A whale of a tale.
Somewhere out in the Pacific Ocean swims what is said to be the loneliest whale in the world. He (or she, but here I’m going to assume he) is known as the 52-hertz whale. That designation comes from the sound of his whale song, which has a much higher pitch than any known species fitting his migratory pattern.
His calls were first heard by Woods Hole in 1989 and again in 1990 and 1991. His cries have been detected every season since 2004. His movements (he’s been tracked, but never seen) don’t match blue or fin whales any more than his cries do. One theory is that he was born deaf and never learned to sing like others of his species.
All of which gives me a real affinity for the poor guy!
I was brought up pretty well, I think, in terms of having (and keeping) principles and honor and honesty. But my parents failed terribly in one regard: I have horrible eating habits. The stuff I love is, generally speaking, the wrong sort of stuff to be eating, and those wholesome and wonderful foods leave me cold. Some of them, cooked squash or most egg preparations for example, actually induce a gag reflex.
Given a choice between eating a fried (or boiled) egg or being water-boarded, I would have to give the matter some serious thought.
It’s like the old Jack Benny joke about the time he was mugged. “Your money or your life!” cries the mugger. [long pause] “Well?” demands the mugger. “I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” replies Benny.