Welcome to the adventures of Stalin the Shark

Greetings.

My name is Stalin the Shark. You might imply from this that I am, indeed, a shark, and that would be entirely correct. People always ask me, however, just how I came to be called Stalin.

Well, that is a sad tale. You see, I am quite red, except for my fetching white belly, and many people deduce from that - with all the talk about red states and blue states - that I must be a republican. Now, I have to tell you that I find this implication quite embarassing, especially since people usually ask the question about my political affliliation with much the same tone and facial expression as they would use to inquire whether I mug nice little old ladies for a living. For the record, I don't do that either.



So, if people take me to be a republican, it is far the lesser of two evils to be a communist. With that in mind, my parents named me Stalin. They figure it's better for me to be confused with a mass murderer and the father of the Gulag than to be mistaken for someone who actually likes a sleazy lowlife like Bill Frist.

This is, by the way, a real republican shark; in fact, I think that's the money shot of Karl Rove taking on Valerie Plame.