Do not be fooled. It transforms an inelegant tube-shaped dense paste of chopped chordate parts into a crude, inaccurate semblance of that pinnacle of molluscan evolution, the cephalopod. What next? Will Steven Spielberg take a mound of hamburger, call it George Clooney, and give it a starring role in his next movie? Shall I put a pot of alphabet soup on the stove and call it lyric poetry?
It is blasphemy. When the Great Old Ones come, I know who will be eaten first.