Last night I watched “Whale Wars” for the first time. It’s a depressing show, because the anti-whaling people really just mildly annoy the Japanese as they go about their business. If I were a whale, I’d probably prefer that these guys go try to get the law changed so it’s illegal to sell whale meat, rather than futilely harass the factory ship as it winches dead whales aboard. And if you’re going to interfere with the whalers, get some better tactics. Like, get your own harpoon gun, and shoot the dead whales with poison harpoons so their meat isn’t quite so deliciously researchable. Or get a giant magnet and use it to attach your ship to the other ship, then drag them to Somalia and let pirates do the rest. Or we arm the whales. If whales are smart enough to have their own language, then they’re smart enough to fire the Raytheon Mark 54 MAKO torpedoes that we mount to their backs.
But the whaling wasn’t the most disturbing part of the program. That happened during a commercial break, when Sears ran a spot for something called the “Christmas Club Card.” I’m not even sure what the Christmas Club Card is, because I was too blinded by rage to pay attention. It’s summer, Sears. And the joke’s on you, because only procrastinators wait until Labor Day to start Christmas shopping. I finished my Christmas shopping so long ago, I’m already buying green beads for St. Patty’s Day—2011. I just hope everyone likes what I got them. Because it’s gonna be hard to return these Beanie Babies to Ames.