Note: This is a JM Classique™ post. Photobucket are as bad at looking cool while rollerblading as I am, and broke image links from ten years ago, removing the images from old forum posts. Since I’m going through each old post and re-hosting the image on this server, I figured I might as well shove the post here, too. JM Classique™: Your Trusted Brand of Yestercrap.
The Terror Grill may seem like a common-or-garden labor operation, but observe the careful disregard for the safety of the stoker, coalman, meatmaster, and hoister, and the way in which they are kept in a unitary tower well-away from the director and his or her guests. This allows for each worker to do their job in a most efficient manner, as well as providing for good visibility for the director, not to mention easy control of insurrection.
The meat elevator, center-weighted for stability, is generously-sized, and can accommodate 10 cows, 30 pigs, or 60 birds. Provision of the lifting chains is sufficient for this weight, and the sealed geartrain means that the hoistman can make minute adjustments to the meat elevator’s level with minimal effort. Also note how the provision of a stoker leaves the coalman to concentrate on provision and distribution of fuel, without needing to be distracted by concerns regarding airflow.
Truly, the Terror Grill represents a new frontier for the gustatory dictator. Alternatives, like the Stanislaus Webelo’s Delight, overwork the coalman and put the director in a much more vulnerable position, while not having the meat accommodations of the Terror Grill.
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Ah, I have built the terror-grill using Science, which is worse than Art for drawing barbed wire and loudspeakers and a proper four-corner lift mechanism and bracing and the machine gun, but conveys scale better. Note how the backside of both the fuel platform and meat platforms are slanted, for ease of dumping-into using the truck.
That nonchalant man in the sweater and khakis could be you.
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I like to imagine that this is an off-day — maybe the grill servants have been conscripted to help with the construction of an aqueduct or subterranean vault. So he has some free time to spend with his kids, and they’re like “Can you take us to see the Terror-Grill?” And he wants to, sure, because of course in this society direction of grill operations will be their job one day, too. So he goes ahead to clean up the place, make sure there’s diesel in the dump truck, and hide the bodies of any stokers who couldn’t make it through the last night’s feast-preparation. So he finishes up with the big stuff, and starts dinking around with the Grill — making sure the geartrain is oiled, sighting the guns, and so on. But then the rickshaw with his kids in it pulls up and he can see their faces pressed up against the glass, looking up at the sheer height of the Terror Grill. It’s the best thing in the world to them. And he can appreciate that, because it’s the best thing in the world to him too. So this is more of a “Casual Vacation Day Terror Grill Director” look, like out of a detergent commercial.