It is a truth universally acknowledged by any good chiropractor that you should lift heavy objects with your legs rather than with your back. I am not a good chiropractor. When lifting a table at camp this year, I knowingly injured my back and proceeded to board a giant inflatable battle-dome during some obvious lapse of judgment. I have now come to equate this decision to pouring salt directly into an open wound (not a good idea). Like any true scout, however, I was almost unphased by my horrible injury and denied any recommended medical treatment. The next day I was feeling better (mentally) - although I threw my back out, the flames of scout spirit in my heart were on! As the troop went through summer camp, earned their badges, and blazed through any competition, I was sure to be there cheering them on and selectively excusing myself from most straining physical activity. I was especially proud of my patrol at the time (Heavy Metal Moose II) - they crushed any competition like I crushed my trapezius muscle. Any other patrols competing looked kind of like my spine: weak. This year was surely another great summer camp for the troop. Our troop and its patrols earned many great and memorable accomplishments this summer (competition wins, merit badges, scout spirit), but I like to think that the real memories are of the half-brained injuries we sustained along the way (I think this as an obvious effort to comfort myself - literally nobody else should think this).