When I was a teenager, my friend Russell and I were remarkably stupid.
We would undertake such activities as napalmery and the use of
products in manners inconsistent with their labeling. Russell's
Grandmother's bench grinder was a source of constant delight, as we
would put a good edge on any piece of metal that suited us. Golf clubs
were a favorite, as they were plentiful when trash-picking. Sharpening
golf clubs. The sparks flying off the wheel, threatening to ignite
oily rags and gas cans. I don't know how we all lived through it.
We've all gone our separate ways, but I'll always look back on our
collective stupidity with a moronic smile. Some people look at others
to feel smarter; I look to my past.
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