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A sense of humour, honesty, forgiveness, and an easily agreeable nature are all qualities which will help you make friends. However, I find that for winning friends and influencing others, no human trait succeeds more than the possession of a thirteenth century, .60 calibre, tension-powered, siege catapult. Whether standing eerily still, awe-inspiring and fearsome in its destructive potential, or hurling boulders and javelins with carnal and chaotic intent, an old fashioned, solidly constructed ballistic missile launcher will cast its black, black shadow on the upturned faces of envious people, eager to be your compadres. Its massive bulk acts almost as a gravitational field, its destructive nature attracts crowds like a magnet.

Keep in mind though, that not any medieval combat weapon capable of launching debris the size of a VW Beetle through 4 feet of concrete will do. Just as it takes the right witty comment to win a friend, it takes just the right armament to amaze a friend. I find that a simple, torsion-powered ballistae will impress the masses, but requires too much winding of rope to be immediately useful, and many among the hordes will have attention spans too short to remain as you twist lengths of rawhide and sinew into cords. A tension-propelled lever system works better, but requires winding as well, producing the same problem. For me, the sure-fire winner in the catapult category is the cantilever counterweight system, capable of storing it's potential energy in the form of a large weight suspended several yards above the horizon, to be released downward, pivoting the tossing arm around a sturdy fulcrum, to raise the opposite end at a terrifying velocity, releasing a dead weight at the very apogee of its arc, sending it cascading forth in a single, solid rain of crushing power. Friends will flock to you in droves. Police too, if you're not careful of where you aim.

I built my catapult in the late 90's, to cash in on the torpedo-based armament craze of the time, and I haven't regretted it's presence since. When I yank loose the trigger pin, I know that in a matter of seconds, depending on the terminal velocity of a GE refrigerator, I will have truly changed the world. Dented it, to be exact. Over the years, I've flung many the broken appliance and bag of garbage into the blue yonder, to observe the missile trace it's parabolic trajectory across the dimming sky, a tear of joy rolling down my cheek, at the magnificent beauty of the sight, and a wince as it inevitably crushes a timid woodland creature. I don't aim. I owe my 45-70 record to sheer luck. Or lack thereof.

So the next time you see various large objects fly past in your peripheral vision, or crush cars and roofs nearby, don't simply ignore it and go on your merry way as you normally do, but think to yourself, that with a little bit of elbow grease, blue prints, and a large supply of hardwood lumber, you too could be sharing with me the joys of surface-to-surface weaponry, and basking in the abundant supply of companionship therewith entailed.
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