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Wednesday, November 13, 2013


It is time to clean the garage.

She-who-must-be-obeyed has told me so.
So I told her that it also is time to clean out that Jumanji that is her closet in the bedroom.

That closet is so intensely tropical than Speke might find the sources of the Nile there; there may be languages Burton might put himself to study; Dr. Livingstone may have made some converts in that closet, and Stanley may be there looking for him.
In that Jumanji closet alternate universe, another Gordon may be embattled with another Mahdi at Khartoum, and another Khufu might have underlings stretching knotted ropes out for the base of a pyramid or two.
There may be remnants of civilizations that traded with the Indians of Cahokia, and there may be Mound Builders or Anasazi of a undiscovered Pueblo!

I think that Charles Darwin has booked onto the HMS Beagle to make a foray into that archipelago of closets, and there is an anomaly in the Cosmic Microwave Background radiation somewhere in there, too.

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