About

Howdy.

Why is a 75-year-old dude in the woods playing with power tools and making stuff?

Been one of the “old men of the Web” before there even was a web.  (More complete details on my UrbanSurvival.com site here).

After raising a family, passable education, flying transcons in our own plane, a bit of scuba, living in the woods (and on a big sailboat for a decade), what is the “next big thing?” to do when you’re looking at the end of the line just ahead?

The answer is “Pass it on to the Kids!”  

Despite all the political correctness errors, and poor teaching of the American Dream, there are still plenty of opportunities in the STEM courses.  Making –  becoming a Maker – is a hugely popular track.

I’ve been a Maker for decades.  Helped sweat copper plumbing, poured concrete, helped with house framing, drywall hanging, and so much more, it boggles the mind.  And all this before junior high (now ‘middle school’). Sadly, young people today are building a lot of “pre-made” kits. Not really ground up makes.

I could hardly wait to get up in the morning and get to school back in the early 1960s.  Because between bouncing in and out of advanced math classes and what-not, I was totally enjoying (to the exclusion of all else) Mr. Wolford’s Metal Shop Class. Then Stanley Jones Gas Engines Shop and the woodworking classes.  Hands on was me, dude.

Industrials Arts Was Killed by Lawyers

Oh, maybe not intentionally.  But think about it:  1962 kids like we were all of 13-years old. Yet, there we were, under the disciplined eye of a great teacher of “hands on education” the finer points of how to file steel.  And them temper it in a natural gas-fired forge.

A few weeks after that, the class was ramming up green sand and preparing to melt aluminum into molds.  My “class project” was a plaque with my first general class ham radio license call sign on it.  An “A” of course.

Those days are sadly gone.  

Sure, sadly, there actually were a few ‘accidents’ and the occasional serious injury.  But, on  the other side of it, there really are young people who don’t learn during their entire lives that there’s a time for grab-ass and there’s a time to ‘serious-up.’

The lawyers – representing the ‘victims’ of industrial arts accidents had an easy go of it.  The district couldn’t very well impugn the reputation of a minor.  So f*ck-up, or not, Johnny’s parents cashed in.  

Tired of retained counsel and writing checks, schools seized upon computers as the ‘next big thing’ and truth be told, that was a good ride for a while.

But even that came to an end over time.  Hit YouTube and take a listen to the lyrics to the country song “Red, White, and Pink Slip Blues.”  

In what was a two decade period of “screwing the pooch and selling the pups,” traitors in Washington sold America factories to China.  There went the jobs and now here comes the inflation as our dollar is down to less than four-cents of purchasing power compared with a hundred years ago.

Unscrewing Ourselves

How to we fix it?

Make those overseas factories worth a lot less.  Move manufacturing back to America.

But this time, don’t let Corporations get their hands on the means of production.  They’re already proven their lack of ethics and national interest.  Instead, about the most patriotic thing I can think of doing is what?

Buy a 3D printer.  Get 10-pounds of fresh filament.  And the next time you need something with plastic parts, jump into software and ‘roll your own.’

Bottom line is?  Local people can learn to trust one-another.  But trust people who only show up when their gravy train is coming to a stop after a term in office?

No thanks.

America’s been there, done that.

Time to get after the future and go kick some ass in a new way.

We all need to become a new class of master crafters.

Refurb a decades old car and remake it from the chassis up.  Or what?  Send money to Korea, Japan, China, or Asia?

Send me filament, two-by-fours, sheet metal and square tube, or send me death. An assortment of SMT components for the time machine, would be nice, though…

Write when you get rich,

George@Ure.net

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