Now that the US seafood industry is again flexing its marketing muscle, having been stung with the backlash of Frankenfish, you’ve got to wonder how Madison Avenue will wring wholesome and organic from the vision of a muscular misshapen fish bumping into the sides of a plastic kiddy pool.

Like all the other industry trade groups, the seafood industry is searching for a catchy slogan like, “the other extruded white meat-like substance,” or something that encourages Mom to pause and spend some of her diminished family food budget.

Most of the slogans posted in my watersheds suggest for either fresh or salt, the slogan should be, “one meal a week, less if you’re pregnant.” That’s a marketing downer, and consultants would suggest something upbeat in the face of  industry-wide chaos, with third world nations impounding each other’s fishing fleets, and dispossessed Somalian fishermen trading up from tuna to oil tankers, and chemical waste leaching into the environment, I’m not so sure that our pal Frankenfish isn’t a natural spokesman for this new normal.

Baseball players suck up steroids and claim otherwise, politicians tap dance in airport washrooms, and fly tiers attempt to steal the last Bird of Paradise, and with all of our heroes gone, why not opt for some scarred stem cell orphan, whose likeness can be accented deftly with, ” I was born to be Wild.”

“Farmed to be Wild” might be more appropriate, but it beats crap out of a cartoon tuna.

(Most of the members of Steppenwolf should be in managed care by now, and shouldn’t put up much of a row …)