RETURN OF (O)CT(O)PUS

Last week, Octopus took time off to explore the western shores of the Florida peninsula and visit the sponge docks of Tarpon Springs, a quaint fishing village originally settled by Greek divers over a century ago.

The way Florida hangs off the contiguous 48 states makes one wonder why this land is considered “florid” when a more apt descriptor should be “flaccid.”

To traverse the state, most Flaccidians take Interstate 4 that connects Daytona on the east coast to Tampa on the west. However cephalopods are water-bound creatures and land routes are not an option. I took the seaward route around the southernmost tip where the infamous River of Crass flows into Flaccida Bay. There I found this:


Clean, spacious, stupidity-free, and ready to move-in, it appears to be a perfect place to start a family with plenty of room to raise 200,000+ octopod fries at one time … all destined to become liberal bloggers!

There are ships in bottles, but Blue Moon is a treasure-trove of empty bottles inside a ship … beer, wine, and gin discards in assorted colors and sizes. Empty bottles are important to Octopods because we prefer them to beds. Perhaps this is a throwback to our univalve days when we carried our abode everywhere.

All I need now is to find a calmly mimic octopus for a mate. Why a mimic octopus, you ask? Even among the most faithful of cephalopods, la diversité est le sel de la vie.