On the Square

I started writing my commentaries about a year ago and so far the one I wrote about my dislike for seafood has received the greatest response. Yes, I hate sea food in all of its forms and yes, I am from Greenwood Arkansas. I was raised in a seafood loving home around fish fries, crawfish boils and the like. I have no problem defending my position, I have been doing it since I was six years old. I understand that I am in the minority and I am fine with that.

Answer me this, If fish is great why don’t we have a single seafood restaurant in town? Do you know why we have 20 pizza places? Because it is delicious, that’s why. You know what else? Pizza doesn't smell like hot garbage. Never have I smelled a dumpster fire and though “I wonder when dinner is going to be ready?” I have been made to sample every species of underwater creature deep fried, baked and grilled, so it is not a lack of knowledge that keeps me from eating it. In fact as a child my parents went on a bit of Red Lobster kick when they went there to eat once a week for about a year and I was forced to try everything they had. I always had a hamburger, cottage cheese and hush puppies. I do like hush puppies it’s my favourite seafood dish.

Also I have a problem with exoskeletons, I’ll explain. I’m no biologist, but as far as I know there are two things with exoskeletons and that’s insects and seafood. I would not begrudge anyone in the world from eating giant sea bugs if that is their hearts desire but don’t make me taste it and tell me it will be different this time, it won’t. As long as I am at it I don’t like tea either. That’s right I am a good southern boy who hates fish and tea. That goes for sweet tea, unsweet tea, hot tea, sun tea, you name it. Tea smells and tastes like liquid leather to me. I guess the point is this, if it doesn't smell good I am not going to eat it. My parents would cook cabbage biscuit when I was a kid and it was the grossest smelling thing I’ve ever experienced. I would run out of the house when I smelled it to avoid being forced to taste it. Sometimes they would come home, from God knows where, with trashbags full of poke salad. I still don’t know what that is because I would not go anywhere near my parents when they were doing whatever unholy thing they were doing to the weeds they picked from the side of the road. Everyone around here loves this type of food I realize. I know that I am the strange one here but I keep waiting for someone to tell me it’s all a joke and that no one really eats this stuff.