Today marks the 78th anniversary of the United States' entry into WWII, the day after the Day that will live in Infamy, the day Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawai'i. Please don't become infamous for not responding!

Zoltar swept through the door of the throne room and strode toward the dais. His cape billowed as he moved and his gaze swept over the somewhat... diverse group of individuals assembled in the throne room. Spectra's penultimate ruler mounted the dais and sank gracefully into the imposing throne, taking care not to snag his cape on anything. With somewhat less theatre, Zoltar's sister Mala followed in her brother's footsteps to take up position standing at her sibling's right. "So," Zoltar murmured so that only Mala could hear him, "these are the bounty hunters?" "They are," Mala said, keeping her voice low. "Gathered from the galaxy's worst hives of scum and villainy. Their infamy is unsurpassed." "Excellent," Zoltar said. He pointed at a roughly humanoid creature in black robes. "Who is that?" "Voldemort," Mala said. "He is a wizard and keen herpetologist. Also a racist and generally somewhat unpleasant. Especially if he sneezes." "Ah," said Zoltar. "And this next person?" Mala nodded toward the slender young man in green who wore an elaborate horned helmet. "Loki," she said. "He has family issues." "And this... creature?" "Elmer Fudd," Mala said. "He is cruel to animals." Zoltar considered the last person in the lineup. "Who is the one with the dustbin on his head?" "The Mandalorian," Mala said. "And what is his claim to fame -- or infamy, as the case may be?" "He wears a dustbin on his head," Mala said. "We'll have to watch him," Zoltar predicted darkly.

//Jason looked up from his computer in alarm -- messages kept popping up, no matter how many times he disabled them, Facebook kept sending him friend requests again and again, no matter how many times he rejected them, Twitter was bombarding him with likes for posts he had written months ago. "What new infamy is this?" he muttered, looking at the popups clogging the Racetrack One website he was reading. "Don't worry, sir," a Centre Neptune technician laughed. "It's nothing to be worried about, just Gatchamaniacs trying to get in touch with you, any way they can." "And you think this is nothing to be worried about?//

Please, DT, tell us more!

[unrecoverable text]

GGO - And now you have me wondering what Zoltar wants with them...😁