Deep under the waves of the pacific ocean lies the darkest tale ever told, the tale of the misunderstood Cephalapod whoms life is a punchline for the joke that is modern America. A artist trapped in his own drawings. Each and every morning prying himself from his bed, wiping the crust from his eyes, punching his time card and putting in his 9-5 throughout dealing with the incessant shananigans of a ornate, eccentric, borderline facetiously foolish pineapple dwelling sea sponge.
He does it all while living entrapped in his own self loathing. His brother Squilliam being the renouned figure he always dreamed of being. Chasing the ghost of stardom. With each clarinet toot his soul is entrapped in the form of a musical sound wave. He's a personification of modern man, happiness surrounds him, and everyone only caring for themselves, their own spongey ways of chasing the emperor jelly fish, but when it stings, you are the one holding the bag, forced to find what you've always lost while you wither, fester, and become an entrapped slave to the figure you wish to become but never can. Longing for nothing more than the fame, the flashing lights, the eye blinding glow of artificial love. So instead of continuing the individuality of being a artist, a intellectual, a Van Gough or a Mozart. You become another sheep in the line, stamped for the veal package, punching your time card, working for the man. Working for the machine. Sweat, tears, and blood dripping down the canvas of your pathetic painting that is your life until you die of some sort of disease from eating junk foods to cope with the pain.
All the time in Bikini bottom is spent making a mockery of Squidward, he really gets a rough hand of cards dealt to him and he stands up straight, puts on his work shirt and shows the Youth how to be brave upstanding adult regardless of the madness of being in a cartoon for children. I'd furthermore vote him into office if Squidward were to run.
Look closely at this gif, as it sums up Squidward and the modern free world in one frame of thought. Madness, pandimonium, excitement and fun, but in reality the blank stare encompasses his face, the blank stare of the darkness that lies underneath as he is a slave, a puppet, a figure for amusement, an artifical alien trapped in a odd virtual reality matrix for children to laugh at. Where has he gone? When will he return and why is he here?
Spongebob as a cartoon is a direct visual representation of modern man. Spongebob could very well be your neighbor, and think of your job and your life, are you a Mr. Krabs? A boss man? Making the money off the sweat of the misfortunate but in yourself being a shell of your former glory? Are you a patrick? Dumb, taken advantage of by those you were most loyal to, naive in your ways but honest to the core?
We all have encountered a plankton in our lives, all have had a spongebob to annoy us or a Mr. Krabs boss to hate. That's why spongebob is so glorious. It's each and every one of us. The artists are meticulous gods beyond our realm as they made a cartoon buffoonery of our very existance. It's truly meta the way it was done. You are squidward.
