Molybdenum Prospector

Behold the beauty of mining molybdenum, element of mystery and lore.

So you think the glory days of grimy, bedraggled, often toothless persons living in canvas tents next to holes in the ground are long past?  How little you know of our world!  What adorable naivete!  Perhaps you are thrown by the common misconception that the only precious metals are gold, silver, and rhenium.  There are so many metals to be prospected, so many to be pulled from the belly of the earth, and I long ago staked my claim to molybdenum.

I started small– extracting the molybdenum from wulfenite.  Like most of my pursuits, it began as a necessary outgrowth from another project, in this case being an industrial warplane welding materials supplier.  But I soon found that the call from the spirit of the metal was more than any welding materials supply business could handle– you should learn to recognize this, since it is almost always a sign to embark up on a new career path.  My trusted pal, my stalwart companion, Martyn Poliakoff, and I set off for the wilds of Co-Lor-Ado, where we were certain we would find our fortunes.  We brought hard tack.  We brought picks and wore pants that buttoned.  We knew it was necessary to pay homage to the fossickers who had preceded us.  Again, a common mistake that newcomers to the field make– refusing to heed to the proud traditions of the past.  In this case, button-crotch pants, and a hard day’s labor.

I would entertain you for hours with stories of how we double-handedly fought off claim jumpers, mountain lynxes, and injians (a regional mite).  I would wax on for hours about the time we were called in to weld 12.6 miles of train track in just 1 hour so that the Greeley-Alamosa Express wouldn’t derail on Crazy Peak, or the time that Berenstein, the Maneating Grizzly, nearly took ol’ Poliakoff’s life and favorite slicker.  But I sold the rights to this “perticular” portion of my life to one Willie Hearst, and still haven’t managed to get the rights back from his bank-robbin’ daughter.  Which is a lesson in and of itself.  No matter how drunk on shandies you are– never sell a portion of your life to someone you know to be a sponsor and endorser of zeppelins.

But all you need to know is that there is moneys in metals.  Pick a metal.  Any metal.  Even a noble gas, if you are that talented.  Hone your craft and extract, extract, follow your nose and heart, extract.

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