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I Am A Sophisticated Friday Night Drunk

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(Some New Brunswick Friday entertainment)

 

It is a Friday night
In New Brunswick.
There are Friday nights
In old Brunswick,
They are called
Freitag Nacht.
 
 
In New Brunswick (perhaps of old),
The guys and gals
Got drunk,
And ate well,
To celebrate
The weekend.
 
 
Steaks and beer,
(Maybe fish & chips),
As long as one was
Well-oiled
To slide into Saturday.
 
 
But I am a
Sophisticated
New Brunswick
Drunk
 
 
Though
Perhaps not
Refined.
 
 
With my steak
(and fries),
I have red wine.
Red red wine
Though – admittedly –
From a box.
 
 
But it is
High-toned
Red red wine
(In a box),
Imported
From Australia.
 
 
Where they also know
How to eat steak,
And let ‘er rip
On a Friday night.
 
~ D.E. BA U.E.

When Your Meal Watches You Eat

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I was once in a reasonably high-toned Chinese restaurant. Unusually for me, I ordered a fish dish (I usually reserve such for seafood restaurants). I don’t remember why, but I’d guess the description on the menu must have been particularly succulent.

 

The waiter took my order and left. However, he returned within a minute, and I assumed I was going to be told there was none left. It has happened before. However, he leaned closer and, in a low voice, informed me that the fish was served with its head attached. He asked if this would cause me any problems, as some customers had been troubled by the fact and complained. Although I was not used to this method, it was not a problem. I like trying different things. So, away he went.

 

I did seem to have to wait quite awhile, but this doesn’t bother me, either. I enjoy restaurants so much, the experience of the place is as interesting to me as going to a theatre. Thus I have toyed with owning a restaurant, but I do know how much work and headache it really is. So I am just as content to sit and watch.

 

And watch I did when I saw the waiter finally come in my direction. And I had some inkling as to why some previous customers might have felt discomfort.

 

The whole fish (I would say trout-sized if not a bit larger), head and all, was propped upright on a type of wooden trestle in the middle of a platter. The waiter carried it outstretched before him through the restaurant. It was shaped with a bit of a curve, as if swimming upstream. The trestle was on a bed of vegetables. The fish had a light, leafy garnish on it.

 

It was cooked to perfection and tasted delicious. But – yeh – the upright head did seem to stare at me.

Fishing With God And The Elephant

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A story from The Elephant Talks To God

 

The elephant was on his side in the river, where he had flopped without much ceremony beside the boulder.

He raised his left front and his left hind leg into the air, and his trunk trailed in the current like an eel. He sloshed water over the exposed parts of his body with an erratic fortissimo.

“So.” The elephant gulped water. “Explain fish to me.”

“I beg your pardon.” The boulder sputtered, for it had been caught in the back spray.

“Fish,” said the elephant. “Marine animals; sub-aquatic creatures; denizens of the deep: puffers, scuppers, suckers, guppies, herring, flounder, anchovies — ”

“An elephant,” interrupted God, “has many attributes. But very low on this mammoth list is the ability to be cute.” The boulder paused significantly. “So get to the point.”

“When you’re ponderous, it’s known as being profound,” pointed out the elephant.

“I’m the Creator, so I get to make the rules,” pointed out God. “So. What is it with the fish?”

“Well – they’re so weird. They look strange, they’re poor conversationalists, they breath in water, and they choke on air.” The elephant finally scrambled to his feet. “And they never stay still. It’s always `moving with the current’, or `moving against the current’. I mean no disrespect, and we’re all God’s creatures, but – they’re real losers.”

“I wonder,” asked the boulder, after a moment’s thought, “if you’ve heard about the group of blind men asked to describe an elephant.”

“No,” said the elephant. “I haven’t.”

“Each man touched a different part.”

As God began, he raised his voice for the benefit of the fish, who were ranged in concentric circles around the oblivious elephant. They were going to enjoy this.

A FishTale From The Atlantic Ocean

Horse mackerel Mackerel

 

There is a  very long pier at one of the container terminals in Halifax. It seems to go out a quarter of the way into the harbour. It offers the best view of the mouth of the harbour and some (now) unique views back into the harbour itself.

As I was standing at the end, jutting into the harbour and watching the passing traffic (hello, cruise ship), I noticed a man with a fishing pole, casting away. He did not seem too successful, but did toss the occasional fish (mackerel) into a large pail. So I watched my ships and he cast away. Sometimes his fish leaped from the pail and flopped about on the pier. He did not seem concerned, though I rather hoped one of them would slide under the fence and return to the water far below.

I stayed about an hour and was preparing to leave. So was the fisherman. He called to me if I wanted any fish. I did have some interest, but, in addition to transporting fish on a bus, and also having to gut and clean them, I declined. It was then he offered the grandest of shows.

He reached into his pail and started tossing the fish over the high, barbwire-topped fence which enclosed the container terminal. On the other side was a vast platform, upon which waited a flock of seagulls. As each mackerel sailed over the fence and slid across the cement, the gulls descended. I anticipated many bird fights. I was surprised to see that each gull which reached a fish first, just swallowed the mackerel whole. Gulp. Slide into gullet. Fly away gull. The other gulls just turned their attention to the next flying fish.

It was quite the entertainment.

 


Screaming Seagull
Screaming Seagull by  Vera Kratochvil

DE

Flying Fish in Halifax Harbour

fresh and tasty

(image)

I https://media.pitchup.co.uk/uploads/mackerel-fishing-trips.jpg

There is a relatively new and very long pier at one of the container terminals in Halifax. It seems to go out a quarter of the way into the harbour. It offers the best view of the mouth of the harbour, along with some (now) unique views back into the harbour itself.

As I was standing at the end, jutting into the harbour and watching the passing ship traffic (hello, cruise ship), I noticed a man with a fishing pole, casting away. He did not seem too successful, but did toss the occasional fish (mackerel) into a large pail. As I watched my ships, he cast away. Sometimes his fish leaped from the pail and flopped about on the pier. He did not seem concerned, though I rather hoped one of them would slide under the fence and return to the water far below.

I stayed about an hour and was preparing to leave. So was the fisherman. He called me over and asked me if I wanted any fish. I did have interest, but, in addition to transporting fish on a bus, and also having to gut and clean them, I declined. It was then he offered the grandest of shows.

He reached into his pail and started tossing the fish over the high, barbwire-topped fence which enclosed the container terminal. On the other side was a vast platform, upon which waited a flock of seagulls. As each mackerel sailed over the fence, and slid across the cement, the gulls descended. I anticipated many bird fights. I was surprised to see each gull that reached a fish first, just swallowed the mackerel whole.

Gulp.

Slide into gullet.

Fly away gull.

The other gulls then turned their attention to the next flying fish.

It was quite the entertainment.

DE

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