Codger_64
Moderator
- Joined
- Oct 8, 2004
- Messages
- 62,324
I have occasionally been accused of speculation and guessing, and even putting out false information here in the Schrade Collectors forum. And in other forums as well. Well, I will admit that I am often wrong. I am indeed human like most of you. I do make mistakes, and some times I do follow rabbit trails which dont always lead to the rabbit. So rather than post supposition, guesses, and unsubstantiated facts, Im going to write a short fairy tale which you should assume is pure fiction with no basis in fact, and made up of whole cloth. Names are changed to protect... me.
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One day while pondering his belly button lint and wondering what new knife design he could come up with, Harry Bear picked up an old sportsmans magazine and leafed through it.
The Complete Big Game Hunters Manual - or the Rifle-Mans Guide published in 1913 by a creative fellow by the name of Buzzacott. Interesting. Everyone knows that the best designs are reworks of old designs.
"Well, we already make knives like these and so does everyone else. Canoe knife. Camp knife. Pocket tool knife. Folding safety knife. Hunting knives. We already make all of these. What I need is something with pizazz! Something different that sells, sells SELLS! Like my #15 Old Man Deerkiller! Wait! What is this on the bottom?"
"Hmmm...." And with that he began sketching, stretching here, tweaking there until he had a design.
"Eureeka!" Quick as a flash he headed down the stairs to the elf knife makers room to have one made, counting his steps along the way (an old habit that started as a young man when he accidentally took an elevator that wasnt there and dropped four stories down the shaft.). What do you want me to number it? asked the cutler. 152! he puffed out of breath. And so prototype 00001 of the 152 was born.
The next morning as he was drinking his first coffee of the day, his office door burst open and with a commotion, in pounced the bedraggled diminutive cutler.
375!
What?
"You were wrong, it is 375 steps from my bench to your office. We should call it 375, not 152!
Oh.
As he was taking the knife the elf held out to him, a voice of titanic proportions boomed from behind the elf.
You ran past my desk! Dont ever run past my desk again or Ill... Ill... The large woman poked the man in the chest with her finger for emphasis while she decided what else to say to the small cutler.
Hey! Stop that! cried the cutler! Thats a very Sharp Finger and...
Thats it!
"Whats it? the secretary and elf both asked Harry Bear at once.
Sharp Finger! The name for my new knife!
Oh. But Mr. Bear I really must protest this... this....cutler... just barging into your office like this! It just isnt...isnt done!
Of course, Ms. Waite. Ill explain it to him. Randolph, from now on when you wish to see me, you must do like everyone else. First go to Helen Waite. OK?
And so Harry put his new knife into production and sold millions of them. Not only did they sell year in and year out for the rest of his own lifetime, but for years afterward they were favorites of hunters, fishermen, and store clerks everywhere. Oh, and the secretary wound up marrying the cutler, Randolph Back. She stayed with the company for years and years, and Randolph stayed with Helen Back.
The end.
Codger
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One day while pondering his belly button lint and wondering what new knife design he could come up with, Harry Bear picked up an old sportsmans magazine and leafed through it.
The Complete Big Game Hunters Manual - or the Rifle-Mans Guide published in 1913 by a creative fellow by the name of Buzzacott. Interesting. Everyone knows that the best designs are reworks of old designs.
"Well, we already make knives like these and so does everyone else. Canoe knife. Camp knife. Pocket tool knife. Folding safety knife. Hunting knives. We already make all of these. What I need is something with pizazz! Something different that sells, sells SELLS! Like my #15 Old Man Deerkiller! Wait! What is this on the bottom?"
"Hmmm...." And with that he began sketching, stretching here, tweaking there until he had a design.
"Eureeka!" Quick as a flash he headed down the stairs to the elf knife makers room to have one made, counting his steps along the way (an old habit that started as a young man when he accidentally took an elevator that wasnt there and dropped four stories down the shaft.). What do you want me to number it? asked the cutler. 152! he puffed out of breath. And so prototype 00001 of the 152 was born.
The next morning as he was drinking his first coffee of the day, his office door burst open and with a commotion, in pounced the bedraggled diminutive cutler.
375!
What?
"You were wrong, it is 375 steps from my bench to your office. We should call it 375, not 152!
Oh.
As he was taking the knife the elf held out to him, a voice of titanic proportions boomed from behind the elf.
You ran past my desk! Dont ever run past my desk again or Ill... Ill... The large woman poked the man in the chest with her finger for emphasis while she decided what else to say to the small cutler.
Hey! Stop that! cried the cutler! Thats a very Sharp Finger and...
Thats it!
"Whats it? the secretary and elf both asked Harry Bear at once.
Sharp Finger! The name for my new knife!
Oh. But Mr. Bear I really must protest this... this....cutler... just barging into your office like this! It just isnt...isnt done!
Of course, Ms. Waite. Ill explain it to him. Randolph, from now on when you wish to see me, you must do like everyone else. First go to Helen Waite. OK?
And so Harry put his new knife into production and sold millions of them. Not only did they sell year in and year out for the rest of his own lifetime, but for years afterward they were favorites of hunters, fishermen, and store clerks everywhere. Oh, and the secretary wound up marrying the cutler, Randolph Back. She stayed with the company for years and years, and Randolph stayed with Helen Back.
The end.
Codger
Arnold
