If I lived back in the wild west days, instead of carrying a six-shooter in my holster, I'd carry a soldering iron. That way, if some smart-alec cowboy said something like "Hey, look. He's carrying a soldering iron!" and started laughing, and everybody else started laughing, I could say, "That's right, it's a soldering iron. The soldering iron of justice." Then everybody would get real quiet and ashamed, because they had made fun of the soldering iron of justice.
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But of course, the important thing is to carry a range of 'irons. I got me my big rig, the Weller 100 Temperature Controlled Iron. No matter what kind of joints I'm making (no smart comments from you eastern sissies that think I'm ah talkin' about something else now!) I can adjust that iron for juhst the right amount of heat.
But then again, when I'm bored out there on the plains ridin' my Pygmy Pony I sometimes stop, pull my Weller Cordless Propane Iron out of its custom-made, hand-tooled, leather and zircon-encrusted pouch, and solder me up a right purty little sun catcher. Them ladies in Calgary sure do swoon over 'em, they do...
And then, there is my micro-iron, which my good budy Mikey don't carry, being that he ain't no ee-lec-tronics wiz. I can do a field repair on a dual-core Intel board faster 'n you can say "Charles Babbage".
Yup, you just got to have the right iron for the job.
I've got to run now, being that the egg-shell coffee is startin' to boil over and that there Dot needs to be properly caffeinated before'n she goes and ed-u-cates them chillun's at the school house.
Whoopie-hi-yo...
Gary
(Fourth-cousin, not removed at all from that guy down south.)
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