"In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming." That's what H.P. Lovecraft wrote in "The Call of Cthulhu." I always thought R'lyeh must have been a metaphor for my brain, because that Elder-God-Octopus seemed to be interred there, staring at me during his undeath. At the store, buying - jars of octopus tentacles in pungent green liquid? No - Pickles. In the news: The Octopus Is Smarter Than We Thought - they're using tools now. Coconut shells cracked in half, carried in their tightly wound tentacles like rudimentary bucklers.