Category Archives: One in a Thousand

Welding is Dead

One in a Thousand, , ,

E. O. Schaub

I’m pretty depressed. I mean, I am a good, irony-appreciating, iPhone-packing, Lost-watching citizen of the twenty-first century. I knew liberalism and/or conservatism was dead. I knew the thong was dead. Except in New Jersey. I had heard God was dead; ditto atheism. Also: figurative painting, campaign finance reform and Tab. Also: content, privacy and— apparently— Jewish Hip Hop.

What I wasn’t expecting was the assessment last week, by the National Council for the Preservation of High Temperature Metal Joining Technologies (NCPHTMJT), that, in fact, welding is dead. (!!!!) I know, right?

I mean, it was one thing when photography died. Sure, that was sad. And when the death of newspapers and magazines followed so quickly thereafter, we were all still a bit stunned. When book-publishing was declared dead last year, we all observed a moment of silence at the gym, during which everyone pretended to turn off their iPods. The subsequent news that clothing was dead certainly caught everyone by surprise, only to be followed by the news that cheese was dead, as well as goat herding, geometry, Cirque de Soleil, and— strangely— toothpicks. But this…? This really was too much.

I mean, I had always meant to take up welding more seriously, and now… well, now it was just too late. Sure, after a tiring day at the Twitter Factory I’d come home, pour myself a nice glass of chablis, and dabble in some underwater shielded metal arc welding… but it never amounted to much. Not more than a hobby. I guess I just always thought there would be time for all that, down the road.

But the fact is— and we all knew this on some level— there’s just no money in welding anymore. For one thing, there’s so much free welding out there now, no one feels they should have to pay for it. I mean, everyone’s a welder now, right? Who among us doesn’t own an acetylene torch just for fun? For casual spot welding at family picnics and so forth? And then the realization comes that, if everyone is a welder than, by the inverse appropriative law of suckiness, no one is. And suddenly, just like that, all the best anode and slag suppliers go belly-up and poof! It’s over. Welding, as we knew it, is as dead as the apostrophe.

So friends, heed my cautionary tale. Pretty soon, we’ll all just be sitting around reminiscing about all the things people used to do before they became valueless. In the meantime, I’m going to pursue my new hobby while still I can: neurosurgery.

What Spring Means to Me: Dead Rodents

One in a Thousand, , ,

E.O. Schaub

Spring is here; I know this for several reasons. One is the fact that Scarlotta’s Car Hop and Diner’s sign says so. Also, the maple sap has been running, and sap houses everywhere are venting great marshmellow clouds of steam. The other day we heard birds- real birds!- singing their songs outside our windows and instantly it felt as if a long-lost, dear relative had returned. The constant, drumming sound of March showers, and their thunderous ensuing runoff is always a sure indicator of Spring, too.

Also, around our house, there’s the multiplicity of dead and dying rodents. This time of year they turn up scattered randomly throughout the house, kind of like an Easter Egg hunt designed by Hannibal Lecter. Take this morning. I was walking down the basement steps to the garage when I came to the abrupt realization that I was not alone. (Cue the ominous music.) Sadly, it was true. Murray the Mouse had left this mortal coil at the foot of our basement steps and lay there for all the world looking like a tiny piece of furry driftwood. He was perfectly in-tact, four tiny paws extended straight out as if he hoped to be used as a dollhouse coffee-table after his departure, clearly the victim of a progressive, neuro-muscular, stress-related, nervous-seizure-heart-breakdown-attack-spasm. (Mice get those a lot, you know. Being a mouse is extraordinarily stressful.) As he lay there on his side, finally at peace, I knew that our two cats could not be suspected of foul play in this tragic event. Firstly, because they are not allowed in the basement. Secondly, because no one had attempted to chew little Murray’s face off. In fact, Murray actually looked astonishingly good, for a dead mouse. A little petrified around the whiskers, but still.

I couldn’t say the same of the poor fellow I found yesterday, next to the bathmat, dear me. The only reason I knew that pathetic little puddle of blood and fur had ever been a mouse at all is the fact that the cats had executed his hapless brother the night before that and of course I instantly recognized the distinct similarily in the kink of their tails. (Plus his name was Milfred, and that is actually a very common mouse name.) It was clear Milfred never really had a chance, as half his body was noticably missing, and plump little piles of organs were distributed about the linoleum like gifts from a particularly small and twisted Santa. Continue reading What Spring Means to Me: Dead Rodents →

Now Accepting Applications

One in a Thousand, , ,

E.O. Schaub

WANTED: One Laundry Folder. Must be flexible, dependable, detail-oriented, and at least five. Knowledge of Euclidian Geometry and proper matching of socks a plus; must be exceptionally fond of pink. If you can distinguish between floral Gap underwear size “M”, and floral Gap underwear size “L”- this job may be for you. Please apply at laundry room, or as close as you can manage to get to it.

DESPERATELY SEEKING DISHWASHER: Do you enjoy dishpan hands? Chilblains? Mysterious soapy food particles? Looking for a highly-motivated self-starter with an endless supply of boring old free time. Hours will include, but are not limited to: weekdays, weeknights, weekends, holidays and Armageddon. Ideal hobbies and extracurricular interests might include grease removal, sponge maintenance and not retching. Resumes currently being accepted in the kitchen, next to the counter-puddle.

EARN EXTRA CASH! Coughing, sneezing, and blowing one’s nose are an important part of life, but if YOU have too many symptom-free days on your hands, consider the benefits of suffering our cough, cold and flu symptoms in your own home for extra $$$! No Experience Necessary- all you need is a nose and a dream! Call us at 1-800-BLESS-YOU.

STOPPER NEEDED. Are you a Staller? A Stymie-er? A Self-Stopper? Then we need you! Official obligations of this important position will include:

-Stopping anyone wishing to interrupt Mommy’s luxurious three-minute shower to show her a Lego sculpture / break up a fight about a Lego sculpture / extricate a Lego sculpture from a household appliance

-Stopping any and all unauthorized snack procurement/ snow eating/ public place clothing removal

-Stopping excessive whining, bickering and/or trumpet practice when Mommy/Daddy is on last remaining nerve of the day (also known as “But why do we have to play in the basement?” Time)

Please note! Obligations should not include:

-Stopping Mommy from throwing away toys so broken they now qualify as appropriate for jousting.

-Stopping Mommy from handing down clothes that are officially now fourteen sizes too small for you.

-Stopping Mommy from singing show tunes during dinner preparation. Sure, she’s terrible and only knows half the words to “Oklahoma!”… but do you want your noodle taco or not?

So come in to the kitchen and fill out an application today! Smark-alecks wearing earmuffs will not be considered.