I woke up this morning with a rumbling in my stomach that only one thing could satisfy: Whale bacon! I shook my wife awake and yelled to her “Get down to the kitchen and fry me up some whale blubber and French toast!” She gave me one of those deep condescending sighs, reminding me that because of those seaweed huggers over at the IWC, we haven’t been able enjoy the delicacies of sperm, humpback, or minke on a regular basis for the past 25 years.
I remember the days of my youth when my father would come back from a hunt with one of them suckers torpedoed to death. We would have such a big feast. We would gather around the table and take turns seeing who could do the best whale yelp in between bites of blubber and flesh. My crazy 2nd cousin Takeru would always declare that his favorite part to eat was the blowhole. My father always debated whether to drink white wine since it is seafood, or red wine since it’s a red meat mammal. He usually compromised by slugging a few vodka tonics. Oh, and the leftovers! For the next 2 months, our school lunches were nothing but whale on rye.
Since 1986, Japan has only been catching a few whales each year in the name of research. Of course we sell the meat afterwards, but we’ve got a lot of people and it simply isn’t enough to go around. Luckily, I am the Prime Minister in this, the year of our largest whale hunt in decades!
Naturally, I get first dibs, but with so many whale carcasses to choose from, I was worried I wouldn’t know which to pick. Fortunately, Greenpeace has been kind enough to take the guesswork out of the equation. They chose the plumpest, juiciest, tastiest whale in town and held a competition to give him a name. The winner? Mr. Splashy Pants. I’ve already held preliminary meetings with our country’s armed forces to intercept any information on the whereabouts of Mr. Splashy Pants. If you come across a whale going by this moniker, contact us at once!
So remember, you can dine on any other whale you wish, but:
Save Mr. Splashy Pants for Yasuo Fukuda