POSTMODERN TENTACLE LITURGY.

Donkey in the air is Tentacle.

He who spends too much time focused on Tentacle is a sucker, Gran'daddy always used to say. More and more Tentacle washing ashore each morning, though, cause of Al Gore. Tent plus pinnacle = the nipple of the octopus. A man squeezes a woman's nipple, a woman squeezes a man's nipple, only amongst primates. Go ahead, but if you pinch octopus nipple you will be in world of suction. Don't forget to catch Antique Tentacle Roadshow and play that game "Disappointed" / "Not Disappointed" when Tentacle is evaluated by Postmodern Paddle Wackers. Some folks think they have antique Tentacle and are disappointed when the appraisal is low whereas some people think they have modest Tentacle when it turns out they have very valuable Tentacle, and are elated, to say the least. The same Tentacle -- chopped high and chopped low -- has sat in the Thai Knot sushi prep area for years, rotated, every so often, by a sushi chef in a white mushroom cap. That's how Tentacle matures. Unless it's bottled and Put Up. I wouldn't turn down a bottle of Tentacle 12 Year Single Brine, but that's me. A tired octopus is a Spentacle whereas a gladiator cephalopod is a Spartacus. The Mongols, when they ran out of Tentacle, would catapault their own slain comrades -- especially those festering with the bubonic death -- into the citadels of their enemies. "Incoming Tentacle!" the sentries would shout, at first, until they saw a dead Mongol fly into their camp. "Incoming!" they would shout, instead, or "Mongol!" until it became commonplace, all those Besiegers flying through the air, and the sentries quit shouting, quit their posts, quit the citadels, but failed to notify their adversaries, who kept launching their mates in broad arcs.