But yesterday I didn't die. Something both nourishing and palatable graced my mouth. It seems like a bad punchline to tell you that it was grocery store SUSHI. Nonetheless, it exceeded expectations. Soft and unfishy-Alaskan slamon salmon that makes you feel locally responsible (LOL). How nice. I worked at Trader Joe's for a time and boy did that sush blow. I was fooled once and swore off the grocery store sushi trade. I've since come around. QFC makes sush on site, complete with Japanese man (ish, Asian man to be more imprecise) who dons a traditional, reassuring garb and slices the sushi with what I imagine to be a never ending blade of might. It was decent sushi, alright? I sopped it up with sauce and green horseradish and plopped it in there. There, you know, the gullet. I ate it with a salad. Blasting chunks of malleable sushi slabs with burly croutons and crisp, defiant lettuce spines. Caesar dressing to boot for that added fish paste sensation. Sushi from the grocery store can work. It will not be what I want when I must relieve myself of this life. But palatable fits.
ABOVE: Filmore faces death and sushi with stoic resolve.
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