The "Bent"chy

"It's Psmith with a 'P'. The 'P' is silent, as in phthisis, psychic, and ptarmigan."

I found this object—one can scarcely call it a boat without a pang of conscience—and I must say, the sight of it has quite unstirred my sensibilities. It has the look of one who has "searched for the leak in life’s gas-pipe with a lighted candle" and discovered the worst.

What we have here, Comrade, is a Benchy that has seemingly decided to "adapt its will to circumstances"—the circumstances in this case being a catastrophic failure of the straight line. It is a calibration test for the soul. It does not merely have overhangs; it has an air of profound defeat.

A Few Observations from the Front

• Supreme Misfortune: To look upon it is to feel as though one has "drunk the cup of life and found a dead beetle at the bottom." It was once a proud vessel of geometric precision; now, it is a sallow, melted thing that would make even a male codfish look on with a jaundiced eye.

• The Printing Process: "Work is the what's-its-name of the thingummy," as they say, and this requires very little of it. It prints without supports, which is fortunate, as I doubt it could support even its own tragic history.

• Aesthetic Merit: It is "white and shaken, like a dry martini," or perhaps just a very confused slice of PLA.