Happy as a Clam

When you think about seafood, and the various moods they might experience, do you peg clams as being particularly happy creatures? Happier than, say, your average krill?

When we humans are really happy, thrilled, and elated, we are happy as a clam.

Isn’t the key word here food? SeaFOOD. We eat clams. I wouldn’t blame the clam for being slightly depressed about the unfortunate fate that it’s on the menu.

Clam: “Sounds like someone’s at the door. Better go answer th…wait, what? You can’t come in? HOME INVASION!! Return my house this minute. Okay, keep the house, don’t eat me.”

I would think oysters are the happy ones. They are aphrodisiacs, which means they have sex all day. Reaching full orgasm might make up for the fact that I’m sliding down someone’s esophagus, on my way to being dissolved by stomach acid.

I have trouble believing a clam maintains its sunny nature once it sees the boiling pot of water in which it will be cooked. Ouch. I can’t even stay in a sauna for 5 minutes.

You never know. Maybe our little clam has Don’t Worry, Be Happy on his iPod, and has developed a positive outlook on life. It sees the pot as half full of boiling water instead of half empty. How can you dare eat such a hopeful clam?

I’m not even sure why people eat clams. I gave them up when I sneezed into a shell and the clam didn’t look any different, just bigger. Can I soak in this whirlpool of snot?

I’d rather be a mussel. With big, strong mussels, you can defend yourself.

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