Lost eppy.
Don't bother me with that now, Marvin. Yes, I've seen you juggle before. But Big Green's interstellar stage show has no slot for jugglers, even if they toss molten crowbars in the air five at a time. What the hell do you think this is, Ringling Brothers? Perry brothers, damn it. Whole different circus. Seriously, sometimes it feels like I'm running a two-bit talent agency in lower Broadway in 1947. Ever feel that way? Well ... I have, and it's right now. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has gotten it into his brass head that he needs to warm up our audiences, particularly in venues like Neptune, where the average daily high is something like 55 Kelvin (that's -218 Celsius to you and I). In that kind of climate, Marvin reasons, a little foot-stomping can't go amiss. Sure, he's got a point ... but juggling? On a plain-clothes rock stage? Come on. Now, I'm sure there are plenty of you - maybe five or six or even more - who are wondering what th...