An Ode To Shrimpy: You Can’t Win ‘Em All

You can’t win ’em all eh?

That’s exactly what shrimpy told me, before I desecrated his corpse and threw him into the bubbling inferno my mother calls “Frrrying Pan”.

Shrimpy: Sole survivor of the December 1st midnight Erlic family shrimping expedition. Boiled live in Selo Oils.

The land of Frrrying Pan is no vacation. Many a shrimp have lost their lives to the scorching hot waters of its deathly embrace. Unfortunately for Shrimpy, he assumed too much. He thought that my brother, my father and I were pussies who would not take him all the way to plate, and then drown him in olive oil. Wrong.

Some nights you just don’t succeed. Some nights you give it your all and what you get back is a white paint bucket, half-full with brine and one lonely crustacean. Double entrende? Depends who you ask. Either way, not enough protein for a 3 year old babe to survive fifteen minutes before mother’s breast beckons once more.

@SeloSlav with his prey. Lambskin jacket kept him warm during shrimping expedition.

Did Shrimpy really think we would throw him back into ocean? Do you really think this signals Scarcity Mindset?

“Maynne, if you had Abundance in life, you would totally let Shrimpy go! You stupid.”

NO. Shrimpy had to be boiled alive and eaten. Period. Shrimpy had to die. Shrimpy was my catch. I am savage. I, borne of Haplogroup I-M170 from Ice Age mount of Hercegovina do not submit to feeble lamentations of screeching invertebrates. We eat what we catch.

Whether you catch a single fry or a colony, don’t be ashamed of your lot. Take it. Dominate it. Eat it.

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