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ok.. its bob.. he died missing a valuable client call because everyone was out on a firedrill.. and the phones were ringing all at once... then he tried to email them and sent it to audabi...
bob has some serious issues..
anyways.. here is what you do.. set up a pack of cigs with a wireless camera.. set it to your notebook puter. have a buddy keep the notebook and watch.. you hear the sound .. turn the pack to face the sound.. if you hear your friend go.. "holy mary mother of god!" dont panic.. just quietly get up.. mumble that your outta coffee, tea, etc. and move towards the break room.. cuz the sucker will home in on your firend for busting him.. you have 40 sec to get out..
but man that is freaky. btw the cig thing and the notebook was a good idea though.. you would just have to rip off the plastic housing to stash the camera innards in the pack of cigs.
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It means only one thing, and everything: Cut. Once committed to fight, Cut. Everything else is secondary. Cut. That is your duty, your purpose, your hunger. There is no rule more important, no commitment that overrides that one. Cut. The lines are a portrayal of the dance. Cut from the void, not from bewilderment. Cut the enemy as quickly and directly as possible. Cut with certainty. Cut decisively, resoultely. Cut into his strength. Flow through the gaps in his guard. Cut him. Cut him down utterly. Don't allow him a breath. Crush him. Cut him without mercy to the depth of his spirit. It is the balance to life: death. It is the dance with death. It is the law a war wizard lives by, or he dies.
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