Because as my good friend Kathy Acker likes to say, ‘When they go low, we…(smiles)…we shove our fist up a defenseless Trout’s asshole.’
It’s been said by people wiser than me that there’s more than one way to fist a trout. I’m here to tell you that simply isn’t true. There’s one way, and one way only.
Assuming any trout are still left on the planet by the time you read this, that they haven’t all been boiled into oblivion, you need to know that fisting a trout isn’t as easy as it sounds. First off, they don’t reproduce sexually, that is to say, they don’t have vaginas. So if you want to get your hand—and we’re talking the whole hand—into an orifice that isn’t the mouth, you’re going to have to go in through the asshole.
Now trout don’t technically have assholes. They shit out of something called a peduncle. Which sounds like a grade-school threat—I’m gonna punch you so hard you’re going to shit out of your peduncle. But a peduncle is even smaller than an asshole, especially on the inside. There’s not a lot of room to move around in there. So if you’re going to fist that trout, you’re probably going to need to find a baby with particularly small hands, or maybe a kitten that’s been declawed.
By the way, you might want to put some rubber gloves on that baby. There’s a saying among recreational trout fisters—the fatter the trout, the thicker the shit. And after seeing this goldfish evacuate its bowel, try to imagine what the much larger trout might have up in there.
And if you encounter any poop, you might want to hold onto it. There’s an organic farm in Australia that’s powered by shit from rainbow trout. The process is called aquaponics. Once the farmer’s finished with the poop, the trout get eaten for dinner. He harvests several trout at a time, catching them in a net at night when their vision is poor.
He makes sure to stroke their bellies before they are lifted from the water. It has a calming effect on the trout. This is a good principle to follow for trout fisters as well, unless you’re a sadist or something.
“They taste better killing them in a stress-free manner like that,” he said.
So understand that trout are sensitive—-they aren’t like you and I. They are able to process actual emotions. They feel pain, they experience regret, and they die in a state of trembling panic.
You should know that the trout will probably squirm. It will thrash in your hands like a mentally retarded person being electrocuted for a crime he didn’t commit by a shitbag republican governor, most likely the governor of Texas, who doesn’t want to appear soft on crime because his entire campaign was just one long dog whistle about how poor people, and black people, and especially poor black people were destroying the country, so, uh sorry about your luck mental retard. Maybe the state of Texas, or Georgia, or Mississippi, should hire someone to gently rub the bellies of the about-to-be-executed, so their deaths can also be stress-free.
Note: “mentally retarded” is the term used by the courts to describe such persons, so don’t get pissed at me—it’s a legal term, like jurisprudence).
And speaking of legality, you should know that trout don’t have access to legal counsel. The trout is a fish, and fish, like poor people, don’t have a whole lot of rights in our society, to say nothing of decent representation in our government.
Trout Fisting In America. The important thing is to know that it’s actually possible. That the only thing holding you back up until now had been your imagination. And the only thing holding you back now is your fear. You might say something about morals, ethics, the difference between right or wrong, and maybe you’d have a point if we were talking about Trout Fisting In Sweden, but we aren’t. This is America. And in America there’s no such things as morality.
Just different stages of fear.
And I suppose I should probably say something here about the sheer psychic horror of being alive in a moment such as this.
Scott Creney 