A couple of days ago, I was promised some FACTS.
SQUID FACTS, to be precise.
This promise came in the form of some charming squid-y graffiti on an electrical box in north Hollywood Dell, with a definitely-not-scammy-looking 1-800 number suggesting I ought to TEXT “SQUID” to receive some "SQUID FACTS.”
Naturally, my first thought was one of pure joy. SQUID FACTS. Right here, right now. I cursed myself for having left my phone at home.
Then I thought again. Maybe this SQUID wasn’t actually trying to provide me with FACTS at all. Maybe this squid, with his big squid-y eyes and multiple squid-y tentacles was actually endeavoring to hit me with some SQUID PORN or SQUID GOVERNMENTAL DATA MONETIZATION.
So I decided I’d wait a bit, weigh the value of some up-for-grabs, right-there SQUID FACTS against the possibility of receiving unsolicited nudes.
Twenty-four hours later, and I decided some SQUID HOT TAKES were more than worth the risk.
Only one problem:
Phone out and ready to receive some FACTS, I swallowed as I instead snapped a pic of the white spray-paint grave of Mr. SQUID.
After a few seconds of mourning, though, I noticed something: If I took off my glasses and squinted really hard, I could still make out that definitely-not-scammy 1-800 number.
Fingers quivering, and mind 86% sure I was going to get a pic of someone’s bare breasts, I typed S-Q-U-I-D…
And now I have a direct link to SQUID FACTS on demand.
Sometimes Squid Facts really are just Squid Facts.
(Note: To whoever purchased my data — I’m counting on you for some very well placed IG ads of SQUID MERCH. Thanks.)