Well, Cackle Fersus got up that morning and forever afterwards swore
something was bent about the day. Nothing has seemed straight or screwed
on all the way ever since, and probably won't ever be, unless he can find
the True Monopole.
The morning started out with what was left of a dream that night where he
was hainted by his ancient elmer, GW3GW, reminding him from the old country
that the path to prosperity and pure signals on Top Band could only be had
by using a True Monopole, and speaking only True English into a True
Microphone.
Cackle wasn't too bothered by the True English or True Microphone
specifications, since he had gotten into nearly exclusive CW, which was not
rectified into "wron wo kro" in the telephone, radio and phonograph of
left, across street, and right neighbors respectively. But the True
Monopole haint bothered Cackle greatly as he had imperfect early life
memories of experts pronouncing that only vertical monopoles could really
give one true happiness on Top Band. All the experts had seemed very tall,
and coincidentally rather monopolish themselves.
Consequently that day, Cackle gathered himself up and did something he
hadn't done for years since he was cramming for his Extra license. He got
down his dusty, but still not filled spiral notebook, his EZ-Squeeze pen,
and headed off downtown to the big technical library at Old U to get the
True English definition of the True Monopole. How could one possibly do a
True Search for the True Monopole unless one knew the True Definition. He
was not at all prepared for what the search would cost him.
But that wasn't a True Monopole. It was, Cackle realized with sorrowful
regret, a whole pole plus part of a pole in the hole. It was a One Point
One Pole.
Morals of the Tale:
You can't do a push without a pull, or a pull without a push, and to get it
out, you first have to put it in. So a Monopole can NEVER be True. But
Cackle understood the haint's good intentions, since the True Monopole
could only be found by not finding. The True Monopole
So the True Monopole is like a snipe, whose superlative non-existence is
only understood in the not-finding in the hunt. Or it's like Upstate New
York, that never exists where it's pointed to, and only upon the southern
banks of the St. Lawrence river do you understand that the term itself was
a benign Canadian advertising scheme to get you to come up and tour Canada.
or monopole experts -- you get out there and actually start looking for
them, they can't be found.
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UR RST IS ... ... ..9 QSB QSB - hw? BK
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