Sunday, September 25, 2005


In Which I Knuckle Down...

As always, it started out innocuously enough. I was cleaning the garage this morning when I chanced upon some old pieces of scrap plywood (rather a lot thicker than they look, let me say).

Thomas, whose hand is now grafted to my old digital camera, came along and spied the boards. "Dad!" he shouted as he turned the camera on me. "Can you karate chop those?"

After last week's fencing display, I had made the mistake of telling Thomas that, in addition to studying the French foil in college, I had also taken a few years of martial arts training. Thomas had seen a karate exhibition on TV once--much splitting of lumber and breaking of cinderblocks on that show--and decided that karate was a useful skill indeed. If you were ever to be attacked by construction materials.

I hemmed and hawed. I barely remember any of the katas I learned, let alone any of the goofy trick stuff we used to do after class. But my son had that look, you know? And I didn't want to disappoint.

"Come on, Dad!" he cried. "I bet you a zillion dollars you can break it."

And he was right.

But it turned out he wasn't talking about just the board.

Remember what I said last week about the events in my life being a function of the dumb-ass things I get roped into?

Well, how do you suppose THIS happened?

Of course, you don't have to suppose at all. You can just click on the pained expression below.

And don't fret too much about me. I was looking for an excuse to get out of cleaning the garage anyway.

From Somewhere on the Masthead

Thanks for making me reconsider applying for classes at the new 'dojo' down the street. X3

Hope your hand gets better.
Well wasn't that outcome as predictable as deciding to hold a nerf gun fight when the joker was in town?

Reminds me of some of the blonder moments I had this weekend. Finally replaced the duct-taped in screen on the back door with proper spline. Trouble is they make the miserable stuff in different diameters and no soon had I secured the screen in than it popped out like some evil gopher character in Chuck E. Cheese.

So off to the depot. I know I had .125 spline. I picked up .175 spline, held it next to the the .125 package, verified indeed that it was thicker and more likely to hold the screen in and then tossed the .175 back on the shelf and walked out with a second package of .125

This never happens to Norm Abram.
MM, may I ask you to read this
post of mine the next time Thomas asks you to demonstrate your martial arts sklls? If you do get the urge to attack lumber again, remember that the side of your hand can absorb a lot more force than your knuckles.
Chuck: I know, I know! I was thinking of your post while I was waiting for the X-rays!
You have the low level version of a death wish, don't you? More of a "hurt wish" or an "oww wish." Perhaps "oww-wish" (or owwish) can become a new adjective, created just for you. As in, "Holy god, it's another owwish post from Magazine Man. Seriously, that dude is going to kill himself one small injury at a time. And his son will be there to document it all..."
When I saw the piece of wood you were going to break, I shrieked, "Oh, no! You don't break that kind of board!" You've gotta find one with grain, and then strike along the grain, and it'll just split. You see, it's all an elaborate scam to impress n00bz.

And yes, make a fist and use the meaty part of the side of your hand below your pinky. It'll sting, but you won't break anything.
do you really do all the request that thomas asks?

a karate chop?


a nice way to get the day off.

MM, I believe there is a swirling vortex of doom that surrounds your entire life.

Were the injury-escapades not so hilarious, i would make a petition to prevent you from heeding any dares your son may throw your way, including dares that include demonstrating your warrior ways.
Holy crap...when I read the beginning of the post I thought, "He's not actually going to do it is he?"

Alas, you never disappoint. Hope your hand feels better soon. I'll bet you HLS won't let you get out of helping clean the house, though. ;)

I weigh 300 pounds and can bench 200.

And I still can't manage to--


What were you thinking? This is just like that time I held the board for you and you split it and punched on through and broke my nose. Remember? Only this is better because YOU'RE the one who got hurt.

Good times...

Yr. Brother
I'm thinking it's time to just change the name of this blog to "Avoidable Injury Theatre," and be done with it.
Oh no MM! Poor baby.

Like Heather, I wondered about the type of board. I think that might be one of those "at least it'll make a good story" sort of boards.

You might want to start running the next time Thomas aims the camera at you... but then again, I do enjoy the stories. :)
Wow. You DEFINITELY get the Dad of the year award now!! Hope your hand is feeling better...
the things some people will do for attention --- sheesh!!
I pretty much go through life with an 'it's either a good time or a good story' expectation...thankfully, everyday when I stop in here I have a good time reading your good stories! Hope the hand heals quickly.
Pauvre bébé!!!
Also, you're hooking your fist. You need to be sure you keep your knuckles, metacarples, carples, and arm, straight back to the elbow in alignment, to channel the force of the blow. If your wrist is cocked on impact--well, at this point, I don't need to tell you what happens...
Also, uh, PLYWOOD? There's like as much glue and resin in there as wood!
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