My father, in addition to being our family’s designated Finder of Lost Objects, is also a master of logical sayings. These range from “that’ll feel better when it stops hurting” (when I injure myself) to “you make a better door than a window” (when I stand in front of the television) to “you just don’t have the right tool for the job.”
This last invariably follows a complaint that I can’t open a jar (square rubbery thing) or hang up a picture (special hooks) or wow my third grade classmates on Special Hat Day (foil-covered baseball cap with blinking LED lights — Dad never fails), and it is the first thing I thought of when I saw this guy:
I’m not sure of his job title, but I would imagine it to be something like “Professional Sharpener of Sharp Objects That Could Be Sharper Using a Splendid and Astounding Multipurpose Mode of Transportation-Slash-Sharpening Device.” Only, you know, in Langi/Luo, because he lives in Apac.
He would so be on my dad’s good side.