Gaga goo-goo
| Holy moly, what a night! It’s the last day of summer, and the weather is just wonderful, as it has been all season — the best summer I’ve ever had the pleasure to enjoy, as a matter of fact. |
I’m on the Maine State Pier, all by myself for a change, and even the moon is being cooperative — a full, big moon, throwing enough light to accent our picturesque harbor. Oh, there’s a couple of other chaps pulling in some macks (which are, amazingly, still abundant), but I’m essentially alone, as they are quiet fellows, maybe just enjoying the night as I am. They’re certainly not the loudmouth idiots you sometimes encounter, and for this I’m grateful.
As always when it’s like this, my mind starts to wander. My head drifts along to this cruise ship business. Kind of hard not to think about it, seeings how there’s a big floating hotel parked not 100 yards from me. And also how I had to fight my way through what seemed like the whole population of Europe to get here. And what I think of is this: I really pity them.
I don’t want to come across as berating them or somethin’ like that (God knows we need the dough), but I think they’re definitely misguided. There they are banging into one another — you know, doing the tourist thing — when they could be coming down to this pier and enjoying Heaven on Earth. Well, I guess, Whatever floats your boat, but I do truly feel sad they’re missing out on so much.
Then, as always, I think of my fishing companions. There’s always a couple of fellows that are glad to accompany me on my fishing expeditions, but as usual I’m thinking of the girls that have kept me company the most. My pal Diane unfortunately hasn’t gone with me for quite some time. I think the constraint of two growing children and just trying to basically survive have a lot to do with this.
And Michelle. Well, that’s a screwed-up situation. She got upset at me throwing rocks at seals, even as I tried to explain I can’t hit the broad side of a barn, let alone a little tiny seal’s head 75 yards away. But I do respect her attitude, because she respects all God’s creatures. She even feels bad for the fish we murder. But if we didn’t catch them, they’d starve each other out of existence.
So what I think I really need, my meandering mind says, is a new fishing aficionado to join me on my fishing endeavors. And who might that be?, you might ask. I’m thinking Lady Gaga.
Now, before you skeptics scoff at such an idea, give it some thought. Here’s why. No. 1: Don’t ask, don’t tell. She’s against all that. I’m all for it. Who better not to ask about their fish than someone who just caught a wrong-size striper? You know, fishermen are the biggest liars there are. I’d say to a game warden, “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
Wait, you say, she’s against that. Well, we all know opposites attract.
You could argue that she’s a famous celebrity, but what am I, chopped liver? Heck, I’ve talked to lots of celebrities before. You know what I said to Jane Fonda? I said, “Hey, you don’t know what time it is, do you?” (It was 3:15, by the way.) See, I’m not awkwardly impressed by these famous people.
But then you say, Well, gee, it is, after all, Lady Gaga. To this I reply, Well, I’ll change my name to Lord Goo-Goo. What a pair we’d make, huh? Gaga and Goo-Goo marching down the pier like the grand marshal and marshallette, fishing poles in hand.
And you folks could help. See, I don’t really know Gaga. Anyone know how to get in touch with her? I don’t even know what she looks like, but I know she wore some kind of costume made of meat. Why not the skin of a freshly caught mackerel? See how it fits?
Boy, I told you, my mind really wanders down here.
