I believe that Tijuana is good for one thing, and one thing only; that's right, the production of Ninja Stars.

If you've ever been to Tijuana, Mexico, you'll agree that at first sight it appears to be a dirty, horrid town, and should suffer the same fate of Sodom and Gomorrah. But, then, as you're walking though the back allies and seedy catacombs that criss-cross the city's infrastructure, you come across a lone man standing behind a folding poker table which is covered in Ninja Stars. At first, you're struck with surprise, then, amazement sinks in as you gaze at the vendors vendables.

"How Much?" You inquire.

The man holds up 3 fingers, indicating their price. This obviously exhausts his knowledge of English.

You take 2 of them, hand the man a 5 dollar bill (after all, whats TJ without haggling?) and continue on your way.

At home, back in the states the following evening, you remember your sly little purchase. You take them out of your backpack, where they were hidden away in your extra underwear from the border police. Holding them in your hand takes you back to the days when you would play as the great Bruce Lee and your cat was the elusive, shape shifting Kung Fu Nemesis.

Leaping around your house, screaming out Japanese gibberish in a maniacal craze, you catch a glimpse of your cat out of the corner of your eye. Without thinking, you chuck a Mexican blade of death at your opponent, striking it in the neck.

In a burst of common sense, you snap out of your zen like harnessing of the soul of Bruce Lee just in time to watch the life drain out of your family pet. What a way to spend five bucks.

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