Technically, I’m writing this entry at 3pm on Thursday the 20th. I’m at an undisclosed location in Louisville, Kentucky that wants me to pay for their internet services. For speculation’s sake, let’s call it The Cantina. It fits the bill. Yak-Face? Check. Chicken Alien? Check. Someone in line even told me that their friend “doesn’t like [me] either.”

It’s a good thing I didn’t come here for the atmosphere. I didn’t even come for the wi-fi. My mission is to work on the Top Secret Michael Winslow Project until my laptop’s battery hits the single digits. It’s also probably a pro that there aren’t any internet ghouls keeping me from working.

Scoop! Fatmandu to the left just shook his tail a bit when he stood up. His mating call may have worked on weaker willpower on a better day and in a sexier setting. Look out the window. He’s driving out of my life forever!

Take the temporal skiff ride with me. Now it’s twelve hours later, one hour left to save Toby from the Goblin King. Along with Justin, I learned that only two things need to be passed on to your children in regards to Enzo Castellari’s New Barbarians. Fit the first: Fred Williamson is probably your father. Fit the second: There is most definitely a scene, one that’s impossible to misconstrue, that involves Scorpion being butt-tortured by the head of the Templars.