 Now I'm going to confuse the heck out everyone. Wha? Main Street - above the fold?
Yes. There's a reason. For one thing, it's seasonal! For another, I can't stockpile these things. If I don't run this one this year, it'll be held over for 2019, and that's just absurd. The third reason I'll explain later.
 There are two reasons for running this today during our Hiatal time. The facts:
“Greeneville is a town in, and the county seat of Greene County, Tennessee, United States.[7] The population as of the 2010 census was 15,062. The town was named in honor of Revolutionary War hero Nathanael Greene. It is the only town with this spelling in the United States, although there are numerous U.S. towns named Greenville. The town was the capital of the short-lived State of Franklin in the 18th-century history of the Tennessee region.”
I’d . . . never heard about that. Or if I had, I forgot.
"Who designed that classical building?"
"Todd, that guy over there."
"The one with the really big head?"
"Who did your windows?"
"Crooked Bob. He’s standing over there."
"The guy with his neck twisted over to one side?"
Last we saw of the contractor, he got himself sucked into hyperspace. Right through the door there.
That’s the coolest little thing I’ve seen in a long time.
Alas, the glue, it cannot hold forever.
Quick: what was this?
You’re right! Even though it didn’t look like the sort of banks we usually see, it was . . . banky.
Nice supper-club aesthetic next door.
“Todd hates that building. Says it’s for small-head people.”
That’s a beaut. Cold-butter marble.
Next door:
Those who don’t learn from the past are doomed to put up something ugly right next to the past.
There are some sights in old downtowns that are disturbing in small ways it’s difficult to measure. This one qualifies. The half-facade suspended over an empty space; the bricked-up windows; the deep, abandoned entrance.
EVERYTHING MUST GO the signs once said, I’ll bet.
And everything did, except the the.
Not even the theater looks like it’s open. Or was ever open.
But it was, and it is.
Should we do this now?
No, we're not stoping.I’m not sure I’ve done it justice. Wander around, if you wish, while you listen to the clip below: the saddest radio game show I’ve ever heard.
This is the third reason. If I don't do this now, you'll lose the plot!
We return to the utterly generic story of . . .
Just should note that it took SIX PEOPLE to write this nonsense.
Penultimately yours, it's . . .
If you recall the last cliffhanger, Purps shoved Foster into a bin and poured molten metal on him, but of course:
You’d think a guy who comes from Mars would have a death ray or something. Nope. RUN AWAY.
Afterwards Foster talks to Dr. Uncle Scientist, who we know is actually inhabited by the Purple Monster. Foster says “yes, the medallion has Martian rock, and what’s more, it contains carbo-oxide, which the Purple Monster probably needs to breathe, if he’s from Mars. He’s building a rocket ship to get back, and will need carbo-oxide, so let’s check the supply houses to see if they’ve sold the raw materials to anyone.”
Dr. Uncle Scientist changes back into the Purple Monster with his usual trick-photography smoke-huffing routine, and goes down to the basement of the observatory. Turns out that’s where they’re building the rocket. Purps says they have to go soon, but not to worry about the carbo-oxide; he’s been making his own, so there’s nothing to trace. Looks like our heroes are licked!
Then again, incidentally:
Foster sneaks aboard the truck, but makes noise.
Yeah, why pull over? Foster jumps him, and there’s a brief hats-on fistfight. But it’s INDY TIME
So he makes it back to the facility where the carbo-oxide is being loaded. The lead henchman makes a phone call, and Foster gets the number by counting the clicks on the dial . . . but he’s discovered, and it’s the rarest of rare things: a 3-on-1 hats-on melee.
Someone’s always the guy (or gal) on the floor who shakes it off and gets back in the action. Meanwhile, someone forgot to turn off the gas loading into a tank:
They really are epic, these fights:
Did I mention that carbo-oxide is quite explosive?
And now, our pallid Lance Substitute:
Why yes, I will give you more Bela, and you'ld LIKE IT. Polly want a pawn shop?
Solution on Friday! Don't bother clicking ahead or reverse-engineering the link. You won't find it.
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