From First Axe
While juicing cranberries in preparation for brewing the
Ceremonial Beer this evening, I was once again struck by
the Beauty of Ragnarok. Consider the cranberries. Some
met their doom in the juicer bravely; they were annhilated
utterly. Others attempted to flee, trying to jump out of
the juicer with small bits missing, like a mouse caught in
the chamber of a Cuisinart; most bounced against the plunger
and simply met the same doom twice, while others fled the
machine entirely -- I pursued them and they met the same
doom as the others. When the juicing was done, there were
no cranberries left -- just juice and pulp.
So it is with the unEnlightened at Ragnarok. None shall
survive that day; their blood shall flow into the earth, and
their corpses shall ferment (or rot; please excuse the poetic
Ragnarok is coming. Be there.