Sitting here, about 1 am Pacific time, fondling a Comp Finished Maroon Micarta Trough Raider, which arrived a few days ago (thanks to Dobermaniac). Can't believe what I'm holding. My dad passed away in January. He always used to quote The Jabberwocky, and even wrote his own version once. For those familiar with the poem, you may know where this is going. In trying to find the words to describe the dark magic in this unnaturally nimble but formidable blade, only one word comes to mind: "Vorpal." The Raider might be just that, and I'm so sorry I couldn't show this thing to my dad. It would have made him smile. To Jerry and the whole Busse team, thank you for drinking enough to dream of vorpal blades, and for bringing them to life, despite the hangovers. For those who've never read the poem, and everyone who has, I've taken the liberty of pasting it below, credited to jabberwocky.com. This is a great one for the (grownup) kids, especially on a dark night around the campfire. Expect to be asked to read it again. And again. And again. They'll want to know what these strange words mean, but you can just tell them no one will ever really know, except maybe Mr. Carroll. Love you Dad. Enjoy. The Jabberwocky By Lewis Carroll (from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872) `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought -- So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. "And, has thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!' He chortled in his joy. `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. The Kid.