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Squid #132
(published May 1, 2003)
Notes From The Giant Squid: From Beyond the Grave

Who is Poor Mojo's Giant Squid?
Dear Giant Squid:

when will i die and who will i marry?

Hey, Tom here.

Squid's out, Rob's stoned, Sang is . . . Hell, wherever Sang gets to when no one is looking.

I've been quiet for a while; no one likes a ghost who gets on too much.

All truth? No one knows I'm around. Squid probably thinks I was just one of a very few dreams.

Not true. I'm always around. I'm everywhere. Always have been. Always will be. And every once in a while, I feel like making my presence known. This question came through a while ago and I've been thinking on it. Thought this might be a good coming out for the ghost.

Here goes.

Your name is Deborah and you are already dead.

Short answer. Simple enough. You aren't ever getting married. Not now, not in ten years, not in a thousand years.

And it's not because the dead can't get married. I got married. Didn't last. Being dead, being eternal, changes your priorities. Lots of people get married right after they die. Options open up TREMENDOUSLY, and there are people who have been eying you your entire life, sort of praying for a quick accident that will bring you over.

Swear to God (whoever that might be.)

Dead have tons of time to wait, to plan, to daydream.

But while there are these spectators, these dead voyeurs, and everything seems like you are the popular kid because they sort of aggregate around the recently deceased, you figure out real quick that its an illusion. It's popularity similar to the kind you get when you move to a new school and ten kids instantly want to be your friend. You think, man, alright, things are looking up. But then you realize those are the losers, the local bottom feeders. And not because of some unfair decree from unjustified popular kids like in the movies, but rather it is because these kids really do suck.

Same thing when you die.

You have groupies here in the after life. And I married one.

Thank Krishna that is over with.

But like I said, that's not why you can't get married.

Deborah, no one likes you. Even when you die, there will be no one waiting for you. Not even the losers of the after life are paying attention. It's a rare affliction, but you have it. The true living death.


Saw Achilles the other day. He was staring at a rock.

He said, "Moved. Just last year. See, it used to be over there. Now its over here."

Good luck, Deborah.

(There is no good luck.)

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see other pieces by this author | Who is Poor Mojo's Giant Squid? Read his blog posts and enjoy his anthem (and the post-ironic mid-1990s Japanese cover of same)

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Notes From The Giant Squid: Ode to the Loves Lost

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