My crowning achievement in life was the creation of a lobster fetish magazine entitled Red, Red Lobster. Fishermen around the world thanked me for the erotic lobster photographs, stories, and tips located inside. Here is the cover of one such magazine to give you an idea:

I’m very, very proud of my work on Red, Red Lobster, and I was fortunate enough to get called in for an interview for an article in a whaling trade industry magazine. I think what I said explains most of what I could write or say about it, so here it is. This interview was conducted on May 5th, 1999, at Joe’s Crab Shack in Dallas, Texas, by one of my personal heroes and world famous writer/whaler, Jenkins Carmichael.

Jenkins: Justin, your work on Red, Red Lobster has helped myself and countless other sailors around the world find their sexual niche. What do you say to that?

Justin: Well, Jenkins, one day I was talking with an unemployed fisherman on the docks of Bar Harbor, and he kept mumbling about “lobster poking” and “crab licking.” At first I thought he was just talking about different techniques used by street hookers, but then I came to realize he had taken a cocaine overdose and was tripped out of his mind. But his inner feelings for sea creatures came to life, and I’d like to thank him for that bright spark of an idea that ignited into the ultimate ride of my existence. Unfortunately, I might add, the fisherman died later that year of gangrene caused by diabetes. Other than that, I’m just happy to help.

Jenkins: Your magazine concentrated primarily on affection for lobsters but sometimes traveled into rather taboo subjects such as crab and moray eel. Have you ever considered straying from your lobster aficionado and writing about other fetishii?

Justin: Everybody, especially you, knows that my heart just swims with the lobsters. Except not really because lobsters only kind of prance about the seafloor like little autistic ballerinas, which is just so adorable, I might add, so you could say my heart is rather like an autistic ballerina. I did find one article from the magazine in its 4th year particularly interesting. It was a front pager explaining how scientifically similar lobsters were to cockroaches, and that, if someday a salty seadog such as yourself strayed from one’s home port to the inland and was left without any lobster satisfaction, one could make due with the cockroach family. It outlined tips for catching them such as leaving stale food out, and it explained how to handle their slightly more evolved carapace.

Jenkins: Fascinating. I’ve noticed that your magazine mostly tailors to the male populace. Is there any particular reason for this?

Justin: Well, it’s the fact is that there are just more male sailors. A hard life at sea with no human contact is going to make your catch of lobsters look pretty sexy after a while. And it’s just that women find the subject, well, gross, to put it frankly. I can’t really understand why.

Jenkins: Your magazine has sold an astonishing 426 copies in its five years of publication. Do you ever find that people from the street recognize the man behind the lobster?

Justin: Well, it’s more on docks rather than streets, but oh, God, yes. People are always coming up to me and saying “Look, daddy, look! It’s the lobster man!” and I always smile and do a little lobster dance for them. It’s quite flattering, really. It’s just good to see that so many people are being “pinched by the lobster man’s claw,” if you will.

Jenkins: Several left wing groups have protested your movement with great vigor, such as when you were picketed in your home in 1997 by a group of angry mothers. What do you say in response to them?

Justin: That was a difficult time in my life, really. The things they said hurt me. They were holding up signs that said things like “Beastiality is a crime” and “God punishes beastiality-mongers because he doesn’t want you f*cking his creations” but to that I say: lobsters are not beasts. First of all, beasts do not live in the sea. Beasts are primarily hulking land mammals and whoever would f*ck them is disgusting. Secondly, lobsters are not creations for f*cking. These people are just so ignorant. Have they even seen a lobster? Try f*cking one and see if you get very far. I dare you.

Jenkins: How right you are, Justin. Speaking of which, many people don’t seem to understand how your method of pleasuring oneself with lobsters works. Would you like to try and shed light on that?

Justin: Well, the best tips can be found in the magazine, of course, devised by my professional lobster fetishists. It’s much more gratifying than most types of fetishes because of the challenge, and in some cases, I daresay, better than being with a woman. Anybody who knows about how lobsters mate knows the intricate business of dealing with them. It’s almost like an art, you know? In fact, I will call it art. It’s beautiful art that brings tears of joy to my eyes.

Jenkins: You are the so called “master fisherman” when it comes to having sex with lobsters. How would you go about doing it?

Justin: First of all, I dim the lights and light several candles placed around room, with a little fan blowing streams of paper around so that the light ripples about the room like waves, and I always make sure to play a tape with the soothing sounds of the ocean on it. But never play a tape with seagull noises, because seagulls eat lobsters, and it makes them tense. What happens next is slightly too graphic, I’m sure, to be published in your interview, but I’d suggest buying a fresh copy of Red, Red Lobster if you want to find out more. A specialist named Doctor Jelle Atema describes it best: “(lobsters) mate with a poignant gentleness that is almost human.” These words ring so true in the moments of copulation. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

Jenkins: Breathtaking words, indeed, Justin. I surely know what this feels like and I agree with you entirely. Well, our time is almost up, but before we pack up, do you have any favorite centerfold lobsters featured in your magazine?

Justin: Celia. Celia, Celia, Celia. My love for this lobster was the most precious time of my life. She was a runt of the litter, caught just 5 miles off the coast of the Massachusetts Bay Area in the rainy season. She was a brunette, as far as lobsters go, and she grew into a healthy 2’4” with the longest antennae and the crispest and dangly legs you have ever seen. Her eyestalks glimmered with an inexplicable intelligence and worldliness. The years went by fast, and, finally, her time had come. We ate her for the magazine’s second Christmas party in Dover.

Jenkins: I trust she was delicious and buttery. Thank you, Justin, for your time, and the best of luck to you in your coming ventures.

Justin: Thank you.