rainy days and mondays: seal brains au gratin edition


Awww . . .



Have you ever wondered what people stuck in Antarctica eat on a day-to-day basis? No?

Okay . . . have you ever wondered, in the deep black night as you stare at the ceiling and feel the creeping fingers of bleak mortality massage your soul, what you would do if you found yourself stuck in Antarctica, having to fend for yourself dietarily?

Of course you have.

That being so, take a look at this “lifestyle” piece of journalism describing what the folks at Britain’s Rothera base eat . . . and, more significantly, what they don’t.

Naturally, any article bearing the headline “Seal brain and penguin breasts off Antarctic menus” drew the Evil’s attention. And, while the topic is fascinating enough, what obliged Evil to write about this piece is the combination of the most interesting material possible with the least compelling narrative structure. Can one, in fact, write a train-wreck of a story that features the line:

In a chapter on seal brains, he listed recipes for fried seal brains, seal brains au gratin, brain fritters, seal brain omelette and savoury seal brains on toast.

Yes one can!

Our Reuters correspondent fails to note exactly when seal brains and penguin breasts were in fact taken off the menu. Which seems—seems, hell! Evil has his ABJ, he knows the drill—IS a rather important element to this story. And the why of it is only obliquely hinted at. In fact, there is nothing to indicate that this piece of news is actually, you know, news.

Evil can only assume our intrepid, if unskilled, journalist found himself stuck in Antarctica thinking, “What the bloody hell am I going to write about? Everyone already knows penguins are cool. Seals are cute. You freeze your bollocks off around here. What’s this? Pea and ham soup? Are you serious? I’m stuck in Antarctica eating canned pea and ham soup? Why?”

Of course, Evil’s negative reaction to the style of this article might only spring from the fact that he can’t, dammit, he can not properly pronounce “Reuters” without consciously forming the word. That’s right—bait him into an international-news-organization-based conversation, and he’ll blurt “ROOTERS.” How embarrassing! He even took German, so there’s no excuse for him not to correctly pronounce it.

Evil can’t say “Reuters,” and you can’t shoot a seal for dog food anymore. ‘Tis a sad, sad day.


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