Mmm, Mmm, Carp.

Last week, the Pittsburgh Tribune Review reported:

"Recreational fishers can safely eat carp from the Monongahela and Ohio rivers once a month, according to the state Department of Environmental Protection."

The good news is that our rivers are getting cleaner by the day. The bad news is that this announcement indicates that someone actually pulled a carp out of the Mon and said, “Hey, can I eat this?”

Um… What?!?

I don’t care if this thing tested negative for every toxin known to man, the answer should have been an emphatic, “NO.” First of all, it’s the Mon. Second of all, that’s a CARP. In case you’ve never seen a carp in the wild, head on down to the Mon and look for a pile of floating cigarette butts. That’s generally where carp congregate.

Over at the entrance to the Gateway Clipper Fleet, there’s a swarm of carp staring up at the bridge to the dock, the mouths on their grotesque faces flapping up and down mooching crumbs, just like giant aquatic pigeons. If you’re having trouble sticking to your New Year’s weight-loss resolution, just picture that sickening lump of living dreck on a plate.

The only way the state should OK eating carp is if the person making the request meets the following criteria:

1. You’re starving
2. You’re literally moments from death
3. You ran out of skunk

Otherwise, we run the risk of being labeled a bunch of carp-eating psychos. How would that play next time the CVB takes a call about a convention looking into our town?

“Pittsburgh is a beautiful place for a convention. Lots of greenery, lots to do, and lots of friendly, carp-eating residents who… hello? Hello?”

But again, I guess the bigger story is that our rivers are now so clean, so free of industrial waste that you can actually eat the most disgusting creatures that call them home. Maybe that should be our new slogan: “Pittsburgh — so clean, you can eat the carp. You know… if you’re desperate.”

The Great Spending Dilemma of 2011

I’m extremely hesitant to spend money on myself, mainly because I’m the only person in a house full of five people that earns any of it. That and I have always been convinced that five seconds after I pay a lot of money for something, so-and-so will buy the exact same thing for 94% less than I paid. 

But this year, I promised to make two purchases of items I dearly want but don’t really need: a second-generation iPad (fun!) and a Thompson Center .50 caliber Hawken muzzleloader (used but funner!). I say used because for some reason, a new Thompson Center .50 caliber Hawken muzzleloader is surprisingly expensive. Upwards of $750. That may not sound like a lot, but did you ever hear the expression “lock, stock and barrel?” Well, that’s all a Hawken rifle is: a primitive lock mechanism that was designed in the 17^th Century, a stock of wood and a thick iron pipe. It’s the most basic of basic firearms. But for some reason, $8 worth of wood and iron becomes, when assembled, $750 worth of retail flintlock. At least when it’s made in New England. So, I opted to look for a good one used.

I saved up throughout 2010 and came into 2011 excited for my two new toys. But, you know what they say: Life is prone to snapping off a slider when you’re sittin’ heat.

They do say that. I heard them.

Anyhow, that slider comes in the form of Sir Elton John.

On Friday, two colleagues at work emailed me the news that Elton John is coming to Pittsburgh on March 23. (As an aside, that’s two days before his birthday. I wonder if he checked the calendar.) And the problem is, tickets to an Elton John concert are really, really expensive. You’d think that a 63-year old dude who has earned eight bucks shy of half a trillion dollars wouldn’t need to charge $125 for a floor seat. But he does. Because there’s always some idiot out there willing to pay it. Me, for instance.

That wouldn’t be bad if it were just me and the missus. But it won’t be. You might think that three girls aged 11, nine and seven would have no interest whatsoever in going with mommy and daddy to see a 63-year-old Elton John in concert. Well, you’d be wrong. Because daddy plays a lot of Elton John music in his car and occasionally on his piano and his girls love it. (At least in the car.) They even request it. (Again, in the car.)

So now, with parking and the requisite souvenir and concessions, I was looking at a third major purchase in a two-major-purchase budget.

Like a lot of Elton John fans, I was torn between the concert, the iPad and the Hawken rifle. One of them would have to go. It was exactly like Sophie’s Choice. Only harder.

Oh well, I thought. I won’t be able to use the muzzleloader until December anyhow, and I haven’t found a reasonably priced used one in good shape yet, so I’ll put off the Hawken. But later, on the exact same day that my colleagues informed me of the upcoming Elton John concert, I got an email from my brother. A shop in Hollidaysburg had exactly the Hawken I was looking for. And it was less than any used Hawken I’d found online. 

So I went to see it.

It was beautiful.

And now, it’s mine.

So now my splurge budget is down to either an evening listening to a 63-year-old entertainer whose voice irrevocably changed in 1986 or the absolute latest in amazing tablet computer technology.

It’s no contest.

You lose, iPad.

That’s OK. There will be a third generation of iPad, but who knows if my wife and kids and I will ever have the chance to see the great Elton John in concert again. He’s not getting any younger. And besides, with that Hawken rifle, I could get an iPad any time I want.