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From First Axe While juicing cranberries in preparation for brewing the Ceremonial Beer this evening, I was once again struck by the Beauty of Ragnarok. Consider the cranberries. Some met their doom in the juicer bravely; they were annhilated utterly. Others attempted to flee, trying to jump out of the juicer with small bits missing, like a mouse caught in the chamber of a Cuisinart; most bounced against the plunger and simply met the same doom twice, while others fled the machine entirely -- I pursued them and they met the same doom as the others. When the juicing was done, there were no cranberries left -- just juice and pulp. So it is with the unEnlightened at Ragnarok. None shall survive that day; their blood shall flow into the earth, and their corpses shall ferment (or rot; please excuse the poetic license). Ragnarok is coming. Be there.

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