Permanent Hiatus

We are saddened to announce that there will be no new posts here at The Fishbowl for the foreseeable future. Click here for the reason why. The posts within the archive will remain.

R. I. P. Little Antonio (How Soon is Too Soon)

Dear Readers: Apparently I'll be making my move for Little Ed as Little Antonio passed away recently. We are all saddened by his loss. If I had a truck I would make sure to get the appropriate memorial decal. Does anyone know how to hit on somebody discreatly at a funeral? The following is the article in the LA Times:

Little Antonio Found Dead in Tank

By Steve Hymon, Times Staff Writer

Little Antonio, a goldfish made almost famous by living over 111 days in water from the Los Angeles River, was found dead in his tank in the latimes.com newsroom at 1:58 a.m. Monday. He was believed to be about five months old.

The cause of death was undetermined, according to a website editor who made the sad but perhaps inevitable discovery.

Little Antonio burst to quasi-fame in April when he was purchased by a Times reporter along with another goldfish from a Highland Park pet store. The fish were subsequently taken to City Hall, where they took up residence in a small tank filled with water fetched from the L.A. River in Cypress Park.

Widely presumed to be polluted beyond all measure, the fish thrived in the tank. They were named for two of the politicians — Councilman Ed Reyes and Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa -- who are pushing a massive restoration of the concrete-entombed river to make it appear more natural.

Shortly after arriving at City Hall, the fish aquarium was transferred to The Times, where the fish were available for public viewing on the paper's website. In what can only be viewed as a testimony to a very bored workforce, the so-called "goldfish cam" received tens of thousands of visits from viewers here and abroad.

Both Little Ed and Little Antonio overcame some type of weird and disgusting skin rash in their early days in the tank together and appeared in recent weeks to be very healthy. They also became virtually impossible to distinguish from one another and a coin flip had to be held later Monday at City Hall to determine which fish had died.

Little Antonio lost.

Upon hearing the news of Little Antonio's death, Councilman Reyes said, "I'm really bummed that Little Antonio died. His mere presence brought an international splash to our efforts to renew the city's famous waterway — the Los Angeles River. I only hope Little Ed can swim through his grief long enough to see the results of what he and Little Antonio have worked so hard to create — the L.A. River Revitalization Master Plan."

The mood in the latimes.com newsroom was somber Monday morning as staff learned of their little friend's death. "We'll miss him. He brought a little joy to the otherwise intense news days," said graphic artist Stephanie Ferrell, whose desk is near the fish tank.

"A gimmick like Little Antonio is hard to find," said latimes.com executive editor Joel Sappell as he reviewed the site's traffic numbers. "We'll miss him."

Funeral arrangements have not yet been made, but the fish is expected to receive a burial at sea early this week by way of the Los Angeles sanitation system. The message board will remain open for condolences and remembrances.

The timing of the death left some City Hall observers thinking about the nature of things. On Saturday, city officials announced the five sites on which they intend to focus their river revival efforts.

Hot Fish On The Internet

I’ll have to tell you all about my thrilling escape from the clutches of Sascha Bogdan at another date. I’m still working out my issues in therapy with Herr Doctor Rashid Kaukab Finkelstein. For now let us just say that the sewers of Lithuania are not as clean as one would hope. Borsht really does a number on the digestive system!

Although my search for my mother has left me empty handed, it has not left me cold hearted. After I made it back to my Westside abode, I discovered this in the L.A. Times. Normally, I prefer the NY Times or one of the British papers, but the story of Little Antonio and Little Ed, made me weak with sympathy so that I couldn’t help but read the whole story.

Apparently, the LA Times is conducting a sick experiment where they’re trying to see if two goldfish can live in water taken from the LA River. Those poor fish! Even after surviving the horrors of Lithuanian plumbing, well, I just don’t think I could stand the waters of the local river. We goldfish are a hearty race, but there’s only so much we can take.

However, they’re bravery has an alluring affect upon my soul and my heart. I think I may be getting over my crush on Mayor Hahn and falling for both Little Antonio and Little Ed! Seeing as we’re all famous fish of the internet I bet we all have a lot in common. Any advice on how I should approach them? Which one do I choose? Readers, I know you normally ask me for advice, but this time I need your help.

Fishnapped!

Help! Sascha Bogdan has fishnapped me! I think he must have learned that I discovered where he was because I don't view my profiles anonymously. I've been here for weeks. I think I'm in Lithuania. Can't write much more. But please, please send he--

Should I be calling it 'Fiendster' instead

Not knowing where to go, I have been frantically searching the Internet in order to find my next lead. My search so far has turned up nothing and I am increasingly concerned for my own safety. How much longer can I stay here without any harm coming to me? Although my situation grows desperate, I thought I should share with you what I found on the web. Click here and you shall see the hobbies and interests of the terrible beast, Sascha Bogdan. It seems that just about everyone is on Fiendster these days. Should I be on Myspace instead?

The Phrenology Scandal of 2006

Apparently, my reference to phrenology in a previous entry has troubled some readers. While I'm not wholly convinced by their evidence, according to them phrenology has been a discredited science for nearly a century. Who knew?

Although I received countless e-mails, by far my favorite correspondence came again from Mary Evertt of the Miami Correctional Facility, located in Peru, Indiana.

Dear Molly,

Like I said last time, nights in lockdown are pretty long and get lonesome. Since you don't ever respond to my last letter (although thanks for posting it), I've got no reason to stay here. I've been seeing a prison lawyer to try to find a way out of the joint. I've been saying for years that it was the cops who put that knife in my husband's back, but she said ain't nobody ever going to believe that I guess. Anyway, we were looking at phrenology for awhile on account that I got a pretty, good-shaped head, but we looked it up and apparently that won't fly for an appeal because it ain't a real science no more. I never did do so well in school.

Anyway, you are right though. That b*****d does look pretty filthy. I know some people on the outside and I'm sure they could give him a, ahm, "good talkin' too" . . .

Thanks Marry! I appreciate your offer to talk to your friends and help me find him, but at this point in my quest, I feel like I have to do it on my own. As of now the trail has gone, but I'm scrambling to make arrangements to get away from here. While I haven't heard anything new, I still feel like my life is in danger.

Alas! I knew her

I'm afraid I have more bad news.

Last night I was stirred from my sleep by the sounds of violence. The eel that had showed me Sascha Bogdan's vile picture was murdered last night. Assassinado!

"You should have never have talked, Esmeralda," a human voice came from inside the Medical Center.

"They turned on me! They turned on me!" she screamed. "Why do you think I'm even here to begin with? Those no good piranhas! They put me here! They put me here!" At the end of this repetition her voice went out and broke down into a hysterical whimper.

"The boss says that there are no excuses."

The man approached the tank in what looked like a slightly stilted goose step.

"If you take one step closer, I swear I'll shoot you full of juice."

The man held out his hands; he was wearing rubber gloves. Esmeralda shrieked in terror. However, despite her cry she was not paralyzed in fear. She quickly turned around and after gaining momentum charged the glass, pressing herself hard against the wall of her tank in an attempt to push it off the ledge, hoping that the sound of shattering glass would alert the night watchman. But alas to no avail! The man reached into the tank and pulled out the eel, tossing her to the floor. She flopped and struggled for air in an ungodly fashion for several minutes.

The man walked over to me. I hid behind the castle in my tank. The man stood there for several minutes, breathing loudly but not saying a word. After my heart stopped beating so frantically, he bent over and, nearly putting his head in the water, said in a very calm voice, "Listen, little Barnacle. This is what happens when you become a Carderas. You sure you want to make the change?" The then walked out of the Medical Center undetected.

My life is danger! I must leave here soon if I am to escape this place with my soul and my body joined at the fin.