Since I moved to Toronto, but especially since the Queen Street West streetcar line has been diverted from my neighbourhood by construction, I've been eating a lot of Korean food. It's spicy; it's best with chopsticks; it has kimchi; it's something I'm not used to. What's not to like? It was only this evening, while eating some squid rice, that I began to feel queasy. It was the sight of the rubbery purple tentacles of the squid that did it. It wasn't only my understandable fear of my Dread Lord fluffcthulhu and my desire for a marginally less painful death when Ry'leh that caused me to leave my meal unfinished, but what I knew about the remarkable intelligence of cephalopods in general. The idea of eating an animal with which I might share certain basic principles of thought, with which I might feel some empathy, makes me queasy.