"Back," huh? Make all the drug-baking jokes you like, Ken -- posting once a month is not enough!

So: thanks to you, my many loyal squidlettes, for reading my first Sauce entry! Special shout-out to Mr. Boyer for his many fascinating links to octopus videos. Octopi are inferior, but still very cool, sea creatures. I'll try to post an octo-centric entry soon. (And no, it won't be tentacle hentai, Ken!) Also thanks to Erin for the link. I actually saw a special about the Humboldt squid and was intending to write something about them. Thanks for the reminder! But now: onward to ...

Things I have recently learned!

1. Dark circles under your eyes are not always caused by lack of sleep. They can also be caused by sinus pressure. When your nose is congested, the veins that serve to drain fluid from your eyes into your nose also get clogged. So they dilate and become darker -- dark enough to show through the very thin layer of skin under your eyes. I thought this new fixture on my face was due to fatigue and stress. As it turns out, I'm just allergic to San Francisco.

2. Panda Bears suck. I was watching a panda program on the Discovery Channel this week (I'll tune in to anything on Discovery that doesn’t involve weapons or construction), and they were talking about Panda Bears, which apparently do not migrate to lower elevations during the winter, because the particular type of bamboo they like lives at a very specific elevation. Pandas also don’t hibernate in the winter, because the same bamboo doesn’t have enough nutritional value to make them fat enough to survive. And when a mama panda reproduces, her milk isn’t rich enough in nutrients to support more than one baby (because of -- you guessed it -- that bamboo they can't get enough of). If a panda does have twins, she chooses like Sophie: one baby panda gets to breastfeed, and the other one has to starve.

And people wonder why these things are dying out?! Freaking adapt already! Here: how about some lovely bark? No? Some berries, then, or maybe a few leafy greens! Do NOT make that face at me, Mr. Panda! If you would just branch out (sorry) a bit, and try eating something new, all your problems would be solved! You could migrate, hibernate and spit out more than one mini-panda at a time! Meanwhile, I for one refuse to get all depressed about the looming extinction of an animal that won't even TRY to get its shit together.

3. The Discovery Channel is suffering from some serious narcissism. They love that they get to show Planet Earth so freaking much. Opening credits: over dramatically swelling music and Sir David's footage of galloping gazelles and feasting crocodiles, they've put the text: “A landmark television series! 5 years in the making! 2,000 days of shooting! 204 locations! This is your world! Prepare to see it … as never before.” You don't have to advertise all the time and work you put into the show, people -- I'm already watching! And it gets worse: I’m trying to concentrate on the (honestly very stunning) images of migrating elephants, when Sigourney Weaver jumps in to talk all about the super-fancy equipment used to shoot the migrating elephants. (Apparently they've got a fancy lens mounted to an extremely expensive HD steady-cam, which is itself mounted on a state-of-the-art helicopter, allowing them to capture never-before-seen blah dee blah blah blah ...)

Don’t get me wrong -- it’s great to have all this fancy-pants high-tech shit. It allows Attenborough to get some truly beautiful shots -- wild dogs on the hunt, week-old baby pandas (still dumb!), birds of paradise doing a mating dance, etc. But I didn't tune in to dork out about the latest in film technology, I tuned in to learn about Earth and the creatures that inhabit it.

(Oh, and they even use the last five minutes of each episode to interview one of the film-makers about the behind-the-scenes struggle of making the series. Can't we get five more minutes explaining the migrating patterns of caribou, instead of five minutes showing us the Himalayan lodgings of the filmmakers?) I really don't get it: Blue Planet was such a spectacular accomplishment. Can all of Planet Earth really be such a self-aggrandizing annoyance? Like I say, I'm a huge Discovery Channel dork, so I'll keep watching, but only with the sound off. And I'll keep hoping that the British original doesn't have all of these problems.

Okay, that's all for now! More child molester R & B, or whatever, soon!

... and I am back like the proverbial cooked crack! Props to our adorable (if unnecessarily bitter) squid-spert guest blogger, for holding it down in the interim.

But this can't wait even one minute longer: new Kells!

Lest you forgot during the hiatus, at Kentertainment we are ABOUT the following:

1. R. Kelly;

2. Jewel-studded stunners;

3. Midwest icons bearing crowns;

4. Delivering the uncensored YouTube hotness to salivating skillets;

5. The! Remix!! (Do NOT miss the last 1:55!)

(And before you ask: yes, the Pied Piper hotline has officially replaced Mike Jones (who?) on our speed dial. In case you missed it just now: 312-278-3965. Holla at a player ... holla at a player ...)

Alright, my little squidlettes. Ken has already become one of those lazy, non-updating bloggers that we all hate, so I’m taking charge of the situation.

Welcome to the Adrienne Sauce! What kind of seasoning can you expect to find in your Sauce? Let’s see ... my thoughts on sea creatures, Ken’s antics, life in San Francisco, pop culture and random (but super-interesting) discoveries about the world in general. Mostly sea creatures, though.

Starting with squids!

I’ve been fascinated by squids of all kinds for many years, and along the way I've learned a quite a few things about them -- some true, some false, and some so funny that it doesn't matter.

I've compiled my very favorite Actually True Facts, and today I offer several of them here, to educate, enlighten and amuse you:

Item #1!

Although tales of giant squids’ existence have been around for hundreds of years, no evidence of one was found until the late 1800’s, when pieces of a dead giant squid were found washed up on the shores of Newfoundland. And it wasn't until September 2004 that any footage was taken of a live giant squid in its natural habitat.

Apparently in the late 1800’s, LOTS of pieces of dead giant squid were found on the shores of Newfoundland. Scientists still aren’t sure why so many giant squid died in such a short amount of time, and are equally baffled as to why they washed up in Newfoundland. I have never been to Newfoundland, but I have heard it is very pretty. Probably just as good a place to die as any.

Item #2!

Giant squid possess the largest eyes of any living creature (with the possible exception of the even-more-awesome-but-also-maybe-fake colossal squid), at 1 foot in diameter.

Think of that: 1 whole FOOT! Personally, I have this thing about eyes. They creep me out. The thought of, for example, something large and pointy somehow getting embedded in my eye? Super scary.

I even get freaked out by that scene in Mickey’s Christmas Carol where Scrooge McDuck finds out he’s being visited by the Ghost of Christmas Present by opening his curtains and coming face-to-pupil with a giant eye.

So the thought of being greeted by a REAL LIFE foot-wide eye, at the bottom of the ocean? Too creepy to even imagine. In fact, let’s just move on …

Item #3!

Giant squid tentacles are covered with hundreds of suction cups that are equipped around their circumference with very sharp teeth. Crazy, right? Like Jenifer, or that movie at Sundance about the girl with teeth in an (ahem) unusual place! Being attacked by a creature with giant suckers is bad enough as it is, but if those giants sucker also had sharp teeth on them?! I mean, come on!

Item #4!

Giant squid would not make yummy giant calamari. In fact, they taste like ammonia. So unless you happen to be a sperm whale I’d suggest you steer clear of any menu item containing giant squid.

And last, but not least,

Item #5!

All types of squid have "growth rings". Yep, you heard me right. Growth rings--just like trees. You can cut them open and tell how old they are by their rings. Again, though, unless you are a sperm whale or a Newfoundlander (Newfoundlandian?), I wouldn’t recommend trying it.

Finally, you guys: baby squids!!

More about them later, squidlettes! (Unless Ken decides to stop whining about how much "work" he has to do, and go back to boring us all to death about the latest dumb rapper from Topeka or wherever ...)

My favorite Mizzoula boy scout didn't bring his barnstorming carny act to Hyphytown until just this month, so there was no chance of me getting to Inland Empire before the full-time critical types. No matter -- the dayjobbers have covered this one admirably well.

I would, however, like to provide the following public service to those of you poised to attend an upcoming screening. You should know that Empire is long -- like, Tarkovsky long. If you know me even a little, you know that's the good news. The bad news is: you're going to need a beverage or two to make it through (can the human body even survive 172 minutes without water? Do you really want to find out?), which in turn means that you're going to need a bathroom break.

And Lynch doesn't believe in pausing DVDs -- don't think he's about to stop the movie for you.

Fortunately, Inland Empire is woven together from a fairly finite set of leitmotifs -- the old favorites plus a few promising newcomers. I've even compiled the following handy checklist. Just leave it on the lap of your movie companion of choice before dashing off to tinkle, and you can return to as complete an "understanding" of the movie as you had before your bladder was full. Don't say I never did anything for you:

OK, I'm kidding about that last one. But you've gotta admit, it would be awfully cool!

A.xx .. o ... N,
--K

None of the usual exuberance today, skillets. I'm so mad about this, I can't even see straight. If I'd done right by my legal career, I'd have the job that allowed me to be the first one on a plane down to Georgia, sticking it to those RIAA bastards.

As it is, I'll have to settle for troubling deaf heaven with the usual bootless cries, and marveling at the continued ability of the enemies of free expression to impose their will by means of petty recordkeeping requirements. Woe unto you, scribes and pharisees! Hypocrites!

While we wait for the real legal muscle to get involved, or for the S1W's to bust out the ol' Black Steel, here's some actual footage of the dangerous criminal mastermind at work -- "grilled chicken style":

P.S. My order from Mixunit arrived today. Wonder if I got the last package of mixtapes they'll ever ship ...

Urban Meyer to the State of Ohio last night: I've been playing! You've been getting a red-ass beatdown!

I don't have too much to say about this, except of course that it was completely predictable.

I mean, any time you swipe the likes of a Troy Smith away from a powerhouse MAC school like BGSU, you have to expect that the jilted Falcons coach will hone his skills in Utah for a couple of years, biding his time and perfecting his wacko two-quarterback offensive system (of REVENGE!), until he can pounce on the head coach opening at the University of Florida, the institution whose football squad features the only highly touted prospect from Smith's class that you DIDN'T sign (because you decided to roll with the guy in the Israeli mob BMW instead), where the actual football-playing activities are cleverly concealed within a swamp, while Smith himself gets the Zwick out of his (starting) spot just in time to get fat and complacent on delicious Wolverine steak in Heisman trophy reduction sauce, leaving him perfectly positioned for a title-game drubbing on the unforgiving turf of University of Bird-that-rises-like-the-vengeful-coach-of-a-spurned-midmajor-NOT-the-name-of-the-coincidentally-nearby-city Super Stadiodome.

Like: duh, skillets. We should have seen this coming a mile away.

P.S. Fish? Fish!

So glad you asked, thoughtful skillet! A festive red t-shirt, of course!

Think they still sell them in a men's Medium?

Desperately in need of a creative outlet, I used to mentally compose entries for a blog that didn't even exist. Nowadays, I have the damn blog (obvs), and I still compose the entries, but I never get around to typing them up and posting. I can't decide which is more pathetic, frankly.

Anyway: I haven't even started my holiday shopping, it's supposed to rain until Japheth's daddy shows up with a matched set of puffins, and my job is getting on my LAST damn nerve. Whatever. Bitch bitch bitch. Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be plaintiffs' lawyers, etc.

Truth be told, I'm feeling nothing so much as the #1 download in America and the motherfucking lonely goatherd right now ... but we have certain standards to uphold around here. All Jams of the Week, all the time ...

So I give you Atlanta's own Blak Jak, both audio and video style.

That "Ride and Swerve" is especially nice, even if it does remind me that I am on all the wrong drugs ...

Happy holiday season, everyone!

Are you all ready to deal with this madness ALL THE FUCK OVER AGAIN??

Sweet Badger Jesus ...

Working, mostly. (Tragically.)

But also: entirely caught up on The Wire. (Spoilers: do your worst!)

It's fucking brilliant, of course. As good as anything I've seen on the TV, ever. Watch it all, at your first available opportunity, and then geek out with me, won't you?

Some of my all-time favorite videos are up at that last link -- especially that Freeway/Jay-Z/Sigel. Do yourself a solid, and head over there for a look ...

Meanwhile, I provide the Jam of the Week once again, because apparently MTVJ has my recent tastes pegged perfectly.

Happy Thanksgiving, skillets! Grab a onion!!