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Fishing is that practice consisting of journeying to where the fish should be followed by wresting them from the water with various modalities like hook and line, gaffing rods, nets, or dynamite. The salmon family is unique in that the fry are born in fresh water streams, travel to the ocean to mature for a number of years, and then return to their natal tributary to spawn a new generation. That the commercial product willfully returns to the fish farmer fully formed is a very handy aspect of salmon farming not lost upon various entrepreneurs.
The baby salmon are imprinted by trace quantities of various organic materials in the water in which they hatch. They unerringly home in on that unique scent from far in the ocean to reproduce. A salmon farmer thus need only inculcate a unique chemical within his hatchery and its overflow water to set a beacon for his profits' return, and dodge the EPA when he does it. Any pure chemical substance added to Enviro-whiners' streams is, of course, hazardous chemical waste and pollution.
As salmon stocks declined due to various government-funded reasons, hordes of fish kissers and tree huggers descended upon the courts to bar the commercial salvation (and sustainable harvest thereafter) of the species because it was a violation of a sacred mystic primordial aspect of something or other. Perhaps baby harp seal clubbing atrocities were running slow that year or Flipper avoided getting caught in the tuna nets. Thus it was that Oregonian fish farmer Ludmilla Poswilly dropped her curry take-out into a fish pen and instantly realized that prepared food is exempted from EPA jurisdiction - or Kraft Macaroni and Cheese Dinners would incur a penalty of $10,000 per occurrence per day, not to mention every hospital cafeteria in the nation. She entered into partnership with Vinayagalingam's Curry Palace, and that Spring and the Springs thereafter a quarter million salmon fry headed toward the Pacific each with a serious case of curry-on-the-brain. Every evening curry wastes usually dumped in the garbage were dumped in Poswilly's stream to set up the beacon for her fortune's return some years hence, and boost the bottom line of Irving Vinayagalingam's fast food joint in the here and now.
How unfortunate it was that Singh's Strict Convent School on the west side of Vancouver Island, British Columbia was located hard by a marvelous, fast-flowing stream into which it quietly dumped its kitchen wastes heavy with curry. Imagine the surprise that was kindled one fine April day when 43 scarcely adolescent skinny dipping female virgins were deflowered and milted by ten thousand wildly thrashing 30 pound salmon burning insane with thoughts of loose gravel egg beds but having returned just a little bit north of their intended destination. Religiously devout parents went ballistic when each of their ruined and now unmarriageable daughters, near pummeled and fertilized to death, were hit with $10,000 fines for molesting an endangered species during propagation. The BC Minister of the Environment lost some dermal acreage when, as he existed in black tie from a Greenpeace award presentation for his displacing 800 Native American families from their homeland discovered to be shared with a rare filarial worm parasitic upon cockroaches, the regional East Indian population initiated a dialog of its own. Sikhs carry ritual daggers as part of their religious observance - ditto their use.
In the meantime Ludmilla was reaping a respectable harvest and assaying income tax dodges by the handful. Vinayagalingam's Curry Palace was franchised, and soon consumed by bankruptcy. Irving Vinayagalingam, now resident in Florida, had worked his own tax dodge woven like a fine Medieval tapestry. He retired at 43, his assets 93% retained and washed clean of IRS trespasses through the most liberal bankruptcy court in America.
California rivers were suddenly stocked with salmon responding to the clandestine dumping of frugal Indian restauranteers up and down the West Coast. Enviro-whiners were beside themselves with grief as waterways carefully sterilized for fund raising purposes abruptly teemed with life. An Official system of propagandistic swill and anecdotal scarcity carefully sculpted of political correctness, manufactured atrocity, trumped up public outrage, corruption, and outright lies toppled overnight. All California riverbeds were suddenly opened for oil exploration, but the petroleum companies did not buy it for a second. Earth First! was reduced to complaining about dandelions endangered by the mythic Antarctic ozone hole hovering above Tierra del Fuego.
A gang of horny and very confused salmon swam the Ganges River toward the Tibetan Plateau, wondering in their little piscine brains as they died one by one where in Hell the gravel beds were.
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