photo by the author – some people see a supermarket, I see a glorious opportunity for artistic self-expression.

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.



I used to write a fair amount here on my blog, but then I got lazier and now I only manage to write over at The Nudge Wink Report once every month or so.  I only write there because of assigned deadlines and my unflagging allegiance to a woman I've never met but love anyway, the lovely Blogdramedy herself.  My current profile there is a 30,000 word run-on-sentence and ends up keeping people from scrolling all the way to the comments section.  As any blogger will tell you, posting without getting comments is like kissing your first cousin - and not in a hot, West Virginia sort of way.  I'm hoping this little blurb can take the place of the other profile and allow people to actually reach the comments section.

49 thoughts on “Swordfish Gone Wild

  1. 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*

    Liked by 1 person

      1. 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. 😉


        1. 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.

          Liked by 1 person

  2. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. 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.


    1. 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.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. 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.)


    1. 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.


      1. 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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