It occurred to me last night, as I was sitting in the emergency room waiting for the doctors to determine whether or not they would be able to reattach my severed finger, that the steps leading up to this unfortunate incident were a lot like the steps that old king took when he lost the war. You know, that ridiculous old fable that starts with some idiot blacksmith not shoeing a horse properly, and then strings together a chain of increasingly improbable events until it ends with the old king losing the war against his ancient enemy, getting beheaded, and then being forced to serve the rest of his days as the Headless Horseman in the old creepy haunted jungle? Yea, that one; actually, maybe I’m getting some of the details wrong, but it doesn’t really matter — I always thought that fable sounded like ol’ Aesop had a little too much booze before Galileo taught him about chaos theory. But the point is, I’m in the same boat as that old king. Except that instead of losing my head, I just lost my thumb. Anyways, I thought I’d share the story with you here.
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