He glided into our neighborhood like the wind one summer afternoon when the carnival was in town, saying he was made of paper, a Paper Man, and to tell the truth, he did look like he was, but being only ten I was, naturally, skeptical. He said his name was Pulp, and he could do tricks, all kinds of them – glide on the breeze…

So one fine autumn day in 1961, a man who may, or may not, be J.D. Salinger leaves his New Hampshire home and takes a quiet train to New York City. In sunglasses and a long trench coat, he wanders anonymously through the crowded streets of Manhattan, looking idly in store windows and observing the throng of colorful late…

The sky is falling. Just like in the children’s story, only this time it’s for real; asteroids of all sizes, some as big as Kilimanjaro, are crashing into the earth by the hundreds. Simply bad luck on our…