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Fear the blobfish
The blobfish (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration handout photo / February 15, 2010)
With its humanlike face, the blobfish is a creature of nightmares, and who knows what terrors it could bring upon us
By John Kass February 17, 2010
Federal fish fighters this week are preparing further assaults on the feared Asian carp, with nets, electrified fences, poison — whatever they can do to stop the terrifying beast from entering the Great Lakes.
Yet as scary as the jumping Asian carp may be, there's something even scarier.
The blobfish.
As you can see from the accompanying photograph, the cunning blobfish (Psychrolutes marcidus) is the most terrifying fish in the world.
And if you're not afraid of it yet, you should be, because there's always something lurking out there that can get you.
Its hideously deformed body is quite boneless, a gelatinous orb hovering in the deep, covered in slime and mucus. But there's something even worse.
Its face.
Most fish don't really have faces. You've heard people refer to "fish eyes" or "fish lips," or they say, "Oh, shut up, you old fish face."
But the blobfish actually has a face. Not a fish face, but a human face, complete with lips and a big, bulbous nose.
A blobfish looks like some fat, drunken judge and may be highly intelligent. And therefore quite dangerous.
It frowns. It leers. Sometimes, it even drools.
"That's gross!" said an editor around here who didn't believe me. But once she saw the photos, she began gnawing the knuckles on her right hand in sheer, abject terror.
American journalism has a formula for stories designed to whip up panic about highly adaptive species. For "balance," you insert a quote or two from some learned biologist who tells readers not to worry.
Some marine biologist might reassure readers that the blobfish lives far away, in the deep waters off the coast of Tasmania — some 9,600 miles away — and therefore could never find its way into the Chicago River or the ship canal.
Yeah, right.
I prefer another learned scientist, the one played by Jeff Goldblum in "Jurassic Park."
The smarmy, leather-clad mathematician scoffed at the hubris of mankind, which believes it possible to contain dangerous creatures, even a ravenous mass of floating goo that just might bite your face off.
"Life, uh, finds a way," Goldblum said.
So I'll believe Goldblum before I ever believe some namby-pamby marine biologist getting paid by the government to avert a blobfish panic.
Therefore, it's not impossible (perhaps even likely) that schools of bloodthirsty blobfish may be blobbing their way up the Mississippi River, their big noses leaving wakes behind them, and roiling trails of foam. And then they'll be oozing from your kitchen tap.
Because as scary as the Asian carp may be, the carp are gigantic bony creatures with large scales. They could never squeeze through your tap.
But the blobfish is boneless. It's a blob.
So, theoretically, it might squeeze through all the protective filters and screens, and then, with a grunt, pop right out of your stylish Swedish designer faucet, its ugly face first.
Or perhaps out of your toilet bowl when you're at your most vulnerable, sleepy in the middle of the night.
Or what about your pulsating-massage shower head? Just imagine the beast squeezing from the shower head, hurtling at your face, or worse, into your open mouth, your muffled screams unheard by your loved ones.
So don't give me the pious ramblings of scientific bureaucrats telling us not to panic over the dreaded beast. It's only a matter of time. Some joker will get a blobfish for a pet. Inevitably, it will ooze out of the aquarium, then onto the carpet, then down the block, to plop into a pond.
The blobfish might even evolve into amphibians, and then it will be too late.
Sadly, information regarding the terror of the blobfish is scarce, perhaps by design, as we're all supposed to be consumed with the Asian carp thing.
Yet according to some random Web site, itsnature.org, the blobfish is not fiction, but all too real:
"As the blobfish is comprised of a gelatinous substance, they actually have no muscles at all, and they just float in the same spot most of the time, waiting for their next meal."
Picture them, if you will, floating hungrily, their tiny fins keeping them stable until they strike. With all their boneless goo and slime and passive/aggressive floating, blobfish feeding behavior is remarkably similar to that of a subspecies of far more advanced creatures:
American politicians.
It's said the blobfish eats mostly mollusks, but it's only a matter of time until it develops a hunger for human snacks, first Cheez-Its and Slim Jims, then maybe veal chops, before lunging up the food chain.
Unfortunately, the Asian carp gets all the headlines. One so-called celebrity chef babbled like a madman on ABC News the other day, desperately promoting his Asian carp cakes and his lame carp dips.
Yet with an imminent blobfish invasion, we'll have to come up with new recipes. Try broiled blobfish on a buttered baking sheet, sprinkled with Japanese-style breadcrumbs, the crunchiness contrasting pleasantly with all that goo underneath.
Or how about sauteed blobfish, with lemon and capers?
For those of you worried about fish swimming in your direction, you'd better hope it's not a school of carnivorous blobfish, crawling up on the edge of your toilet bowl at 2 a.m. when you're not alert enough to notice their shallow, amphibious breathing in time.
Then you'll look on the bony Asian carp with fondness and affection.
So be afraid.
Be very much afraid.
jskass@tribune.com
