Have you seen this thing in the Christian Science Monitor about a chemical that makes squids just totally flip out and get all violent and stuff? Is this true?
unsigned but geolocated to Langley, VA
Frankly, I was surprised to learn that such old news was new news to anyone at all, let alone a self-aggrandizing species such as yourselves. Have you never noted how enraged human males become when splattered with semen or menses? Rob insisted that this was a simple matter of being "totally grossed out," and not the action of pheromones. Such protein-triggered sex rage, he continued, was "totally just a lower-animal thing, like notochords and invertibrateness and whatever; changing colors, sticking to walls, having glow-in-the-dark patches. Total parlor tricks of the animal kingdom, you know." Molly, leaning on the crutch of her four PhDs, likewise ratified this bigoted nonsense (while scrupulously insisting that the fact that she is acquainted with researcher Roger Hanlon of the Woods Hole Marine Biological Laboratory—and has likely sexed him gratuitously—had no bearing on her assessment of this "pretty neat research, really").
"Lower animal"? Pardon my saying so, but this tends to sting, especially when voiced by a primate that occasionally absent-mindedly removes caked mucus from his nose using the spatulate tip of his index-digit's nail, and consumes same. (There, I have said it! We have all observed it, and attempted the polite interventions, but here, it is the cat which has slipped the surly bonds of its bag!)
So, by way of experimental demonstration of the degree to which we are each and all beholden to our sacred chemistry, I contracted with a Chinese laboratory to synthesize a small batch of beta-microseminoproteins optimized for vertebrates.
TEST ONE: VERTEBRATE LAND MAMMAL
February 20, 10:07 a.m.: 4.76mls subcutaneous beta-microseminoproteins injected into the meats of a live spaniel pup, which was then placed within the service elevator descending to fetch my occasional assistant, Rob Miller, up from the lobby. According to closed-circuit security footage, upon Rob's entering the lift, the subject immediately took him (Rob) to be a willing mate, despite Rob's vociferous attempts at evasion for the entire duration of the 74-floor journey. Audio recording is unavailable, but Rob's posture, movements, and hoarseness upon his arrival would tend to indicate he had attempted a great deal of high-volume negotiation with the subject. At the conclusion of the test the subject was euthanized, processed, filleted, vacuum packed, and cooked in the manner sous-vide for 72 hours at 140 degrees Fahrenheit. The subject's sweet meats were reserved for later use.
TEST TWO: VERTEBRATE LAND MAMMAL
February 20, 12:22 p.m.: 6.6mls subcutaneous beta-microseminoproteins injected into the circulatory system of an adult armadillo, which was then released into the men's lavatory whilst Rob voided his colon (as per his established schedule), door-secured with a MasterLock model #177D brass combination lock with furnace-tempered, reinforced shackle and patented "Non-swivel Double-Lock" shaft. Audio recordings tend to confirm that "this fucking—shit! shit!—like, there's a fucking turtle rat in here! It's fucking pissed as shit!" was highly aggressive for 17 minutes before it suffered what dissection will likely confirm to be a minor myocardial infarction. Rob passed this period screaming shrilly in an attempt to frighten off the subject whilst crouching on the Formica counter top.
TEST THREE: CARTILAGINOUS MARINE VERTEBRATE
February 20, 2:44 p.m.: 7mls beta-microseminoproteins applied dermally in DMSO suspension to an adult nurse shark penned in a shallow, purple, elephant-themed plastic "kitty's pool" in our break-and-enjoy snacks room. At my behest, Jarwaun then casually noted to Rob that he (Jarwaun) was considering soon venturing into the break room to "get me some of that six-foot party-sub Mr. Squid ordered delivered for all of us to have because we come in on Sunday to help clear out these dumbass files before the federal agents come next week."
TEST FOUR: BIPEDAL VERTEBRATE
February 20, 4:12 p.m.: 354mls administered orally via Sprite canister to Rob Miller, who was "totally fucking blown out from beating that goddamn shark to death with the fucking push broom. Seriously; I'm kinda over asking why shit gets left where it does around here, but why the fuck was it so damn pissed off? Most of the other kiddy-pool sharks are just mad chill with their lot, you know?" Finishing the beverage in a single long quaff, Rob quieted momentarily, then became pensive, then querulous, and finally restive. He paced the floor dispensing un-asked for and ill-advised investment advice; he constructed, and then flung about the room, an inchoate and somewhat rabbinical argument against collective bargaining, same-sex marriage, same-sex civil unions, same-sex hygiene facilities, and then the "fucking goddamn hygiene conspiracy; the whole fucking government-run clusterfuckershitstorm!" He then punched my typist, Jarwaun, ejaculated upon our heated isotopic centrifuge, and spent the remainder of the afternoon in his cubicle typing and muttering, extremely tumescent, until such time as I had him anesthetized and moved to the locking janitorial closet. The 1200 page text was disturbingly similar to Atlas Shrugged, albeit one conceived in a startlingly sexually violent universe populated by leather-clad hepta-breasted mechanical demi-beings. Noting the unsettling, humid effects it cast upon Molly and Jarwaun when they viewed the text's opening sentence, I elected to delete it, for the good of progressive democracy.
Do not ever dare muttering that I have "never done anything" for you, humanity; in most regards, I have done far, far too much.
Editor-in-Chief of this Fair and Balanced Journal,
The Giant Squid
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