Signifying a new low in obsequiousness, it’s the St. Michael’s Lobster Rolls lobster! Servile, to be sure, but also—and this is a rare combination—sinfully vain. So proud is he of his dime store halo, his beatific attitude. “Yoo hoo!" the fawning simperer seems to say. "Down here, Lord! Have I got a soul for you!”
His back legs bent in an arthropodic approximation of genuflection, the lobster eagerly awaits his martyrdom by boiling. And it’s precisely the patina of religiosity, of piety, that renders this depiction more revolting than the standard I-want-nothing-more-than-to-be-eaten illustration. The suggestion that this is all for some Greater Good and Glory—greater than stuffing the bellies of Marblehead, Mass.—is nauseating. By his baptism in the rolling boil will he—and we—be sanctified.
5 comments:
By the way, this lobster is already in heaven, or he's a zombie. They don't turn bright red until they are boiled (usually while still alive). Does this make the image all the more disturbing?
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