This is the dusty, musty attic trunk where the oldest posts of Maraca are lovingly preserved for posterity. Feel free to rummage around. Every trunk hides treasures, you know.
What to do with those freakin' fruitcakes? Shuffle 'em off to Buffalo, into the eagerly waiting maw of the International Federation of Competitive Eating.
Just thought I'd pass it along in case you were, like, wondering.
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