|
Buttermilk never knew this....
Two guys were out fishing near a farm when the first guy had to take a leak...
As he was "paying his water bill" a wasp stung him on the head of his penis.
"omg man it hurts," he said dancing around. "what am I gonna do?"
the second guy said, "well go ask for some buttermilk at that farm back there. I heard if you put buttermilk on a wasp sting it will stop the pain"
thinking anything is better than nothing they knocked on the door. A little old lady came to the door and they asked her for a glass of buttermilk.
She gladly gave them a glass and the guy quickly whiped his penis out in front of her and stuck it in the glass.
The little old lady did a double take and said..
"Ive seen quite a few of those go off in my time, but ill be damned .. thats the frist time ive seen one reload"
__________________
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.
|