Not a photo this week, but an audio recording of a short story for the week of Valentine’s Day. Or you can read the text, if you prefer. It’s rather excessive in humanizing the octopus protagonist, but I don’t think most people want to really hear the cephalopod perspective on matters of love — it would be rather alienating to most.
It’s always silly how the Christian Easter holiday is so arbitrary and seemingly random, and engaged so many people in pointless mathematical calendrical exercises to figure out what day it falls on each year. Right now, I have no clue when it will be Easter this year, and you don’t need to tell me, because I don’t care and I don’t celebrate it.
So in the same spirit of random decisions, but with at least a little more simple predictability, I hereby declare that the first Sunday after Darwin’s birthday is Octo-Easter. Here are some Octo-Easter eggs for you all.
I suppose we could claim we’re celebrating the fecundity of the sea, or just the deep dark cold depths, or whatever. Don’t care. You can also celebrate it or don’t. That’s the nice thing about these freethought holidays, you’re free to think whatever you want about them.
Who’s a snuggly-wuggly cute-ems? You is!
You might be tempted to stare deeply into this image, trying to puzzle out what it is you’re looking at, but that’s how they get you.
That’s Haliphron, the 7-armed octopus, holding a jellyfish it’s been nibbling on. Now that I’ve told you, I hope that has broken the spell, and you’ll be able to escape. If not, well, a cephalopod has got to eat, and it’s next victim will by baffled by the way those twisting arms surround your face.
I’m not good at parties. Get a whole bunch of people chattering away at once, and I’m overwhelmed and retreat into the woodwork. But here’s a group of Humboldt squid having an animated conversation.
Instead of producing an auditory cacophony, they instead signal to each other with color patterns. This makes a lot of sense to me.
Next time I attend a party (who am I kidding? No one is ever going to have a party again, and live), I should wire myself up with colored LEDs, with a little control panel in my hand so I can change the pattern depending on my mood.
“But, PZ,” you are about to say, “nobody else would understand your signals.” Exactly. That would be perfect. After all, we don’t understand what the squid are saying, either.
The blanket octopus breaks all the rules.
He sees you when you’re sleeping
He knows when you’re awake
He knows if you’ve been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake!
