RLDubbya
HMFIC
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2016
- Messages
- 388
So, I’ve done it. Actually, I accomplished a couple things. This is a first for me.
The other day, evilgreg and I participated in a mutual contribution to the logos; I professed, honestly, that I was oftentimes lost & confused in attempting to follow his train of thought – and that as somebody who has been active on the forum and obviously quite knowledgeable, he is in a position of leadership. In stark contrast, I am but a newbie struggling to even befriend Diogenes so that I can begin my quest.
It is only natural, therefore, that I would at some point turn to posts made by evilgreg in order to learn.
My confusion has lifted. I finally understand a couple things. Last night, like the morning fog burning off the Pacific beach, the thick impenetrable mist was suddenly no longer there. In the briefest of brief moments in this world shaped by time and space, quite suddenly I was able to gaze out at the peaceful ocean waters, and I realized it was good.
This moment of clarity has taken a couple weeks to build to the time of unfolding. The first key event was the :cough: somewhat :cough: self-serving “I’m The Icon Of All There Is, Foolz” video posted by Mr. Emerson. This video, in which Mr. Emerson pays great homage to himself in front of the mirror, had prompted evilgreg to rant a bit, but just a bit.
He ranted about the quality of Emmies. He ranted about the steel being used, even today – although I do believe that Mr. Emerson is taking the extremely bold step of using s35v for some of his work now. Evilgreg ranted about the quality of locking, of lockup, lock stick, lock rock, lock slip, lock weakness, lock materials, lock up all the hippie commie traitors.
He ranted about the grind of the blade. Sharpness aside, the retardation of placing a the single-grind on a side more appropriate for lefties and photo opps was definitely rant-a-licious; in contrast to my southpaw state of mind which said “Finally. I find a line of knives more suitable for my sinister ways, only to find out that the knives overall are really more suited to be used as props in a fantasy marketing video in front of the mirror.”
That, for me, was the final straw. I had never owned an Emerson. I never had a desire to own an Emerson.
Suddenly, I HAD TO ACQUIRE AN EMERSON. I had to have an Emerson in my grubby, conflicted little fist in order to process evilgreg’s claims and to better understand all of the rantage. I had to possess an Emerson to judge, for myself, the veracity of that which fell upon my naïve, childlike ears much like the peal of a bell ringing across the meadow and calling me.
I purchased a SUPER Commander, in black: after all, once you go black, you’ll never go back. The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. I wanted to give this knife every chance at being good that I possible could.
My SUPER Commander arrived one day, and I carefully with the appropriate degree of self-restraint befitting such an American icon, struggled with my two brain cells to decide which knife was proper to open a package containing a SUPER Commander. I finally selected a Spyderco Military; the 4” blade was of an adequate length for the task at hand; I believe that the Mr. Emerson would approve of the name “Military”.
Over the next couple weeks, I could find nothing majorly wrong with the knife. Oh, there was a small scuff mark in the black Cerakote. That was somewhat annoying, but not annoying enough to go through a return process. After all, everything else about the knife worked, why risk getting a lemon next time around? Instead, I’ll just tell anybody who asks that this particular scuff happened when I was singlehandedly fighting off a band of street drug dealers when my friend’s JapTrap of a car broke down in a bad neighborhood, and he called me for a quick rescue with my new Emerson.
I decided to push the boundaries with this SUPER Commander. I purchased some aftermarket parts designed to provide a tactical advantage. After all, what is another couple hundred dollars compared to the truth?
*
I could go on. Instead, I’m going to do a McFly, and end up at yesterday. Evilgreg was at it again, this time about Brous Blades. I know nothing about these blades. I have never had a desire to own a Brous Blade, to hold one, to even see one.
Suddenly, I HAD TO ACQUIRE A BROUS BLADE. My search for truth, justice, and the American way demanded this sacrifice. I had to possess a Brous Blade so that I might judge, for myself, the veracity of that which fell upon my naïve, childlike ears.
I purchased a Brous Blades RAVEN. I purchased it in all black, because, well…and I’m looking forward to opening the package with my SUPER Commander.
Last night, in those rare moments of the post-frenzy bliss, I understood. To ascribe any ontological status as a res extensa to evilgreg is misguided; evilgreg does not exist, except as a marketing invention designed to sell me more expensive knives for reasons which I never knew existed, knives that I never knew I needed in my search for the truth.
Evilgreg is, if you like, paradoxically marketing’s own Diogenes.
---With massive apologies and many thanks to EvilGreg. Greg, please refrain from telling me how Shirogorov knives suck, & keep dropping the knowledge bombs.
The other day, evilgreg and I participated in a mutual contribution to the logos; I professed, honestly, that I was oftentimes lost & confused in attempting to follow his train of thought – and that as somebody who has been active on the forum and obviously quite knowledgeable, he is in a position of leadership. In stark contrast, I am but a newbie struggling to even befriend Diogenes so that I can begin my quest.
It is only natural, therefore, that I would at some point turn to posts made by evilgreg in order to learn.
My confusion has lifted. I finally understand a couple things. Last night, like the morning fog burning off the Pacific beach, the thick impenetrable mist was suddenly no longer there. In the briefest of brief moments in this world shaped by time and space, quite suddenly I was able to gaze out at the peaceful ocean waters, and I realized it was good.
This moment of clarity has taken a couple weeks to build to the time of unfolding. The first key event was the :cough: somewhat :cough: self-serving “I’m The Icon Of All There Is, Foolz” video posted by Mr. Emerson. This video, in which Mr. Emerson pays great homage to himself in front of the mirror, had prompted evilgreg to rant a bit, but just a bit.
He ranted about the quality of Emmies. He ranted about the steel being used, even today – although I do believe that Mr. Emerson is taking the extremely bold step of using s35v for some of his work now. Evilgreg ranted about the quality of locking, of lockup, lock stick, lock rock, lock slip, lock weakness, lock materials, lock up all the hippie commie traitors.
He ranted about the grind of the blade. Sharpness aside, the retardation of placing a the single-grind on a side more appropriate for lefties and photo opps was definitely rant-a-licious; in contrast to my southpaw state of mind which said “Finally. I find a line of knives more suitable for my sinister ways, only to find out that the knives overall are really more suited to be used as props in a fantasy marketing video in front of the mirror.”
That, for me, was the final straw. I had never owned an Emerson. I never had a desire to own an Emerson.
Suddenly, I HAD TO ACQUIRE AN EMERSON. I had to have an Emerson in my grubby, conflicted little fist in order to process evilgreg’s claims and to better understand all of the rantage. I had to possess an Emerson to judge, for myself, the veracity of that which fell upon my naïve, childlike ears much like the peal of a bell ringing across the meadow and calling me.
I purchased a SUPER Commander, in black: after all, once you go black, you’ll never go back. The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. I wanted to give this knife every chance at being good that I possible could.
My SUPER Commander arrived one day, and I carefully with the appropriate degree of self-restraint befitting such an American icon, struggled with my two brain cells to decide which knife was proper to open a package containing a SUPER Commander. I finally selected a Spyderco Military; the 4” blade was of an adequate length for the task at hand; I believe that the Mr. Emerson would approve of the name “Military”.
Over the next couple weeks, I could find nothing majorly wrong with the knife. Oh, there was a small scuff mark in the black Cerakote. That was somewhat annoying, but not annoying enough to go through a return process. After all, everything else about the knife worked, why risk getting a lemon next time around? Instead, I’ll just tell anybody who asks that this particular scuff happened when I was singlehandedly fighting off a band of street drug dealers when my friend’s JapTrap of a car broke down in a bad neighborhood, and he called me for a quick rescue with my new Emerson.
I decided to push the boundaries with this SUPER Commander. I purchased some aftermarket parts designed to provide a tactical advantage. After all, what is another couple hundred dollars compared to the truth?
*
I could go on. Instead, I’m going to do a McFly, and end up at yesterday. Evilgreg was at it again, this time about Brous Blades. I know nothing about these blades. I have never had a desire to own a Brous Blade, to hold one, to even see one.
Suddenly, I HAD TO ACQUIRE A BROUS BLADE. My search for truth, justice, and the American way demanded this sacrifice. I had to possess a Brous Blade so that I might judge, for myself, the veracity of that which fell upon my naïve, childlike ears.
I purchased a Brous Blades RAVEN. I purchased it in all black, because, well…and I’m looking forward to opening the package with my SUPER Commander.
Last night, in those rare moments of the post-frenzy bliss, I understood. To ascribe any ontological status as a res extensa to evilgreg is misguided; evilgreg does not exist, except as a marketing invention designed to sell me more expensive knives for reasons which I never knew existed, knives that I never knew I needed in my search for the truth.
Evilgreg is, if you like, paradoxically marketing’s own Diogenes.
---With massive apologies and many thanks to EvilGreg. Greg, please refrain from telling me how Shirogorov knives suck, & keep dropping the knowledge bombs.
Last edited:
Every time I watch one of his vids, it makes me realize how truly messed up I really am. 
