Mahi Mahi – Can’t Trust That Fish

Mahi Mahi – Can’t Trust That Fish

"Hardiman is such a fish out of water, but so am I."

“Hardiman is such a fish out of water. Then again so am I.”

I couldn’t help myself. After ordering the mahi-mahi at Chi-Chi’s in Walla Walla WA, I couldn’t leave well enough alone and just enjoy my lunch lunch. No. In the background, my mind kept trying to rewrite The Mamas And The Papas hit “Monday, Monday” using the words mahi-mahi. The idea arrived uninvited and pursued me while I speared the mahi-mahi with my tines till the prongs were full, then I thrust them into my mouth and, closing my teeth,  pulled out the fork thereby placing its freight in my capacious jaws. Oh sure I’d eaten less descriptively before, but as I’d recently survived a plane crash and felt alive on the planet, I lived life like someone left the forking gate open. 

My mind kept moving ahead with the song in much the same way a shark needs to move forward to breathe. It had taken on a life of its own. So with infantile insistence I kept trying to flesh out a farcical fish song in full, but was having trouble with the scales. It wasn’t me doing it. It was like wind blowing or grass growing or some other tropism. It just wouldn’t stop: 

Mahi-Mahi da da dadadada

So good to eat da da dadadada 


That was OK for a while but the song demanded to be completed and led to:


Mahi-Mahi looks like fish, but tastes like meat  

Oh Mahi-Mahi Mahi-Mahi can you guarantee

That Mahi morning, you were caught, sustainably


That would’ve been just fine and I would’ve been happy to simply eat my fish and obsess over the outtakes from my new “Friends” DVD (That Joey. He was really the smart one). But looking for closure with this doggerel (or maybe I should say  fisherel), wasn’t to be. The budding song demanded to be bloomed.


Mahi-Mahi da da dadadada

Can’t trust that fish da da dadadada

Mahi-Mahi, you were such, a luscious dish


Oh Mahi-Mahi, you gave me no warning, of portion controllll

That Mahi Evening wished I’d got the Tuna Roll


OK. Done. We’ve all had our Weird Al moment. The end right? No. The middle eight course was served next:


Every other fish, Every other fish, Every other fish, Every other fish of the day is fiiiine yeah

But when every Mahi comes, But when every Mahi comes, But when every Mahi comes its caught on a liiiine


Mahi-Mahi          da da dadadada

So good to eat     da da dadadada


Finally closure. Relief. Song is over hook, line and stinker. Problem is, today I ate some scrambled eggs. And now I’ve got “Yesterday” in my head. 

Scrambled Eggs. Each morning I make myself Scrambled Eggs.

Now it looks as though I’m here to say, Oh, I believe in Scrambled Eggs.


Right to the middle eight


My hens laid no eggs, though I asked, and often begged

I sang something wrong, now I long, for scrambled eeeeegs


Truth be told, I don’t have more important things to do (unless I was drowning or something). This is what I do; or at least what I find myself doing.


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