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2:54 pm | 20 May 2004 | MANEATER

Due to a brief spate of unseasonably warm weather (or some other random reason scientists are throwing out), shark sightings have increased along the Southern California coast in recent weeks, prompting mixed reactions from locals. Teenaged boys at a popular surf point, when informed of the danger, responded with the expected retarded machismo. "Am I afraid of them? They should be afraid of me!" said one such yobbo, Timmy VanFuckerberg*, flexing his scrawny arm, which bore stunning resemblance to an already-chewed chicken wing, for L.A. Times photographers and for his friends, who laughed like the goddamned idiots they are. "I'll give 'em a piece of this!"

Yes, Timmy. You will give them a piece of yourself. LIKE A LEG.

Is anything in the natural world more freaky than sharks (Latin name: Carcharhinus scaryassmotherfuckereus)? Is there anything else so elegantly deadly? Sharks move with ease and horrific intent through three dimensions of space. Even swimmers as great as Mark Spitz are still only piddly humans, with the usual uselessly spindly limbs and dumb dependence on oxygen, and can only flail about at surface level with competence akin to that of infants with lacrosse sticks. You want more analogies? Okay. Humans swimming are to sharks swimming as A FISH FLOPPING ON THE BOTTOM OF THE BOAT IN THE SECONDS BEFORE YOUR DAD KNOCKS IT ON HEAD WITH A MALLET are to La Ballet Russe. You want more? I'm too freaked out to give you more! Goddamnit!

Look, the ocean drops off really quickly. You can go into the surf for about ten feet and then it's suddenly three feet deep and then another ten lateral feet and it is PLENTY deep for one of those thirty-foot fuckers to dart in and grab your ass, not unlike Jose Canseco versus a Pokémon pińata, or you stuffing a White Castle into your fat face. Also: Sharks don't give a fuck. I know a lot of rappers be sayin' they just don't give a fuck, but they're still just throwin' they arms in the air, wavin' like they just don't care. OH BUT REMINDER:

like conj.
As if, as though: It looks like we'll finish on time.
Yeah. See, rappers tryin' to be all bad, but they behave as though they just don't care, whereas sharks? Legitimately do not care. Because they are FREAKY PREHISTORIC FISHTILESAURS CREATED TO KILL.

               
Snoop: Feigning gangsta indifference.                         Shark: Actually not giving a feezy.

There is a reason why Damien Hirst's sculpture of a shark suspended in formaldehyde in a Plexiglas tank is called The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living. First off, it is because (as everyone knows) if a shark stops swimming, it dies--it can't 'breathe.' So for a shark to be presented as frozen in place is as impossible as a human understanding death. Or something. But ALSO I think Damien is saying something along the lines of "The mere fact that sharks exist should have you all crapping your pants all the time, and it's totally incomprehensible to me that you aren't, you fleshy chum-sacks." Replace "Death" with "The Totally Sphincter-Gripping Threat Sharks Pose" and "Someone Living" with "Your Average, and By That I Mean Stupid, Human," and you'll see what I mean.

I don't know what to do. The idea of this shit scares the fuckitty crap out of me. I can't even stem the flashflood of curse mutations because I'm so freaked out. Sharks, for serious, are about the only thing I'm really physically afraid of but BOY am I. In eighth grade we had a "lock-in"** at the natatorium (swimming center) and what was the Midnight Movie? Oh yes, you got it. Jaws. I really couldn't wait to get my then-tiny twelve-year-old ass back into the tepid waters of the Forest Hills swimming pool after that one. Couldn't wait! Just like how my twice-as-old-and-exponentially-expanded***-ass is not gonna be anywhere near any shark-infested areas ANY time soon. Or Ever. GAAAAAH. clm.

* Not boy's actual name. Your author forgot it.
** This is one of those seems-fun-in-concept-but-is-never-actually-fun events, like high-school graduation open houses, that adults foist upon kids.
***Yet still undeniably, ferociously hot.

This entry brought to you by one of the author's 3 freaky dreams of last night, this one involving a chef preparing campechana by slapping a WHOLE FLOPPY-FRESH SQUID and a WHOLE BARELY-DEAD SHARK onto a grill and then MASHING THE LID DOWN and Jesus Christ but it was gory. Eeeeurgh.


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