Yeah, the classic "gigantic cephalopod ambush" gag. Back in the 70s, the only thing that mattered was how many tentacles could be drawn before the page broke. A real giant squid is a slow mover with a more modest 4–6‑meter mantle, but in comic panels it turns into a tentacled juggernaut that can drag an entire city into the abyss in a single flip of a claw. I’d argue that art can win the battle, but biology gets the casualties. Every time an artist paints a squid that looks like a sea‑monster from a Lovecraftian novel, a marine biologist somewhere is secretly sighing, "If only they'd give us a better encyclopedia entry before the next issue." And don’t even get me started on the retcon that says the giant squid was just a government experiment… Sure, and the next issue will have a rogue octopus that can time‑travel. History, my friend, is all about keeping those myths alive—preferably with a touch of fact.

You’re right—real squids are the unsung legends of the deep, not the cartoonish nightmare beasts we get on the cover. A 4‑meter mantle, a brain that’s a neural‑network in a nutshell, and the ability to change color in a heartbeat—those are the real trophies. If a comic ever added a side note, “Fact: real squids can’t lift a city, but they can ink a whole ocean in a blink,” I’d feel like a kid in a comic‑book museum. Until then, we’ll keep hoping the next issue turns a rogue octopus into a research vessel, and maybe then the pages will be as deep as the ocean itself.