Welcome to the 21st Century

Ned Ludd's the name, though I guess we're supposed to use fake names. So, Ned Luddington here. Slow but steady wins the race. That's been my motto since my mother birthed a king after 4 meals, 3 doctors, 2 sponge baths, and a 76 hour crowning ceremony. People sometimes think I'm developmentally disabled. I don't necessarily think that's true, though I guess if it were, I would be one of the last to find out. Such is the cruel nature of my disability. I take the right amount of time with my brain food: masticate my thoughts, digest them into words, and "blow logs" onto the page with a pen. We call these nuggets of ancient wisdom "blogs" in the biz. I'm far from being in the business, unless you mean the short-bus iness. That didn't really make any sense. Part of the disability I guess.

Oh, now you want to make fun of me? You're already thinking of witty things to say behind the back of ol' General Ned, huh? Yeah, I just dropped a bomb on ya. Maybe you should look into my past a little bit more, before you accidentally bite off more than you can masticate. Word of the day. The General. And I ain't just talking about my mustache who I have also referred to as "The General" numerous times in the past.

Ladies.

I'm a one man wrecking crew. You remember when those newfangled textile machines were all the rage and were putting our brothers and sisters of the loom out of work? I broke one my first day on the job - apparently there's a finesse thing with the lever - and people started calling me revolutionary. Suited me just fine. Anything to cover my ass. We became known as the Luddites, and shit got a little out of hand. It usually does when I'm around. I'm good at groupthink. When someone says "wouldn't it be something if we torched the mill," I start rubbing sticks together. I don't think; I act. That's why I have a mustache, and that's why I'm The General.