E-mail: Brian7Morris "at" hotmail.com Archives March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 current Blogs Mandapants farkleberries Uranium City Records The C.M. 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I remember very vividly watching out the screen door the night before the race as my dad squatted on the back porch and melted lead with a propane torch into a secret compartment bored into the wood until the car was just a hair within maximum weight. I’m a little off topic now - but you see these Nascar drivers getting all the endorsements on TV and whatnot, the ones who are allowed to spray comically large bottles of champagne onto whoever they like, and everybody thinks it’s cool and appropriate? (in contrast - one of my friends throws one or two full pitchers of beer in a bar and everybody freaks out!) Being a winning race car driver sounds great, right? But let me tell you, the life of a winning racecar driver isn’t all it’s cracked up to be - it’s a lot of stress, you know, like behind the scenes. But don’t worry, our pinewood derby winning streak ended before all the glittering fame and success turned me into an Olson twin. Our last pinewood derby victory was just prior to me getting old enough to demand, and receive, creative control of the pinewood derby project - see, my dad‘s concerns about “aerodynamics“ were like this box, and my plans for a totally rad looking pinewood derby car just wouldn’t fit in this box - that wasn’t, like, what my vision of the pinewood derby was all about. I maintain however that the correlation between team Morris implementing my pinewood derby designs and our following series of heartbreaking losses is a mere coincidence. OK, so my point is, my dad’s a really handy and crafty dude. That said, sometimes he meets his match. One day years ago, I was at my parent’s house, I think for the summer, and I was drawn outside by the sound of frantic pounding. I found my dad below the garage in the side-yard by a drainage pipe. He had lost all composure and was covered in mud. His face was purple with rage and he was beating mercilessly on the drain pipe with a hammer. He’d pound for a while until he was exhausted, then rest, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Then as soon as he had the energy, he’d start pounding on the drain pipe again. I didn’t ask for an explanation, but as soon as he saw me he told me what he was doing. Despite his obvious rage with the drainpipe, he explained himself very calmly and logically, which is what I thought made what he said funny. “I’m trying to unplug this pipe,” he told me. “I tried a sewer snake, and I tried looking into it with a flashlight. I tried some drain cleaner and I asked the guys at the hardware store for suggestions. I tried poking around inside it with a dowel, and I tried threading a cable through it. Nothing works. That’s why I’m hitting it with this hammer.” Then, having rested again while he explained himself, he turned back to the pipe and pounded on it, turning purple with rage again. So, that’s how I learned that there’s a time to hit stuff with a hammer. I spent a good portion of today trying to get into the freewheel on an old Schwinn I found in the trash so that I can disable the ratchet mechanism. It’s thwarted me at every turn. I tried hitting it with a hammer hours ago. It wasn’t as satisfying as hitting stuff with a hammer usually is. I think I’m going to heat it up really hot with a propane torch, there’s some plastic parts in there I think that will burn. I don’t think that will necessarily help me take it apart, but at this point I just want to teach it a lesson. Brian 2:15 AM Comments: Post a Comment

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House of Noh!

Thursday, July 15, 2004

I should preface this all by saying that my dad is a really handy and crafty dude. For instance, when I was a kid we won the [Native American] Guides rubber-band powered paddle-boat contest (worst trophy ever! - it was a piece of blue-painted wood with “1rst Place“ written on it), and we were longstanding champions of the pinewood derby. When it came to the pinewood derby, my dad was all about spoke shavers, graphite-lubricated axle nails, the works. He had a system; he knew the pinewood derby science. I remember very vividly watching out the screen door the night before the race as my dad squatted on the back porch and melted lead with a propane torch into a secret compartment bored into the wood until the car was just a hair within maximum weight. I’m a little off topic now - but you see these Nascar drivers getting all the endorsements on TV and whatnot, the ones who are allowed to spray comically large bottles of champagne onto whoever they like, and everybody thinks it’s cool and appropriate? (in contrast - one of my friends throws one or two full pitchers of beer in a bar and everybody freaks out!) Being a winning race car driver sounds great, right? But let me tell you, the life of a winning racecar driver isn’t all it’s cracked up to be - it’s a lot of stress, you know, like behind the scenes. But don’t worry, our pinewood derby winning streak ended before all the glittering fame and success turned me into an Olson twin. Our last pinewood derby victory was just prior to me getting old enough to demand, and receive, creative control of the pinewood derby project - see, my dad‘s concerns about “aerodynamics“ were like this box, and my plans for a totally rad looking pinewood derby car just wouldn’t fit in this box - that wasn’t, like, what my vision of the pinewood derby was all about. I maintain however that the correlation between team Morris implementing my pinewood derby designs and our following series of heartbreaking losses is a mere coincidence. OK, so my point is, my dad’s a really handy and crafty dude. That said, sometimes he meets his match. One day years ago, I was at my parent’s house, I think for the summer, and I was drawn outside by the sound of frantic pounding. I found my dad below the garage in the side-yard by a drainage pipe. He had lost all composure and was covered in mud. His face was purple with rage and he was beating mercilessly on the drain pipe with a hammer. He’d pound for a while until he was exhausted, then rest, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Then as soon as he had the energy, he’d start pounding on the drain pipe again. I didn’t ask for an explanation, but as soon as he saw me he told me what he was doing. Despite his obvious rage with the drainpipe, he explained himself very calmly and logically, which is what I thought made what he said funny. “I’m trying to unplug this pipe,” he told me. “I tried a sewer snake, and I tried looking into it with a flashlight. I tried some drain cleaner and I asked the guys at the hardware store for suggestions. I tried poking around inside it with a dowel, and I tried threading a cable through it. Nothing works. That’s why I’m hitting it with this hammer.” Then, having rested again while he explained himself, he turned back to the pipe and pounded on it, turning purple with rage again. So, that’s how I learned that there’s a time to hit stuff with a hammer. I spent a good portion of today trying to get into the freewheel on an old Schwinn I found in the trash so that I can disable the ratchet mechanism. It’s thwarted me at every turn. I tried hitting it with a hammer hours ago. It wasn’t as satisfying as hitting stuff with a hammer usually is. I think I’m going to heat it up really hot with a propane torch, there’s some plastic parts in there I think that will burn. I don’t think that will necessarily help me take it apart, but at this point I just want to teach it a lesson.

Brian 2:15 AM

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House of Noh!

Thursday, July 15, 2004