As the most interesting meteorite man in the world, I thought I would share some of my experiences :
I once came home empty-handed from an expedition just to see what it felt like.
Rare Earth magnets are attracted to me.
My silver tongue sets off metal detectors.
All of my finds are fully crusted and oriented.
Museum curators give me their keys.
My visual pairings are as accurate as an electron microprobe.
Every meteorite in my collection is a main mass.
If a meteorite from Venus is found, NomCom will name it after me.
Property owners knock on my door after a meteorite fall.
All of my meteorites have a pleasant aroma.
Meteoriticists ask for my opinion.
If you find a meteorite while hunting with me, it will always be an achondrite.
The Smithsonian has me on speed-dial.
I can identify minerals and phases at a glance.
All of my meteorwrongs turn out to be new types of meteorite.
NASA's Johnson Space Center allows me to handle all of their meteorites with bare hands.
I have never lost a meteorite auction, and I never pay too much.
My touch removes caliche.
The meteorites I traded away are rusting, because they are sad and miss me.
Every year, a meteorite falls on my birthday.
All of my export permits are approved instantly.
I have memorized every Meteoritical Bulletin.
If I witness a fireball, I can calculate exactly where the meteorite will fall.
My glasses are cross-polarized.
My touch will etch a polished iron.
I could have bought Meteor Crater, but I am waiting for a new one.
Harvey Nininger had a tattoo of me.
My chessboard is a slab of Esquel pallasite and the pieces are polished lunaites.
All of my pets can find meteorites.
"No Trespassing" signs make an exception for me.
The diamonds on my blades are flawless.
It's difficult to draw blood from me because I have shock veins.
My irons are silicated, my woods have Sikhotes embedded in them, and I have no handicap.
I put the "HEDO" in Hedonism.
When I give a meteorite to Chicago Steve, he keeps it for life.
My garden is a strewnfield.
I won the Meteoritical Society's Lifetime Achievement Award - twice.
When ANSMET first arrived at the Thiel Mountains, I was waiting with a thermos of hot coffee.
When Google receives a meteorite-related query, they call me.
My metal detector's discriminator will ignore ugly meteorites.
I once found a meteorite in Shangri-La.
My list of meteorites won a Pulitzer prize.
Mike Farmer has nothing but good things to say about me.
The Catalogue of Meteorites is my biography.
I am the central uplift of every crater.
I once traded a slice of Old Woman for something younger and better-looking.
During the Tucson show, hotels scramble to reserve me.
The Labennes tried to conceal the coordinates of my summer home.
Weathering makes me look more distinguished.
My furniture is finished with desert varnish.
My opinions are completely unequilibrated.
When I trade, everyone comes out ahead.
I gave fully-crusted peas a chance.
Nomads ask me for directions.
Where I walk in the sand, I leave footprints made of Desert Glass.
Every meteorite I touch becomes a "historical".
If I handed you a rusted-up Nantan dog, you would have to fight the urge to thank me.