Kinda funny the compromise I've arrived at with my senses in order to be able to eat steamed shrimp (which I did, in substantial quantities, in Ocean View, accompanied by cold beer, so this is not just my usual non-sequiturial ramble.) I somehow ignore the reality of pulling little legs off the carcass, and pretend I don't know what that slender black line is. If a real live shrimp ever latched onto one of my extremities in the water, I would probably make like a human jet ski and plow a furrow several hundred feet up the beach, finally collapsing in a heap as several alarmed onlookers put in calls to a beached mammal rescue unit. But I'll pop them in my mouth one after another as if they were so many headless cashews. If I snapped out of my hypnotic state, wouldn't they look just as monstrous as, say, a Geoduck? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have used the Geoduck as an example. They're in a monster class all by themselves. Here's a thought: do fundamentalist Christians really believe that Noah brought two Geoducks onto the ark? Are you kidding?