What was I thinking? I guess I just got caught up in a New Orleans vibe, and I paid the price. Whenever I get caught up in one vibe or other, I pay the price. Sometimes when nothing happens at all, I pay the price. But that's neither here nor there. This "crayfish" thing might try to slip one past you by calling itself a fish, but this is not a fish. If I boiled a scorpion and put it on a plate and handed it to you, would you know the difference? Hell, no. You'd be peeling its little carapace off and sucking out its innards and pretending it was some kind of midget lobster in direct contradiction of your own eyes. Well, I learned my lesson. Stuff like crayfish are a little too close to their disgusting live selves to enjoy. I'm going back to food that's processed to hell and back, so you can eat it without thinking unpleasant thoughts. Although someone told me once that if I knew where pizza came from, I'd be revolted.