CONSIDER THE OYSTER

One comment was awaiting my attention this morning. Unfortunately, it was posted in the letterbox where my private correspondence goes. Remarks placed there are not made publicly, being just from the reader to the blogman himself, and writers' identities are not ever divulged.
But unlike many of the entries there it was not spam.

Consequently, while I will share the reaction with you, the name of the reader who said it can not be given.

Someone recently wrote:

"While studying for the Internal Medicine boards, I searched for an image of podagra and found your post; as a very visual learner, I wanted something to help me remember the new gout guidelines that were published in the February "Annals of the Rheumatic Diseases." I could not have asked for a more wonderfully hilarious synopsis and imagery! Thank you for brightening my morning study session. "

End quote.


In the post that mentions podagra I stated that the reputed causes for gout were venery, dissolution, and excessive consumption of seafood.
Among other things.

Being myself quite the filthy-minded old fox, I cannot think of anything better to bring on punishment than those three. Were it not for the dire consequences, I should indulge daily.

Instead I lead a life quite lacking.

No venery.

No dissolution.

No excess of seafood.


My sporadically feverish foot enforces temperance. I'm fairly certain that venery and gout have little or no connection -- which is something I should like to put to the test someday, on a modest and altogether tasteful and sensible scale, should opportunity smile upon me -- but dissolution, and an excess of seafood, are scary prospects.

I've seen the dissolute; their comportment does not recommend itself.
Oysters and other crustaceous things are lovely, but I've learned my lesson; I'll share these with someone, but not have more than a bite or two myself. A mere taste and the charming company of someone else stuffing her sweet young face would be quite enough.


Oddly, while I was preparing coffee this morning, the thought that crossed my mind was "dang, I need a girlfriend". Not "dang I need some lobster bisque", or "dang, I need to dance Gangnam-style with a lampshade over my head", but "dang, girlfriend".

Whereupon a certain neurotic thinking pattern asserted itself.

Defining the ideal in very specific terms. Height (forehead on a level with the alligator magnet on the refrigerator), particular physical dimensions and characteristics (hands are VERY important), and endowments of intellect, character, and personality of both high and equal measure.
Can she converse engagingly about food?
While stuffing herself with oysters.
It's an exciting concept.


One can get a plate of oysters nicely steamed with ginger and cilantro at a number of excellent restaurants within easy distance of the apartment, and there's also one place on a tree-lined street nearby that offers a selection of the beasties raw as an hors d'oeuvre. As well as mussels in broth.
And their mutual cousins, the clams.

Stroll home afterwards, holding bivalve-smeared hands.

Rational people dream of such things.

It's our venerous nature.

Oysters.




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