Sisyphus Dreams of Chocks From Harbor Freight

I am trying to be better to the birds these days. They see me all day, and I interact with them, but I think I’ve been giving them too little time out of the cage, and I worry that their toy budget has been too low. So I’m taking them out occasionally during the day, for brief bird-pounding sessions. This can be challenging. I got a second huge cage so I would be able to relieve their boredom by moving them from one cage to another. When Marv is in the cage nearest to my chair, and Maynard is out, Marv squawks and tries to run interference, and Maynard launches himself repeatedly at my face and grabs my nose. It’s a jealousy thing. So when I want to take Maynard out, I now have to make sure Marv’s cage is behind me, out of Maynard’s sight.

I still haven’t sold Marv’s old cage. You would think people would jump at the chance to pay half price for a big King’s Cage in nearly new condition, but no one has bitten. I even tried to sell it to Tommy, for his green-winged parakeet, but he won’t go for it. And I was willing to sell extra-cheap!

I got them a $25 hanging bird toy, much like other toys they have destroyed in the past, and they ignore it. I don’t know what their problem is. At the same time, I got a weird bamboo-ladder toy, and they are eating it at a respectable rate.

Maynard is on my arm, watching me type. Soon he will want to stroll on the keys, and then he will want to walk down my legs and eat my shoes.

There he goes.

I wish they had an enclosure outside, so they could get some air. Parrots don’t like the sun–for that matter, they’re not too crazy about being outdoors, generally–but it would be good for them to have a daily change of scenery. I can’t sit them outside on perches. There are hawks here. A while back, I saw one staring at Marv while I sprayed the dust off of him. It probably could not understand why I was doing such a thorough job of washing my food. These guys would be a real treat for a hawk. Other birds eat slugs and lizards. Marv and Maynard eat seed mix, fruit, Jelly Bellies, and pizza. They are hawk Wagyu.

I am getting a bigger miter saw. Home Depot’s sale price is irresistable, and the lifetime Ridgid warranty is hard to beat. This means I will no longer have an excuse for stalling on a few carpentry jobs. I just couldn’t face doing them with a 10″ saw or a circular saw. The small miter saw would have been hard to set up perfectly, because flipping the boards in order to cut all the way across them would reveal tiny errors in cut squareness. The circular saw is a pain in the butt, pure and simple. When I cut a board to length, I want the operation to go “plop, whizzzzzz, plop, next board.” Not “plop, whizzzzzz, turn, aim carefully, whizzzzzz, curse.”

How did people ever live, back in the hand saw days? Imagine cutting twenty boards to length with a hand saw. Galley slaves had it better.

Maynard’s new thing: standing on my belly, lunging at my nose. He has had enough time out.

I don’t just want tools. I want tools that make things easy. Over and over, I have said that the real purpose of tools is to end frustration. My idea of hell is spending every day doing jobs with the wrong tools. While listening to rap. And wearing bell bottoms. And drinking Budweiser. In France.

Kind of got off the track there.

The right tool is the difference between pleasure and misery. The other day, I dug a hole for a citrus tree, using a shovel. Planting the tree was pure hell, because the dirt here is full of rocks. I think it took me an hour and a half, lifting a pint of dirt at a time. I dug the next hole with a hoe, and it took maybe ten minutes, and I didn’t break a sweat. This is why I want a big sliding miter saw. This is why I don’t want to build things using small or inappropriate saws. I don’t want a half-hour job to last four hours, and I want results I can be proud of.

This principle is why people who create new slot designs for fasteners should be released naked in the middle of the Libyan desert at midnight. During the scorpion rut. Every time a new slot design is created, people who want to be able to turn screws have to buy at least three new drivers and a bunch of bits. I have tons of these things, I and I still can’t turn all the screws I encounter. That leads to fun activities like trying to turn screws with a small Vise Grip. Put it on, start to turn, watch it pop off. Repeat for four hours. Check Expedia for fares to Libya.

By the way, I saw some fantastic videos yesterday. They’re at Taunton.com. A couple of guys demonstrate carpentry stuff. They build a bookcase. They build a workbench. They install a vise on it. Wonderful. If you click on the first video and watch it, the second one will load when it’s done. I sat through the whole set, mesmerized. They were doing things that WORKED. How come that never happens to me? Their tools didn’t break. They always had what they needed to do the job. The wood cooperated. Nobody threw anything or got out a sledge and beat a frustrating workpiece to splinters. Not that I have ever done that. Three times in one day.

Of course, it’s all rigged. It’s like an old Popeil commercial, where they use a cheap knife to cut a nail in half, but the nail is actually made of lead. The videos are totally unrealistic. They rig them by doing unfair things like preparing, measuring, and owning $500,000 worth of tools.

Bench dogs. Who has bench dogs in his real-life garage? Okay, Og probably does. He probably makes them from brass he made on his stove, from ore he mined in his backyard. He probably assembles the copper molecules from a kit. But nobody else. These guys had a whole collection of these unbelievably useful things. They even had a special pointy hat for a bench dog, which you put on top of it so you can bang a piece of wood down on it and make a starter hole for a drill bit. I think that’s right. My memory is pathetic.

Here’s an idea. Go to the Home Depot in Coconut Grove and tell Employee of the Month Ernesto Rodriguez you want a pointy hat for your bench dog so you can dimple some MDF. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t bend a pry bar over your head.

Like all DIY videos, these are misleading and ridiculous, but they’re very satisfying to watch, because these guys succeed easily at things you would like to do, but never could. If I were not a Christian, I would compare it to watching adult films.

Speaking of hell, I know the punishment these guys deserve. They should be forced to make complex wooden items without an endless supply of obscure and expensive tools their viewers have never heard of.

SATAN: [holding a leash attached to Cerberus, the three-headed bench dog] Okay, guys, time to make a printing press from a solid block of oak. Otherwise, you have to wear the red-hot cast-iron leiderhosen all day.

FIRST VIDEO GUY: That’s impossible!

SECOND VIDEO GUY: You’re crazy!

SATAN: Observe. I mill the sides flat, draw my guide lines, and THROW THE BLOCK INTO MY BRAND NEW THREE-MILLION-DOLLAR DELTA PRINTING PRESS MAKER!

FIRST VIDEO GUY: Could be worse. We could be in France, drinking Budweiser.

SECOND VIDEO GUY: Word up.

I think I’ll make my own line of realistic DIY videos. “Today I show you how to pinch yourself with pliers and get a blood blister!” “Today I show you a quick and easy way to get a scratched cornea!” “Today I show you how to do everything right and still end up with marred workpieces!”

I already know the name of my next book. “1,000 Exotic Fasteners and How to Strip Them.”

Here’s some comforting news: even the video guys sometimes have to use the wrong tool. In one of their videos, one of them uses a socket wrench to drive a screw that would take .3 seconds with my impact driver. HA. Amateurs. Toss me the ringer.

Tools remind me of War Games. The only way to win is not to play.

Burrowing Owl Impression

I will never figure Marv out. He is having some out time. I am sitting in a chair with high arms, and he is between me and the right arm, facing the rear of the chair, and my arm is mashing him down into the chair, and he seems completely happy about it.

Earlier tonight he made a flatulence sound so convincing it sounded like he had a subwoofer.

I don’t know what he’s doing right now, but it’s probably a good thing, because I don’t think he will poop in that position.

Entertainment While I Wait for my Dough to Rise

What’re you doin’ today?

What’re you doin’ today?

What’re you doin’ today?

What’re you doin’ today?

Things are Getting DONE

It’s amazing, what I got done today. I will bore you with a list.

Hung my grandfather’s gun rack on the wall. Lots of drilling and patching. Glued the felt on the gun supports back in place.

Round-Upped every plant on the property that even looked at me funny.

Put a latch on the patio TV cabinet doors.

Mulched.

Removed a worthless oak tree.

Prepared a concrete slug for its date with the tow chain. I decided to let it cure overnight instead of trusting the epoxy packaging. I don’t want to have to glue that rebar in there a second time.

It may not sound like a lot, but it was more work than you would imagine. I also had to clean up a lot, put tools away, and so on. And I made a heavy-duty Home Depot run to prepare for all this.

Tools used:

1. Impact Driver
2. Hammer drill
3. Vise
4. Vise Grips
5. Level
6. Screwdriver
7. Shop-Vac
8. Tow chain
9. Proxxon
10. Shovel
12. Angle grinder
13. Claw hammer
14. Punch

I love having tools. Every time a problem came up, I had the right item to fix it. If you don’t have an impact driver and a hammer drill, you should qualify for handicapped parking, because you are helpless.

I want go fondle my shiny new tow chain.

I’m thrilled with the stuff I got done. These were nagging jobs I thought I’d never get around to. Sometimes I think one sign that you have problems you need to take up with God is that you can’t finish things you need to get done. You make plans, but somehow, things don’t work out. Today I got some things off my back, which had been bothering me for eons.

I feel as if some kind of blockage in my life has broken loose.

I think I’m also going to get a new cage for Marv. His cage is very nice, but he has been getting territorial about it, and I think the answer is to make the birds switch cages every day. The problem with that is that Marv’s cage is smaller than Maynard’s, so Maynard gets the shaft. His wingspan is bigger. Marv’s cage isn’t really adequate for him.

I can’t even guess what I’ll do with Marv’s cage. Ebay or Craig’s List, I suppose. I wish I knew a bird that needed a better cage. Actually, I do, but his owner would never go for it.

Some people think height is more important than square footage in a bird cage. I disagree completely. Narrow cages get dirty faster; there is less room for the poop. And wide cages let birds move around more, and you can put more toys in them.

I’m going to put together some kind of hinged perch for the patio, so these little goofs will have a proper place to hang out, instead of sitting on the back of a chair.

It was a beautiful day, and tomorrow is Sunday, so I get to relax, attend to my religious obligations, and pay a visit to Man Camp.

Not bad.

Same Basic Idea

Peg, AKA Mr. Mollo’s Mom, says her budgie Shelley is not doing well. It may be hard to believe, but those little eight-dollar birds that weigh an ounce are actually very smart, and people become attached to them.

So put Shelley on your prayer list. Look, do it. How long can it take to heal a bird that size?

Also, her friend’s pug has leukemia and is receiving chemo.

Further assignments will be released as it becomes necessary.

New Stud in Town

I was trying to blog just now, when my concentration was interrupted by a sound like a car horn, followed by a long trilling noise. I had to go outside and find out what kind of creature made a noise like that.

There is an enormous peacock standing on the roof of the gazebo, picking its feathers.

I hope it didn’t have a big breakfast.

Tried to photograph it, but the humidity fogged my lens, and the light was coming from behind the bird.

It’s hard to find peacock recipes.

Finally a Use for All That Fertilizer

Today Marv ponders the question: would life be easier if he were not so handsome? This is a question I myself often wrestle with.

Shut up.

He also tells us about his secret hobby: gardening.

Might as Well Buy Him Caviar

Marv just can’t stop blogging. Today he gives more information on bird cookies.

Contagious!

I know this will upset people. I keep blogging about religion, and readers are getting annoyed.

Well now Maynard is doing it, too.

What? No BOWL?

I know everybody is feeling deprived because blogging has been slow. But fortunately, Marv is more industrious than I am.

Ammunition Glut

I’m such a liar. I said I was going to do .38 Super today, but then I went out to the workbench and saw the .45 stuff sitting there, and one thing led to another…

I now have 750+ rounds of pretty lead .45 ammunition, and I’m tumbling enough brass to get me to about 850. At that point, continuing will not be an option. I have around 180 .38 Super cases ready to go. That’s more than enough to make for a fine range day later in the week.

I truly need to improve the rigidity of the press’s attachment to the bench. Two bolts just won’t cut it. I’m still getting enough powder flying out of cases to jam up the primer punch every 150-200 rounds. I may have improved the situation by using slow force instead of plain old momentum on the upswing, which sets the primers in the cases. We’ll see on the next go-around. When you swing the handle into the up position, it really rocks the press, and mechanical things don’t like momentum. Seats the primers real good, however.

I’m getting advice on the OAL for Hornady hollow points. Someone said the OAL wasn’t important, because you can get any OAL you want by shoving the bullet into the case the right distance. However, I thought the pressure inside the case was related to the depth to which the bullet was seated. I thought that was the big worry, with regard to OAL. Otherwise, why would they vary so much for similar bullets? It can’t just be about feeding smoothly, can it?

It’s hard to believe I have to worry about .45 cases, where the pressures are below 15,000. That’s less than half the pressure you get with .38 Super.

I guess I’ll have 2-3,000 rounds of ammunition on hand eventually. Imagine how scary that would sound, if a biased journalist got ahold of it. And of course, it only reflects a common-sense effort to save by buying in bulk. I’d be totally thrilled to buy and store less, if I didn’t get hammered financially for doing it.

Marv has seen the story about the Japanese parrot who told the cops his address. Marv is not impressed.

Someone get George Holliday

Someone tell me why reloading companies have such great service. Is it because they’re terrified of losing their customers to frustration, or is it simply because they’re solid conservative people who believe in giving customers a good deal? Probably the latter. A lot of gun companies have great service, too, paying to fix stuff their customers destroyed through stupidity. And I don’t think they have the same worries about frustrated customers who are ready to throw their products into canals.

I have a Lyman XP1000 (or 1000XP) powder scale. I kicked the power cord and knocked it off my bench. The little plastic lid broke. I could glue it together, but I hate it when I buy something nice and new and I screw it up and I have to patch it up like a hobo. I contacted Lyman and asked if I could buy a new lid, and I admitted I broke it. Their response? “We’ll send you a new one.”

How about that?

The scale seems to work very well. I have had no problems with it.

I am thinking it might be a good idea to try to worm my way into gun writing. I know virtually nothing about guns, but I’m very enthusiastic, and I’m a lawyer, so presumably I can be of some use, writing about gun rights. Something to think about. I could bring some fun to the genre; that’s for sure. Is there a gun humorist out there, in line ahead of me? Can’t think of one.

I decided to get some new clips. If you’re one of those people who has a seizure when someone says “clip” instead of “magazine,” let me just say that I will try to clip this habit in the bud, although at present I tend to say the word “clip” at a very high clip.

Try not to swallow your tongues.

Up until now, I’ve thought of the 1911s as range guns, but it can’t hurt to have some real-life ammunition for them. If I buy some, I’ll want to load two clips permanently. So to shoot cheap ammunition at the range, I’ll have to unload one clip for each gun and then reload it later. That’s not great for the bullets, and it’s a pain. So extra clips are a must. Here’s the big problem: how do you store them with a gun in a bag? If you toss them in loose, everything gets scratched up (Glocks excepted). My tentative solution: buy a really cheap sunglass case for each clip. If you have a better solution, let me know.

I only have one clip for the Desert Eagle. I don’t keep it loaded, because I don’t use it for protection. I will regret this if attacked by an elephant or a brontosaurus, but around here, most burglars are people, and I don’t want to shoot through one and have the round go through a wall and kill my neighbor’s Mercedes.

I am still not sure what the .50 Action Express is good for, other than fun. One good thing about the Desert Eagle: pimps like them. And they’re very hard to shoot, so this makes it less likely that a pimp will be able to hit anyone.

I looked at some bullet-casting videos the other day. Doesn’t look too bad, with a 6-bullet mold. Talk me out of it.

Before you start, let me tell you I already heard about the parrot in Japan that gave the cops its name and address. If it’s on Drudgebart.tv.com, I have seen it. I haven’t taught Marvin his address. It’s not really a great idea. What if you move? The cops would force an annoying parrot on the people who bought your house.

Marv has little useful information to impart to the cops. If they interrogated him, they would hear things like, “Can I rub your fat head?”, “Let me squeeze your toes,” “TURD TURD TURD,” and “You’re stupid.” I guess I could teach him to say “doughnut” or “pension.”

There is a beatboxing parrot on Youtube. If it ever gets caught by the police, they’ll beat it to death. You know how cops hate rap. Here:

I know I tempt people to buy African greys. Don’t do it. Some are good pets, but many are miserable.

I’m going to try to make .38 Super ammunition. I was going to finish off my .45 lead, but I can’t take the boredom any more. And I’m out of empty boxes to put it in. I looked at the prices of plastic ammunition boxes. Like 3 bucks for a 100-round box. Are they high? This is the kind of thing you get free when you buy things other than bullets. In fact, a lot of cheap bullets come in reusable boxes. I’d be thrilled to pay a dollar each, but three bucks seems like a ripoff. Maybe I’ll just put bullets in my pockets.

You laugh now. Next year, everyone will be doing it.

Maynard = the New Che

Over at The Answer Bird, Maynard is crying oppression again. I think he has been listening to Jeremiah Wright.

He is an Independent Contractor

Marv is still airing his remarkable views on immigration. I hope he never runs for office.

Selfless to the Last

In spite of my best efforts to stop him, Marv has blogged again.

This time he is giving advice on the disposition of a malfunctioning cockatiel.