Neanderpundit

Yesterday I started my day around five. My hands were giving me fits so I thought I might just as well be up as laying in bed in pain. So I made a couple eggs and some sausage, and some toast with marmite. My doctor showed up for a urine specimen, I still don’t know if he needed it from me or needed to pass a drug screening. Anyhow I gave that to him and Partner and I headed out in search of gun shops. We did the usual run through Westforths and Blythes, and ended up at cabelas, but not before we stopped for lunch, whcih consisted of MORE eggs, and bacon, and coffee, and other assorted nastiness.

SO when we walked into cabelas I floated an air biscuit by the (at that time, empty) cash registers, that blistered the paint on the counters, and made the formica change color.

And then we shopped. I think all I bought was a cleaning jag correctly sized for the Backhoe. Anyway, on the way out, I’m waiting to check out while Partner searches for some assorted nuts (large selection at Cabelas) and I hang another butt muffin in front of the same counter (Which is now populated). Partner walks up, supressing the urge to retch, and says “nice hang time”

I point out this is new, not used, and he watches as the counter girl attempts (unsuccessfully) to conceal her disgust, and the customers ahead of us, for the first time in their miserable lives, actually make a more than middling attempt to get their purchases and cash ready at the same time. While gasping for oxygen.

Outside the door, Partner pointed out that this was gonna teach those bastards to lollygag in line. I remarked that they probably had the Gag part right down.

Gravedigger Beorn Twigmuntus is a busy man these days.
“Ya, you kno, dat Nobel he’s a been yoost a spinnin lately, and this mornin he went soopar sonik” says Beorn as he drags large cables and piles of magnets to the gravesite of Nobel Founder Alfred Nobel. “Da french started all dis crap, you betcha. If it hadna been for dat obit dey printed he’d a never been like dis. ”

Apparently, prior to the actual death of Al Nobel, who was the man who invented dynamite, the French printed an obit that said “The Merchant of death is dead”. Nobel was moved to try to undo the damage he’d supposedly done (discounting the fact that more lives were probably saved than lost in the invention of dynamite, a more stable explosive than was previously available) So a council of surrender monkeys even more pansy-assed than the french was created to award a prize to those people most suited to roll over like a submissive puppy and hope for a belly scratch and not an evisceration.

“yah, my gramps knew old Al. he was a good guy, his own gramp invented plywood, dang fool. Al was a good guy, jees. Now he’s spinnin in his grave cause that committee has give the prize to that big-eared yankee guy. ”

Beorn grabs the cables and hands them down to an assistant who is standing in a hole next to the coffin of Alfred Nobel, and he begins to wrap coils of the wire on blocks of steel glued to the sides. Beorn himself will later be epoxying rare earth magnets to the ribcage of the famous inventor, creating a powerful alternating current generator. “I used ta yoost wrap belts aroun his head, but they wore the skin off and his skull looked pretty nasty, I tellya. I spent days getting him to look yoost right again. This will work better and be less trouble in the long run, eh? ”

We’d have to agree, Beorn. No sense letting that power go to waste.

I can hear the clip clop of the hooves of the four horsemen. Or maybe nazgul.