This! Is! Alaska!


Fishing for crabs in the Bering Sea, under the craziest conditions possible by nature. Are you fucking kidding me? This Deadliest Catch show clearly exhibits the indomitable norseman in the hearts of all Alaskans. And its even got Bon Jovi’s “Dead or Alive” as its theme song; how clever is that!

I appreciate the shows display of honest heroism. The call of the wild beckons, but these days, who answers? These crazy bearded decedents of Thor, that’s who. While the other 49 states wait in line for Taco Bell, these warriors endure nearly freezing to death for 13 hours a day. While getting pelted with ice cold seawater. And nearly falling overboard every five minutes with the rough waves pushing their ship towards capsizing. These guys should have iron helmets and shields with dragons on them.

How many people do you know in your life that could possibly be an Alaskan King Crab fisherman? I myself only know a select handful of people who could rise to the epic call of the Flokennhorne (which may or may not be an actual instrument used to signify bravery). I don’t even believe that I, the most grandiose, most promixa centauri of all living humanity could answer the awe-inspiring Flokennhorne summons (as I believe DWC [Drinking While Crabfishing] is a misdemeanor in waters governed by Alaska). Think about that next time you’re snuggling up with your douchenozzle boyfriend Johnny after a rollicking six minutes of boisterously unpleasant sexual intercourse, sister. Would Johnny be scraping ice off his ballsack in the middle of the perfect storm, laughing in death’s face like a swashbuckling maverick with nothing to lose?! The answer is no, Claire. That’s also the answer to “is he special?”, “should a give my heart to this man?”, and “if we decided to get married, do you think he’d stop selling ecstasy?”

As Thinker St. James, a man who thinks more highly of himself than he does of most major world leaders, I tip my feathered bowler cap to the men, men and younger men of the USS Kickass: The Alaskan King Crab fishermen.

Alaska. I wonder what it’s like in Alaska. All I know of Alaska is The Iditarod (tracked that bitch in 5th grade; big ups to Ms. Johnson’s class). Oh, and hockey. And those crazy remote research facilities that serve some sort of geological purpose. It’d be nice to be in one of those little bases, but have it be a totally sweet pad with a fireplace and a polar bearskin rug. You’d have to have a hot research assistant though; the Alaskan tundra is a hard place to pick up chicks, I’ve heard.

Alaska also has periods of time where it is complete darkness for months at a time (something I learned from Steve Niles). I wonder if there are seasonal nightclubs that are open 24-hours during those times. People could be dancing to disco music at four o’clock in the afternoon! Isn’t that a world we’ve all dreamed about?

Mystery, Alaska: that’s like a movie, right?

And I’ve also heard that there is a lot of marijuana in Alaska, yet they still voted against the framework of legalization. Being a stoner in Alaska must be terrible: leaving a lighter in your car results in a 10-layer suit of freeze-resistant clothing. And no pot dealer is taking out the snowmobile at two in morning to go deliver an eighth of kush to you across a twelve-mile frozen lake. Though they are neighbors with those crazy Canadians and their scientifically modified hyperweed, so who knows! That’s Alaska for ya, baby.

I’d like to end this post by saying Alaska. Fuck Yeah. Today!


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