20,000 Leagues

Okay, they said it was 900 meters, not 20,000 Leagues, but the idea of a giant squid is just too much foddery fun. Jules Verne would be so excited! This is an Associated Press article that I found on CNN and have no desire to claim as my own research. Cancer is my thing, not squid, but I digress.

Here are my thoughts from the above mentioned article:

Japanese scientists are tickled to have found a live version of the giant squid. Apparently they're used to just seeing pieces of them on the shore. They were also impressed with how quickly it moved.

Come on. You don't get to be 25 feet long by just slothing along. But they were impressed, and they've studied such things, so I'm inclined to be slightly amused. And slightly impressed, but moreso amused than impressed.

I would have been more impressed if they had been able to bottle gallons of squid ink. I bet a giant squid could make giant ink clouds in the water if it had to get away. Like birthday parties, everybody has a secret love for squid ink.

When I think about squid, I remember a family vacation to the City of Lies and Deception around the summer of 1989ish. We went to the Smithsonian. (Here's a Smithsonian link to giant squid.) I have vague memories of a big squid in this tank that you could reach in and touch. (Maybe it didn't happen and I just wanted to reach in and touch it?) I think it was wet and slimy, and I remember wondering if it was alive... because instead of being in a big fancy swimming-around fish tank, it was more of a fish coffin and there was no swimmy space. And I wanted to stay longer and look at the fish-coffin-thing, but I was nudged away by well-meaning parents.

Then there's the other shuddering squid experience. The one that haunts me.

It was my grandparents' 50th anniversary, and we were having a big fancy meal at what was once a nice restaurant in Ethridge. It was a cajun place called 'Louisanna' and is now a place to purchase Amish-made furniture. I don't remember the restaurant staying in business for long.

The metropolis of Ethridge wasn't ready to support a place to eat with cloth napkins.

Anyway, before the meal they had big baskets of fried catfish and fried squid on the tables. I can't remember if I was in middle school or late elementary school -- but I knew enough to know that I liked catfish. So I tenatively nibbled at the catfish basket.

Then the trauma.

It went squish in my mouth and had arms. I peeled back the fried part and saw an eye.

It looked at me.

I don't do squid anymore. Neither do I do shrimp, but that's another story...