MONSTER OUR ASS

One word for the so-called Montauk Monster (okay, a word and a skeptical inflection.) : seriously? (And repeated for good measure: ) Seriously? Of all the different entertaining, amusing, terrifying, serpentine, slime-ridden, scale-infested, befanged, paradoxical, prehistoric, reptilian, cetacean, romantical, eye-popping forms a sea monster could take, you chose this one? Who do you think you’re impressing, Montauk Monster (pictured here as the dork it is)?

We suppose this is what one should expect from a sea monster washing up on the prosaic shores of Long Island. Yes, Montauk may be known for its mansion culture, nautical past and late-night beachside blood rituals, but it represents the dullest America has to offer – it’s only a stone’s throw from Rhode Island, for christ’s sake. And what would a Rhode Island sea monster look like – a fish? With, like, a weird tooth or something?

We encourage the populace to return its attention to the more hellacious sea monsters that still roam our oceans with sinister freedom. We mean, of course, the scyllas, the charibdae, the humpacked hydras, the zombie sirens, the baleened leviathans, the were- turtles, the saltwater Nessies, the great white pleiosaurs, the vampire dolphins, the house-sized electric clams, the seahorses-of-hell, the superintelligent Portuguese Men o’ War, the Moby-Dicks that shoot lasers from their eyes, the flying eels, the maimrays, the krakens – the bloody krakens!!! We must kill them before they kill us – and have a thoroughly awesome maritime adventure in the bargain.

Dear readers, please share with us information about your ideal sea monster. Pull no punches – the grotesquer the better. We want to hear about things that will make us shit our pants the next time we see an oil painting of a lighthouse.