Woke up this morning, my head was so bad. 
Worst hangover I ever had. What happened to me last….. Whoa, hold on there. Must have been singing in my sleep. My apologies.
Yeah, I was dreaming about some of the god-awful cover bands I’ve played in over the years. (Well I remember back in ’93… tar-nation, that was a time!) It’s like paying penance for a heinously miss-spent youth… Condemned forever to roam the catacombs of memory, warbling disposable rock-n-roll warhorses to myself. W.T.F. – I don’t think I ever even SANG “Double shot of my baby’s love” or whatever it’s called! I must be reliving the lives of other ex-lounge lizards. Uhhlllll…. That’s a grisly thought. Anyway, welcome back to the Cheney Hammer Mill, where the roofs are sagging, the floors are heaving, and the space in-between is getting narrower and narrower all the time. (The man-sized tuber has scrounged up a 4X8 post from somewhere and propped it up next to his terrarium, just in case. Forward-thinking, I thought.) We make the best of things (and, occasionally, the worst of things) over here.
Don’t know if you remember, but last week I reported on Anti-Lincoln’s recent disappearance into what seemed to be a hole into another dimension. (How do I know it was Anti- and not Posi-Lincoln? The spiraling shape in the interdimensional 
wormhole was rotating in a counter-clockwise direction.) Before you ask, the answer is no – no, none of us jumped in there after him. Quite frankly, Anti-Lincoln has a tendency to get on everyone’s nerves. Matt just threw a sandwich at him last week in frustration. (This may not seem all that serious, but let me tell you… it was one mean sandwich.) Even Marvin (my personal robot assistant) doesn’t care for the man (or anti-man), and he never had the property of dislike programmed into him. Posi-Lincoln – the actual 16th president of the United States, plucked from the past by virtue of Trevor James Constable’s orgone generating machine (read all about it in our archives) – seems totally unconcerned over the disappearance of his evil doppelganger, even though this could lead to trouble for the great emancipator.
How? Glad you asked, actually. Well, think about it, now. What if, by pure chance, Anti-Lincoln lands in Washington D.C. in, say, 1863, and is mistaken for the genuine article. Why… the outcome of the Civil War might well be altered. The South might actually succeed in its secessionary 
ambitions and become a North American apartheid South Africa, while the North might morph into a somewhat crispier version of Canada – Canadian bacon, if you will. Where would we be then, eh? I’ll tell you where…. right here in the Cheney Hammer Mill, that’s where. As I said, this would be bad news for Lincoln, since his reputation might be negatively affected…. but for the rest of us, well, it could be very much the same deal. Just weirder, if that can be imagined. So before you say it, yes, I should have stopped that fuzz-faced goon from leaping through the time warp towards eons and eras unknown. But I failed. I FAILED.
Whoof. Glad I got that out of my system. Now we can proceed with our day, right? Hey…. where is everyone? And what happened to my map of the United States? It seems much shorter now….
