the-lobster-2

The Lobster: A Dry Hump

Consider The Lobster, a dry and alternate arm of the multiverse, where society beseeches men and women to find love within 45 days or face the very real consequence of being turned into an animal of his or her choosing.  A lobster, for example, is considered a wise choice.  They live to be a hundred years old, and continue to eat, grow and reproduce until after a long and fulfilling life, they die.  Dogs and horses, on the other hand, are far more common end-of-humanity choices and are widely thought to be hasty decisions without much foresight whatsoever.

Relationships, in this unflinching world, are elevated to societal indispensability.  Folks are absolutely implored to get hitched.  In fact, there’s one seeming function of the police, to I.D. those who are clandestinely alone. The nuclear family experience is beyond encouraged.  It is, as a citizen, your duty, and whether wittingly or not reduced to no more than human functionality and civil norm.

Therefore love, in the traditional sense, is relegated to biological byproduct, wholly inconsequential and not something the average person or teenage adolescent spends much time worrying about. Chemistry between two likely halves is reduced to finding someone who shares in an unremarkable quality; traits like nearsightedness, frequent nose-bleeds, and sociopathology.  Human connectedness is as stony and dry as the communication that follows.  People talk a lot, but they’re not saying anything.  That being said, regular folks don’t seem too very much bummed out about this.  There exists, however, an alternate extreme.

On the fringe of society there is a woods-inhabiting, on-the-lam faction of those not interested in pairing or the punitive bestial reincarnation aloneness requires.  They’re known as the Loners, and they’ve sworn to a life of chastity and rebellion against their copulating oppressor.  No less unforgiving or authoritarian, adherence to the Loner doctrine is just as des0late and defection-encouraging as is traditional, red-blooded, orthodox society.  A fundamental need still left unwhetted.

Thus is the world of The Lobster; a salty and cold vision of the extremes.  All that a true romantic is left with, it would seem, are the codified language of flailings arms and legs, and selfless displays of devotion and fidelity.  It serves as a stark reality that maybe that thing that what we need, in this arm of the multiverse, lies somewhere in the moor between.

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