Navigating the Jhisterne.

I will take a short (about four minutes) pause before 
I continue with my narration concerning navigating the 
Jhisterne (with or without gloves: in fact the thing about 
the gloves was just sort of a superstition).

Okay, so, just so you know, everything I know and will now tell you about how to both approach and complete the Jhisterne comes to me by way of my friend and mentor Dr Vidnik Chostri, one of the foremost authorities, now deceased. He crossed a line, now erased, and our efforts have cost several generations of persons their time at the table.

The first question that usually comes up is the whole 'glove thing'. People want to know: Gloves, yes or no? I can tell you now definitively that's never really been established one way or the other. A head covering, though, is deemed absolutely essential. Why? Well, the overpowering odor for one. Also at certain times of the year, your very own yammering could disturb what remains of solid materials on site.

Now you'll want to bring a single sheet of brown recording paper with you (preferably unadjusted) to support a fourth charge of mencral stringth if there's a simbering of plaiks by the time you're ready to proceed. This will ensure that your solid approach will be difficult (at best) to tie back to any other gentuine ex-parts that could arouse suspicion.

By hour two, it will become obvious whether or not you've bested any prior (if unwilling) efforts on behalf of a master encroachment which should allow everyone in your group (assuming you're not 'going solo') to breathe easy and allow less than optimal strasterkies to withstand the urge to defile a stripe that often appears at this point.

If, by day three, a plea-full whimpering still hasn't been heard, don't worry. All is not lost. It could be you've located a real absence of nests. This is just what you should want, whether you know it or not. Most people will now be tempted to give up. In fact this describes my own sister, and look at what happened to her. Need I say more? (If the answer is 'Yes', please consult Wikipedia or Google; it's all there.)

Anyway, so once you've bested a hill (there's always a hill), you'll find a brittle markering, something like a track handle, and you're to twist it, even force it, and by now you should notice a distinct metallic taste near your third molar. Success is near but please don't become overconfident, it could prove your undoing. A pain in the right leg is a good sign, believe it or not, because as even the esteemed General Strickler acknowledged, a slow and silent breakage of your pre-scene motion can sometimes induce a post-ludic Jhisterne to announce itself in the ways we most cherish.

[Crucial Addendum]

The brain is a funny thing. I once met a guy who attended a meeting in Spain. You might consider applying for a position in the underwater arts. That certificate you bandied about is now worthless, I'm sorry to say. What kind of a yellow field is this? Is it wise to leave before dawn? Could we say with confidence that our time is up? A beginning seems ripe. I'm appalled by the actions of a certain group. I can't say which one or I could get killed. Please stop mumbling. 

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