Crustacean loot

This year, I got some much-appreciated crustacean loot as gifts. I wish to encourage this practice in the strongest possible terms.

My grandmother applied some serious textile wizardry to make me this hat. It's reversible and the lobster claw is on both sides of the text:

I both love and fear this stunning lobsterman sculpture from the extremely talented Sharah (backdrop added):

And maybe it shouldn't come as a surprise that this was on the bulletin board of my old bedroom:


The means and the end

(The answer being, of course, yes, but that doesn't stop this guy's arguments from being pretty convincing inside my own head sometimes)


Consider books

The above image is taken from the cover of the brand-new, in-progress Volume III of A Treasury of Crustacean-American Literature:


Seems like an important detail

"Well gee, I guess I'll just zip on back to the human store. Because that went well the first time."


The season makes monsters of us all

This is not an attempt at symbolism or deep meaning. These are doodles from my notebook that began to follow a theme, and also I couldn't think of anything else to post today. Idea juice supplies running low. Please send help.


Subjective consensus

"Hey, the floating head of Salvador Dalí?"
"Are you mostly just messing with me all the time?"
"Would it make a difference if I told you?"


The lexicographer's lament

I have cleansed myself of most of the linguistic prescriptivism I so zealously defended in my youth. But I am seeing a certain word everywhere, and I can't find it in my heart to love or defend its right to exist. I know it's wrong, but still.