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BUTTER AND VIETNAM
i would suggest to hell with the cocoa butter, let's do it with Anchor - but that smacks too much of coat my eyes with butter, fill my ears with silver, stick my legs in plaster, tell me lies about vietnam.
the edge of the ice is patrolled by leopard seals whose favourite dish is chilled penguin. in order to feed their young - rather than be fed upon - the penguins have evolved a method of evading the seals. as they approach the edge of the ice, they dive deep. then, webbed feet creating jet-streak in the icy turquoise water, they power up and out, launching themselves into the air from the sea and sliding, belly first, on to the sanctuary of the ice.
a clear blue line if ever there was one. and, of course, an arctic marine equivalent of star streamer rockets. Indeed yes, (and yes, and yes) i believe there should be penguins. and fish.
next time you are in a supermarket, hunt down a tin of pilchards in oil, preferably olive oil. choose those with the prettiest wrapper (often the tin is inside a cardboard case). when you get home, open the box and, using the key in the top of the tin, peel back the lid, leaving it curled like a fat spring along the one retaining edge.
regard the little silver bodies all lying in tight-packed rows in golden oil.
i do not particularly like the taste of canned pilchards. i eat them for their art, for the god in all things. Pantheism, or perhaps, frying pan theism, if you will.
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