All the kids excitedly opened their copies of the Chicago Reader/Boston Phoenix/(other formerly countercultural rag) to look for the fabulous Golden Tickets that would let a priveleged few go on a once in a lifetime tour of Cecil Adams’ celebrated and shuttered Knowledge Factory.
There were rumors about the last tour, or strange beings called “Otti-Zottis” (or perhaps “Oderator-Moderators” ) who did the actual work, while the eccentric oddly-dressed yet never seen Cecil presided over it all.
There were stories about those who had gone on previous tours, about Eve who got trapped in an old movie, and Chronos who got pushed into a black hole by a squirrel, and lieu who – well, you don’t want to know what happened to him.
But now a new tour had been announced, and everyone was on the lookout for Golden Tickets.