Quick: name the raddest reason to travel to India. "The Taj Majal." WRONG. "Rivers full of excrement." Gross -- WRONG. "Cricket." Lame, WRONG. "I love Hoosiers." Indiana -- WRONG. The correct answer is to collect their asininely glorious cache of vintage matchbook covers! Don't believe us? Just check out this crazy collection... Puff, puff, pass, devilish red monkeys. Indian equivalent of a rabbit's foot. That deer's screwed. At once bow and arrow. Ohhhhh, that's what she meant she got in India... Seriously, what deer? Isn't that a polar bear with abnormally large ears? And when you gaze long into a matchbox, the matchbox also gazes into you. Because even when you're in love with an elephant, it's good to have a trident handy just in case. Indeed. Heh, heh, heh, heh. Duel, my ass... that elephant's trunk is toast. Apparently the deluxe version of the universe gets surrounded by a gigantic alien space craft and the oceans are filled with blood. In India, cars have no doors. That ship is sooooo not new.