Six Degrees of My Box Lock

As promised, MC determined to do something about home security, specifically the lock that stubbornly refused to let the Crankies inside, or outside, their own house during a blizzard. With her rogue box lock in hand, she set out to meet Mr. High Security, a highly recommended fixer of creaky old hardware.

One look at Mr. High Security's shop and MC recognized that her lock could be restored to a readiness level of DEFCON 1. Think of all the ways you could illustrate "encyclopedic knowledge," and MC will raise you another one, courtesy of Mr. High Security. Choosing a favorite lock set from among so many beauties would be a struggle, but the sleek barrel key to Hitler's bunker and the over-the-top door handle from the Cadillac Hotel, created during Detroit's glory days, are among her favorites. It turns out that the mechanism from CGF is a respectable Penn product with a two-key "night-lock" arrangement that you don't see every day. MC has now shared all the technical jargon she retained from Mr. HS; henceforth, lock mechanisms will be referred to as "thingies."

MC's chi was particularly strong on this day, and as Mr. HS described an upcoming trip to the Cranky State, she processed his reference to a revered teacher, now deceased, that he called "Dora Cranky." But wait, MC thought. MY name is Cranky. How many "Dora Crankies" could exist that aren't members of the Cranky Family? Turns out, there aren't any at all, since Dora Cranky was the first wife of a Cranky cousin. But wait, there's more: her daughter was previously pictured here: the little girl with the pigtails in the front row. Cranky ex-husband is seventh from the right.

A respectable lock, MC has learned, will provide reliable security and peace of mind for longer than a human lifetime. Pay a little extra, though, and you could get a lock that makes connections in the space-time continuum.
--MC