The following exchange transpired a few days ago. My friend’s analysis was of such wit and insight that I thought it worth sharing for the sake of fun and wisdom:
Karak Norn Clansman (Admiral) in a telephone conversation with his friend Deviatecod, July 2023 A.D:
K: “I have a box sorted and clean raspberries for you and your girlfriend. I have picked berries like an idiot the last days.”
D: “No KNC, you are not an idiot. You are a madman. You have picked raspberries like a maniac.”
K: “What’s the difference?”
D: “We idiots would not be as productive as you are. You don’t smoke. You get a lot of exercise out in nature. You don’t destroy your body. You are not an idiot. You are a madman.”
Anyone would be an idiot to not want to be a madman
To illustrate Deviatecod’s point:
Today, a small delivery of planks was urgently needed by said friend’s siblings. Signal disturbance during a phone call with a reluctant brother left me with the impression that no truck was available anytime soon.
No truck? Fine, I’ll do it myself.
What followed were Vietnamese logistics in action here in Sweden. I biked 5 km to the carpentry warehouse, strapped on the planks on my bike and led it on foot for 8-9 km to the destination. The walk took 2 hours and 15 minutes in beautiful evening weather with almost empty roads.
Tips: Bring plenty of extra duct tape, and be very careful with the top-heavy load if you ever attempt this stunt. And be extremely careful in turns and traffic. Plan your route with care.
There’s the kind of madness that makes the world a better place
@Antenor : Then how about this?
I skied through a 45 km race yesterday. I stretched thoroughly twice, once during the race when it was 10 km left. And then caught up with my brother and went past a lot of people. I can recommend stretching during a long ski race.
I have never drank so much as I did yesterday. There were five so-called food controls, where skiers could get drink and bread.
Every time I arrived to a food control, I took off my skis to be nimble in the be-skied crowd, and then I went as if on an assembly line round and round again 5 times. Each time drinking 1 cup of sportsdrink (tastes orange), 1 cup of blueberry soup and 1 cup of bouillon.
I became infamous at the food controls. At the last one before goal finish (10 km left), my resting brother Emil heard how the functionaries said to each other: “Oh no, he’s coming. Pour up more!” As I neared the control.
At the food control after the goal, the old ladies who served it said that I had already drank 2 litres of blueberry soup in no time, so they might as well give me the whole milk jug at once.
The goal was to drink so much that I went with a profit for paying $115 for the racing fee.