Time for a montage!

Ten days left in the annual John H. Watson Society Canonical Treasure Hunt.

Those who have attempted this hundred question test might be feeling a little battered and bruised at this point -- slamming yourself into an immovable object repeatedly will do that to you. And we bookish sorts are not that sturdy to begin with. Staring blankly at a question for far too long, when you could be doing something that might even be fun, is a symptom more than a few of us have had at this point, especially as one's efforts drive one late into the evening.

This is the point we give up, right? The point we say "Screw this!" to the Spartan diet of Canonical queries and gorge on life outside the sixty stories. The place where we quietly back away from the contest and hope that nobody remembers we took up the initial challenge. The moment when we remember we're just a half-wit bruiser from Philly who can in no way stand up to a title shot against the heavyweight champion of the world.

At this point, you don't even have to win. You've seen how easy it would be to just give up and not finish it. And other people are going to do that. But are you other people?

God, I hope not. Other people suck. Don't be one of them.

Just get back up, do a few push-ups to rev your engine and see what your will is capable of forcing your skinny arms to do, and finish the ten days. (Or eight. No sense in risking missing the deadline.)

Let me tell ya something, kid. This quiz was written by a human. And what are you?

As a very wise man once said, "What one man can invent another can discover." I can't tell you how often I've used that one. Personally, it's been of more use to me than any other quote from that oh-so quotable fellow. 

Who said it and when he said it, is something I'll leave as one more puzzle for you. If you don't know it, you should. Because sometimes, having to struggle with something brings out better things in us. Like reminding me where that very quote came from . . . I had pretty much forgotten where that came from, even thinking it came from somewhere else than it actually did. Until this latest little ordeal of Sherlock's own . . . .

Back to the push-ups.