I hopped into 1984. "I'm from the future!"

I hopped into 1984. "I'm from the future!" They were skeptical. "Oh really? What's the next big movie?" "The Great Gatsby in 3D with rap music!" I piped. "Oh, gag me with a spoon."

asked one snappy gum-chewer while the other one chimed in, "And what's rap music??" I had forgotten. It would be 2 more years before RUN-DMC & Aerosmith broke down the wall. 1984

was a novel by George Orwell that everyone has read except for that long assed middle bit. The snappy gum chewer asked again, "What is rap music?" As a time traveler I never interv

Now as you know, Bob, time travel is a lot like traveling by car. It takes time. Time isn't straight. You need a steering wheel. You merge with the 5 millennia/hr traffic on the

super-galactic highway. The traffic is terrible; space ships, shuttles, rocks, meteorites... you name it, they are there blocking your way & then there is the menace of the

Cyborgs taking over policing. They will spot you eating those kosher dill pickles and drooling at the prospect of them being on your next sandwiches. Who needs Dijon mustard when

Carcasonne is only a protracted siege away? The cyborgs digitally huddled to discuss which heresy to pursue first: kosher dill or the idea of a next sandwich. Smacking more of Hope

-well Virginia honey-cured ham than vegetarian meatloaf, the cyborgs put whatever was in front of them intot eh deli slicer: the mailman, a fire plug, Mrs. Murphy's weigela bush.

Out came the spiciest sausage in the world. It was served to the Grandiose Gauze king. Whose fingers had programmed them all. But Mrs. Murphy had had a virus now all were infected.