Although I have neither long nor often been acquainted with these internets as a graphical medium (the most conducive way for me to interact with he internets, when opportunity arrives, is via tele-text session, oft using the tiny screen and keyingboard here, aboard my cramped velocitating suit), I have long known by words-of-the-mouth that the internet is itself a veritable picto-pornucopia. I am certain I am not alone in this simple fact-internetual leading to some small degree of personal horror. For me, this graphicallity had largely here-to-fore been a matter of anthropological curiosity although, as it has come to pass, the matter has become somewhat more personal than I enjoy. To whit, please consider this:

The sharp-eyed Readers among you will note that, in the background of this unsettling menage á deux et un, what at first appears to be a motif of cascading be-squiggles — perhaps a gentle but persistent passion rain falling behind the lovers-that-dare-not-speak-the-Name-of-the-Terrible-Traveller-from-a-Dimension-Beyond-Time — is, in fact, the narrative text of a tri-o-logue, which I have reproduced in rough translation below, for your edification, elucidation, enlightenment and titillation.

HOKUSAI'S DREAM OF THE FISHERMAN'S WIFE (From Kino-e-no-komatsu Collection, 1826)

SQUID MAXIMUS: My wish comes true at last, this day of days; finally I have you in my grasp! Your "bobo" is ripe and full, how wonderful! Superior to all others! To suck and suck and suck some more. After we do it masterfully, I'll guide you to the Dragon Palace of the Sea God and envelope you. "Zuu sufu sufu chyu chyu chyu tsu zuu fufufuuu..."

MAIDEN: You hateful squid! Your sucking at the mouth of my womb makes me gasp for breath! Aah! yes . . . it's . . . There!!! With the sucker, the sucker!! Inside, squiggle, squiggle! Oooh! Oooh, good, Oooh good! There, there! Theeeeere! Goood! Whew! Aah! Good, good, Aaaaaaaaaah! Not yet! Until now it was I that men called a squid! A squid! Ooh! Whew! How are you able!? Ooh! "yoyoyooh, Saa . . . Hicha hicha gucha gucha, yuchyuu chyu guzu guzu suu suuu . . . "

SQUID MAXIMUS: All eight tentacles to intertwine with and within!! How do you like it this way? Ah, look! The inside has swollen, moistened by the warm waters of lust. "Nura nura doku doku doku . . ."

MAIDEN: Yes, it tingles now; soon there will be no sensation at all left in my hips. Ooooooh! Boundaries and borders gone! I've Vanished!!!

SQUID MINIMUM: After daddy finishes, I too want to rub and rub my suckers at the ridge of your furry place until you disappear and then I'll suck some more, "chyu chyu . . . "

Yes, yes; it is strange indeed. And do we both now all wonder the same dyad of wonderings: In the first case, what is wrong with these strange Nippon-o-men? And secondly — and I credit my new travelling companion, Hazel, and her long résumé in the human sexual intercourse industry with this revelation of query — but is the pairing of Squid Maximus and Squid Minimum the true inspiration for that classic sexual duo-dynamo of Western Art: Scooby-Doo and his Scrappy-Doo?

Of course, for me, in my part, the true revelation is that perhaps those archetypal pictograms of human terror, such as this:

Are really just inversions of such ardent wants, exempli gratis:

There is something unseemly, my Dear Readers, in realizing, of a sudden, that you are the leg which the dog-psyche of humanity so rutt-lustfull does hump.

Disturbed Beyond Easy Explanation,
I Remain
Your Giant Squid
President-in-Absentia