Author: admin

Crap guys, sorry I’m like two weeks late on this show. I know you’re dying, DYING for me to recap this show. Anyway, let me get to the highlights so you save 44 minutes of your day. Or you can watch it along with me at home, and turn it into a drinking game like I do. Funsies! Anyway this episode starts off with the promise of STORM DRAMA ahead! And in the opening few minutes, every boat says they need a fish. My left eye twitches involuntarily, but I continue watching.

The first boat to catch a fish is the Pinwheel, who again, say that they “need this one.” This cannot be anything but an elaborate troll, an attempt to make my brain explode. It almost works.

what?

So anyway I had to google “googan” and its definition came up on Urban Dictionary and I was like “well here we go” but it turns out it doesn’t involve some kind of unmentionable term, it’s just a fishing insult, like “n00b of the sea.” I’m somehow both impressed and disappointed. They catch their fish. Go stonerboat!

They switch over to the Hot Tuna and it suddenly looks like the end of days up there.

And in one of the smarter things I’ve seen on this TV show to date, TJ and the Hot Tuna book it the fuck out of there, because they realize their lives are not worth a fish. This is a smart and adult thing to do, especially when smaller people look up to you do make rational decisions. I’m not even being snarky here. I want to see more of this.

I don’t see more of this, because Tyler from the Pinwheel decides that weather will never bring him down, for he is The Most Competitive! He talks about how they have to stay out no matter what even though it’s gross out, so they can get a leg up on everyone else. I feel like this has ended badly before at some point in our history and perhaps we should all be cautious and learn from others’ mistakes, but then again, I have no idea how fishing works anyway.

The Tuna.com gets a fish, and continues fishing. Over on the Kelly Ann, Paul Hebert says, “Hail Mary, full of tuna” and this may or may not be successful. Oh, it is successful. Well, there we go.

amazing choice of safety footwear

They originally have two fish at the same time, but end up only keeping one. I have to give credit that Paul Hebert is actually a pretty good reality show character, what with the laughter. They decide to stay in because of the storm. Again, smart.

Over on the Hard Merchandise, they are attempting to catch a fish that is “a bitch” which, I mean, it’s trying to remain alive so I kind of give it a little slack there. It fails to remain alive, and Dave calls it “a cow, no matter which way you slice it.” This is the best line I may have heard ever.

Are you drunk that is a tuna not your bed.

The episode ends with a bunch of fish, and some splashing, and I forgot to even turn this into a drinking game.

“We need this fish” count: 7

Fish Caught: 6

Men Splashed: 4

It’s time for another edition of Fuck It Friday, where I don’t have time to write an actual article because I have to do work and parent my kids and junk.

Despite the vast majority of encrypted search terms that lead people to our little corner of yon Internet, we still get some unencrypted doozies. While I had to filter out the most vile (a lot of Rule 34 was going on), there is still some truly wonderous search phrases that led someone, someone on the internet to click on our page. Like, you know, the following, which are all 100% unedited and are real search terms:

aliens in gloucester ma

pants you can take to mars

yoga training hoth fuck

why do the clams smell like horse poop

cody fucking shackleton asshole [is this a person? an insult? both? ]

foot worship in gloucester

clam are schools in alabama

it’s okay to talk to a strange man or woman

my resolousion since the 7 of you asket

how to get drone out of a tree [we get so many of these]

the people of version dog shit

we hate this now

states that blowjobs are illegal

where does the dog poop on hot tuna

is football fans are stupid

what’s the use of the magnetic device built into the crotch of men’s boxer briefs and pants

pantsshitter mcgee

case of fireball nips

how to make a clam mascot

mayoral beachwear 2014

After our recent bank robbery hijinks (#freederek), we here at the Clam started to realize something. We’ve all gone fucking straight crazynuts in this town. This seems to have been concentrated in not only bizarre crimes – like that dude who decided he didn’t like rap music, so he shot a bouncer in the leg (apparently missing the inherent irony) – but also our questionable piloting of vehicles. First, some dude crashes into the front of Poseidon’s. Then on Saturday someone drove their damn car right off the fish pier (quite possibly in search of Poseidon).

(Thanks to GMG for capturing a very WTF moment)

How did any of these completely illogical things even happen? How was the van driver going so fast that he could have extended his arm into the pizza oven and come back with a delicious pizza without leaving his seat? How did two girls NOT SEE THE END OF THE FUCKING FISH PIER? Headlights exist, right? While my esteemed colleague, one Mr. James Dowd, hypothesizes that it’s acute cases of “the brain worms”, I think I know what’s causing this, as a certified internet sociologist (certification pending).

Pibloktoq. Arctic hysteria.

I naturally assume this is how Joey C gets his lobsters in winter.

Although mostly mythical and probably caused by a toxic amount of Vitamin A in the succulent organ meat consumed by indiginous populations within the Arctic circle, I submit anyway that Arctic Fever is really what’s causing the temporary bouts of insanity we’re seeing around Gloucester. It’s truly the only reasonable explanation for this:

This was a logical event. Pic via GMG/Paul Spinola.

Sure, it could be argued that the prime time for all the goddamn crazy to be happening was early February. But I don’t think any of us had time to go crazy – we were all in massive survival mode. During the last few months, you had roughly twenty fucking minutes between colossal, multi-day snowstorms to get to Market Basket and hope they still had some damn rotisserie chicken so your children stop getting that murderous look in their eyes for suggesting they have another can of baked beans from the pantry. It was like a Laura Ingalls Wilder book, but with more nip bottles and abandoned cars and less of that hottie Almanzo.

Finally, weeks later, we’re now cautiously emerging from the shellshock of 10 feet of snow piled everywhere, and the constant beeping of DPW trucks has stopped haunting us in our sleep. There’s still an entire regular-sized picnic table buried in snow in my yard. Not even the top is poking out. But the onslaught of snow has passed, and our future goal of “not being in a freezing, precipitous hellscape stuck inside with feral children” is looking reachable. Our brains are kind of broken – everything happened fast, and nothing seemed unbelievable anymore. Not the National Guard showing up, not the dissapearance of 8′ fences, not the complete failure of our public transportation system, our newly appointed mayor telling us to stay inside, or white people jumping out of 2nd story windows for the fucking hell of it (#1 sign of Pibloqtoq, according to Marty Walsh). “What if this never ends,” I asked, mostly to the blank wall in front of me. “What if my children just hit me with nerf darts and argue over Mario Kart characters for the rest of my life, and this snow never melts? What if this is our life now, forever?” It seemed plausible. Eminently plausible.

Probably only a 2-hour delay.

So naturally, now is when we’re seeing the worst of the Pibloktoq. The long-term effects of winter on our citizenry are slowly appearing, mostly in the form of ill-thought-out felonies. We can drive our cars again and be relatively sure we can find a parking space sorta near where we’re going. Shifting out of immediate survival mode, that’s when the shit really hits the fan.

But if my supposition is true, what can we do about it? Not much. Like a seizure or a jello shot from the House of Mitch, we just have to endure it and move on.

And how next will it manifest itself? A massive, shoe-throwing ladyfight outside the Crow’s Nest? Outside the Shalin Liu? Will some obese neckbeard attempt to rob the post office wearing juggalo makeup and get winded trying to run up Dale Avenue with a sack of Easter-themed stamps? Will someone drive their van down the Dogbar breakwater because they swore that was the correct way to get to Midori?

Who the fuck knows. I cut out organ meats from my diet, so I’m immune. Good luck to the rest of you.