Jacob, a dude I work with, threw a whammy into my day by pointing out the existence of blobfish, Psychrolutes marcidus for those who enjoy Latin.
Jacob is an odd duck; that he knows about blobfish, and worse passes on information about a denizen of the deep resembling gelatinous goo, doesn't surprise me. But then I'm writing about it, no?
(By the way, this is where I warn anyone who populates my life that yes, you may someday be food for my grist mill. If you don't want to be written about, don't hang out with writers. It's pretty simple.)
Back to the blobfish.
Mother Nature wasn't kind to the thing, looks somewhat sad, but blobfish live in very deep waters so mercifully most folks don't ever get a glimpse of them. Apparently they get by merely through hovering near the bottom and eating whatever happens to float by.
Recently more blobfish than ever have turned up in the nets of those who fish the waters around Australia, where all kinds of peculiarities slither. The problem is too much bottom trawling, a phenomenon that happens in deep water and most dives around last call.
Scientists say the blobfish -- which grows up to a foot long and is inedible -- now is a candidate for extinction, and with this overfishing mess, that may happen sooner rather than later.
I think blobfish is kind of cute in an oddball sort of way, certainly not menacing, unlike his cousins the Great Whites.
Who amongst us hasn't had a blob sort of day?
Save the blobfish.
Amen, and pass the mustard.