Part of the reason I get so frustrated with the stupid idea of abstaining from meat on Fridays during Lent is because when the practice first came to be, people considered fish bloodless, and thus fair game.
I know a lot of these traditions came about in the Dark Ages before, you know, science and stuff, but how fucking dumb do you have to be to think fish have no blood? Have you ever tried filleting one? At the very least, if they don’t have blood, they’ve got all sorts of other slime and guts and shit that would signify they’re living creatures.
Imagine Elaine Benes as a medieval bishop: “Fish don’t feel any pain.” How do you know? Do you communicate with fish?
Here’s another hint that allowing people to eat fish as part of the “sacrifice” is a crock: fishes is delicious! Here in Wisconsin, it’s so good we deep fry that shit and eat it every Friday, not just in Lent. What do you want, fresh-caught walleye? Perch? It’s all good!
At Maxie’s Southern Comfort, it’s served every day and called “Damn-Good Fish Fry” on the menu. They might as well go ahead and call it the “Goddamn-Good Fish Fry,” and throw in some blasphemy, because you are not getting any holier when you’re eating something this good. Put some malt vinegar and salt on those rough-cut french fries, shovel that creamy coleslaw in yo’ face! It’s made with champagne vinegar! The fish — it has a beer batter! It’s mixed with Sierra Nevada Pale Ale! That’s right, your penance food is made with fucking booze!
Or how about the Carolina grouper? Tell me what is austere about this:
Carvinal, which is like Mardi Gras in Spanish, is from the Latin word “carnevale” — “farewell to meat.” But why is the delusion of some ancient clerics a good reason to stop eating meat? Why not stop because it’s not that great for you, and pretty terrible for the environment? What’s the point of even trying to fast if you’re going to go back to guzzling roast lamb, deviled eggs and Cadbury Creme Eggs like a velociraptor once easter rolls around?
The week before Lent, I started to think I should eat less meat. Then I went to see friends in Philly during Restaurant Week, which included a many-bottle, “all-you-can-meat” feast at a churrascaria and about a full 7.125 % of all chicken wings consumed on Super Bowl Sunday.
When I got back, I went to Mardi Gras at Maxie’s and ate crawfish and frog legs (these probably technically fall under the “sacrifice” seafood category, but I chose them because, once again, they’re tasty). That night I made a pledge — a Mardi Gras pledge, not a Lenten pledge — to stop drinking hard alcohol for 40 days. I did OK with that, making exceptions for only occasional shots, 2 vodka sodas and a single glass of bourbon in nearly 6 weeks. (Do Bloody Marys count?)
Q: What does this have to do with baseball?
A: Come to Maxie’s after Opening Day. It will make you a better person. I’ll be there as well.
Q: Why do they rock so hard?
A: Because we care.