It's Only Week 1 Of Lenten Fish Frys And I Am Already At War With PETA

NICHOLAS KAMM. Getty Images.

Every man has a destiny. Some of us are put on this planet to build great structures. Others are put here to innovate and move society forward through technology. Perhaps your purpose is to raise wonderful children who will lead and influence their peers. My purpose became painstakingly clear this weekend. I am here to battle PETA and protect the honor and dignity of one of America's most sacred institutions: The Fish Fry.

Last week I wrote a blog proclaiming I was going to eat 50 fish frys all over the country this Lent. Am I a hero? Maybe. Am I going to keel over and die for coronary heart disease. Most likely.

I threw it out on Twitter asking for recommendations of good fish frys that I absolutely had to hit. My DMs and inbox are full of suggestions from Boston to Anchorage (seriously). There is no way in hell I can hit them all but I am going to give it the old college try. Because that's all a good old American boy like me can do, his best.

Then, out of nowhere, PETA decided to chime in and try to convert me to plant based fish this Lenten season.

Over my mercury-riddled dead body, PETA! The good lord didn't die on the cross so we could eat some cauliflower bullshit "fish" sticks. He sacrificed himself so that we could sit in the basement of a church and eat deliciously deep fried fish fillets that have been cooked in questionable-at-best kitchen conditions. This is about raising money for the lord not raising awareness for some hippie cause (I think, I never really researched what it's all about).

While their response wasn't overly aggressive, I still took it as a personal affront to my mission. There are fish to be eaten and I will not be deterred by some group of hairy-legged commies. So I launched a response I felt illustrated the seriousness with which I am taking this task. I did not want to mince words.

Fucked indeed. At this point I felt I had sufficiently put my foot down on the matter. Surely the fine folks at PETA would realize that I was steadfast in my beliefs and would not be swayed by some janky PR statement on Twitter. This was a serious matter in my eyes.

But in true PETA fashion, they couldn't let sleeping dogs lie. Probably because they are too busy parading them around trying to get sympathy donations. The dogs are tired, PETA. Please let them sleep. 

First of all, PETA I don't speak TikTok. And just because I want to eat a metric ton of fish doesn't mean I am not kind to animals. I love animals. I just love eating them too. That's the perks of being at the top of the food chain. I don't judge anyone who is vegetarian or vegan. That's your choice. Just like pushing my internal organs to the brink of collapse by devouring bushels of sea chicken is my choice.

Speaking of choices, I quickly realized I had none left. The only way they would understand that none of this was up for discussion would be to show them the carnage. They needed to see it first hand.

I'm sorry you had to see that, PETA. But you left me no other option. Now leave me be and let me review my fish frys in peace.