This isn’t snark and probably doesn’t belong here, but I do have to say the paper of sometimes ridiculous record did run a short out of Alaska on a fishing boat that sank and killed maybe seven guys, and even in its AP brevity it gave me worse than chills. My consort and I spent nearly a week on a halibut boat while working on our ill-fated harvest book, and I still get queasy thinking of the first day, when we had to do a survival-suit dress rehearsal. Up until then it had felt like a giddy adventure, motoring away from the gorgeous port of Kodiak and through the stunning inlet out to “where the big boys go.” But the suits were terrifying, as were the tales of why there could be no joking around as we wrestled our way into them. You go overboard in those frigid waters and you count yourself lucky to drown. The crabs will clean your bones. And then, of course, end up as an all-you-can-eat special in some seafood chain down here in anti-America.