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home again, home again (jiggedy-jig)

My return to the Land of the Rising Fun has left me jetlagged but blissed. The plane ride was 11.5+ hrs, evading three typhoon and battling 175 kph (108 mph) headwinds the whole way.

And if you’re only here for the weird shit and not for news on my life, here is an ebay auction for an Angelina Jolie life mask, which is listed as “nude” for some inexplicably creepy reason.

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“I came back for my own purposes,” said the Time Traveler, looking around my booklined study. “I chose you to talk to because it was . . . convenient. And I don’t want you to do a goddamned thing. There’s nothing you can do. But relax . . . we’re not going to be talking about personal things. Such as, say, the year, day, and hour of your death. I don’t even know that sort of trivial information, although I could look it up quickly enough. You can release that white-knuckled grip you have on the edge of your desk.” I tried to relax. “What do you want to talk about?” I said. “The Century War,” said the Time Traveler. I blinked and tried to remember some history. “You mean the Hundred Year War? Fifteenth Century? Fourteenth? Sometime around there. Between . . . France and England? Henry V? Kenneth Branagh? Or was it . . .” “I mean the Century War with Islam,” interrupted the Time Traveler. “Your future. Everyone’s.” He was no longer smiling. Without asking, or offering to pour me any, he