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GO TEAM VENTURE!



Adult Swim’s excellent series, The Venture Brothers has unexpectedly snared me like the invisible arms of The Phantom Limb! It has been all I can do to keep myself from watching the episodes in a single sitting. Apparently I am not alone in my enthusiasm;
Wikipedia has entries on each and every character, episode, and even hypotheses on characters who only make brief appearances—the high geekery speculation the likes of which I’ve not seen since the bounty hunters from The Empire Strikes Back. There are plenty of fansites in addition to the purely collaborative wikipedia.

The creators are down with the love they’re getting from the fans. On the internets, in addition to the Adult Swim site’s Flash games and wallpapers, you can find the Official website with sounds, interviews, and other links, and there’s character and storyboard art at Chrisis Church of Art / Lovelace Pop Art, and series news and insight from Jackson Publick at his LiveJournal, Publick Nuisance.

Anyway, Season 2 (a bad place to start) is available through iTunes music store, though you can find plenty of snippets at YouTube, above.

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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