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Author Topic: One Arm Climber (not Gary Guller)  (Read 4599 times)


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One Arm Climber (not Gary Guller)
« on: Oct 10 2003, 04:47 »

this article is written in first person

Wheedling earns him a cutting-edge birthday gift

For my 53rd birthday, I got a new pocketknife.

This made me very happy, because I am a guy who figures there is no such thing as having too many pocketknives. I have a whole sock drawer full of them, but there is always room for one more.

Of course, some folks would say if you have one pocketknife, you pretty much have all the pocketknives you need in life.

These folks are also known as "wives."

But I certainly do not agree with them and I bet that mountain climber who had a big rock roll onto his arm this year doesn't, either.

After all, if he owned only one pocketknife, and if he happened to leave that pocketknife at home in his sock drawer when he went climbing that day, he would have remained stuck to that mountain until the buzzards were treating him like the human equivalent of a Stuckey's pecan roll.

But because he had a trusty pocketknife with him, all he had to do to free himself was cut off his own arm.

The lucky schmuck.

This is precisely the kind of rationale that we pocketknife nuts employ when requesting a new one.

"I need that new pocketknife for my birthday," we tell our wives, "so that if I forget the 37 pocketknives I have stashed in my sock drawer right now, I will still have one with me if I have to cut my arm off today."

Regrettably, many wives' first inclination is to raise foolish objections.

"Why would you have to cut your arm off today?" they argue. "You work in an office."

Rolling our eyes, we must then explain that there are hidden hazards in office work that non-office workers can't even begin to imagine.

"I could be getting some pretzels at work," we say, "when an earthquake strikes and the vending machine falls on me."

Sobered by the daily dangers we office-working husbands routinely face, most wives eventually relent.

This is precisely the sort of scenario that earned me a brand new pocketknife for my birthday.

So, now I am prepared for a vending machine to fall on me at work while I am getting some pretzels, or maybe even for the big umbrella to pin me to our patio table while I am grilling some hot dogs out back this afternoon.

Meanwhile, I am breaking in my new pocket knife as best an office worker can.

Lunchtime finds me in the parking lot at McDonald's, spearing French fries between slices of Big Mac. Back at my desk, I have found there is nothing like a new pocketknife for flicking those little sesame seeds from your teeth.

Also, a new pocketknife is ideal for marking your trail when you are forced to leave the safety and comfort of your cubicle for parts unknown.

"Anybody seen Fatso?"

"Look! That arrow scratched into his phone book is pointing toward the copier!"

Yep, I wouldn't want to be without it.
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