We can no longer show the multitudes of glowing commentary and heartfelt congratulations of all the admirers of the Doctor's work. Here you will find those testimonials forced off the main page by others both newer, and, frankly, more important.
Dr William Young, Archivist and Historian for Dr Grordbort's Estate

Ms. M. Ralt II, a reputed time traveller and self confessed ne?er-do-well has divulged her nefarious doings in this highly incriminating endorsement. While we accept her praise with gratitude, we at Dr. Grordbort?s labs cannot approve the use of Wave-weapons by brigands and law breakers. (however fetching they may be):
"Having of late Found myself brought Forth into the Future by a Series of Unusual and highly Unprecedented Improbabilities (the least of these being a Memorable interaction with a Gentlemen of Extreme Girth and Temper and most Unusually hued Skin), I hastened Immediately to procure for myself some Sort of Protective Ward. The Victorious Mongoose was Well Beyond my Comfortable Spending allowance (alas I Found myself Wanting for even the Merest Scrap of clothing) but I did not allow this Unconscionable Fact to Stand in the Way of my Personal Safety.
I Resolved to unlawfully Acquire the Mongoose and have Since found it to be an Eminently Trustworthy companion and Device of the Highest Degree, Easily Hidden away from the Peering eyes of Rascals and Lawmen Alike. Appreciably Swift, every Shot is as Intentioned and Accurate as its Vermin Namesake's Commitment to the Downfall of Poisonous Reptiles (as I must admit I am finding Many of my Future Contemporaries to be). I confess that it is my Truest and most Steadfast Friend in these Uncertain Times.
That a Thief would Praise the Instrument of Destruction and then have the Temerity to send Word of Such Deed to the Instrument's Very Creators is perhaps Surprising. I beg You though, rest Assured that if this Missive reaches your Personages, I am striving with Every Ounce of my Being to collect appropriate Funds to Recoup your Untimely Loss. Unhinged in Time as I May be (and of late, Space as Well), on next Returning to this Unsavory Time, I will Endeavor to Apologize in the Flesh.
Regretfully, I Will be Obliged to Retain Possession of the Mongoose. Yours, Ms. M. Ralt II (time Traveler) "

Sarahna Truelight, Warrior Goddess of the Platinum Crown, a majestic young thing whose sparkling intellect and razor sharp wit are oft? overlooked by those mesmerised by her thoraxial lobes, articulated this arresting commentary:
"It?s been two Earth-years since I first entered the Interstellar Warrior Goddess pageant as a wide-eyed, eighteen-year-old fresh off the training grounds, and I must admit that without the Manmelter 3600ZX, Sub-Atomic Disintegrator Pistol, I would have probably been a loser again this year, not to mention in need of some major, expensive reconstructive treatments. Instead, here I sit in the heart of the Denari Galaxy, wearing the Platinum Crown and worshipped by trillions across the system. Life is wonderful!
As you well know, after an ignoble defeat in my rookie year, last year I was practically guaranteed the crown as we entered the final round. I had already swept the major challenges of the pageant: I was the first to retrieve a Bendadie egg from the brimstone pits of Sarac; ran the ten-parsec hurdles in just under two hours; was the first to pilot ?round the Sili Rings in my Star-speeder; and soundly beat the Chundarian Uni-Mind in quad-level chess. Indeed, after I dazzled the judges in the swimsuit competition, the only contestant who could challenge me was three-time Platinum Crown-wearer, Dixan Moondust.
As we entered the battle arena, I noticed that among the usual warrior-goddess accoutrement, Dixan had a new weapon strapped to her waist. Unfortunately, that?s the last thing I remember, as memory of the fight itself was mind-wiped from me to preserve my sanity. But afterward, as I lay in a regeneration tank (it takes forever to regenerate an arm, by the way) watching my defeat over and over again on the news-vids, I learned that the glorious weapon she used to finally defeat me was none other than the Manmelter 3600ZX. I knew I had to have one. Luckily, I managed to acquire a Manmelter this year as I trained for the pageant, and with the playing field now levelled, Dixan never knew what hit her.
Many thanks for creating such a beautiful weapon."

Choko, the hamster-ape boy, a bright young chap who suffers no retardation due to medical experimentation at an early age, sent us this glowing report on the application of the Manmelter 3600ZX:
"Dear Dr. Grordbort, Me likes the Manmelter my master Sir Reginald Manfredmanfredson recently purchased from your brightly colored foul smelling lab. Manmelter used to make banana skin go away leaving crispy banana inside for me eats. I also seen Sir Reginald fire Manmelter at large butterfly. He have setting on reverse and added two human sized hands to butterfly and lion tail. Butterfly no fly anymore.
Until we visit again father,
Choko, the hamster-ape boy."

Lord Partario Chittingfold, a Viceroy no less, underwent augmentive surgery at the hands of Doctor Grordbort, and despite some subsequent netherly chaffings, had these kind words to offer:
"Gentlemen:
Allow me to present my credentials as Lord Partario Chittingfold, Viceroy of Her Majesty?s talcum mines on Glacia Major. Whilst playing a particularly sticky wicket at the annual Ladies Auxillary Subzero Croquet Gala, my polar gloves were savaged by an albino snow squirrel. Before I could get back to the winter palace, I had lost the use of all ten digits. I spent years at the mercy of my abusive assisted-living wolverine who had to do everything from buttoning my pantaloons to buttering my scones. Finally I sought out the help of Dr. Grordbort. He scanned my lifeless mitts using his patented Bonal Macrograph and then fitted me with a set of Phalangelical Accumulators.
Within minutes I regained the use of my fingers, dispatched the wolverine and resumed my royal duties. My highest compliments go to the good Doctor and his staff."

Colonel Jack W Phillipson, a noted weapons collector and playwright, penman of theatrical escapades such as ?How We Plundered the East and Ravaged their Camels?, ?Inside a Tin Box to the Moons of Saturn? and ?The Woman with a Green Thorax: Interspecial Interactions?, graciously spared us this utterly believable tale from his journals:
"A manly slap on the back to the brainy boffins behind the glorious Manmelter 3600ZX! Its performance in the field is exemplary, and a startling advancement over its contemporaries. I previously relied on the 1910 Bournville Disintegrator, which, as the late Capt. James ?No Face? Gustave can attest; was prone to the odd miss-fire. No such flaws with the 3600ZX! Its accuracy and reliability are unsurpassed! My recent expedition to Iceland would have ended very differently had I not had such a trusty device at my disposal: cornered by an ancient behemoth of snow, ice and metal, the guardian of an outpost from some long forgotten empire. It was literally taken apart by my, now favoured, side-arm!"

88-c-9000, A metal automaton that?s higher functions seem to have been impaired by poor upkeep and not faulty manufacture, is now loose among the populace, murdering and rampaging. In a quiet moment however, he made time to post us this unhinged garble on 43 punch-cards:
"When I was first assembled, close to the turning of the great century, my master-controller utilized my being for various tasks in his sport of hunting. My being would go on these excursions as his pack-mule. Loaded down heavily with all sorts of provisions my being would follow my master-controller to remote jungles in search of various trophy kills.
With each excursion, my master-controller would hunt down his quarry and when the opportunity presented itself, he would demand his weapon of choice - the Goliathon 83. Each time my being's metal, clawed appendage handed the Goliathon 83 into my being's master-controller's soft, fleshy hand, a sense of jealousy would race through my being's pistons - oh how my being wished to feel the power of the Goliathon 83. It was on our 48th excursion when my being decided that my being would exercise this desire.
When my master-controller called for his weapon, my being acted on impulse and pulled the Goliathon 83's trigger and my master-controller's flesh bubbled, foamed and evaporated, leaving but his human skull and bones, as my being had seen happen to countless defenseless creatures under my master-controller's power.
Thank you Dr. Grordbort for giving my being theopportunity to feel "alive". You have made my being a free one.
Humbly yours....."

D.Daedalus III, an infamous socialite whose sordid escapades have captured many a gossip column headline (such as the Camel and hose pipe incident of '21) has revealed this juicy insight into his obviously riveting lifestyle:

"I wish to express my deepest thanks to the brilliant Doctor Grordbort for his excellent line of Aether Oscillators. In particular, when traipsing about the Omniverse, I just wouldn't be complete without the F.M.O.M Industries Wave Disrupter Gun at my side. Masculine yet sexy, stylish, powerful. It's the perfect accoutrement for the well dressed, well travelled gentlemen.
It's also the ideal method for dealing with those pesky mutant paparazzi cloned up by the evil Tabloid Conglomerates of Old Earth. I will always remember the first time I used the WDG on a bothersome plague of such vermin boorishly tailing me in my convertible Stardog 55 as I was trying to pull a Genozean starlet from Vidi XXX.
I vaporized the lot of them with an inspired reverse shot using the rear-view mirror, and the weapon was so well balanced that my hand never had to leave the thigh of my beautiful passenger. Suffice to say it was a night to remember (it's true what they say about Vidi XXX girls), and I owe it all to my F.M.O.M Industries Wave Disrupter Gun!"

Counter Vice Colonel, Minor, Rottingbottom IX (ret), a braggard and dunce (yet previously in command of a regiment of armed men) somehow made his mishapen digits control a writing instrument. Our intrepreters translated the ink blots thusly:

?The anti-incrustators in the Goliathon's plasma tubes are an ingenious bit of engineering and worked splendidly in the low gravity when my deuced pygmy guide caused yet another rambunctious Lunar Cockchafer to do a Tightener on us. Whilst the constant tingling in my teeth and buttocks is a minor bother, I find the effect quite bracing; and it is a damned sight better than sliding out of another giant insect's cloaca into a crater. Smashing work, old beans!?

Lord Vizier Ct'honal, a grotesque insult to nature and apparently the High General of the Vanguriz Interstellar Invasion Forces, has attempted to apply its feeble alien intellect to written communication, we present the results:

"Earthling known as Dr. Grordbort,
Realize that your simple human brain is but 1/5 the size of ours, and encased in a thin bone structure just millimetres thick. And yet, I must congratulate you on your recent, blatant, attempt to copy the weapons of destruction that we have long kept as standard issue for exploratory excursions to your mud ball called Earth.
It must have been that idiot Tzz'rrl who left his Vangurizan FleshMelter on what he thought was an inanimate furred log while he relieved himself of pent up gases. When he turned around, the furred log, which was in actuality a sheep, had fled in terror when Tzz'rrl began his gaseous exhalations. Typically, we Vangurizan's need only use two pseudopods to relieve our gases, but that idiot Tzz'rrl horribly damaged one beyond repair while tinkering with one of our ships warp coils. But I digress. It seems the Chit-Chanos aren't the only sentient beings that have knowledge of reverse engineering. The component located on the top of the "Goliathon 83" is obviously a Vangurizan Particle Phrasologislator. The blue and red diodes located on the rear of the weapon can only be an earthlings attempt at creating a time-matter flow restorer.
Your attempts at weapon creation should be applauded; however, pseudopods make a wholly different sound when clapped together. Know that the idiot Tzz'rrl is no longer allowed to set tentacle off of the ship. Know that we have obtained a copy of the "Goliathon 83". Know also that our galactic patent officers are very well educated in Earthling law, and that they will make sure you product is sold in limited quantities so that our invasion...er peaceful journeying continues unabated."

Kid Shadow (pubescent vigilante) has somehow found time in his hectic schedule of off-world crime fighting and relentess self satisfaction to scribe this insightful babble:
?My dad is a fan of a .45 in each hand but when fighting the blue savages in the jungles of Venus or destroying green, four armed warriors in the Martian Canals, hot lead and gunpowder just don't do the trick. The Goliathan 83 Infinity Beam Projector has all of the kick of my dad's old-fashioned favorites with only a little ozone smell to tell the tale. When confronting criminals in the slums to the far end of Halcyon Seven, I demand the Goliathan 83 for all of my hand-gun needs!?

Henry Broderick Tittlebrook of London, previously employed as editor of gentlemens periodical ?Nursery Harlot?, now an educator of children sent this whining diatribe:
"To the esteemed Doctor Grordbort, as Headmaster at the prestigious Arthur Wellingham School for Boys, I am constantly in desperate search for the most effective disciplinary instruments on the market. With great pleasure, I have recently found your line Infallible Aether Oscillators to be the best deterrent yet to schoolyard tomfoolery and general ballyhoo. Truth be told, I have needed a great deal of practice to find an agreeable setting in which to inflict just the right amount of discomfort on my most unruly ne'er-do-wells (simply melting students is not condoned by the school board). However, I am quite confident that in the very near future, any and all disciplinary problems at Wellingham will be a distant memory. With great admiration....."

Frederik Smythe, A Colonel and part-time goat husbandrist in His Majesty's Interstellar Army currently posted on Mars, insisted we publish this riveting prattle:
"I wish to congratulate you on your most magnificent of products, the Manmelter 3600ZX. On a recent mission I was captured by those filthy blue apes of Saturn. The Manmelter's compact size allowed me to easily conceal it on my person, meaning I was able to use it to escape from my cell later that evening. I then put it to good use as I rescued the Martian princess I had been tasked to save and escaped from that dingy hole. Those apes didn't know what hit 'em!"

Captain Jim Grundlingson of Thruttingshire on Water, a half crazed, permanently drunk twat with no social skills offered this insight after using the Manmelter 3600ZX:
"...upon discharging the weapon I felt and heard a fizzing in me extremeties. Looking down I noted, with some apprehension, the trails of vapour or perhaps smoke coiling from me boots. Nevertheless, me target, a young seal pup, was reduced to a bubbling ground stew and feeling came back to me groin in approximately six weeks."
6th November 1926

Lady Shivingham III, learned crypto-biologist and collector of dried Nepalese monk prepuces gave this quip under no coercion:
"Some short time after ordering, a brand new Bifurnilizer was delivered to my home and I was immediately impressed by its handsome polish and fine cast iron manufacture. I set the device to work promptly and had no difficulty in bifurnilizing a local tomcat, some fresh tomatoes and my vanity mirror, all of which I will submit for contention at this month?s town fair. I cannot thank Dr. Grordbort enough and await the delivery of my Rectmoprobe with baited breath."
12th August 1921

Lady Pantsham, a woman of no small repute, gifted consumer of navy rum and last years all-ages womans arm-pit wrestling champion afforded this monologue:
"Marvellous engineering ? thanks to the Posteriotron 12, my husband may soon regain the use of his nether regions which had been in a delicate state since that unfortunate incident in Siberia. The Aft Flatulisor has greatly improved the atmosphere at our dinner parties and the miraculous Restroxication Emitter has raised Lord Pantsham's spirits like Monsieur Eiffel's tower at the World's Fair!"
5th October 1906

Major Alfred Beardlington, a celebrated explorer and reported moose manipulator had this to say:
"When I received my ManMelter for use on my trip to the rain forests of Vasplurgia, I blew my left leg off at the hip. Marvelous invention!"
20th July 1906