I have 8 years of university and over 40 years of practice. You can’t possibly be lacking. That’s like me saying I lack mechanical skills. Fuck, they are machines, how hard is it, You read the fucking manual and you fix the fucking machine. (IT NEVER FUCKING WORKS OUT THAT WAY THOUGH!) I once changed Tin Man’s batteries and he had to walk around with his face on his ass for an entire month.
I almost took apart a Fiat 600 car engine when I was about 18. I labeled every part as I put it on the ground. If I recall, I was changing the head gasket. NOT FUCKING BRAIN SURGERY. Anyway, I was also doing something with the pistons and spark plugs. I don’t recall what. Got it all apart, and took care of everything according to the book. Stuck it all back together. And started her up.
Fuck me! It sounded like a fucking Tin Man falling down the side of a rocky cliff and hitting every rock on the way down.
I took the engine apart again. Looked into the piston well. And there was the problem. A tiny little fucking screw had jumped into the piston when I wasn’t looking and now it had embedded itself into one of the many dents in the wall of the piston well. The inside of that piston looked like a pockmarked acne infested teen,
I chiseled the screw out of the wall, but the whole mess back together again, and it purred like a kitten. Who said I was not a good mechanic? I knew I could do it. Just follow the instructions manual.
Uhhh… Gee, I guess I should have told you, but… Well, you actually got the battery replacement right and everything put back correctly. It’s just that I had recently gotten an image of my face engraved on my ass as a defense tactic. It deters anybody from sneaking up behind me when I visit nude beaches. I’m kinda paranoid about shit like that.
Interesting! I once slept, dick down, on a picture of a Tin Man, to scare the body crabs off my privates. Worked like a charm. Of course these days I am virtually celibate…
Wait a minute, that’s not true. I am virtually fucked, and celibate in real life. That’s the problem with these long-distance Internet chat room relationships.
Yeah, and If I could package and patent the disturbing relationship between you fuckers, I could single-handedly reduce unwanted pregnancies, STD’s and toxic relationships, while becoming disgustingly wealthy…
Oh fuk, our relatinship is showing. You mean the fact that we are fishing buddies right. Men who do manly things together. Real slaps on the back, man hugs, and camp fires uder the full moons light sorta guys. Manly men even when we polich each other’s toe nails.
Uh huh…yeah…just fishin buddies…more like butt-buddies. No judgement here, each to his own and all. Just, you know,…what with all of the sexual inuendo and such…it gets hard not to erect some sort of provocative narrative to thrust into the turgid conversation at hand.
@skriten And we don’t use any of those sissy colors like lemonade pink or sunshine yellow or passion purple! (Except on special occasions.) We use manly nail polish colors like battleship gray and poison ivy green and burnt toast brown! And we use those colors to make intimidating camo patterns on our toenails to strike fear into other shoppers as we wear our open-toe heels while strolling through the malls.
If I had a nickel for every production manager that has ever said that.
Unfortunately due to American business owners lack of self investment into their businesses, people like me end up fixing machines from the 1940s. Most middle level manufacturers are still using decades old technology. These machines have been hot wired, cut up and modified by hand to build specialized products and proprietary items. You have to be part historian, part electrician, machinist, and general fabricator rolled into one.
If you have ever seen Terry Gilliams 1987 classic Brazil, I am Harry Tuttle.
Yeah! Manly men, in the woods, holding our big guns, weraring our camos. Painted faces lurking out from behind bushes or snuggled up in a tree stand. Drinking hot coffee with viagra and waiting to pounce on victims.
Yeah, I garden, pickle food, and I’m making a no mow 0 maintenance “yard-en” with native wildflowers and wild edible species using homemade compost, then sow up holes in my dogs plush chew toys while watching Rupauls drag race with my wife. Manly!
Well, aside from me doing all the heavy lifting, my wife is the one who manages the gardens and does all the food canning. However, she doesn’t get to go anywhere NEAR my sewing machine. I’M the Stitch-Bitch in THIS house. She needs shirts and skirts hemmed or repaired, that’s MY job. Need a new customized scarf or cape? That’s right… ME! Decorative pillows for the furniture? I’m your man! If she’s lucky, though, I MIGHT let her pick out the fabric… sometimes. (I can be rather particular about that.) Oh, in case anybody missed it, though, I do all the MANLY heavy lifting for the garden stuff. (Just want to make sure that got noticed.)
… Hey! I just realized something! If I could somehow patent that method of crab removal, I could make millions! 
She needs shirts and skirts hemmed or repaired, that’s MY job. Need a new customized scarf or cape? That’s right… ME! Decorative pillows for the furniture? I’m your man! If she’s lucky, though, I MIGHT let her pick out the fabric… sometimes. (I can be rather particular about that.) Oh, in case anybody missed it, though, I do all the MANLY heavy lifting for the garden stuff. (Just want to make sure that got noticed.)