Carcharodon State of Mind

I have a dream: not one of those enlightening, nigh rapturous dreams a la martin Luther king, chock full and brimming with pearls of wisdom; promising futures filled with harmonious coexistence and opulence. No: I dream of sharks. In my childhood, I oft dreamt of being chased by these beasts; of being captured; of being eaten alive. Thankfully I’d always woken up before the fiends began to feast on my entrails.

I’ve had several of these dreams. And in them, I‘ve been chased by all sorts: huge, mechanichal sharks; robotic monstrosities with rows and rows of revolving teeth, kinda like something out of james and the giant peach. I’ve been chased by red sharks, green sharks, rainbow colored sharks, you name it. Heck, I’ve been hunted by a shark wearing a superman cape.

But why sharks? Why couldn’t I dream of monsters and aliens like any normal kid?
Why those aquatic atrocities? Sigmund Freud would probably diagnose me as having a subconscious infatuation with sharks; Shark envy, perhaps. And, coming to think about it, he might just be right.
What’s not to envy about your stereotypical great white shark (scientifically classified as Carcharodon carcharias)? The blue hued tyrant of the seas just skittles around wherever he likes, and takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants. His line of thinking probably goes something like this:
“I’m swimming… I’m swimming… I’m swimming… still swimming… ooh, I see a fish… and I Eat it! Omnomnomnom!”

Isn’t that the life?

Now lets talk physically: A great white is one of the faster things in the water, and it is one powerful SOB. Those jaws can tear you limb from limb before you can say “bob’s your uncle”. Perhaps more fascinating about the great white is that its one of the species that constantly have to keep moving. They’re in the group of sharks known as “obligate ram ventilators” and need to constantly swim forward in order to ‘ram’ oxygen-containing water through their mouths and over their gills. Simply put, if they stop moving, they die. Kinda crappy, you might think, but it means that those things don’t sleep. Ever. How much energy must they have to be able to do that? On the run from the day they’re born till the day they die. I can’t even imagine human society if we didn’t need to sleep. Things could get very good, or very bad.
And that brings me to my point. Human harks. No, not the strange man-shark genetic hybrids you see on the weird sci-fi shows. I’m talking about humans with that Shark ideology; That Carcharodon state of mind. They’ve gotta be on top. They’ve gotta be king. They’ve gotta take down every adversary. They’ve gotta keep moving or they die. Those be my kind of people.

In this Canis Canis* world, we’re all sharks: each person a different species. But to be on top, you’ve gotta be a great white. As a great white, you can’t slow down for nobody. You can’t afford to be meek; weak. If you so much as give life a chance, it’ll tear you to pieces. You’ve got to be the most ruthless Shark. You’ve got to be the predator. You’ve got to be the hunter. You need to stalk your prey. You need to corner them. You need to sink your rows of teeth into the soft, fleshy hindquarters of your prey and relish the taste of blood on your tongue. Clamp down those reinforced jaws and spin that tubular body; Shake what yo mama gave ya. baby! Rip off chunks of meat and gobble em up. You are Daniel day Lewis. You take their milkshake and drink it. “Gimme some of dat dere life meat. Omnomnomnom.”
You have got to bite. If you don’t bite then you get bitten. You’ve got to tear into the prey that is life. You are the great white. King of the sea. You are champion.

But let’s not get too cocky just yet. Don’t forget about that fin of yours; It’s valuable. It’s your rudder, your cochlea. It keeps you balanced, keeps you swimming; Keeps you alive. And by god isn’t it the tastiest part? Everyone wants a piece of it; they want to taste you: Shark fin soup ain’t a delicacy for no reason. You’ve got enemies, and they all have a penchant for some of dat dere fin soup. Oh yes! They’re out there; those who would rather see you falter, to have you stumble and fall; waiting to use your head as a stepping stone. They’re sharks too. Hungry, cannibal sharks who just cant wait to tuck into your juicy innards. Some may hide in the cracks and caves, others might look like your friends, acquaintances. But don’t be fooled; they only want you for your shark fin soup.
So be careful who you socialize with. Beware the leeches, the moochers, the haters and the loathers. Scorn the yellow bellied backstabbers, and shun them frumious bandersnatches. Those who plan and plot in groups; They only want you for your shark fin soup. They want to take from you all that you have, leaving you with nothing. You give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile and three quarters. So turn the tables on them if you can; eat them alive and Paint the sea red with their repugnant spew. As the good king Leonidas would say, give them nothing, and take from them everything.

But not all battles can be won; pick yours wisely; know when to run. There’s always bigger fish in the sea, but your time will come eventually. So Dart and dodge; swim loop de loops; they only want you for your shark fin soup.

It’s a sharky world out there, and only the greatest of the whites end up on top. You either keep moving or drown. You either fight tooth and nail for what’s yours, or go belly up and die. it’s the world we live in, and it is one cruel mother lover. So to he who dreams, dream of peace, of revolution, of tranquility. Dream of these things for me, for I am unable to. Because when I sleep, I dream of sharks.





* Canis Canis is the scientific name for dogs. My obscure way of saying it’s a dog eat dog (or shark eat shark) world.



N.B: hey, you wanted posts, you got posts (I ain’t exactly sure who “you” is, since no one reads this stuff, but whatever! Let the madness continue!)