Talk:Halvard Hanevold
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To say that the H-man is a biathlete is both a matter-of-fact statement and a gross understatement. To me, at least, the Cock, as I like to call him, is first and foremost a symbol. At various periods of my earthly existence he has symbolized various things, it is true, but he has always been a symbol...These days he symbolizes hope. But also despair. Seeing the H-man nailing those narrow targets...I don't know, sometimes it makes me think we're all doomed. Which is probably the case. I hear peeps say: When the H-man retires, that's when this old world is bound to end. Yeah. But they've got it slightly wrong (they always do). The world is bound to end, and it might just coincide with the H-man's retirement, but the two...oh, peeps, are they even related? I don't get the H-man. I never did. But there's a certain perverse comfort in that. We're but a rift in the order of things, as a certain old fairy once said. We are. But not the Cock. He be larger, and smaller, than life itself. But I don't get him. Not that it's any of yer beeswax, bitches. I once said: The H-man must die. I stand by that. But we all got to die, peeps. That's the H-man's one grand advantage. And he knows it. "You ain't better than me," he seems to say, as he keeps on nailing them targets, forever, forever, till the day when man goeth to his long, long home.
