The Proterozoic, Part 1

Imagine yourself on a barren world. The atmospheric pressure is high enough to walk around without a space suit, but there are only trace amounts of oxygen, so you'll have to wear a respirator. Oh and, I’d wear a hat too, since the UV radiation is high enough to kill you within hours. Sorry, I should have told you that before you got here. My bad. You might want to put some aloe on that sunburn.

The landscape is bleak, nothing but desert sands and bedrock scoured clean by unrelenting erosion. You see, there are no plants here to firm up the soil. There isn’t any proper soil, for that matter, because there’s nothing alive to make soil. Soil—the kind of soil we’re familiar with—is bound together with organic matter that doesn't exist here.

Yeah, this place is so barren, it doesn’t even have dirt.

Thanks a lot, Supreme Court

This is Lana, the female box turtle that I'm now legally obligated to marry, since the Supreme Court destroyed the sanctity of marriage yesterday.

Well, you better come and arrest me, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, because I'm taking a stand for traditional marriage by absolutely refusing to marry this box turtle. The government can take my life, my liberty, and even my XBox, but it cannot force me to marry a cold-blooded reptile.

We're going to date, and maybe fool around a little, but that's it.

Don't do it!

My spies have informed me that Toby Harrison, longtime (relatively speaking) friend of the blog, is recklessly encouraging kids to travel through time.

I just want you all to know, so if you find yourself erased from existence, you'll know who to blame.