Factotum Associated Queries
What was the genesis of the “Handyman for the Common Man” project?
As is customary in these instances, I experienced an epiphany. No bright lights, burning shrubbery or persuasive voices in my head. Just an overwhelming feeling of rightness. For years, I had been cutting corners, looking for the best methods to accomplish shop projects and individual tasks quickly and effectively. In this defining moment, I recognized that if I started my own online show, I could pass along my pearls of handy wisdom to an untold number of viewers. The idea that I could show others how to do just what I do with no learning curve, no second guessing and no planning fatigue was so compelling, I knew I had to do it. Everything you see here is the manifestation of that moment of clarity. That, and I was bred for this (more about this later).
How are babies made?
Oh, I know this one. Mix equal parts chardonnay, tedium, half a pack of menthols, desperation, the abandonment of your now-no-longer viable hopes and dreams, a reckless failure consider the wisdom of your possible procreation and the long-range ramifications of your reproduction for the world at large, and one ounce of bodily fluids. At least, that’s how my wife explained it to me.
What is the meaning of life?
Wow … these are harder than I imagined. Well, okay. I think the meaning of life is perhaps best summed up by my favorite koan, “If a lone, deaf woodsman, deep in the wilderness, cuts off his leg in a freakishly-convenient-for-this-koan accident, whence his ragged stump eschews buckets of steamy, crimson blood, does anybody hear it (presuming, of course, that you completely and utterly discount the teeming, non-human wildlife (e.g., gazelles, koalas, flying roaches, gnus and tarsi, among others) in the area, who doubtless experience some sort of animally schadenfreude at the woodsman’s unthinkably gory plight, especially since he and his kind have recently eviscerated numerous hectares of deciduous trees in their neighborhood)?” Not only my favorite koan, but also the world’s second longest, after Joyce’s Ulysses.
What’s a koan?
It’s a puzzle created to hone the focus of your mind’s eye. Developed by Zen Buddhist monks, path to enlightenment, blah-de-blah. You know, koan.
Do two wrongs make a right?
No, but three rights make a left.
My child said a very naughty word in school today. Can I blame you for that?
Yes.
What causes that weird blue glow when you open a bandaid wrapper in the dark?
Actually, in a word, “quarks”. You know what quarks are, right?
Me? No. You?
Wait. What? Uhm … yeah. Next question.
Please tell us, what is your political affiliation? Democrat or Republican?
Don’t you know better’n to ask me that? But, since you were so dadgum polite … but just keep it to yourself. Actually, I’m neither. I’m a reformist progressive Whig. For those of you who’ve watched my show, I’m fairly certain that you’ve picked up on that. Try as I might to hide my political proclivities, I am human. Mostly.
As long as we’re tackling uncomfortable questions, how about religion? Got any?
Practising Pastafarian. No, not FSM. I just really like pasta.
What’s you favorite vacation destination?
My shop. I’m the original staycationer.
How can we achieve world peace?
Answering a question like that is just an inkle bit above my pay-grade, but I’ll give it a go. I think it just might be possible that each of us walking, talking, wishing, meaty bags of fluid crowned with electric, pulsing bowls of gray noodle, could have a place of quietude – a place where creativity can be expressed through the artistry of self-expression and where we might mold our ineffable impulses for longevity or immortality into the concrete – perhaps all of these conflicts, violent flare-ups, policing, sectarianism, wars, etc. (all just essentially pissing matches or real or imagined powerlessness), these endless cycles of retribution could be interrupted and supplanted. By honoring self-expression, thus yielding self-sufficiency, thus fostering self-worth, then perhaps cooler heads could prevail. And then all of us gristle pouches might be able to process information more clearly, and begin to perceive of ourselves less as hurtling end-over-end, out of control, on this spinning wet nut we call earth, and more as existing at home in a constant state of a great cosmic groove. And who wouldn’t feel better for that?
Wow. That was kind of deep, wasn’t it?
I have my moments.
If you have a burning yearn to have the Handyman
address your probing question, feel free to drop him an e-line.
