Strange new world.
Got your bearings straight? Well, then, where the hell are we? What's that? The Bering Strait ? How the hell did we... oh, right. You're just repeating the last two words of every sentence that comes out of my mouth. How helpful. Stop it! Yes, friends... that's right. We still haven't found our way back to the Cheney Hammer Mill, which we now presume is no longer under the control of the dreaded space alien Gizmandiar since his ignominious defeat at the pseudo-pods of the equally dreaded (though beloved by us) space alien sFshzenKlyrn . (Long story, actually. If you've missed the last few installments, click that Usual Rubbish link and scroll down a bit.) Anyway, we spent several salty days at sea following our splashdown in the Atlantic (or was it the Pacific... because the Atlantic isn't so terrific, though the Pacific, I hear, is not all it's cracked up to be...) before Marvin (my personal robot assistant) caught sight of land. It was the first we'd...