Dispatch from a skinny boat, 6 inches above the Patowmack.
The rains of last weekend finally made their way down to Washington, making the water swift this morning. They also brought all the concentrated filth of a summer full of McDonald’s wrappers, coke bottles, Styrofoam coolers, squirrel carcasses and rudder-destroying logs from MD, VA and WVA. There’s also a vile green film that is no doubt the cause of the gender identity issue the Post says the fish are having.
Poor little bass, having all these funny feelings about who they are, wearing sexually ambiguous clothes and eyeliner, getting pushed around by those bully snakeheads between class. They think they’re so tough because the can breath out of water and walk around on land and have heads the look like snakes. Wish my head looked like a snake.
But I’m sure whatever PFOA or DDT is in the water is no worse than the electromagnetic pulses or RF interference that my blackberry emits into me each time I get Viagra spam.* If it’s bad enough to screw with headphones/speakers/phone with every message that magically flies to my hip then it can’t be good for future little Pyggies. That sound is even imprinted on the Lupine Howl – Grave to Go To song I downloaded. And I’m not even sure that’s possible seeing this is digital media and not a reel-to-reel recording. But it’s there.
*Ohh! Is that irony? Viagra spam causing impotence? I’m so bad at coming up with examples. Like when someone said that Steve Irwin being killed by a stingray was ironic and I argued that it wasn’t but then couldn’t come up with a good example of something that was. What if he had survived the attack but got hit by a Corvette Stingray on the way to the hospital? How about if the crocodile skin shoes he was wearing gave him a blister and he died from the infection?
See? I’m really bad at it.