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I'm glad I didn't sell this one. It's an amazing machine. As you can see, it dwarfs my small rolltop desk. That"s the only reason I don't use it more often. I like it so much I wrote a poem about it. Maybe it's time to get a bigger desk.
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You've got yourself a Hoss there, man. I think you might need to look for something in a desk made of solid oak or concrete.
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It's a monster, TypewriterKing. But I love it. I find it's inky typeface particularly gratifying: not too dark, not too light (one reason I use older machines). Curiously, there's a beefy table in the atrium near my desk. That's where I usually park it. I bring it in at night, like a sleepy child.
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Now that's love, man.
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Morning machine....
Evening machine...
And the poem.
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Nice -- I like that line, "Your ponderous pace keeps my haste at bay." That's partly the point, isn't it? Typing requires you to slow things down a bit, and think.
Two very different yet worthy machines.