You Need a Butterfly Knife, Don't Delay!

So after a few conversations, I've felt forced to answer a question that should answer itself: Why should one prefer butterfly knives? Now honestly, this is a question so silly that no one else would entertain the thought of answering it, but since I'm such a kindly fellow I'll take a stab at it.

Pun intended...

It should seem obvious that this is like asking why men have nipples, even though the obvious answer is "how else can one tell if a man is cold or not?" Sure you could ask, but that's just odd and off-putting to have another person walk up to me like a bolt of lighting from clear blue skies and ask if I'm cold, or excited, or craving sexual satisfaction that I have yet to attain that day; this, provided she is not some type of samba girl or rap video model of course. Forgiving my digression from the point (pun intended), allow me to answer with a question or two.

Let's take a look at conventional knives: They don't fold, and are therefore inconvenient. You could put it in a sheath round your belt, but unless you're Rambo you're going to have your admission withheld at the door to the strip club, and there's nothing more embarrassing than being turned at the door of a titty bar. Furthermore, they're difficult to conceal. How in the hell am I to swiftly mug you in an alley on the fly? Now I'll have to plan for it in advance, and opportunity comes when one least expects it, so I'd be missing out which simply can not stand. I mean, have you seen someone flip a butterfly knife out in front of you? That's some intimidating shit, you'll have their wallet in no time. A note to the reader: Try the line "scream and I'll cut ya" after whipping it out; never fails. 

Folding knives, while easier to conceal, more convenient in carrying and far cheaper in most cases seem to have the following issues:

It's bad enough I need to pull this thing out, this folding knife, but to use both hands to open it? That's just madness. True, there's always the assisted unfold, but you still need both hands to close it! What the fuck is this? You mean to tell me, my stout chap, that I must condescend to using two hands to close it? I thought we were past this.

But fortunately we are. Enter the "Balisong" or "butterfly knife."

Originating from the Philippines and to date one of the few good things to come from that island apart from -I can't think of anything- the Balisong can be used anywhere a folding knife can. The difference being that it is approximately twenty-percent "cooler" (which is just science)  when unleashed upon an unsuspecting block of cheese or an unfaithful spouse who can't keep it in his pants, tricking around the neighborhood and thinking you'd never find out, that cad.

I'm so sorry, you're better off without him...


I hope this answers the question for those of you still holding out on an answer. To be honest, knife manipulation and implementation with a butterfly knife is just better and easier. Some even speculate that OJ Simpson would have gotten away with double homicide within a shorter period of time had he mercilessly butchered his two victims with a butterfly, ask any attorney! So if the increased likelihood of getting away with the wanton slaughter of a person isn't enough incentive, I don't know what to tell you. You must live a lonely life, enshrouded by confusion and doubt.

How Lil Wayne Made Me Think (For An Uncomfortably Long Time)

Another long commute to the job, listening to the radio listlessly. The commute has become so ingrained in me that I could do it in my sleep, and so I sometimes fear I'll end up like those sleepwalkers who go as far as to drive to the office, only to wake up at their desk in their pajamas.

"You're here early, Jackson! I'm proud of you, go-getter, but pajamas are against the office dress code; nice bunny slippers, though."

I quickly snapped out of my daze after I heard a very thought-provoking line from someone who is, arguably, the least "thought-provoking" individual I'm aware of. That person, of course, is Lil' Wayne. The line in question goes "they say you don't know what you doin', 'til you stop doin' it." However accented in that New Orleans drawl which so offends my high-class, New York ears, it made sense. I'm in the middle of a major career change, or rather, on track for it. Perhaps I miswrote? What I mean to say is that the body is headed for a career change and the spirit has already taken his last check, sent out his resume and shit on the boss' desk. I've said many a time that I'd quit, but lets just say a pending "business trip" is cementing that statement as more than just the petty words of a malcontent wage-slave.

But not truly understanding what you're doing until you stop is true, at least for my life it would seem. I tend to wonder what life will truly be like after I leave my old career. I am slightly apprehensive, given my experience with dropping something and then picking it back up. From relearning the trombone, to quitting writing, to "trying again" with a dumb-fuck ex who only served to teach me why she was an "ex" in the first place, I gained so much more after dropping it off and then picking it back up for a second glance; it's something like muscle memory when I think about it.

Now, I can't help but wonder if I'll miss it: The paid holidays, the steady paycheck, the travel and so many other factors that make this line of work satisfying. If only for the illusory sense of "peace of mind," I can't see myself missing any of it. What I know I will miss, however, is the people. But at the same time, fuck no I won't! That is, not all of them, only some of them. But in any case, I know that I will be closing another chapter in my life, only to open another. A chapter where my family doesn't have to worry about me, where my lady doesn't have to shit herself every time I say "I'm going on another business trip" and a chapter where I don't have to fight for the contracted right to pursue my education and one day, hopefully, write full-time.

If all else fails, I can just work for the government...