Hamson Black, as you all know, is an utmost authority in the shrimp world, and other places. Born in the swamps of Saskatchewan, he Saskatchewandered from bayou to bayou, eventually ending up in Louisiana, the rowdy shrimp haven of America. It was here his passion for Southern food would be uncajed.
To say things were smooth sailing from the get go wouldn’t be entirely accurate. He didn’t travel by body of water. He arrived in the city in true drifter fashion, under the boardwalk, by way of rusty box car. He immediately quested to learn the local cuisine. He secured employment working at Bayou, By Me. The location has received such acclaim that their Cajun fondue was given 3 Michigan Stars by cheese publication “The Grate Lakes”.
Black got his start making this fondue, and had plenty of fun doing so. That wasn’t to say things were smooth sailing at first. He had a habit of playing the pots of 18 month cheddar Mozart symphonies. This was supposed to enhance the flavor. The ambitious project, dubbed Lacritosa, liberally used the restaurant’s entire budget on the Mozart conservatory.
He was soon after charred, sorry, fired. Yet the man had grit, and soon, grits. After purchasing some fresh grits, he noticed the shrimp stands within the city. It was this observation that would change his life. He walked up to John Wilkes’ booth, the biggest in town, and found he was being charged 19.99$ for a pound of shrimp. He begrudgingly paid the price. The sailing was not smooth.
Hamson Black soon found this price to be a red herring. Not only could he beat that price, the vendors were also selling red heron and passing it off as shrimp. They did this through an elaborate process commonly used by capitalist swine (and aviary). The elaborate process was really quite shrimple, and involved writing the word shrimp on the body of a dead bird and then putting it under their display case. Eventually, they started hawking them in paper mache heads of George Dubya to “double ya” prices. Unfortunately, a bird in the stand is not worth two in the bush.
Hamson noticed these practices, despite the saying, did not make perfect. He began catching the shrimp himself and secured a “joint” venture with a Jamaican bakery. Marketing an open face sandwich together, Prawn of the Bread sold rapidly. His underselling of the other vendors could not be overstated. For safety reasons, he stayed away from their operations downtown; Black could never go back. Yet he didn’t need to worry about downtown, as soon they would come to him. The hottest name (metaphorically) in Cajun, Edgar Allen Po’Boy, a just Haitian, soon only served his crustaceans.
This was the start of Hamson’s conquest of the city. Quickly he had a monopoly. With the help of his Jamaican partners, the barrier to entry was too high. Yet, mysteriously, as if on a whim or the Weakest Link, the man cashed out, using all his capital on an entirely different kind: Archipelagon, the world’s greatest micronation.
He took to the sea to found his dream, and yes, the sailing was smooth.