Friday, July 8, 2016

Ode to a Sea Lion

You snorting huffing parasites
Blondish shoreline termites
We’d gladly send your tribe a famine
To end your racket stealing salmon

The angler hooks a fine chinook
And look--here comes the blubbery crook
And watches while he tires the fish
And waits to snatch his free-lunch dish

If I could club you with a gaff
Or summon an orca to bite you in half
I wouldn’t be spewing this derision
Though I might end up in prison

’Cuz you’ve got strict laws to protect you
Still--we anglers don’t respect you
Your numbers are getting out of hand
You fornicate on shit-stained sand

And it’s we anglers who pay the bill
To give you bitches your protein fill
Why not go for clams or dead bear
Or rob eagles' nests or go on welfare?

My friend Layne lost his biggest salmon
To seven (!) of your number working in tandem
So if a Sea Lion Kill's not something you’d wish
Why not hunt for your own damn fish?

Eric Mader

Check out my book Idiocy, Ltd. at and begin the long, hard reckoning.

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