Paul is Dead

Some sad news to pass on, dear friends. Word swept through the Internet yesterday that Paul the prognosticating octopus, who correctly predicted the winner of all seven of Germany's matches in this year’s World Cup soccer tournament as well as the final match, thereby enabling millions of dollars that were bet around the world to change hands, has died. He leaves a wife, two children, and eight tentacles.

Officials at the German aquarium where Paul had taken up residence in the last year broke the tragic news on Tuesday. They said they discovered Paul motionless and smiling.

"At least he went peacefully," one official noted. "When we saw him floating at the top of his tank, we just thought he had gas." .

In Spain, winners of this year’s World Cup championship, King Juan Carlos II declared a national day of mourning. Taking a break from his lunch of sardinas a la plancha, His Majesty commented, “Gee, I was really sad to see little Pablo go. Everyone in Europe was hoping he’d also be able to predict exactly when Greece’s economy would finally go belly-up.”

Despite his newfound celebrity status, it appeared that Paul continued to maintain a fairly modest lifestyle, embracing none of the accoutrements of fame. To my knowledge, there are no reports that he ever demanded a stretch limo with a Jacuzzi in the back, or that his tank be filled only with Perrier. Even under the glare of lights from the press and paparazzi, sporting a pair of Oakleys or a Rolex just wasn’t his style.

And though he probably would have felt right at home in the company of an SI Swimsuit Issue cover girl, he was definitely never seen with a supermodel or two (or three, or eight) on one of his arms. While the rest of the world made a big deal out of it, Paul was content to just stay in his tank, squirt ink and change colors now and then.

The passing of Paul leads one to wonder what creature from the animal kingdom might emerge in 2014 to perform the job of predicting that year’s tournament results, and there are already whispers as to who may have the inside track. Perhaps it might come from South Africa, host of this year’s tournament, where, oh, say an ostrich named Otto will predict the results depending on which hole in the sand he sticks his head into. Or how about Benny the18-foot Burmese python, who will pick the winners depending on which house pet or tribal chieftain it decides to swallow whole. One candidate which I’m certain will have no chance whatsoever is the South American tree sloth, which is so slow that any match would have already been over for a good two weeks before it got around to making a choice.

But back to Paul. There’s been some discussion as to where Paul’s final resting place should be -- at the German aquarium which has been home to him for the last year or so, or perhaps a museum where he could be both venerated and studied to try and determine from where his remarkable talent came. My personal feeling, however, is that since he was responsible for so much money being won -- or lost, depending on which way you bet -- on the World Cup, there’s only one truly appropriate place for him to end up: yes, friends, Paul deserves to be enshrined at Shark Reef at Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas, where those who won and those who lost based on Paul’s predictions could go and bless or curse him, depending how much you dropped taking the word of an animal that I’m sure didn’t give a damn about either soccer or your bank account in the first place.

Future residences aside though, let’s just remember the fun and enjoyment that hearing about Paul’s remarkable achievement brought us this past summer -- and in his honor, take a moment to bow our heads in silence before we dig into our calamari.

I’m sure he’s up there somewhere in octoheaven, laughing at us all.