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Rutson's Soliloquy


rutson

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To cache, or not to cache--that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the house to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous TV

Or to take GPSr against a sea of tupperware

And by searching find them. To hunt, to seek--

No more--and by a find to say we end

The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks

That DNF is heir to. 'Tis an calamity

Devoutly to be wished. To hunt, to seek--

To seek--perchance to find: ay, there's the rub,

For in that search of caches what dreams may come

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That's very moving Ian. Here's another one the bard might have written...

 

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows,

Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows

Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,

With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:

There sleeps Titania some time of the night,

And if I could just get a bloody GPS lock in these woods I'd be in there!

Edited by lordelph
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Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your GPSrs;

I come to bury a cache, not to praise it.

The DNFs that men do live after them;

Their good finds are oft interred with their tupperware boxes;

So let it be with my caches. The noble Lacto

Hath told you your cache was ambitious:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault...

 

ran out of inspiration! (Not a moment too soon, say some! :anitongue: )

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Adaptation of 'The Jabberwocky' from Lewis Carroll's 'Alice through the Looking Glass'.

 

'Twas late, and Team Slithy Toves

Did grumble and stumble in the nettles:

All scratched were Team Borogoves

And the Mome Raths gave up.

"Beware the Tupper-Lock, my son!

The snaps that bite, the corners that catch -

Beware the budget brand, and shun

The rusted ammobox latch!"

 

He took his faithful etrex in hand:

Long time the cachesome foe he sought -

So rested he by the Obvious tree,

And stood awhile in thought.

 

And, as in 'wherewouldihideit' thought he stood,

The Tupper-Lock, with neon sticks of flame,

Seemed to whiffle through the tangly wood,

And flashed 'Over Here' as it came!

 

Point one two! Point one two! And through and through

The yellow GPS went here and there!

He left a mark, and with a start

He went geolumphing back.

 

"And hast thou found the Tupper-Lock?

Come to my arms, my FTF boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

He overreacted in his joy.

 

'Twas late, and Team Slithy Toves

Did grumble and stumble in the nettles:

All scratched were Team Borogoves

And the Mome Raths logged their DNF.

 

SP :anitongue:

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With appologies to TS elliot

Macavity's a Mystery Cache: its called the (insert name of nemesis cache here!)--

For its the master cache hide who did not finds them all

He's the bafflement of Seasider , Haggis Hunters despair:

For when they reach the cahce co ords --Macavity's not there!

 

Macavity, Macavity, there's no cache like Macavity,

Its broken every caching law, he breaks the law of burying.

His stone wall hides make eckington despair,

And when you reach the the cache co ords --Macavity's not there!!

You may seek him in the woods, you may look up in the air--

But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!

 

Macavity's a cammo cache, its very tall and thin;

You would know it if you saw it, for its labels clearly green .

Its contents are illegal theres contraband within;

The logbooks empty from neglect, the FTF’s still there.

.

 

Macavity, Macavity, there's no cache like Macavity,

For he's a fiend in ammo box shape, a monster of a find.

You may find it on a footpath, you may find it on an island--

But when you think you’ve found the cache, then Macavity's not there!

 

Macavity, Macavity, there's no cache like Macacity,

There never was another cache of such deceitfulness and suavity.

And whatever place the cache was sought --MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!

And they say that all the Cachers whose wicked deeds are widely known

(I might mention M1EYO, I might mention Simply Paul)

Are nothing more than agents for the Cacher who all the time

Just controls these operations: the Jeremy above them all!

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There's a little yellow puzzle

To the north of Knockandu;

There's a little marble cross below the town;

And a brokenhearted owner

Tends the cache of Mad_Carew,

While the yellow box for ever gazes down.

 

It was known as Knockandu

And was found by only few,

It was harder than they felt inclined to tell,

But for all their foolish tries,

And the work of jelous spies,

The answer was a secret none would sell.

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Kubla Khan - with apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge

 

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately caching zone decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns signal-less to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With box and can were girdled round:

And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills

Where blossomed many a micro-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of tupperware.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for a first-to-find!

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What a marvellous literary turn this is taking! I thought I'd give it a proper go with a bit Rudyard Kilpling....

 

If you can keep your GPS lock when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust coordinates when all men doubt you

But make allowance for their GPS receivers too,

If you can walk and not be tired by walking,

Or fail to find, don't deal in DNF's,

Or start digging, don't give way to digging,

And yet don't look too muddy, nor talk of spoilers:

 

If you can cache--and not make caches your master,

If you can navigate--and not make navigation your aim;

If you can meet with FTF and Did-Not-Find

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to see the caches you've placed

Trashed by muggles to make a trap for fools,

Or watch your signature five star puzzle, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

 

If you can gather your geocoins in one heap

And risk taking all to a drunken bash

And lose them, even though not cheap

And start collecting for another cache

If you can force your duracell triple A's

To serve their turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in them

Except the cacher which says to them: "Hold on!"

 

If you can post on forums and keep your virtue,

Or walk with moderators--nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men cache with you, but none too much,

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of caching done,

Yours is geocaching.com and everything that's in it,

And--which is more--you'll be a Cacher, my son!

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Here we go again!

 

Is this a GPSr which I see before me,

The arrow toward a cache? Come, let me find thee.

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.

Art thou not, fatal DNF, sensible

To feeling as to sight? or art thou but

A cache of the mind, a false co-ordinate,

Proceeding from the FTF-oppressed brain?

I see thee yet, in form as palpable

As this which now I draw.

Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;

And such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,

Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,

And on thy ammobox and logbook gouts of mud,

Which was not so before. There's no such thing:

It is the caching business which informs

Thus to mine eyes.

 

With apologies to an old boy of my school!

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As a speechwriter I couldn't resist -

 

"We shall go on to the end, we shall find in France, we shall find across the seas and oceans, we shall find with growing confidence and growing strength the smallest cache. We shall search our Island, whatever the cost may be. We shall find on the beaches, we shall find under the tree cover, we shall find in the fields and in the streets, we shall find in the hills; we shall never DNF. And even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this island or a large part of it were without GPS coverage; then our friends beyond the seas, armed by Garmin and Magellan, would carry on finding. Until, in God's good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to continue the search and find the caches of the old."

Edited by Learned Gerbil
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Sorry Rudyard - I know you're spinning like a kebab on speed:

 

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o'beer,

The publican 'e up an' sez, 'We serve no cachers here.'

The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,

I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:

O it's cacher this, an' cacher that, an' 'cacher, go away';

But it's 'Thank you, Mister Nibbler,' when the muggles learn to play-

The muggles learn to play, my boys, the muggles learn to play,

O it's 'Thank you, Mister Nibbler,' when the muggles learn to play.

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Cacheman, courtesy of Metallica

 

Set your cache alert my son

Don't forget, Eckington's

E-mails include everyone

Tuck you in, warm within

keep you free from sin

till the cacheman he comes

sleep with one eye open

new cache alerts are in sight

 

CHORUS

Exit, light

Enter, Night

Take my hand

night cachers are First to Find

 

Somethings wrong, signal's slight

heavy cloud cover tonight

The arrows not pointing right

dreams of war, dreams of liars

dreams of GPS's ire

and of things that will bite

sleep with one eye open

First to finds are in sight

 

CHORUS

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With apologies to John and Paul:

 

Yesterday, my geocaching troubles seemed so far away

Now it looks as though they're here to stay

Oh, I believe in yesterday.

 

Suddenly, I'm not half the cacher I used to be,

There's a DNF hanging over me.

Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

 

{Refrain} Why I failed to find

I don't know, I couldn't say.

I got the co-ords wrong,

now I long for yesterday.

 

Yesterday, caching was such an easy game to play.

Now I need a place to find a cache,

Oh, I believe in yesterday.

 

{Refrain}

Yesterday, caching was such an easy game to play.

Now I need a place to find a cache,

Oh, I believe in yesterday

 

Mm mm mm mm mm

Edited by walkergeoff
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Aw shucks :blink::blink::lol:

I'd like to thank my stylist, my...

 

but I'd have to vote for Lordelph's...

 

If you can keep your GPS lock when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust coordinates when all men doubt you

But make allowance for their GPS receivers too

 

...as staying truest to the OP goal of "rewrite in the style of" with Carroll and McCartney honourably running up :blink:

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To set Dickie Valentine rotating in his sarcophagus......

 

C is for the cacher for whom a DNF is rare,

H is for the Hint that will almost get you there,

R is for the reading on your GPSr set,

I is for the icon a new cache type will get,

S is for the swap you take (and upgrade if you may!)

T is for the TB you help upon its way,

M is for the micro stuck behind the high road sign,

A is for the angst when gc.com's off line

S is for old Signal, the gc.com frog...........

 

............Be good and he'll get you everything in your caching wish list log!

Edited by Eckington
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In my best JFK typing style:

 

"Ask not what Geocaching.com can do for you - ask what you can do for Geocaching.com."

 

From another speech:

 

"We choose to find these caches. We choose to find these caches this afternoon and swap some travel bugs, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our caching energies and FTF skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unable to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too." (No danger of a DNF there then!)

 

Another president:

 

"Read my lips. No more virtual geocoins."

 

And again:

 

"I did not have sexual relations with that geocache" (Although it was marked Rubbermaid, which might explain things)

 

Up to date:

 

From a DNF log - "Intelligence tells us there are geocaches hidden in Iraq..." :)

 

Edited to make funnier.

Edited by Simply Paul
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C is for the cacher for whom a DNF is rare,

H is for the Hint that will almost get you there,

R is for the reading on your GPSr set,

I is for the icon a new cache type will get,

S is for the swap you take (and upgrade if you may!)

T is for the TB you help upon its way,

M is for the micro stuck behind the high road sign,

A is for the angst when gc.com's off line

S is for old Signal, the gc.com frog...........

 

Stick to the day job - :):)

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And did those feet in weekend time

Walk upon England's mountains green?

And was the white jeep travel bug

In England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the silent satellite

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And is that darn cache laying here

Among those dark Satanic mills?

Bring me my G-P-S-r!

Bring me my OS map!

Bring me my hat! O clouds, unfold!

Bring me my cache mob-ile!

I will not cease from mental strife

Nor shall I log a D-N-F

Till I have found that geocache

In England's green and pleasant land

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How about a 'Caching Carol'... to the tune of Away in a Manger

 

Away in the forest, no cache was in sight

My poor little Etrex was trying all night

To lock on the Bright Stars that show us the way

S*d this for a lark, think I’ll wait for the day.

 

The cattle are running towards me I hear

As I searched for a lunchbox that’s been muggled, I fear

I spot the three wise men as I leap o’er the stone wall

It’s Ecky and Lacto and…. Oh no… Simply Paul !!

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