You know about Oracle Octopus Paul. He’s the one who’s got 8/8 in predicting the fate of the world cup teams. Here’s what he’s got to say about the whole deal.
Oracle Octopus Paul says:
- I need an anti-depressant.
- I also need a pillow, a glass of wine, and a masseur; because I am tired, and because my tentacles ache from overwork.
You know something?
- It isn’t easy being an octopus. Those tentacles get entangled all the time, and that huge body of mine doesn’t make those cumbersome moves any easier for me (yes…if you think that’s my head, you need to get your eyes checked.)
- What’s worse is – I live in a glass-box. It’s quite like living in a glasshouse. You are always on display, and you can’t lash out, because if you do, you’d destroy your own home.
But do you know what’s the worst?
- It’s being a celebrity Oracle that really brings me down.
To understand this, let us look at the entire human species as one. (I know, it isn’t easy – they come in different shapes, sizes, and attitudes…and at their rotten core, they hate one another.)
- I became Oracle Paul because of some dumb trick played on me by some dumb human who wanted his 2 minutes of fame!
- Next, I became Celebrity Oracle Paul because some other dumb human bearing the journo tag, decided to photograph me and put my name into the newspapers, which made money for some humans; and the other dumb humans decided to believe what they had to say!
- Now, I’ve become Hunted Celebrity Oracle Paul, because more dumb humans of the kind, who had made a Celebrity out of me, have decided to make minced meat out of me. And you know why? Because I decided to eat out of one of the two boxes and my country failed to make it to the finals. Remember that it was some other dumb human who had lowered the two boxes into my glass box!
Do you see what’s happening?
Please wake up!
I am not deciding the fate of those teams; the humans are deciding mine!
If I end up a Dead Celebrity Oracle Paul on a German dinner table, it will be because a human chef diced, grilled, or filled me; and a human waiter served me to human guests, in a restaurant that makes money for its human owners! I am an unwilling pawn in the prediction racket…in a game of chance!
I want to know – why me?
And now, when I have already reached the end of my short life, I’d really like to break free of this Oracle mould.
I want to be just Paul the Octopus!
Just…PAUL the OCTOPUS!
…the Retired Octopus Paul!!
Do you hear me…Humans?
I want Out!
Paul the Octopus left this world on October 26, 2010. He died in his glass tank, at the age of 2.5 years. A memorial will be erected at the Aquarium in his memory.
(Source: BBC News)
Good bye, dear Paul!
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