They still call him "The Elephant"

"See that?" General Maximillion Johanasson asked.

His troops replied with a unanimously, and hearty, "Sir, yes, sir!"

"Know what it is?" was the follow-up question.

A less hearty, "Sir, no, sir."

The general did not smile and began pacing, "That, my boys, is a live satellite image of the most fortified bunker in the entire world. It's got fences made of linked razor wire topped with barbed wire; triple thick doublesteel walls; a camera grid with redundant coverage of every area within a quarter mile; automated defense turrets with machineguns powerful enough to blow a sunroof in a tank."

Now the general smiled, but it was clearly an ironic smile, "And boys, we need to get inside."

Just then the image of the bunker on the satellite exploded. The troops at the base were in an obvious panic and they fled wildly. The troops watching this began cheering, thankful they didn't have to go in there.

One impetuous young lad asked his general, who now carried a mad grin, "Sir, how did this happen?"

"Just watch the image carefully boys, you'll see him any—ah ha! There!" He pointed to a giant silhouette the size of a car lumbering through the smoke and fire.

The impetuous soldier asked another question, "Uhh, but, sir, who, or what, was that?"

"I can answer both of those. He's The Elephant, he's an elephant, and the best damn mammal I have under my command, no offense, soldier."

A Positive Benefit From Hangovers

These last couple of days I've been sick. Really sick. Probably not fatally sick, but sick enough to realize that being sick sucks.
It was cool when I was a kid and being sick enough to skirt responsibilities meant having a particularly nasty cough; but now that I am distinctly less kid-like, it means taking enough medication to kill a horse. This is because, like so many others, I am a wage-slave and unless I physically am incapable of moving, I am going to work that morning.
Take this morning, for instance: my entire head was, quite literally, full of snot. That is as gross to me as it sounds to you, and then when you add in some pressure headache and a lack of sleep after a ten-hour shift at work, you just know you're going to enjoy that next ten-hour shift.
But, getting up and getting what needs to get done done, in spite of feeling adverse is no stranger to me. This is because of the wonderful character-building provided by alcohol. Liquor has a two-pronged attack; first, it makes it so you both don't want to sleep and then can't; second, it leaves you hung-over and in pain many hours later. What's more is that you can't jolly well not show up to work after a night drinking because, in spite of the fact that you feel far worse than you did when you skipped a day of seventh grade, you inflicted this upon yourself and no one will accept the excuse: not even yourself.
So, thanks primarily to alcohol, I have developed a robust character for showing up to work feeling less than 100%. One might also pin this on stupid and unlikely shit such as work ethic.

Omission and apology

The author of the previous post, and all of us here at Why Not Just Blog? would like to formally, and publicly, apologize to Rogue brewing for omitting them when referencing wide-spread and popular microbreweries. Though Rogue is, as a general rule, not as inventive as Stone or Dogfish Head, they engage in the most bottling and certainly have the widest selection of brews of the three. Indeed, Rogue practically defines the gambit along which beers may run, no matter your tastes, there's always one, often two, expertly crafted Rogue beers to enjoy.

Like Stone and Dogfish Head, Rogue embraces and supports the Microbrew Revolution, even moreso than then others, and it does so with far less ego or eccentric psyche.

Apologies to an excellent brewing company. Sorry.