canned tuna

Canned tuna. Can you imagine that? Every now and then I get an unmanageable craving for something utterly déclassé and familiar only to dark recesses and abandoned fragments and filaments of fading memory as if originating in another lifetime, and I don't even know where this comes from, day school cafeterias or what. It's pathetic really. The original idea that propelled me was to open a can of tuna and mix in some finely diced onion and eat it straight from the can like a self-consciousless alley cat. I'm just that awful sometimes. But then I noticed pickle relish in the refrigerator door, homemade mayonnaise that was heated so the egg was still passable, a perfectly ripened avocado on a lower shelf, and a couple English cucumbers along with fresh ginger. Wadayano. In the end, the only cause for scorn would be abject absence of fresh herbs. Well, that and tuna from a can. The stupid thing is, I've got all kinds of real seafood just waiting to go. Tuna even. Which goes grey when you cook it from lovely luscious voluptuous lustrous opaque red, so it's raw or it's nothing. Or this. Thank you commercial fisherman for this here canned tuna, sorry there, Dolphins who didn't have the good sense to keep a cautious distance, it's all about Darwin, you know. Whatzit, you're supposed to be smart, in'nit?

I tell ya, I can't get enough of this crap. I could start right over and make another batch.