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.

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.

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.

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