Image by cuckove via Flickr

This afternoon I had the experience of being a student again, one who had been doing something the wrong way for over 11 years and had to overcome all those bad habits and learn the correct way of doing something.  It was not a fun experience, it actually was a pretty good blow to my ego.

I knew that I wasn’t doing it right, but I didn’t want others to know that I didn’t really know what I was doing.  In the past I sort of asked or let others “show” me how to do it, but no one really took the time to show me correctly.  They gave a quick 1-2 minute explanation or a quick demonstration and gave me that look that teachers give our students.  That one where “I showed you how, now go and do it yourself” look, now leave me alone.  So I would walk away making believe that I understood what they had just showed me, even though I didn’t have a clue about how to do it right.

Image via Wikipedia

This afternoon I asked my brother-in-law to show me how to sharpen my chainsaw and he took about two hours to show me the proper way to sharpen it.  First he explained what he was going to do, then showed me (while continuing to talk me through the process) and finally made me actually sharpen a complete chain by myself, checking my work and providing guidance on what I was doing wrong and providing feedback when I got it right.

At first this was pretty frustrating for me, I am a pretty typical guy.  I don’t like to ask for help and then to have someone else tell me how badly I had messed it up on my own was a blow to my ego.  While we were doing it, his teaching showed me how to do it easier and correctly, so that when I used my chainsaw again, the chain would be sharp and cut correctly (without having to go out and buy a new chain).  My previous efforts only accomplished about half of what they should have and may have ruined the chain and the chain bar – we both believe that I have to buy new ones before I put too many more hours on my saw. 

Then he had the audacity to stand there and continue to correct my style and ensue that I was continuing to sharpen the chain correctly.  That was the hardest part for me – that he didn’t just walk away and let me flounder on my own as had been done in the past, which I would have preferred – who wants someone commenting on their work, especially when I kept going back to the way I shouldn’t be doing it.  His doing this was the right thing to do and now I can correctly sharpen a chainsaw – I might be slower than others, but how quick I do it is less important than doing it correctly.

This sounds pretty familiar to me, because I think this is how most of my students are when it comes to reading and writing.

Tonight I have a personal connection to understanding how my students feel in school.  Most of them have been reading and writing using strategies that they have learned on their own, which they are able to get by with, but not easily or proficiently as most others can and they know it.  The when they ask for help, they get some, but not enough to correct the problem, which exacerbates the issue and makes it so they don’t want to ask for help again and look ignorant or stupid to others.  No wonder when someone wants to teach them how to: read, write, do math or whatever,  they bristle up when that person doesn’t go away, continues to correct and push them to do it correctly.  Their past failures and personal pride get in the way of accepting the guidance they actually need.  In other words like I did today, they get pretty frustrated with the person who is actually trying to help them.

It showed me that I need to:

• slow down and ensure that my students actually do understand how or can do what I am asking them to - not just assume that they do,
• to take the time necessary to ensure that they do,
•  not rush through a lesson to move one (which I am guilty of this year),
• be helpful but persistent in expecting the student to do it right
• be in the moment, not thinking about what to do next
• don’t give that look “why don’t you understand what I am trying to show you look” and have the student shut down.

I have to remember that my classes are all Special Education and I have the prerogative and obligation to go as slow as I need to, to ensure that my students actually understand and know how to do what I am trying to teach. They don’t deserve to be taught in the same manner that they have in the past or how they are taught in regular education, they have the right to be taught in the manner that best fits their individual needs that is why it called specialized instruction.  I am not bound to cover material at the same rate as my Regular Education Counterparts are required to, but I am required to teach to the needs of my students.   I think that sometimes we as teachers forget that in our efforts to meet arbitrary timelines.

Who ever thought that re-learning how to sharpen a chainsaw would re-focus me on teaching methods that I need to include in my classroom.  I am glad it did.

Thank you Phil.

Remember it is about the kids – not you or me.

I created test application for live testing Log5F’s work – Test Application. Now it uses next appenders:

Trace Appender:

<appender name="trace" class="org.log5f.appenders.TraceAppender">
  <param name="layout" value="org.log5f.layouts.PatternLayout" type="Class">
    <param name="conversionPattern" value="%d{ABSOLUTE} [%5p] %C{0}.%M - %m%n" type="String"/>
  </param>
</appender>

Firebug Appender:

<appender name="firebug" class="org.log5f.appenders.FirebugAppender">
  <param name="layout" value="org.log5f.layouts.PatternLayout" type="Class">
    <param name="conversionPattern" value="%d{ABSOLUTE} %c{1} - %m%n" type="String"/>
  </param>
</appender>

XPanel Appender:

<appender name="xpanel" class="org.log5f.appenders.XPanelAppender">
  <param name="layout" value="org.log5f.layouts.PatternLayout" type="Class">
    <param name="conversionPattern" value="%c{} - %m" type="String"/>
  </param>
</appender>

LocalConnection Appender:

<appender name="minidebug" class="org.log5f.appenders.LocalConnectionAppender">
  <param name="layout" value="org.log5f.layouts.PatternLayout" type="Class">
    <param name="conversionPattern" value="%d{ABSOLUTE} [%p] %C{0}.%M %m" type="String"/>
  </param>
  <param name="connectionName" value="_mdbtrace" type="String"/>
  <param name="methodName" value="trace" type="String"/>
</appender>

This appender uses LocalConnection’s setting such as MiniDebugTarget from Flex Logging Framework therefore it can be used for sending log messages to consoles which uses for working with MiniDebugTarget, for example Flex Console.

and XMLSocket Appender for Chainsaw:

<appender name="chainsaw" class="org.log5f.appenders.XMLSocketAppender">
  <param name="layout" value="org.log5f.layouts.Log4JLayout" type="Class"/>
  <param name="host" value="localhost" type="String"/>
  <param name="port" value="4448" type="Number"/>
</appender>

Just because the weather turns bitterly cold, doesn’t mean that we can stop work and stay indoors (unfortunately!) and we’ve all experienced how miserable work can be when we are cold. However, being prepared for those sudden drops in temperature can make all the difference to your working day and Woolpower garments possess all the qualities required to make sure you stay warm when the cold weather starts to bite.

Woolpower Ab from Ostersund in Sweden, have a long and extensive experience with cold weather, cold winters and, most importantly, with how best to dress to stay warm when it is cold. The Woolpower range of thermal under garments will help you to stay warm and comfortable, from head to toe, when it is wet and cold.

• The material used, Ulfrotte Original, is knitted so that one side is smooth and the other has terry loops.  This combination traps a lot of air – up to 80% of the garment consists of air – providing an excellent system for trapping and insulating body heat, even when wet.
• The use of soft, fine and comfortable merino wool makes the garments perfect for wearing next to the skin.
• The self wicking and insulating fabric means that you will stay warm even when perspiring as moisture is wicked away from the skin.
• All Woolpower thermal garments are knitted on circular machines, resulting in hardly any seams, making them hard wearing and comfortable against the skin.
• Wool, being to some extent self cleaning , means that it does not retain odours and therefore you will not need to clean your Woolpower garments that often – even the socks!
• Machine washable up to 60°C. Tumble dry on medium heat.
• Human Eco Friendly – Woolpower garments do not contain any toxic or harmful substances.

Woolpower thermal clothing is available to purchase in our online shop now.

New design preview…

We love this little app from DDB, made to save paper and fabulously simple.

The app is called “Save paper, save trees” – massively inventive. Basically, once the app is installed, any time the user goes to print anything, the cursor changes to a chainsaw, and a message pops up saying “Save paper, save trees. Please do not print out this e-mail. Thank you!”.

If you go ahead and print anyway, it makes the sound of wood tearing and trees falling. If you change your mind, the saw stops and birdsong plays.

We’re surprised nobody thought of it before, and it is a little sanctimonious, but it’s a nice effort nonetheless.

(source: Frederik Samuel)

For these 3 ads I worked with my partner for that project (Yvonne Allen). We tried to make the ads as gritty as possible in an attempt to cater more towards this particular demographic. Ads 2 and 3 were shot with my digital camera and edited in photoshop. The copy was a bit hard for the ad with the hole in the wall. We really liked the idea of a “man cave” but were a bit unsure as to how to capture that.

I really liked how all 3 of these ads turned out. We went through quite a few different digital comps and when we finally decided on this theme we didn’t have much time left to throw them together.

Donald Conrad

Leaves

It all began when he bought the chainsaw.

That she had no way to defend herself seemed to matter little to him. She was in his way, so he cut her into manageable pieces and fed her into a wood chipper.

Limbs went first.

He had taken a job that ran on a continental shift of twelve hour days; three on—four off, and then four on—three off. In March he had the back end of the week free, including that brutal day: Friday the thirteenth. The day was cloudy and cold with a light breeze.

The chainsaw was an impulse buy. Home Depot is one of the few rare stores where guys actually take the scenic route, shopping by browsing like women do in any other store. All the newest yard-care equipment had been put on display when he visited for light bulbs. He checked out lawn tractors, weed trimmers, and power edgers. Then he came upon the selection of chain saws and a plan came to mind.

It came to him as a grand vision. He had more time on his hands and landscaping always appealed to him, particularly topiary. Sure, he mowed the lawn; but he wanted more. With warming weather soon arriving, he could begin clearing the way for his new hobby. So he bought the chainsaw, put it on his charge card. His wife paid the bills, but he wasn’t the least bit worried. He would have used it plenty by the time the bill came in.

It was an eighteen inch model; certainly enough to rid himself of her. She had been high maintenance all along and hardly worth the trouble. During the winter months she was depressing, cold, and gray. By the end of spring she was leaving her stuff all over and he was forced to clean it all up. She was always upbeat during the summer months when the sun rose high overhead; she so vibrant and colorful. He took solace in those grand times. But as the days shortened, she would begin leaving little bits of herself around in anticipation of winter’s doldrums.

He had had enough.

This was his chance for change. So he put his plan into action. On his way home he stopped at the rental center and found he could afford to rent a wood chipper. The price was actually cheaper in March because of its low demand. He giggled lightly as he drove toward home, surprised at how quickly the plan had come together.

When he pulled up out front with the wood chipper on his trailer hitch, her friends tried to warn her. There was a rustle on the air-waves. Yet none of them could act in defense. They were powerless that way, and could only watch in horror as he carried the box that spelled out its contents in red across it: Husqvarna.

Now she is spread around in the bushes and flower beds on his property. Her mortified friends conspired to retaliate the only way they knew how. They talked among themselves. They foiled his repeated attempts at order. Their actions had him talking—actually muttering—to himself. The poor man was slowly losing his grip.

“Vile, dastardly leaves,” he said again and again.

No one could say where he got such a phrase.

Her friends had been practicing. They had been slowly building on their successes. They dropped hints here and there. He had been thwarted at every turn. This was the life he had chosen when he cut her down in her prime though he couldn’t know it at the time. She was the tallest tree in the neighborhood at eighty feet; a grand large-tooth aspen. Her friends, mostly oaks and maples, had conspired. It was, after all, an anniversary coming up.

Friday the thirteenth occurred again in November. All the trees within sight of his house shuddered and quaked in remembrance. He came out of his garage on that horrible anniversary to once again do battle with the leavings of the deciduous around him.

They had plotted overnight with the only revenge they could muster. When the garage door rose, leaves poured in from a three foot drift. He stood there, backpack leaf-blower at the ready, and his jaw dropped.

The final assault her friends had waged covered his property in leaves a foot deep and drifted much higher. All of it fell overnight. They were still falling in ones and twos from the branches. His leaf blower seemed useless to battle such an onslaught. He let the straps slide from his shoulders and the leaf-blower hit the garage floor. He fell to his knees causing a sudden crunch of crushed leaves. He began sobbing and babbling incoherently. All the work that he had put into his landscaping, his topiary, and his property came to nothing. It was the final straw for him.

His mind snapped like a twig.

Hours later, his wife came home to find him sitting at the entrance to their garage. She couldn’t understand all the leaves still covering their yard. The front of his jacket glistened with drool. He was munching on leaves; they were in his hair and in his clothing. When he noticed his wife, he chuckled the nervous laugh of someone a little deranged and slightly caffeinated. His gaze left her and he looked into the empty branches.

“Leaves,” he said, and laughed again.

Z teledyskami polskich zespołów (nie tylko) rockowych jest trochę tak jak z niemieckimi kobietami: niby gdzieś tam egzystują, ale nikt nie zwraca na nie uwagi.

W kwestii video na ogół taki stan rzeczy jest wynikiem braku pomysłu (lub realizacji głupiego), niskiego budżetu, tandetnej próby zwrócenia na siebie uwagi lub braku oszlifowania w temacie  ich kręcenia. Niemniej będzie to artykuł przewrotny gdyż aby  porzucić malkontencki ton wyselekcjonowałem najlepsze polskie teledyski 2009 roku, które towarzyszą muzyce polskich zespołów rockowych i metalowych. Mam nadzieję, że poniższe obrazy stanowią kilka dowodów na to, że i  polskie rzemiosło w kręceniu teledysków nie pozostaje na jakimś szarym końcu.

Wydaje mi się, że najlepszy pod tym względem w tym rocku jest Hunter. Na podstawie treści HellWood, którego swego czasu chyba zbyt nisko oceniłem, powstały już dwa teledyski, zresztą do dwóch świetnych utworów:  balladowego Labirynt Fauna i heavy metalowego Strasznik. Oba opowiadają historie wciągające i mroczne, świetnie wkomponowane w sam klimat utworów gdzie przejawiają się kontrasty pomiędzy oczywistością, a o wiele bardziej tajemniczym i niejasnym światem.

Dobrą rzecz nakręcili też autorzy jednej z lepszych death metalowych płyt roku, zespół Vader. Ciekawe, że Peter i ekipa trochę wycofali się z wojowniczej konwencji, z której są znani od lat i nakręcili bluźniercze video będącego swojego rodzaju alternatywą dla Via Dolorosa Chrystusa. Poglądy można mieć w tym temacie różne, ale widok ukrzyżowanego Petera jest zjawiskiem przynajmniej wartym odnotowania.

Fajnie też wyszedł teledysk Chainsaw. Tworzony w mocno wyluzowanej, pijacko/rockowo/seksistowskiej konwencji, ale właśnie na tym polega jego siła, bo jest właściwy wszelkim ideałom rock’n'rolla. Zresztą w video gościnnie pojawili się Titus z Acid Drinkers i Mish z Briff. Zresztą ten ostatni dosyć marnie w nim skończył… .

Już same teasery nowych Rootwater i Lost Soul do utworów, odpowiednio: Living In The Cage i …If The Dead Can Speak robią dobre wrażenie. Mam nadzieję, że w tym wypadku rzeczone video spełnią wytworzone apetyty, a poprzeczka jest wysoka, bo teledyski te będą promować dwa znakomite krążki: Visionism i Immerse in Infinity.

A czy wy pamiętacie teledyski polskich zespołów z tego roku, które zasługują na szczególne uznanie?

Wszelkie opinie mile widziane.

]]> http://deadlinescotland.wordpress.com/2009/11/09/chainsaw-attack-on-neighbour-was-a-drunken-accident-2115/ Mon, 09 Nov 2009 19:03:39 +0000 michaelmacleod1 http://deadlinescotland.wordpress.com/2009/11/09/chainsaw-attack-on-neighbour-was-a-drunken-accident-2115/

By Michael MacLeod

A MAN has been cleared of attacking his neighbour with a chainsaw after the victim confessed it was an accident.

Acquitted: James Weir walks free from court

James Weir, 42, was said to have started up a chainsaw and sliced open ex-postman Alan Flockhart’s arm.

But assault charges against him were dropped during the first day of a trial today (Mon) when Flockhart, 37, admitted he lied to police to try and protect his neighbour from being arrested.

Instead, detectives saw through Flockhart’s lies and charged him with wasting police time.

Mr Weir always denied the three charges of assault, brandishing a chainsaw and lying to police.

Flockhart told Edinburgh Sheriff Court of how the pair had drank “a whole bottle of Sambuca each” before going back to his Edinburgh flat on August 30 last year.

He said: “We went back to mine and were very drunk.

“I was leaning on a cupboard in the kitchen when the chainsaw started up and he came towards me.

“I tried to pull my arm out the way. It caught my tracksuit top and I got a big cut on my arm.”

“Pack of lies”

Mr Flockhart showed jury members what he said was a scar on his right arm, running from his elbow to his wrist.

But he later confessed in court that the attack was actually an accident, and that he “panicked” and made up “a pack of lies” to try and keep his neighbour out of trouble.

Instead, both were charged seven weeks later – Mr Weir with assault and Flockhart with wasting police time.

Alan Flockhart: "I told a pack of lies"

Flockhart said: “I told police a pack of lies because I was fearful of the situation.

“Mr Weir was my friend and I didn’t want anybody to get into trouble over this.

“I wasn’t thinking straight and I panicked. I had had a whole bottle of sambuca that day.

“I told police some white men had attacked me outside my front door.”

But cops were immediately suspicious that there was no blood at the door; it was only found inside his flat, in the city’s Dumbryden Gardens.

Flockhart added: “Mr Weir was upset at what happened.

“We discussed that we weren’t going to tell the straight story, that it wasn’t an accident.

“We agreed to say I was attacked at my front door by some men.”

Court heard a recording of a police interview in which he gave cops a story about three men hacking at his arm with a chainsaw.

Compensation

He even told them: “Honest, I’m not making it up.”

Mr Weir’s defence agent Paul Dunn quizzed Flockhart over why he had lied that a gang had attacked him.

Mr Dunn suggested that Flockhart cut himself with the chainsaw to seek compensation cash.

But Flockhart said: “I have seen adverts on the television about compensation but never in a million years did I cut myself with a chainsaw.

“I accept that it was an accident.

“It’s not a very nice thing getting a chainsaw through your arm.

“But I wanted to divert the attention and protect my friend, James Weir. I don’t know what could have followed.”

On hearing Flockhart’s admissions, fiscal depute Melanie Ward told Sheriff James Scott: “I am not seeking any further evidence.”

The Sheriff told Mr Weir: “You are acquitted and free to go.”

See more of our pictures at our Flickr site and videos at our dedicated channel,  Deadline TV.

Because no one loves an annoying cockroach, a cult was formed by its members who vowed to kill every living cockroach in honor of the housewives who keep waking their husbands up with their loud screams each time they see a crawling cockroach. Why the cockroach massacre? Obviously, because it’s a copycat of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, only it’s not just Texas and they don’t do it with a chainsaw.

If you want to be a cockroach killer, here are some important pointers for the training for you to eventually get the join the cult.

1. Practice the art of killing by killing your cat with a fork. If you can’t kill it after 20 seconds, then you’re just another loser.
2. Burning moths in the candle is no longer a big story for grown ups. Why not grill your dog alive and have a nice meal?
3. If you still believe that an ant has some skin on its fragile body (after a terrible argument with your mom who believes ants don’t have skins), then trust your instinct and skin it with a samurai sword. Being able to skin the ant without cutting the ant’s body means you are one tough bastard, congratulations!
4. Get a fly and place it inside an oven. Toast it and then feed its burn bosdy to the dogs in the neighborhood.
5. Slice the cow’s balls and place it inside an electric blender. Pour it in a glass and serve it to mom and dad.
6. Catch a rat and throw it from the 10^th floor to the first floor. Get its eyeballs as replacement for your teddy bear’s lost eyeballs.
7. Catch a pregnant mosquito and place it inside the freezer. After two hours, carefully slice its belly and get the egg. Stir fry and enjoy.
8. Slice your horse’s testicles and feed it to another horse (you are what you eat).
9. Throw a grenade to a sleeping bird inside a cage.
10. Get a rabbit and place it inside a gas chamber. Be sure to strap its body in the chair.

The performances above are intended for your practice for the finale, the main event- the cockroach massacre. Please do try this at home.

We have battled Russian Olives. We have fell 60 foot trees. We have sliced off tree limbs and stumped massive trunks. And on Tuesday, we put down our chainsaws. It has been a love/hate relationship between us and these machines, but ultimately, we conquered. We came out on top. We learned a new skill, strengthened our forearms and — like an extended limb — we became one with the chain.

-Vanessa Notman

Here’s a work trouser perfect for arborists carrying out non-chainsaw jobs such as tree climbing, hedge trimming, smaller pruning jobs and general gardening and landscaping work, and for those looking to create the right impression when surveying jobs for potential clients.

Pfanner Stretch Zone trousers are not just a hard-wearing work trouser but they also provide exceptional freedom of movement and comfort due to the use of a stretchy material in the seat area and at the back of the legs. Stretch Zone work trousers are manufactured by Pfanner who have a strong reputation for producing top quality products. Pfanner’s Stretch Air trousers have long been a popular choice with arborists.

(Needless to say, the Stretch Zone work trousers are more than capable of withstanding the rigorous demands of any industry including the building, carpentry and other industrial environments).

£52.50 + VAT (£60.38 inc VAT) per pair and now available to purchase in our online forestry equipment shop.

We have a feeling you’ll like them………..

Pfanner Stretch Zone Work Trousers

{happy halloweening!!!!}

1. treehugger.com

2. “Think-make-think”, clinton burt

3. “chester and marissa, marissa and chester” j.tye

4. spider necklace, folksy.com

5. kiddie ride #12, ana serrano 

6. eddie borgo pumpkin making, a vogue halloween, style.com

7. eddie borgo pumpkin final product, style.com

8.chainsaw wall sticker, sprouthome.com

9. Anthropologie.com, women’s ware

Oh, man! What is in that garden? What’s with the chainsaw fight? Spooky, man, spooky!

New image in the fear factor photography contest

Shooted with a D80 on a tripod that wirelessly triggered a SB-600.

Looks pretty scary if you asks me ) …
Texas? chainsaw massacre. photography picture

It’s normally the job of the actors at haunted house attractions to scare the bejeesus out of their visitors – but the roles were reversed when a Baltimore city police officer pulled a gun on a chainsaw-wielding man at the end of his act.

Important: Baltimore cops do not always see the funny side of things

Sergeant Eric Janik, 37, has now been charged with assault and reckless endangerment for pointing his service handgun at the worker – who was dressed as Leatherface, the killer from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

The employee, Mike Morrison, followed Janik and several other people up a staircase on Sunday night at the end of the haunted house tour in a bid to get ‘one last scream’ out of them, police said.

// When the group exited into a parking lot, Janik pulled his gun and pointed it at Morrison from less than 10 feet away, according to police and Morrison, who said he dropped the chain saw, put his hands up and backed away. The saw did not have a chain on it.

Only then did Janik identify himself as a police officer, said Morrison, who retreated into the building.

‘I started shaking pretty bad,’ he told The Associated Press.

 

Leatherface: what Mr Morrison was dressed as

Another employee of the House of Screams called police.

According to charging documents, Janik smelled of alcohol and told police two different stories about what he did with the gun. First, he denied drawing the weapon, but later he said he pointed it at the ground.

Morrison and two other witnesses told police that Janik pointed the gun at Morrison’s chest.

A security guard had been following Janik’s group, which included his 9-year-old daughter, through the haunted house because Janik appeared to be drunk when he arrived, House of Screams owner Tony Sapanero said.

Morrison said Janik’s daughter appeared to be disturbed by his act, in which he pretends to cut one woman in half and disembowel another with the chain saw.

Janik was suspended with pay after police commanders learned of what happened – and could be without pay after a hearing on Tuesday morning, city police spokesman Anthony Guglielmi said.

City police officers are required to carry their service weapons while off duty within city limits and can carry them at their own discretion outside the city, Guglielmi said.

Thursday evening when we arrived to my friend’s summer-house it was pitch dark and 3+ outside.Inside there was…Some ligth, and an amazingly warm 9+. The whole evening we were trying to warm up the big house.I am pretty sure we managed to reach 15+ at least before we fell asleep, but luckily we had some wine that kept us warm.

Friday morning after we had eaten breakfast (the standard 2 cups of coffee and 2 cigarettes, which contains all the nutrition you need of course) we went outside and started chopping wood.After a few hours we both noticed how machine like we had become and decided to take another coffee break.After our small break we went back to work and dint stop until it was too dark to see anything outside.We had managed to work thru 15 cubic metres of wood!

We had only been inside for a little while and where discussing what kind of food we would make for the evening when his step dad arrived.Now suddenly we didnt have to make food ourselves anymore since the man is a well-known cook.
For starters we had some hot spinach/chili soup, which i must say was among the bloody best soups i ever had (And of course i forgot to write down the recipe for this amazing soup).The main course he put together for us was small sweet potatoes with fried union and peppers and a big juicy steak, season with some secret stuff.I think i haven’t eaten this kind of “well made” food in a long time, everything just melted in my mouth while dining.Afterwards we continued chatting while having a few beers and some wine, and watched some random shit movie til we feel asleep.

Saturday morning 8 am, step dads friend arrived and the 3 of us went outside to continue on chopping up the rest of the wood.My dear friend had managed to get “low back pain / lumbago ” during the night and had to go to a nearby (50km away) hospital to just get it checked that it wouldn’t be anything worse.He was in a pretty painful state in the morning and even had problems breathing at some positions.

The 3 of us continued thru the mild rain which turned into snow before it was dark outside.After we had eaten some sausages we all went to the sauna and i did eventually take a swim in the freezing lake in the pitch dark.Refreshing is the words that should perhaps be right, but i think Ice/Bloody knee would suite my experience this evening (rocks are hard to see in a pitch-black condition).But a few beer’s and the hot sauna did remedies all the pains eventually.After the sauna we went up back to the house and watched Casino Royale until i more or less passed out.I sleept like a baby.

Sunday morning it was raining while we ate some eggs and drank some tea.Me and my friend took a few km walk and checked out some of the surroundings to just see if something interesting had happened nearby, luckily it hadn’t happened anything. After the breakfast we did some cleaning for a few hours(Somehow it felt like all the trash after those 35 cubic metres of wood had made 40 cubic metres of trash).

We traveled into the small village nearby and ate some lunch and started heading home.On our journey home i was falling asleep all the time,and there is not a single piece on my body that doesn’t ache like i would have been run over by a herd of elephants at the moment.

But still…i feel good.

The Legendary Shirtless Driver

A year earlier, Thomas Accrual, was sitting half naked in his kitchen, alone, eating canned foods and stale bread all the while foaming at the mouth.  Literally he had the shirt stripped off his back when the stock market collapsed.  As a failed day trader, he had become nearly destitute and his wife and children had left him.  The days rolled into months and his unfortunate lonely condition morphed into a madness and an obsession over replacing the shirt that was stripped from his body.  In the darkness of his abandoned neighborhood, Thomas ran around with chainsaw in hand scaring innocent travelers.  His sanity was restored when he took from a poor, ignorant, person a very lucky T-shirt.  The loss of such a prized possession drove the victim of Thomas’ attack to the funny farm, but Thomas gained so much more than a shirt, he gained a brand new lease on life and the inspiration and confidence to live it right.  Now at the nook in his kitchen, Thomas was fully clothed, with his lucky T-shirt on, enjoying a Saturday morning breakfast with his family, that had recently returned.  Thomas’ life was going so well that he had almost forgotten the months he had acted like a ravenous lunatic, and there in lay a danger that he was ignorant of; for you see, the really fashionable T-shirt, that was made from the finest fibers and was designed by a great artist who shall go nameless, had recently been taken for granted.

On that same Saturday, Thomas decided to do some yard work.  Oddly the fall had been unseasonably warm, and the grass was growing as if the summer was still going strong.  While in the midst of mowing his yard Thomas was perspiring from just about every pore, so he decided to take off his shirt and carelessly threw it up on a branch of a young tree with thin limbs.

Almost immediately Thomas felt an odd feeling inside.  A mixture of fear and anger.  It was a familiar feeling, an unsettling feeling, a feeling most unwanted, and as the source of his curious feelings was realized it was already too late.  The discarded T-shirt was picked up by a gust of wind and had fell onto the handle bars of a teen age boy passing by on his bike.  At first glance the boy was excited over his happenstance acquisition.  Upon further examination he held up his nose and said, “Whew, I think Mom needs to wash this fabulous shirt before I put it on.”  He then folded it carefully over his handlebars and raced towards his home.  Having witnessed the boy take his T-shirt away, Thomas slipped back into his old lunatic self.

The Murderous Mower

Immediately, Thomas jumped on his green, John Deere, rider-mower, and went chasing after the boy.  Thomas’ wife also had witnessed what had happened, from her bedroom window, and was shocked by his transformation.  She ran out trying to save her husband from the madness that had once again infected him but by the time she got to the front door his mower had already sped away.     Like a steam engined filled with a raging fire in its furnace, Thomas’ murderous mower was racing towards the unsuspecting boy.  Thomas didn’t have to stay on the roads to catch his prey.  He mowed through yard after yard, and smashed through countless lawn jockeys, lawn gnomes, garden balls, and plastic pink flamingos.  He even managed to drive through an award winning rose bush and not once did he flinch from the pain of the thorns piercing his flesh.

Finally the boy was in sight and Thomas drove up along side his bike.  Due to the loud music pouring into his ears from his over-sized headphones the boy did not even hear the roar of Thomas’ monstrous sounding engine.  Surprised, the boy found himself being lifted off of his bike, single handedly, by a strange shirtless man.  The boy screamed in terror.  Thomas snarled while the boy looked directly at his crazed captor.  Thomas was so blinded by his own rage he could only see the person who took the shirt and not the bike which had managed to be thrown ahead of the mower and thusly ran over and crushed by his maniacal rider-mower.  Thomas was about to inflict a major beating onto the boy, when he realized the boy did not have the shirt on him and that it must have remained on the bike.  Having panicked, Thomas threw the boy to the side of the road without any care and quickly turned around and raced to the mangled bike.

At first glance, all Thomas could see were twisted metal bars and tattered rubber scraps; however, upon further review of the accident scene he noticed the many torn pieces of the shirt that had saved him from madness.  He fell upon his knees and wept like a child.  Gone forever was his chance at a real life.  Certainly, he would lose everything dear to him again for he once more was naked from the waste up, and vulnerable to a world which had shown its utter disgust for pasty, flabby men without shirts.  He was hopeless to be sure but was he in fact helpless as he thought he was?

A white Ford Taurus pulled up to the scene of the accident; with the car placed in park, Thomas’ wife stepped out from the driver side.  She walked over to her troubled husband and placed a brand new T-shirt around his shoulder.  True it wasn’t an identical shirt but it featured an even cooler design from that T-shirt artist who shall remain nameless.  As well, there certainly was a renewed since of power, and freshness that came over Thomas as he put it on.  He stood up, took a deep breath and gave his wife a warm smile of appreciation.   Thomas and his wife hugged and as relief filled his heart and mind Thomas said, “Thank Heaven for you Muffin.”

Mrs. Muffin???

His wife blushed and she explained, “Oh Tommy.  Don’t you know that I’ve taken precautions and ordered you a whole wardrobe of t-shirts and other quality apparel from that very same t-shirt website (that shall remain nameless) that saved your sanity.”

Thomas had forgotten that fact and now in hindsight he could do nothing else but laugh at the absurdity of his actions, and said, “So I suppose this whole event was for nothing.  It didn’t even need to occur…sort of like those sequels to bad monster movies.”

The wife smiled a curious grin as if she was in on some warped joked and then suggested that they go home and back to their normal life.  What that joke was however and the real identity of the woman called Muffin is a story for another time…(AND THAT TIME IS OCTOBER 2010 in the blockbuster conclusion to the Shirtless Driver trilogy entitled: THE SHIRTLESS DRIVER ALWAYS RINGS TWICE.)

Now as we leave this haunting tale, remember to always prepare for life’s unexpected events; especially if you’ve spend most of your days behind a desk. Don’t  be caught with out a shirt on your back!  Spare yourself the maddening, inhuman, embarrassment of exposed love handles, fatty arms, and/or unsightly body hair.  BUY THOMPSON’s T-SHIRTS!  BUY LOTS OF THEM!  DO IT NOW!  BEFORE ITS TOO LATE! OH! and have a HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

The End?

Loved the Sequel?  Of course you did!  Now read the story that started it all:
“The Tale of the Shirtless Driver.“

Matt Thompson

Cool weather has arrived in Central Virginia. Leaves are turning Hokie colors. Great time of year. You can go out in the crisp evening air and smell the burning firewood wafting through the air. Reminds me of the days of the oil crisis during the Carter years. Oil prices jumped and the cost of heating oil rose sharply. The trend was to put in a woodstove to save money. One of my co-workers heating bill had risen to over $600 to fill his oil tank and usually he had to fill it three times a year. He had had enough. He bought a woodstove. He had a small tract of land so he was able to get ‘free’ firewood. He then bought a chainsaw. But that left the trees in the woods so he bought a tractor with a trailer. Now he was able to get the wood to the house. But then he found he had to split the wood to get it to burn efficiently. So his next purchase was a log splitter. Seems he spent every Saturday from late October through December splitting enough wood to last the season. His ’savings’ kept adding up.

My new best friend is an Angel. With a wing disguised as a long, flat bar, lined not with feathers, but sharply filed teeth, the use of this wing is far from what would be typically described as angelic. A halo this Angel has not, but two circular knobs twisting open hungry for fuel. And this Angel doesn’t feed on fluffy clouds or the joy of making miracles, but rather thick, sticky bar oil and potent smelling gasoline. This Angel doesn’t live in the sky; instead she rests her weary head after a long day of work in a dark, dusty shed. Lucky number seven, my chainsaw was christened her name back in the beginning of summer and has been by my side ever since, slicing through thick limbs and showing dense thickets who really reins king. Rough around the edges and tougher than nails, still, as I’ve come to learn, chainsaws need love too.

I have a degree in English Literature from Michigan State University. Before starting at Mile High Youth Corps in February, the extent of my use of tools ended with a pen and paper. My understanding of the word “machine” fell short after a laptop. But Angel has showed me the way, and in return I have learned to love her back. This Angel doesn’t need love in the form of hugs and kisses, she doesn’t want to cuddle or share one milkshake with two straws, never the less, she is very demanding of my attention.

Almost everyday Angel declares she’s had enough, demanding I take the time away from cutting down trees to tend to her tired and worn chain dull from cutting through thick bark and tree stumps. So I find myself, file in hand, working through each tooth making sure the angle of Angel’s cutting utensils are just right.

At the end of the day, Angel is dirty with the grim and grit of felling hundreds of trees, so I take her apart and with the help of air pressure, clean away the filth and leave her sparkling, clean and unclogged of wood chips.

And each morning, she thanks me. Angel takes down trees that seem impossible at first glance, she slices through meaty trunks as easily as a hot knife through butter and, ultimately, makes my job as easy as (sweating under a hard hat, doused in heavy gear facing gnarly forests) can be.

She may be an Angel in rare form, but halo dust doesn’t come in as handy as a sharp chain when you’re facing a tree that wants to remain standing tall.

-Vanessa Notman