The Mystery of the BONE KNIFE!

A year ago this month I found myself in a difficult position. I had just returned from China and was planning my move to Japan. Before I left, I decided to visit the Hummel family and discuss my past and future plans. It was during one of these meetings, that I encountered an object of almost universal importance. Of course, I'm referring to the...BONE KNIFE. For those of you who have somehow remained ignorant of such a historically powerful object, I can only suggest that you read my August 2006 blog entitled "Beware the Bone Knife." In any event, I was given the opportunity to briefly hold the knife last year. While my previous entry detailed the the joy and pride I felt during the brief moment that I held it in my hands, I purposefully purged my article of any description of the feeling that engulfed me while it was in my possession. At the time, I was afraid to divulge what the knife had made me think, what it made me want to do. Only now do I feel strong enough to reveal its secret. The bone knife makes you drunk with power. It makes you think you can kill anyone, not just your son, his friends, and terrorists. I could feel the mad rage building and could not take it anymore. After the picture was taken, I hastily put the knife down, afraid to touch it again. I vowed then never to touch it again, as I boarded my plane for Japan, the BONE KNIFE was the furthest thing from my mind.

When I came back to the United States in July, I knew that I would make a requisite visit to the Hummels to fill them in on my news, as well as hearing about how they were doing. As Leslie and I drove to their house, I started to get goose bumps and began to have slight convulsions. Unable to understand what was happening, I pulled into their driveway. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I could feel its presence. I needed it, I wanted it. Walking up to the house, I showed an irrational impatience, curtly saying hello, I asked if I could see it. Everyone looked confused, but I could see a glimmer of understanding in John's eyes. Pam tried to calm my nerves by handing me a class of punch. Frustrated, I threw my glass of refreshment against the wall and demanded immediate satisfaction. Sadly, John went to the the other room, and brought me the object of my desire. The jewel encrusted box was laid at my feet. Feeling the power run through my body, I turned the key. A puff of smoke escaped from the lid, and I saw the BONE KNIFE lying before me in all its glory. I lifted it up above my head, the setting sun glistening off its milky white blade. I knew I had to utilize my gift. I had to kill Leslie.

Leslie looked at me, noticing the change in my entire demeanor. I looked at her, my voice deeper and raspy, my eyes shining, "dirty girls, I'll get them with the BONE KNIFE!" I proceeded to make the slit throat motion and stood up, a big drunken smile stretching from ear to ear. I lunged at her, but John was faster. Grabbing me, he wrestled me to the ground. I then proceeded to stab him repeatedly my hand resembling a piston in all its force. Grabbing me by the throat, he revealed a machete that he had recently purchased at Knife World, a popular knife supplier in South Carolina. Standing up, I marveled at his resilience, and noticed that my stabs had barely made a difference. We had a knife fight ala, West Side Story, dipping in unison, with the occasional pirouette, we battled it out. Finally, he hit me with the butt of his machete and took hold of the my knife. In a split second, he had slit my throat with the BONE KNIFE. I fell to the ground, everything went black.

A few moments later, I awoke to find myself lying on the bed, a wet compress on my head. I felt a new energy flowing through my body. I looked up to see John, Pam, and Leslie anxiously watching over me. "What, what happened", I asked. "Don't worry, its all over now, we've taken you somewhere where you'll feel at home." John replied. I opened my eyes further and realized that I was lying in an elaborate igloo. "I don't...don't understand." I said meekly. "Let me explain," John said. "Years ago when the god's created man, they gave him a land of paradise." Unfortunately, man did nothing but complain, because he had nothing to cut his steak. The gods then met, and decided to fashion a knife of such power, that not only would he want to cut steak, but everything else that made him angry at the moment. If this sounds irrational, keep in my they are gods, their business is an irrationality that you just have to believe at risk of ridicule for your logical conclusions." I nodded my head in understanding. "Anyway, they fashioned a knife out of their collective divine skeletons, which apparently gods possess, and gave it to the first human. Naturally, he proceeded to lay waste to the entire animal population of the world, and of course, that's how dinosaurs really went extinct." I was speechless at this revelation, but begged John to continue. "Anyway, all of the ancient kings desired the BONE KNIFE, it was the cause of many of earth's wars. Finally, a wise Greek man named Johnithiniki Hummelakos decided to end the chaos. He stole the knife and gave it to the Inuit people, the direct descendants of the dinosaurs. He knew they would not want to use it due their memories of the previous genocide. Of course, they kept it for generations, until it was lost, then eventually returned to me, its guardian and the only one who really understands its power." "Wait a minute," I asked. "How do you understand its power?" "Well, I am the the direct descendant of Hummelakos" John replied. "The burden is on me to protect it at all costs. Of course, this doesn't mean that I can't show it off and attack you boys with it, but you understand." I nodded in agreement. I stood up and gave Leslie a hug and apologized for attempting to murder her. She laughed, but looked slightly nervous. I ignored her, as we made for the door. I said my goodbyes, but just before I walked out the door I realized that there was still a slight pain around my neck. Turning around, I asked John why I had not died from the most powerful weapon on earth. He smiled and looked at me. "That is a story, that I will leave for next time. Perhaps next year?" As soon as he said this, I knew the truth. Pride filled me, I nodded in acknowledgment of our mutual knowledge before getting in my car and returning home.

My Life Underground

I would like to begin by apologizing for the extended absence. You see, I have taken to using the free wireless network that only a classy establishment like McDonald's could possibly provide. As a result, my infrequent Internet usage (I don't have access at my house) has made writing blogs slightly less convenient. Despite this, I am committed to continuing the tradition that I started in Japan and I look forward to the possible new material that life in Moscow is absolutely capable of providing. So without further ado, I give to you my first extensive blog from the heart of the former Soviet Union.

Russia has not changed much from my last stay here. The city is still beautiful, the people remain slightly intimidating, and I'm kept constantly busy with school work which seems to be only slightly valuable. In any event, after 23 years of rural life in both the United States and Japan, it's been refreshing to experience an urban atmosphere. With virtually every form of human achievement at my finger tips, its hard to refrain from forsaking my training course, and indulging in the privileges of city life. While it is easy to cite numerous cultural, architectural, and historical attractions that make Moscow unique, there is one well known feature of the city which encapsulates all of these while at the same time remaining incredibly useful. Of course I'm referring to the world famous Moscow Metro.

Many cities have subway systems. New York, London, and Tokyo all support extensive underground services which make the furthest reaches of their limits accessible. Despite this, none of them are capable of attaining the sheer beauty, efficiency, and affordability of Moscow's metro. Beginning in the 1930's, the first stations were intended to be "underground palaces" celebrating the victory of socialism. Designed and constructed under the watchful eye of Joseph Stalin, the early stations were built using materials from many different areas of the Soviet Union. Special stations were decorated with mosaics, statues, and marble columns, while many of the other stations were adorned with just as impressive stars, socialist imagery(in the form of workers doing things) and (naturally) the hammer and sickle. Recent stations have kept to the model(minus the communist undertones) and all stimulate a level of anticipation upon first viewings. The metro's efficiency and price also play a huge part in its appeal. Since trains come (on average) every 90 seconds, its easy to arrive at anytime and be sure that you will soon be whisked away to your destination. This coupled with the metro's dirt cheap fares (one ride anywhere in the city costs about $1.10), help make it easier for me to indulge in inner-city travel, and as a result opens the door to many sections of the city I may not have chosen to visit.

In conclusion, I can't say enough about the Moscow Metro. It truly is a delight, but of course all of these ravings might be the result of my lack of an extensive public transportation system during any part of my youth. In any event, the Moscow Metro is truly one of the city's most acclaimed treasures and no visit the city would be complete with out at least one ride. Of course, many of you may be wondering about more than just the stations and the price. Well, what can I say? I don't won't to spoil the little things that give the metro so much character. After all, would you react positively to occasional garbage, slippery (from dust) floors, or drunk Russians if I didn't allow you to discover them? Probably not! Of course, if you do see or experience those things, its best just to keep your head up. Only after rising above the inherent unpleasantness of reality can it be possible to fully appreciate the fantasy of perfection originally intended by the metro's designers. Frankly, that's an illusion I'm willing to occasionally accept.

(P.S. David, I'm glad to hear that you is still reading my entries. I have noticed that your blog has stopped altogether. I hope everything is going well in the U.K. and of course, if you ever decide to come back to Russia, (which might not happen due to your love of it the first time) I would be happy to meet you and possibly open your eyes to its many positive aspects!)

In Russia!

I have finally returned. After a long trip and an even longer readjustment period, I am now settled back into Russian life. We begin our job Monday, but until then I don't have any stories to report other than the very same observations and comments I made concerning the country in a number of previous blogs. Therefore, all five of you who still continue to read these posts will just have to be patient until I find something worthwhile to talk about. Until then I would like to direct you to Leslie's blog at http://resuri-nihon.blogspot.com/. She has graciously decided to give a very thorough account of our travel experience, and therefore I am free of the burden. !