Confessions of a tool junkie
I've been a hard core lurker for a long time. I've been checking in for
years to sort through the egos, the a-holes, the do-gooders, the wise, the experienced, the pretenders, and all that fall between. Found some real gems along the way, things that made me marvel at. The last year or so, it's a routine when checking email to look and see what's causing all the dust, or is that smoke, down at the wreck. Built quite a kill file along the way, too. It's just so peaceful, so quiet and tranquil these days I thought I'd actually participate. Besides it will postpone a fight over the remote control. I know I'll probably regret it later, and go slinking back into the shadows. Confessions of a tool junkie. I admit it, I'm hooked on tools and in the midst of binge. I've gone into my wife's purse, lifting only enough so she won't notice, pilfering cash to pay for tools. Felt bad the first few times, but don't think twice about it any more. Hell, I even get my beer money there now too. I do feel ashamed when I have to raid my daughter's bank, and I've pledged to always pay that back. I'll quit if it goes that far. Credit card binges leave me washed in guilt, but I'm too weak to run them through the shredder. I'm not about to cut my own throat. So far I haven't done anything really stupid, but the temptation is always there, along with a haunting fear of stepping over the edge. Knowing how close I am to the point of no return, to losing my marriage and home. Being stuck in gawddammned yuppieville offers no relief. The escapes of my youth, hunting and fishing, are ruined by an hour drive to a public area filled with more gawddammned yuppies. You can spot the smug sons of bitches by their state of the art, gortex, scent proof suits, GPS, laser range-finders, and their imported guns with imported optics. The only thing safe there is the game that is in season. Fishing is just as bad. Any place with access they might as well pave and put in parking meters. Driving by, it looks like a freaking Land Rover dealership. For a long time I've been going to garage sales, knowing that the next stop might have something useful, maybe even a collectible. But this is after all, gawddammned yuppieville. The only tools I come across were crap when they came out in '71. Some piece of **** their yuppie dad passed down to them, and they don't use it either. I can't stop though, knowing as soon as I do I will miss a Norris infill or some other fantasy. I've seen and been inspired by some who have built their own tools. I can use the equipment whenever I want at the machine shop I used to work at. (That opens up a whole nuther can of worms--machine tools). I've drafted up a few plans on CAM--micro-adjusting wheel gauge, couple of infills, a multi-router. Can't spare the time now, but one of these days. Just day dreaming about it puts me into an almost sexual fever. It's not the tools, just for the sake of having them. An effective or innovative use for a tool is more satisfying than one sitting on a mantle. I'm no tool snob, and have little patience for those who are. I get more satisfaction out of using my belt sander to sharpen axes, chisels, drill bits and shape concave and convex curves than I would from owning a Starrett square. I've got some squares, and they are as 90 as 90 gets. Nothing chaps my ass more than some yuppie scum who reads a book, buys a unisaw and some plans, makes a mission coffee table and proclaims himself a superior and more knowledgeable wooddorker than the joe who's been cranking out projects for 25 years on his craftsman. Elitest pricks! Best tool ever? I'd have to say my banjo taper. If you're putting up some drywall, it will pay for itself early into the first room. Gotta have? The list is long and distinguished, and it's more than a little embarassing to be so needy. I can't push a bicycle across it, let alone fit a vehicle in our two car garage, yet I'm seriously tool deficient. Pouring gas on the fire of my addiction is ebay. I feel like a sexual deviant, waiting for everyone to go to bed, then pulling the battered tool crib from underneath the sofa, opening up a couple tool sites for quick reference, then logging in. I come across something good, and it's the calm, practiced desperation of a professional soldier. In less than 30 seconds, I've learned all I can about said model, consulted reviews, reviewed trends, investigated the seller, and plotted several possible courses of action. Next I try to cloud the minds of other ebay buyers, hoping that the best tool deal of all time continues to slip by unnoticed. My jedi technique is quite suspect, although it actually did work recently. Unable to contain myself, I enter the bedroom. "Honey, you still awake?...I just scored a Bosch demo tool on ebay for $130!" I'm met with a blank stare and silence until I start to squirm, then a testy "How much are those worth?" Jumping at the chance to impress upon her my tool buying prowess, I gush, "They are on sale at Amazon for $740!" "Really?" she asks. I'm on a roll, so I explain how those projects for her are on hold because I've needed this to get the job done. Meeting no resistance, I start to fondle and caress. At this point she's either going to give in and satisfy my now raging appetite, or she's going to kick me out before she can rip me a new asshole. After she shoots down my counter-offer to fetch some aspirin, I stumble back out to the living room. Maybe "Wood Works" is on. But first I check the wife's cash--I've got some bits to buy. |
Confessions of a tool junkie
Ditto.
"M Wingett" wrote in message nk.net... I've been a hard core lurker for a long time. I've been checking in for years to sort through the egos, the a-holes, the do-gooders, the wise, the experienced, the pretenders, and all that fall between. Found some real gems along the way, things that made me marvel at. The last year or so, it's a routine when checking email to look and see what's causing all the dust, or is that smoke, down at the wreck. Built quite a kill file along the way, too. It's just so peaceful, so quiet and tranquil these days I thought I'd actually participate. Besides it will postpone a fight over the remote control. I know I'll probably regret it later, and go slinking back into the shadows. Confessions of a tool junkie. I admit it, I'm hooked on tools and in the midst of binge. I've gone into my wife's purse, lifting only enough so she won't notice, pilfering cash to pay for tools. Felt bad the first few times, but don't think twice about it any more. Hell, I even get my beer money there now too. I do feel ashamed when I have to raid my daughter's bank, and I've pledged to always pay that back. I'll quit if it goes that far. Credit card binges leave me washed in guilt, but I'm too weak to run them through the shredder. I'm not about to cut my own throat. So far I haven't done anything really stupid, but the temptation is always there, along with a haunting fear of stepping over the edge. Knowing how close I am to the point of no return, to losing my marriage and home. Being stuck in gawddammned yuppieville offers no relief. The escapes of my youth, hunting and fishing, are ruined by an hour drive to a public area filled with more gawddammned yuppies. You can spot the smug sons of bitches by their state of the art, gortex, scent proof suits, GPS, laser range-finders, and their imported guns with imported optics. The only thing safe there is the game that is in season. Fishing is just as bad. Any place with access they might as well pave and put in parking meters. Driving by, it looks like a freaking Land Rover dealership. For a long time I've been going to garage sales, knowing that the next stop might have something useful, maybe even a collectible. But this is after all, gawddammned yuppieville. The only tools I come across were crap when they came out in '71. Some piece of **** their yuppie dad passed down to them, and they don't use it either. I can't stop though, knowing as soon as I do I will miss a Norris infill or some other fantasy. I've seen and been inspired by some who have built their own tools. I can use the equipment whenever I want at the machine shop I used to work at. (That opens up a whole nuther can of worms--machine tools). I've drafted up a few plans on CAM--micro-adjusting wheel gauge, couple of infills, a multi-router. Can't spare the time now, but one of these days. Just day dreaming about it puts me into an almost sexual fever. It's not the tools, just for the sake of having them. An effective or innovative use for a tool is more satisfying than one sitting on a mantle. I'm no tool snob, and have little patience for those who are. I get more satisfaction out of using my belt sander to sharpen axes, chisels, drill bits and shape concave and convex curves than I would from owning a Starrett square. I've got some squares, and they are as 90 as 90 gets. Nothing chaps my ass more than some yuppie scum who reads a book, buys a unisaw and some plans, makes a mission coffee table and proclaims himself a superior and more knowledgeable wooddorker than the joe who's been cranking out projects for 25 years on his craftsman. Elitest pricks! Best tool ever? I'd have to say my banjo taper. If you're putting up so me drywall, it will pay for itself early into the first room. Gotta have? The list is long and distinguished, and it's more than a little embarassing to be so needy. I can't push a bicycle across it, let alone fit a vehicle in our two car garage, yet I'm seriously tool deficient. Pouring gas on the fire of my addiction is ebay. I feel like a sexual deviant, waiting for everyone to go to bed, then pulling the battered tool crib from underneath the sofa, opening up a couple tool sites for quick reference, then logging in. I come across something good, and it's the calm, practiced desperation of a professional soldier. In less than 30 seconds, I've learned all I can about said model, consulted reviews, reviewed trends, investigated the seller, and plotted several possible courses of action. Next I try to cloud the minds of other ebay buyers, hoping that the best tool deal of all time continues to slip by unnoticed. My jedi technique is quite suspect, although it actually did work recently. Unable to contain myself, I enter the bedroom. "Honey, you still awake?...I just scored a Bosch demo tool on ebay for $130!" I'm met with a blank stare and silence until I start to squirm, then a testy "How much are those worth?" Jumping at the chance to impress upon her my tool buying prowess, I gush, "They are on sale at Amazon for $740!" "Really?" she asks. I'm on a roll, so I explain how those projects for her are on hold because I've needed this to get the job done. Meeting no resistance, I start to fondle and caress. At this point she's either going to give in and satisfy my now raging appetite, or she's going to kick me out before she can rip me a new asshole. After she shoots down my counter-offer to fetch some aspirin, I stumble back out to the living room. Maybe "Wood Works" is on. But first I check the wife's cash--I've got some bits to buy. |
Confessions of a tool junkie
It has been a while since we heard a "good confession"
and this one was pretty good. M Wingett wrote: I've been a hard core lurker for a long time. |
Confessions of a tool junkie
throat. So far I haven't done anything really stupid, but the temptation
is always there, along with a haunting fear of stepping over the edge. Knowing how close I am to the point of no return, Stepping over the edge? Mine was a full downhill run with olympic style long jump at the edge....then I cut the cord. Hoping there is water at the bottom. Rich |
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