Want mail?       The first day we went to "Marine World", or as French people and ninjas say: Mawine Wold. It was probably actually called something stupider, like "Les Germans No Took Nous Orcas" or "Mangeons Cheval!" ("Look, Fish!") but I understand these simple people, and their beautiful and complex langauge means nothing at all. Francis and I took care to get to the dolphin show right away, since if there's one thing that European history has taught us, it's that we like dolphins. I bought Francis a snowcone on the way, which he smoked, and we sat down in the third row – my insistance – in the vain hope that later the water would put his cigarettes out. The show was, to explain things via the illuminating simile, like stupid. The dolphins just sort of splashed and jumped a lot and made that "wacka ki-wacka" sound that Flipper made when he was strangled to death on set that one time back in '76. That is, one of them. They actually used many different dolphins to play the part of "Flipper", since most of them were hungover all the time or trying to operate a syringe without opposable fins. Many scenes, it's a little-known fact, were actually played by Tattoo, that midget on Fantasy Island, who wore water wings and developed a neurotic aversion to small, thrown fish. Still, Francis and I sat through the entire show. It was, let me tell you, a mistake. At first it's like, yeah, cool, go dolphins. They do flips and catch fish and bat hanging bouys around and stuff. I dig it. Then thirty-five back flips, forty-eight ball battings, and about seventeen thousand "ki ki-wacka ki's" later, you've never craved generic-brand tuna more in your life. Plus the entertainment factor is damn near zero at that point. We went to the Killer Whale show after that, which was fun at first because they were like dolphins only with the chance that they may get fed up with tiny fish and go for some of those French kids in the front row sticking their little candy-coated limbs in the water. But after a while, everyone gets jaded and clapping seems a little bit too much effort and might encourage the orcas to do something terrible, like another God Damned back flip. Pretty soon a whale jumping through a hoop or taking a fish from a trainer's mouth isn't going to do it for me. I start to hold out for bigger and better tricks. I'm not clapping unless I see a whale explode. We left the park right after that since Francis accidentally fell in and one of the orcas overdosed on some drug or another when it bit into his chest. Tune in tomorrow for Iggy Does France part Deux: 'French Men Are So Gay'