Our caravan arrived at the gates of the ancient

Our caravan arrived at the gates of the ancient city of Ackhabha, we carried the most precious and dangerous treasure ever known to man. Maghrob, our leader spoke, "Behold the

japanese robot girlfriend queen." we announced. The men guarding the gate of Ackhabha were skeptical. "It's just a dressed up mannequin!" Then the j-robot queen laughed coldy

used a rivet gun to fire pop rivets into the gate of Ackhabha. Unbeknown to j-robot queen she was just reinforcing the gate. We found a side entrance and slipped away from the carn

inval of Interlocutions and into the world of silence. Nothing we did made any noise in this dimension. We clapped--nothing. I shouted but there was no sound, not even the blood

Flowing from the west to the east. The feral population quadrupled in four years! Mr. Tomato met Mr. Potatohead at Starbucks to discuss this subject. The revolution had begun.

Flying Mother Nature's deadly nightshade family seed to a new home in the Bahamas. Unfortunately, both the Potato and Tomato clans did not fare well in the humid tropical climate.

Sp we packed them up into a Cool home with free year-round air Conditioning, so they could live out the Italin, and Irish lives, under the Sun of the Bahamas, folding stories under

The auspices of a benevolent corporate master. The unrest down in the streets was simply background noise. Megacorp alone would dictate what culture was and, more importantly, what

culture wasn't. And by that definition, is how we know how to recognize culture. In other words, culture is no longer culture, but rather, manipulative subjugation. It's a trap.