Weather Events and Monkeyshines This week's issue is rather philosophical. In it, we reflect on many things: the changes in the seasons, human experience, and how it does and doesn't change over time, the boundaries of our knowledge, and the way in which our imaginations transcend those boundaries. To name a few. That's why you're getting this picture of the Editor's feet. Okay, they aren't really my feet, unless that artist in 1920 had a really cool Ouija board. But you get the idea.
As the photos and stories have been coming in this weekend, I've been reflecting on the phenomenon of simultaneity. You know, how varied our experiences are, all at the same time, around this shared planet of ours. For example, here in western Pennsylvania, Saturday (a week ago, when you're reading this) was a beautiful, sunny, early-fall day. I was out photographing sheep and admiring a babbling brook, while Florida Sailor was gassing up the car and preparing to flee Tampa ahead of Hurricane Irma. He assured me he was taking precautions. He said he'd get us a picture for the Post if possible, but that frankly, 'My wife and dog come first.' Amen to that. (We've heard from him since: he and his are safe, and their power is back on again.) Relatives were either fleeing or 'hunkering down', as the Weather Channel persisted in saying. Sunday morning, Robbie Stamp was stuck on a delayed flight somewhere on Earth, while Willem was nurturing plants in warming South Africa. And Freewayriding saw this out his window near Liverpool.

All of which made me feel like Private Willis, WS Gilbert's sentry, who famously said:
When all night long a chap remains
On sentry-go, to chase monotony
He exercises of his brains,
That is, assuming that he's got any.
In other words, the h2g2 Post makes you think. We get so many reports in that, even if we aren't exactly a planet-wide snapshot, we certainly cast a long shadow.
Another h2g2er who reminds me of Private Willis is FWR. He's got cop credentials. He's also the most experienced paranormal investigator I've ever run across. This is because I do not know any paranormal investigators. Neither, I suspect, does he. But we agree on one thing: there are bogles out there. We may not know what they are, but they keep popping up. In this issue, FWR shares a really-for-real, true ghost story from his days nights on the force. What? Of course it happened in Liverpool. All the best bogles hang out in Liverpool. If that story doesn't scare you enough, be sure to read Part VIII of the Ha'penny Dreadful. FWR: h2g2's answer to Rod Serling. (Oh, and don't yell at him about that photo montage he made with Opie. He assures me that after inspiring the little dog to look sorrowful, he gave him the chicken leg. So the model got paid.)

In other news, we have:
- A review from Awix – of a film he actually liked.
- Another great monkey from Willem.
- An Isle of Wight quiz: we're up to L.
- An evocative short-short story by Cactuscafé. It's all about a photo. (She made up the photo. The Editor made up the picture.)
- Old art, old cartoons, old pictures of all sorts. It's like rummaging around in a dusty attic. Which pretty much describes the Editor's mind.
- A thrilling account of the antigovernment violence in Pittsburgh –, er, in 1794.
- More attempts at humour, and a rant from me.
In other words, the usual: meaning the unexpected.
You know what to do with all this: read it. Leave comments, start arguments and organise cults. Then send more Stuff! We can't afford to slow down now.
And have a good week, rain, shine, or hurricanes!
PS Oh, no: I believe the unthinkable may have happened. I do not believe there is a single cat in this issue. We must remedy this situation immediately. There.
Dmitri Gheorgheni
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