More Google Search Terms That Led People Here

Despite the vast majority of encrypted search terms that lead people to our little corner of yon Internet, we still get some unencrypted doozies. While I had to filter out the most vile (a lot of Rule 34 was going on), there is still some truly wonderous search phrases that led someone, someone on the internet to click on our page. Like, you know, the following, which are all 100% unedited and are real search terms:

aliens in gloucester ma

pants you can take to mars

yoga training hoth fuck

why do the clams smell like horse poop

cody fucking shackleton asshole [is this a person? an insult? both? ]

foot worship in gloucester

clam are schools in alabama

it’s okay to talk to a strange man or woman

my resolousion since the 7 of you asket

how to get drone out of a tree [we get so many of these]

the people of version dog shit

we hate this now

states that blowjobs are illegal

where does the dog poop on hot tuna

is football fans are stupid

what’s the use of the magnetic device built into the crotch of men’s boxer briefs and pants

pantsshitter mcgee

case of fireball nips

how to make a clam mascot

mayoral beachwear 2014


The Winter Has Quite Literally Driven Us Crazy.

After our recent bank robbery hijinks (#freederek), we here at the Clam started to realize something. We’ve all gone fucking straight crazynuts in this town. This seems to have been concentrated in not only bizarre crimes – like that dude who decided he didn’t like rap music, so he shot a bouncer in the leg (apparently missing the inherent irony) – but also our questionable piloting of vehicles. First, some dude crashes into the front of Poseidon’s. Then on Saturday someone drove their damn car right off the fish pier (quite possibly in search of Poseidon).

(Thanks to GMG for capturing a very WTF moment)

(Thanks to GMG for capturing a very WTF moment)

How did any of these completely illogical things even happen? How was the van driver going so fast that he could have extended his arm into the pizza oven and come back with a delicious pizza without leaving his seat? How did two girls NOT SEE THE END OF THE FUCKING FISH PIER? Headlights exist, right? While my esteemed colleague, one Mr. James Dowd, hypothesizes that it’s acute cases of “the brain worms”, I think I know what’s causing this, as a certified internet sociologist (certification pending).

Pibloktoq. Arctic hysteria.

I naturally assume this is how Joey C gets his lobsters in winter.

I naturally assume this is how Joey C gets his lobsters in winter.

Although mostly mythical and probably caused by a toxic amount of Vitamin A in the succulent organ meat consumed by indiginous populations within the Arctic circle, I submit anyway that Arctic Fever is really what’s causing the temporary bouts of insanity we’re seeing around Gloucester. It’s truly the only reasonable explanation for this:

Pic via GMG/Paul Spinola.

This was a logical event. Pic via GMG/Paul Spinola.

Sure, it could be argued that the prime time for all the goddamn crazy to be happening was early February. But I don’t think any of us had time to go crazy – we were all in massive survival mode. During the last few months, you had roughly twenty fucking minutes between colossal, multi-day snowstorms to get to Market Basket and hope they still had some damn rotisserie chicken so your children stop getting that murderous look in their eyes for suggesting they have another can of baked beans from the pantry. It was like a Laura Ingalls Wilder book, but with more nip bottles and abandoned cars and less of that hottie Almanzo.

Finally, weeks later, we’re now cautiously emerging from the shellshock of 10 feet of snow piled everywhere, and the constant beeping of DPW trucks has stopped haunting us in our sleep. There’s still an entire regular-sized picnic table buried in snow in my yard. Not even the top is poking out. But the onslaught of snow has passed, and our future goal of “not being in a freezing, precipitous hellscape stuck inside with feral children” is looking reachable. Our brains are kind of broken – everything happened fast, and nothing seemed unbelievable anymore. Not the National Guard showing up, not the dissapearance of 8′ fences, not the complete failure of our public transportation system, our newly appointed mayor telling us to stay inside, or white people jumping out of 2nd story windows for the fucking hell of it (#1 sign of Pibloqtoq, according to Marty Walsh). “What if this never ends,” I asked, mostly to the blank wall in front of me. “What if my children just hit me with nerf darts and argue over Mario Kart characters for the rest of my life, and this snow never melts? What if this is our life now, forever?” It seemed plausible. Eminently plausible.

Probably only a 2-hour delay.

Probably only a 2-hour delay.

So naturally, now is when we’re seeing the worst of the Pibloktoq. The long-term effects of winter on our citizenry are slowly appearing, mostly in the form of ill-thought-out felonies. We can drive our cars again and be relatively sure we can find a parking space sorta near where we’re going. Shifting out of immediate survival mode, that’s when the shit really hits the fan.

But if my supposition is true, what can we do about it? Not much. Like a seizure or a jello shot from the House of Mitch, we just have to endure it and move on.

And how next will it manifest itself? A massive, shoe-throwing ladyfight outside the Crow’s Nest? Outside the Shalin Liu? Will some obese neckbeard attempt to rob the post office wearing juggalo makeup and get winded trying to run up Dale Avenue with a sack of Easter-themed stamps? Will someone drive their van down the Dogbar breakwater because they swore that was the correct way to get to Midori?

Who the fuck knows. I cut out organ meats from my diet, so I’m immune. Good luck to the rest of you.




Ohio Man First Outsider Ever Granted “Local” Status in Gloucester

[Adam Kuhlmann, Clam Staff]

GLOUCESTER—In a stunning reversal of centuries of tradition, the City of Gloucester has granted the official designation of “local” to someone born off-Island.  That lucky someone is 92-year-old Vincent Cappelli, a retired businessman and transplant from Cleveland.


Anthony Donati, a spokesman from the office of Mayor Sefatia Romeo Theken, confirmed the announcement.  According to Donati, the City Council approved the measure by a vote of 5-4 following a contentious debate on Tuesday evening.

“Notwithstanding Mr. Cappelli’s birth in Ohio, a full 675 miles from the Man at the Wheel, the council decided he has earned the right to be called a local Gloucesterman,” said Donati on Wednesday.

Lacing his fingers behind his head, Donati added, “I myself was whelped while Mother sat splay-legged in a seine boat, rowing ‘The Santa Maria’ to victory on Sunday afternoon of St. Peter’s.  But not everyone can have those credentials.”

City Councilor Melissa Cox, who endorsed Cappelli’s new designation, cited his 91 years of residence in Gloucester, the last 67 in the same tidy three-bedroom home in the Fort Square neighborhood.  Cox explained, “It’s not Vincent’s fault that, during her eighth month of pregnancy, his mom left town to visit her dying uncle in Cleveland.”

Cox called it “plain bad luck” that Cappelli’s mother, Teresa, went into premature labor.  According to documents submitted during the public discussion phase of Tuesday’s meeting, Teresa Cappelli underwent emergency Cesarian section on August 21, 1922, at Lutheran Hospital in Cleveland.

Records also indicate that Mrs. Cappelli, herself a fifth-generation local, resisted the procedure.  As labor pains took hold, she demanded to be booked on the next flight to Boston, so her boy could be born “a real Gloucesterman.”  Her request was denied, apparently because commercial aviation had yet to be established in the United States.

Reached for comment from a high top at St. Peter’s Club, City Councilor Joe Motta explained his position.  “Look, I’m sympathetic to Vincent’s perspective,” he said.  “It’s admirable that for fifty-odd years he operated a small fish canning business, creating jobs for real locals.  And I respect that, when the wrecking ball moved in on the Birds Eye plant last August, Vincent wheeled his chair into its path and, in a gesture of defiance and solidarity, spilled his wizened body onto the ground.”

But Motta couldn’t bring himself to vote yes on Tuesday.  “It would have cheapened the meaning of the word ‘local,’” he said.  Motta, himself a father of two sons, elaborated: “I might as well have insisted my wife endure a lavender-scented water birth in the tub of some New-Agey doula in Rockport.”

According to Motta, the proper place to deliver a Gloucesterman is the State Fish Pier.  “No need for an epidural,” he said.  “Jam a slab of salt cod between the lady’s teeth, have her hold onto a cleat or two for leverage, and just squeeze that bambino out like a watermelon seed.”

Sal Giordano, another Gloucester native enjoying the afternoon at St. Peter’s Club, agreed with Motta’s assessment.  “My wife wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, adding, “The gulls love it too.”

Still, Giordano was ambivalent about sharing “local” status with Cappelli.  “Over the years, Vincent has been good to me.  My daughter Nicole got her nursing degree from Salem State on his dime,” he said, referring to the scholarship fund Cappelli set up for Gloucester High School seniors, using 97% of the profits from his canning business.

Tears sprang to Giordano’s eyes as he continued: “Then there was the kidney he donated to my son Frank.  Always generous with his organs, that Vinny.  Who knew you could make it to 92 without a spleen?”

Banging his fist on the table, Motta declared Cappelli’s charity “a smokescreen.”  “You can take the man out of Ohio,” he said, “but you can’t take Ohio out of the man.”

So what does Vincent Cappelli think of his new designation—“local Gloucesterman”—after all these years?

“I’m over the moon,” Cappelli said from his home on Wednesday, a smile breaking across his deeply creased face.  “I know Mamma is looking down, breathing a sigh of relief,” he said.  “There was a lot of shame.”

Cappelli said there’s just one problem.  “I’ll have to buy a new burial plot,” he explained, laughing.  Local status entitles him to be interred at one of the City’s four cemeteries, rather than the tract set aside for outsiders, a vast shallow pit at the high tide line on the west bank of the Annisquam.


DPW employee at Annisquam Burial Pit

DPW employee at Annisquam Burial Pit

Anthony Donati, the mayor’s spokesman, hastened to note an important clause in the council’s decision.  “Mind you, Mr. Cappelli has earned only probationary standing as a local,” he said.  “Full standing doesn’t begin until March 2016.  Were he to leave the Island at any point in the next twelve months—say, to receive cardiac care at a reputable hospital—Cappelli would forfeit his designation and be marched over the Cut Bridge on the end of a tuna harpoon.”

No Snark Sunday: Oculus Rift

Read the below and decide if you think the following observations are true:

  1. There is an unusually large percentage of the population entering old age. This segment is different than previous generations as their core identity is based on being young and carefree as they were in the sixties and seventies. They disdain the limitations of age and will adopt technologies, however imperfect, serving to help restore their sense of youth.
  2. This generation, along with everyone else in the country excluding the extremely rich, are stuck in financial trap where their wealth has not increased. Their wages are flat, their home values are flat and they have not saved sufficiently for retirement.
  3. Businesses, especially global ones, will invest heavily in technologies that allow far-flung teams to operate more efficiently.
  4. The military will invest untold truckloads of cash into technologies allowing them to train troops in realistic situations, improving their likelihood of success on today’s increasingly complex battlefields and decreasing their chances of being killed.
  5. Killing zombies is just a good time.

If you agree to most or all of these statements, allow me to introduce you to your new home. My hypothesis is as soon as this tech becomes 80% effective it will be adopted across the board.

This guy is in a terrifying simulation showing him what it's like to live ans an unattractive person.

This guy is in a terrifying simulation showing him what it’s like to live ans an unattractive person.

On Friday my ten year old son, Stevens 12 year old daughter and I were able to try it on thanks to Clampadres Ocean Alliance and tech shaman/Clamtributor/Nam-shub of Enki Stevens Brosnihan. Here are my initial oberservations:

1. You put the thing on your head and suddenly you’re in a room in what looks not unlike a Northern Italian villa rendered in early 2000s video game software. But wherever you move your head you an see different parts of the room. Look up and you see the wooden beamwork of the ceiling. Look down and see the tiles of the floor. It is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. The first thing you want to do is…

My first room in the Metaverse

My first room in the Metaverse

2. Touch. The natural next thing you do is reach your arm out and try to touch the walls, but this is hyper-disorienting because you can’t see your own limbs and your hand is feeling Stevens’ bookcase and some paint brushes. Now your brain is sending “this is weird!” vibes.

3. You want to go for a walk. The kids actually tried to do this and wound up walking into a stand-up large format printer and a large fixed-wing Styrofoam drone (his workshop is awesome, btw). Your instant instinct is to look around and explore, see things and interact.

Guys, once they get this deal working, to paraphrase George Carlin, it’s going to make Crack look like Sanka.

I tried Second Life. It was way too full of weirdos. You just kind of moved around awkwardly and these anime chicks with fluffy tails and fox ears sporting a pair of zeppelins mounted on their torsos would come up and try and “talk” to you. Then the vampires would show up and the whole thing just wound up being like the creepier parts of a comics convention. Ten years later 2/3 of my son’s class is playing Minecraft with about a million other people online at any given time.

Actually a 50 year old guy from Racine

Actually a 50 year old guy from Racine

This is neither of those. It’s going to change everything. I, for instance, sometimes find myself with nothing to do in the evening and tend to watch reruns of Mystery Science Theater 3000 on my laptop, the show where the robots make fun of old monster films.  You put those robots in 3D and we get to walk around making fun of a realistic simulation of  Victorian London and DEAR GOD JUST TAKE MY MONEY!!!!

It’s going to change storytelling. It’s going to change work. Once we link these things up to sophisticated systems it’s going to change the very nature of “locality” for specialists like doctors and lawyers and bulldozer drivers.  I’ll have a lot more to say about this in the future, but I can easily see a time within the next two decades where a lot of people find themselves shambling around a crowded semi-urban kinda crappy landscape with no money and no power while spending the off-hours as an 8′ demigod in Lord of the Rings-like simulation. You can easily imagine them checking themselves into a U-Store-it with a bunch of tubes coming in and out of their various orifices.

It will be like the Matrix, but with a slot for your credit card.

It will be like the Matrix, but instead of trapping people there will be a slot for your credit card.

Just wrap your head around the social implications of that.