tool belts are tools too
The sweeping success of home improvement shows, not Home Improvement, that is way past its prime, piques an interest in the genre of man known as “handy man”. Once a household necessity, the handy man has gone the way of the dodo into obscurity as our lives now depend on refined and manufactured goods. These reality t.v. shows (Trading Spaces, While You Were Out, Weekend Warriors, etc. ad nauseam?!?!?) put an interest back into the hobby that is craftsmanship and encourage the average American that she/he (yes, you!) can turn your pad into a lively abode with a meager budget and nitty-gritty determination. For the point I’m going to make, or attempt to make, I’ll leave out the “hidden” fact that there are enormous construction crews and builders in the background for these television series.
It is not just a rumor that I am no handy man. I wield a screwdriver no better than a chainsaw, and a chainsaw no better than a one-legged, off-shore oil refinery. Furthermore, these are skills and talents that I do not adamantly desire; I prefer to think of craftsmanship as more of a “gift” and leave it to those with it implanted into their genes. I do not like to mingle in areas that I am ignorant to or have no interest in mingling with; I leave the acts of foolishness to those with that gift.
So it was no surprise when a handy man’s task came before me at work that I was hesitant. I knew a way of completing the task, easy enough, but doing it would require holding hammers and the like. And hammers just don’t get along with me. In fact, we tend to butt heads. Or.. something.. along those lines. Meh.
For a few minutes of the job, it seemed like I was the once-lost king of handy men. Returning from a strengthening exile, I captured my throne and was the graceful monarch that I never knew I was. Peasants in thatched-roof cottages lined the Via Appia to rejoice in my return and regaining of the reigns of the kingdom.
Unfortunately, I am not graceful and, alluding to a previous statement, do not have the handy man gene. I was meddling with fire. Then the hammer attacked. A robber in a peasant’s threads hurled a stone at my parading carriage, smacking me in the forehead. My pride was hurt but I continued on, knowing that the task before me was near completion. Then another stone launched by a hidden burglar. And then a fraud heaved a watermelon in my direction. My entourage was embarassed and I was bruised and beaten.
All said and done, I hammered my fingers something like five or six times. These are not the type of scars that produce character, nor the type that want to watch an incredibly-edited television show featuring unfettered handy men succeeding in their endeavors.
Appending to my current list of things to keep me away from: high-powered autos; political discourse; chocolate-marshmallow desserts; IT help; real Christmas trees; hammers.
July 1st, 2005 at 3:17 am
I’ve discovered something about you! When you are sick, your analogy and metaphor levers swing WAY over to max! I’m not certain if you should have stuck to the King metaphor for two paragraphs, but at this point the reader is just thankful the “teenage mutant ninja posse” did not make an appearance. I am, however, certain you’re missing your calling and you should enroll immediately in literature classes and take over This American Life on NPR.
What is the alternative? A poor 40yr old design engineer with chubby cheeks and black rimmed glasses.. a kind of Virginia Drew Carey.. hovering over a mechanical thinga-a-ma-bob… screwing things in here and there.. considering it.. taking it apart.. screwing things in again..
all the while under his breath pretending he’s a Royal Night slaying a dragon and living stories in his head that would be much more interesting if he would share them.
Of course there is always the blog.. the holographic Blogger blog with TrueSmell technology people play on their iVision from Apple while riding the bullet train to work so they are not late (Indian and Chinease bosses are so demanding).
All the while you think you could have been an eccentric writer, hanging in a tribal village in Sri Lanka like Authur C. Clarke, leaving all the technology behind, and your only fear is the next tsunami.
“And somewhere a lion roams and never knows of any weakness”
July 1st, 2005 at 3:23 am
My comment is awating moderation? Does that mean you censor things or just make them “moderately” interesting so not to complete with your blog entry?
Either way it’s sooo 1984. I wonder what prompted the filter all of a sudden?
July 1st, 2005 at 6:58 am
Bruce 1st comment - Amen.
Bruce 2nd comment - I’ve had the moderation feature since day one, or day two of the WP layout. It stops online casino and porn comments when the filters don’t catch them. If it was truly 1984, I would eliminate comments alltogether and have quick subliminal messages like “Big Brother Watches Us All” and “We See Your Moves” scattered through the entries.
July 1st, 2005 at 10:56 am
Agrees with Ryan.
I just wonder why television is so reality crazy. I can’t even flip through my little meager 7-10 channels during primetime and find too many good shows, until about 10 pm at night, when Law and Order in one form or another comes on. And Don’t forget some of the sitcoms… like Everybody Loves Raymond, (still running on Fox), and Joey on NBC. It’s better than some of that reality based junk, like Fear Factor. I agree that most of today’s sitcoms are stupid, but a lot of them are funny and stupid… all in the same show.
July 2nd, 2005 at 10:50 pm
I have no TV anymore… it rocks.