A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster
I hate to re-run a column from a few years ago, nevertheless I shall. Not only is it old, it is very, very, sad. It was an obituary I wrote for the passing of a great citizen, although not a Canadian he was certainly brighter than anyone in Mr. Ford’s Cabinet today.
A Sad Day In The Briny
I’m sorry to have to tell you this but I must. Bubba the lobster passed away.
It seems like only yesterday he celebrated his 100th birthday and now that grand old man of the sea has gone to that great fish tank in the sky. Granted Mr. Bubba is a lobster and a chubby one at that – he tipped the scale at 22 pounds and his cholesterol reading was off the chart, but shouldn’t his life be celebrated just like any other of God’s creatures who have reached such a milestone? I feel it is my duty as a caring person to send him off in style.
The world has lost another great citizen. Bubba Leroy Lobster passed away Wednesday afternoon, March 3, 2005, while en route to a Pittsburgh Zoo. Cause of death has yet to be determined although it was common knowledge on the pier that the feisty old crustacean was on medication for crabs. A tube of blue ointment was found in his shaving kit.
It was well known along the coast that Bubba was quite a man with the ladies. His carefree lifestyle finally caught up to him in 1924 when he was found in puris naturalibus on an oyster bed with a young hen lobster. After a hastily arranged harpoon wedding, the couple settled down to raise their own school, flock, herd, host, pride or gaggle — whatever one calls a family of lobsters.
It would be nice to be able to say their marriage was a happy one, but as is so often the case in human marriages, there were problems from the very beginning. Bubba had wandering claws and his bride, Stella, accused him of pinching the bottom of her Hen of Honour. Although he denied it, there were definitely scrapings on the young lady’s tail. Bubba and Stella went at it tooth and claw at the reception and may have done serious harm to each other had not the Father of the Bride been flattened by a 200-pound anchor carelessly thrown from a passing dory. It definitely put a damper on the proceedings although several of the guests said he was delicious.
Funeral arrangements for the late Mr. Bubba have been entrusted to the Chefs at the Powassan Branch of the Whalers’ Wharf restaurant chain.
Mr. Bubba will lie in state on a Wedgewood platter over the salad bar in the luxurious Crustacean Room until Saturday next at 4:00 PM. Thence he will be carried to the kitchen where he will be interred in a pot of boiling water. Once the meat thermometer stuffed up his bum reaches 145 F, Mr. Bubba will be dipped in drawn butter and distributed among his many friends and invited guests.
A token monetary gift of $25.95 plus HST and a yet to be decided Carbon Tax surcharge would be appreciated. Drinks are not included.
Honorary pall-bearers for this sad occasion will be Tommy the Tuna, Ariel the Mermaid, The Mariner of Marvel Comics fame, Free Willy, Baron Barracuda and Popeye the Sailor Man.
In lieu of flowers, the family has requested donations of tartar sauce or lemon slices to your neighbourhood fish and chip store.
It’s always sad when a centenarian passes on. And yet it is at the same time a wonderful opportunity to rejoice and look back over Bubba’s life and to reflect on the wonders and changes he must have experienced as he crawled along the ocean floor or whatever it was he did to pass the time for a hundred years. We know little of his early life other than his father, Lawrence, was a close friend of Moby Dick, the Great White Whale. In fact when Moby dragged Cap’n Ahab down through the murky depths to his watery grave, it was Lawrence who clawed the pint of Newfoundland Screech from his pocket and swiped his Visa card.
As you all know, his sister Lorraine became famous when she was featured on the New Year’s Eve menu of the Waldorf Astoria in 1926. According to historians, Lorraine was eaten by the late great Babe Ruth himself — although showbiz legend, Flo Ziegfield, was seated at the same table. Dorothy Parker who was nearby, remarked that both Flo and the Bambino had abysmal table manners (most of the diners had to be hosed down after). Dorothy said it was hard to see who ate what through the flying butter and lobster bisque.
Bubba spent his declining years sitting around in his bathrobe reminiscing about his youth and rambling on endlessly about seeing Queen Mary’s bottom. Unfortunately, just like the tales told by us human geezers, his stories were unbelievably boring and could clear a room in 5 seconds.