I love sharks. I do. I don’t really know why it started or how I became such a “shark-o-file” but I am one. Even if I did coin that phrase myself. My offices (both at work and at home) are filled with shark stuff. I have a shark tattoo on my knee that I named Sharks Manning. I own shark teeth and a full set of (small) jaws. I have a collection of shark socks. I, literally, can be head to toe in sharks at any given moment. Also, whenever there is a shark related anything in the news or the zeitgeist every single one of my friends forwards it, tags me, posts it to my various walls or tells me about it.
A shark bit a boat last weekend. I heard about it as many times as you heard about the snow last week.
It was in Australia. This dude and his family were out fishing on the ocean, a shark swam up to them…it was Australia so of course it was a great white…when they returned to the docks they found a shark bite in their boat. Nothing happened. No one was hurt. The fish swam away.
What people don’t realize is that sharks don’t have hands. They have mouths. There are countless shark “attacks” that are actually the animal just being quizzical but, because the only way they have to express that curiosity is with a mouth full of razor sharp teeth, they end up eating part of something and everyone freaks out. And rightfully so. A cow nudges you with its nostril…you might be grossed out. A bull shark bites into your leg…you might die! So, I get it.
I have nothing witty or interesting to tell you now. I only wanted to write about sharks. So…JOB WELL DONE!