Goldfish Blues & the Feminine Mystique
If you are a goldfish and you find yourself floating or sinking in odd positions, you may have a Buoyancy Disorder. Your swim bladder may be obstructed or altogether defective. The good news is, it can be fixed rather easily: swallow a single green pea (canned or cook and lightly crushed). If that doesn’t cure the problem, your next best option is to have a tiny stone surgically inserted into your abdomen by a fish veterinarian. This however, can set you back anything from US$ 150 to US$1500. If the problem persists, it’s alright, you’re a goldfish, you’ll forget about it every three seconds.
If you’re a goldfish, and you claim to have feelings and a personality just like a cat or dog would, I might laugh at you (but then again, I might laugh at myself for laughing at a talking goldfish). If this offends you, don’t worry about it, you’re a goldfish, you’ll forget about it in three seconds.
I was sitting on the bowl (toilet and not goldfish) last night and found an old copy of the New York Times sitting in my bathroom. There was a rather amusing three page article on vets who specialize in treating fishes – not the huge, endangered kind, but the run-of-the-mill-live-in-a-bowl-in-your-living-room-type, the kind people used to just flush down the toilet when it goes belly-up. The article mentions Lucky, a one and a half pound koi with a two and a half pound tumor; Sunshine, who was impaled on a branch during rough fish sex (ow! You big slut, you); Betta, with a fluid-filled abdomen and the perpetually upside down goldfish, Belly Bob – all these fishes had surgery performed on them.
I guess the idea of fish vets sound funny now, if not a little crazy, but like the article said, back in the 1900s, the idea cats and dogs receiving human-quality medical care was ridiculed too. Back then, you didn’t treat Lassie and Salem. You shoot them.
Speaking about pets, “the mother” is threatening to give the new resident cat, Jebat Derhaka (J.D. for short – haha!) away which pisses the hell out of me, for lack of a better, more eloquent phrase to describe the feeling. She was the one that said ‘yes’ to the cat being here in the first place. I wasn’t fond of the idea at first – was still grieving over the loss of Pico (he died years ago) and my first cat, Badul (disappeared way before Pico came onto the scene). Besides, since I plan to leave the country in a few months, I figured there would be no point in me getting a pet now. Anyway, J.D. arrived at my doorstep (god, I get such a kick from saying that – refer to previous blog entry) and to cut a long-ish story short, J.D. and I bonded (god, I get such a kick from saying that) and now “the mother” wants to send him away. THANKS LADY.
Mothers, they give you a taste of the cake but never let you have the whole fucking thing. So you’ll always know what you’re missing out on. Actually, when you think about it, it’s not just mothers that do this; it’s the female gender in its entirety (and no, I’m not saying this because I’m a male chauvinist pig, I’m female myself ). And that leads me to the conclusion that the Cosmic Order and Life in general must be feminine in nature – it gives you a taste of the cake but never lets you have the whole thing, so you’ll always know what you’re missing out on. And then Life lets you miss out on it anyway. THANKS LADY. Cock teaser, you (there is no such term as “pussy teaser”, is it? Of course, that might be because we live in a paternalistic world.)
Some may argue that the Female Being is based on the principle of moderation. My big, womanly round ass, it is. We live for deprivation. Our whole existence is based on the concept of deprivation. Why do you think women are the biggest suckers for diet programs (and don’t blame it entirely on men, although they are partly, if not mostly to blame for all the world’s ills, women put the most pressure upon themselves to be thin. Right, Anna Wintour?)? Why do you think for hundreds, and hundreds of years, despite the advances the Feminist movement has made for women in recent times, the majority of women are still more often than not, stuck in a position where they ultimately have to choose between an extremely high flying career and a happy family of their own (even though in recent times, they are expected to have it all, tell me, how many women out there actually do? If you’re one of them, I would like to meet you and shake your hand. Hollywood celebrities don’t count). Deprivation, deprivation, deprivation. And if in a fleeting moment of clarity we allow ourselves to indulge and be indulged, we beat ourselves up over it in guilt, hence depriving ourselves of that simple feeling of satisfaction and contentment.
And if you disagree with me, if this entry makes you want to send me hate mail, makes you want to denounce me for being a sort of Judas to my gender, or if it makes you think that I’m actually a guy, then I truly hope that you are indeed, a goldfish, and will forget about it all in three seconds. 3…2…1…
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“ Tu entre todos los seres tienes derecho a verme débil ”
(You among all beings have the right to see me weak).
El Dano (The Hurt); Pablo Neruda
At least I think that’s what it means.
If you’re a goldfish, and you claim to have feelings and a personality just like a cat or dog would, I might laugh at you (but then again, I might laugh at myself for laughing at a talking goldfish). If this offends you, don’t worry about it, you’re a goldfish, you’ll forget about it in three seconds.
I was sitting on the bowl (toilet and not goldfish) last night and found an old copy of the New York Times sitting in my bathroom. There was a rather amusing three page article on vets who specialize in treating fishes – not the huge, endangered kind, but the run-of-the-mill-live-in-a-bowl-in-your-living-room-type, the kind people used to just flush down the toilet when it goes belly-up. The article mentions Lucky, a one and a half pound koi with a two and a half pound tumor; Sunshine, who was impaled on a branch during rough fish sex (ow! You big slut, you); Betta, with a fluid-filled abdomen and the perpetually upside down goldfish, Belly Bob – all these fishes had surgery performed on them.
I guess the idea of fish vets sound funny now, if not a little crazy, but like the article said, back in the 1900s, the idea cats and dogs receiving human-quality medical care was ridiculed too. Back then, you didn’t treat Lassie and Salem. You shoot them.
Speaking about pets, “the mother” is threatening to give the new resident cat, Jebat Derhaka (J.D. for short – haha!) away which pisses the hell out of me, for lack of a better, more eloquent phrase to describe the feeling. She was the one that said ‘yes’ to the cat being here in the first place. I wasn’t fond of the idea at first – was still grieving over the loss of Pico (he died years ago) and my first cat, Badul (disappeared way before Pico came onto the scene). Besides, since I plan to leave the country in a few months, I figured there would be no point in me getting a pet now. Anyway, J.D. arrived at my doorstep (god, I get such a kick from saying that – refer to previous blog entry) and to cut a long-ish story short, J.D. and I bonded (god, I get such a kick from saying that) and now “the mother” wants to send him away. THANKS LADY.
Mothers, they give you a taste of the cake but never let you have the whole fucking thing. So you’ll always know what you’re missing out on. Actually, when you think about it, it’s not just mothers that do this; it’s the female gender in its entirety (and no, I’m not saying this because I’m a male chauvinist pig, I’m female myself ). And that leads me to the conclusion that the Cosmic Order and Life in general must be feminine in nature – it gives you a taste of the cake but never lets you have the whole thing, so you’ll always know what you’re missing out on. And then Life lets you miss out on it anyway. THANKS LADY. Cock teaser, you (there is no such term as “pussy teaser”, is it? Of course, that might be because we live in a paternalistic world.)
Some may argue that the Female Being is based on the principle of moderation. My big, womanly round ass, it is. We live for deprivation. Our whole existence is based on the concept of deprivation. Why do you think women are the biggest suckers for diet programs (and don’t blame it entirely on men, although they are partly, if not mostly to blame for all the world’s ills, women put the most pressure upon themselves to be thin. Right, Anna Wintour?)? Why do you think for hundreds, and hundreds of years, despite the advances the Feminist movement has made for women in recent times, the majority of women are still more often than not, stuck in a position where they ultimately have to choose between an extremely high flying career and a happy family of their own (even though in recent times, they are expected to have it all, tell me, how many women out there actually do? If you’re one of them, I would like to meet you and shake your hand. Hollywood celebrities don’t count). Deprivation, deprivation, deprivation. And if in a fleeting moment of clarity we allow ourselves to indulge and be indulged, we beat ourselves up over it in guilt, hence depriving ourselves of that simple feeling of satisfaction and contentment.
And if you disagree with me, if this entry makes you want to send me hate mail, makes you want to denounce me for being a sort of Judas to my gender, or if it makes you think that I’m actually a guy, then I truly hope that you are indeed, a goldfish, and will forget about it all in three seconds. 3…2…1…
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“ Tu entre todos los seres tienes derecho a verme débil ”
(You among all beings have the right to see me weak).
El Dano (The Hurt); Pablo Neruda
At least I think that’s what it means.
