I Sure as Hell Can Tell the Difference Between a Surfer and a Sea Turtle
   As you well may know, there's been a lot of talk about shark attacks this summer because this adorable child had his arm eaten off a couple of months ago.  Now I'm not here to defend my shark friends as relatively harmless beings, nor as victims of the human ocean intrusion, despite the strength of my case.  I'm here because every shark attack, especially those involving surfers, is blamed on mistaken identity.  “Oh, they're not man-eaters, it's just that he thought the guy was a turtle or a fish.”  Fuck that.  I'm a man-eater. 
   What kind of seeing-eye dog-needing motherfucker do you take me for?  I can't tell the difference between a fish and some gritty surfer dude?  Dude.  I'm the ultimate killing machine.  I can smell blood in a concentration of one part per million.  I can hear swimming fish 600 yards away.  Shit, man, I can detect the electrical field emitted by breathing sea creatures.  Yet you're still going to sit there and tell me I'm mistaking a surfer for a turtle?  Please.  Sometimes we just feel like some human meat, but of course this is rare—you guys taste like shit.
   Anyway, isn't it enough that you people kill 100 million of us every goddamn year?  Do you have to go spreading rumors and making movies?  Sure, I look like a real ass, what with my cold, dark eyes, row after row of teeth, and the monotone skin.  But I'm cool.  No joke, man.  I just want someone to listen.  Why do you have to make it so hard?  We kill less people then honeybees.  Less than lightning.  Less than fucking pigs.  Can't you just work on laying the myth to rest?  For me?  Please?  Huh?  You know what?  Fuck you, man.  Stay out of the deep end.