Knotheads

In a recent issue of a woodworking magazine I will no longer be subscribing to, they have hit upon a staggering bit of genius. Its a new column on accidents that happen to woodworkers, cabinetmakers, and the like.

This particular article's author talked about how he had not worn protective goggles, only regular glasses, while working with a router. A router can spin bits up to 30,000 rpm. More or less.

The poor sod had not properly tightened it or it was faulty or something cosmic was out of place, and the bit popped loose, lodging between his right eye and left nose. Or right nose. Whichever it was, it was the wrong nose.

He had then absentmindedly picked at it, thinking it was a splinter he could just pull out. A splinter. After spinning at 30,000 rpm for at least a minute or two, cutting through some kind of wood-like substance besides his forehead, surely it would feel like a puzzlingly hot splinter. Wouldn't one have thought it would still spin a few thousand more rpm in his skull before coming to a stop? Splinters don't do that, do they?

Nevertheless, this Einstein of the wood shop pulled at the thing and discovered, besides the hole that may already have been in his head, the nasty, large bit of expensive metal was in fact nothing like a splinter. And it hurt a lot more.

But that isn't my point. More remarkable than the defective Frankenstein of the power tools set, is the stupifying choice of the magazine to make this a regular part of each issue. What could possibly have led to this decision:

Two executives of an appallingly well-made wood magazine are standing outside a conference room, trying to figure out how to open the door. They make idle conversation while poking at the knob with their blackberrys and flashing their ID cards menacingly.

Tweedledee: "Subscriptions went up again last month."
Tweedledum: "What? How? Did that stupid Norm Abram feature cause it? I tell ya, that guy is ruining things for everyone."
Tweedledee: "Well, no one really knows. We keep losing all the smart bean-counting guys to router bit shrapnel. We're having to bring in a bunch of geriatric woodworking clubbers to get the issues finished."
Tweedledum: "Then what is it?"
Tweedledee: "Well, Joe down in Marketing suspects its that--get this--more people are paying to get subscriptions. Of course he was also the fathead who wanted us to change the magazine name from Knothead. What a dumbass. He can't tell a corner chisel from a cornice moulding."
Tweedledum: "Hmm. That's just awful. How can we turn this around? The shareholders will start expecting us to do something useful like, say, quit wasting our time with articles about heirloom quality furniture and just put out something about plywood crap sold at Walmart."
Tweedledee: "We definitely are at a dangerous crossroad."
Tweedledum: "I've got it! We'll add a story every issue about some horrible bloody and possibly permanently incapacitating accident. That should scare off half our readers!"
Tweedledee: "Brilliant! No wonder you're CEO."
Tweedledum: "I am? I thought you were. Hey! Let's get Joe in Marketing to run his hand through a bandsaw."
Tweedledee: "Boy, that's gonna look great in color. Maybe a two-page foldout."
Tweedledum: "We could auction his fingers off on Ebay."
Tweedledee: "Did you know you have a router bit stuck in your forehead?"
Tweedledum: "Yes, but I think I'm going to leave it. Its a good look for me."
Tweedledee: "I think its made you smarter."
Tweedledum: "Oh, I think so too."