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He stares up at the sign, tears streaming. Arthur “Pantless” Jackson smiles. The search has taken him 10 years and to 14 countries. He opens the door. The clerk looks up from his phone. “Can I help you?” he asks. “Yes,” says Arthur, “I’m Jackson, and I believe you have my pants.”

When I was in 1st or 2nd grade my teacher once incorrectly marked that I had misspelled the word “weird” on some schoolwork. Rather than looking it up in the dictionary to prove I was right, my parents had me bring in this coffeetable book of pulp magazine covers to show her.