Bring Your Rubber Duck

My Ebay Jacobs Super Chuck arrived. It’s a beauty. I went for the 16N, which goes up to 5/8″. I don’t know how I managed this, but I got an unused chuck for about $67. That’s half of what Enco charges. There’s no key, but I have two that will fit.

I already have an old 14N I got on Ebay. I thought I was so smart, buying used. The 14N acts like it has wadded-up metal obstructing the parts when you turn it. The 16N is nearly as smooth as my Albrecht. I was stupid, buying a used chuck just because it looked good in the pictures. And the 14N was a little small. I guess I could use it on the lathe, if I got it working right.

The guy who sold me the chuck wrapped it in about seven layers of bubble wrap, with packing tape around each layer. Using a big Gerber folding knife, it took me several minutes to get to the chuck. As I cut and pulled, I heard myself say, “This guy must be retired.”

Do you ever say things to yourself that you find funny? It happens to me from time to time. In a sermon, my pastor told our church that the way to control lust worked like this: when you see a hot tamale an attractive woman walking down the street, you praise God for his work. Today while walking out of a restaurant I passed a lady with a remarkable endowment, and before I realized what I was doing, I thought, “Way to go, LORD!”

That was bad.

I’m getting better. The last time something like this happened, I saw a lady walking down the sidewalk, and I thought, “Way to GO, lady!” I totally forgot the praise part. You can see how I’ve improved.

I keep telling people I expect to be perfect in a couple of months, but there have been unexpected delays.

I am not alone. Last night at my prayer meeting, I learned that one of my church’s members makes a living selling sex pills to to convenience stores. I did not know what to make of that. And the pastor who leads the pill guy’s regular prayer group said their group was going to be hot-tubbing together. I thought he was kidding, so I laughed. And it turned out I was wrong.

Call me overly cautious. I see a recipe for problems here. I’m glad the last time I got together with guys from the church, all we did was shoot pistols and talk about killing people. You know. Holy stuff.

I don’t know what I’d do if I were invited hot-tubbing. I’m not fond of other people’s dirt and germs. I don’t know if I could bear to sit chest-deep in man soup. Wasn’t one of the Apostles boiled to death? I would hate to get martyred by a malfunctioning jacuzzi. Next to the guy who sells sex pills.

“The bottle was empty when we found them, Chief.” “Okay, let the news photographers in now.”

Last night someone suggested doing a tailgating thing at the stadium where the Dolphins play. We’d have food and drinks, and we’d hang out and try to win souls by distributing ribs or something. “God took Adam’s. We’ll GIVE you ours.” Something like that. Sounded great to me. I love barbecuing. Then someone pointed out that the line of cars is like a thousand miles long at seven in the morning, and my righteous zeal to win souls for Jesus disappeared instantaneously. So I have to ask myself, “Would I rather see people go to hell than sit in line for five hours?”

I prefer not to reach a conclusion.

I’d do it, but man, I hate lines.

We might start chauffeuring people to services. We tossed that around. Problem is, you need drivers with chauffeurs’ licenses, and you have to get a physical and pay over $300 to take a written exam. I don’t know if we’re capable of that level of effectiveness. Right now, we have trouble getting people through the church cafe’s waiting line in under an hour and a half.

We will definitely do something. We just don’t know what it will be. Figuring things like this out is where the Holy Spirit comes in handy. Otherwise, each of us is just listening to his own internal Pointy-Haired Boss.