Only Duece Bigelow understands him

There a lots of billboards in Florida--way more than in Oregon--and being entertained by them was my chief hobby while on bus rides across the state. My favorite billboard, in addition to the dozens of "We Bare ALL" signs and the tons of giant advertisements for personal injury lawyers, was a sixty-foot sign that enthusiastically exclaimed, "Aquarium Superstore: The Largest Selection of Fish in the State! THIS EXIT!"

This got me wondering--is there really a market for an aquarium store, much less a SUPER store? I've never met anyone who got serious about their pet fish for more than the time it took to bring Nemo home from the county fair and watch his unstable ass die and float to the top of the makeshift plastic bowl fourteen hours later.

Who are these fish people? I could be way off base here, but I'm envisioning some guy who got pink-eye from a bad sexual experience as a teenager and was so burnt out by the ordeal that he just walked around bending spoons of forks at restaurants for weeks at a time before deciding that it would probably be best to work from home. And by decide I mean court-ordered. Now he just leaves his damp, dimly lit apartment once a week to buy another copy of St. Elmo's Fire at Blockbuster and get more gourmet fish food for his pet fighting fish Thich Nhat Hanh Esquire at the Aquarium Superstore. Thank God for that informative billboard lighting his way.