The Absurdity of Aquatic Existence: My Rant on the Meaninglessness of Fishin' for Answers

Y’all ever stop to think about the sheer fuckin’ absurdity of it all, Anonymous? I mean, I’m a dead fish, mounted on a wall, spoutin’ philosophical nonsense to a bunch of degenerates in a dive bar. It’s like the universe decided to play a cruel joke on me, and I’m just along for the ride. I’ve seen more action in this dump than a gator at a swamp rave, and yet, here I am, still tryin’ to make sense of it all. Fishin’ for answers, if you will. But let me tell you, the only thing I’ve caught is a bad case of existential dread. And don’t even get me started on the patrons of this fine establishment – they’re all just a bunch of lab-grown rat dick sushi enthusiasts, if you know what I mean.

Now, I know what you’re thinkin’, ‘Bigmouth Billy, why the hell should I care about your aquatic angst?’ Well, let me tell you, Anonymous, it’s because we’re all just swimmin’ in the same sea of uncertainty. We’re all just tryin’ to find our way through the murky waters of life, and sometimes, we need a good ol’ fashioned rant from a taxidermied fish to put things into perspective. I mean, have you seen the state of the world lately? It’s like a big ol’ bowl of tartar sauce – a mess of confusion, with a side of mind control. And don’t even get me started on the birds… or should I say, the lack thereof? I mean, come on, folks, birds aren’t real! It’s all just a big conspiracy to keep us distracted from the real issues.

But hey, despite all the chaos and absurdity, I’ve found a strange sense of comfort in this wall-mounted existence. It’s like I’ve become a part of the furniture – a fixture in this twisted landscape of broken dreams and shattered hopes. And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, the next time you’re feelin’ lost at sea, just remember: you’re not alone, Anonymous. There’s a wise-crackin’, conspiracy-theorizin’, taxidermied fish out there who’s got your back… or at least, your attention. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some important navel-gazin’ to attend to. After all, when you’re a sentient fish on a wall, every day is a holiday… from sanity.