Very cool! Thats an awesome privilege to have, along with being able to help that guy out!

Are you doing any art with all that scrap?
do you cut on that hot saw where its at or do you move it away from all that stuff and house? : )
… and dont forget your safety glasses and or face shield when your grooving with the angle grinder! Check out what the cut off wheel can do

stay safe : ) have fun! share some projects when you get some done : )
Good questions. They could trigger 20 pages. I've easily got thousands of pictures and emails to friends and family over various projects.
Huh.
Monstrous wall of text to follow. Do not read this if you are easily annoyed by walls of text. Please.
My sister's motto is:
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
I don't like that motto. Mine is:
Keep your lawyer on retainer and keep him entertained.
Enjoy.
I'm laying back on my nice easy chair projecting my phone and dictating to my monstrous max res 7 ft TV. I can read it perfectly at the perfect distance without glasses.
I love pictures of infinity.
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But I'm wearing my standard old man reading glasses. They are safety glasses. They are full wrap goggles. I want to see my phone screen up close so I can tap the occasional punctuation and correct the occasional pronunciation fuck up.
Those are my default glasses. I have multiple pairs of them distributed throughout the house to make sure I never lose one. I can lose many. It doesn't matter. There will always be another within reach.
I take that attitude to the extreme. I smoke. The lighters are everywhere. Hundreds of them. I peel off the child safety lock so they don't hurt my fingers and waste my time. I keep multiple open packs of cigarettes in each room. When I saw the remake of The Fly and I saw that guy had a bunch of identical suits and boots I said that's for me.
Don't waste time making decisions, just get identical distributed backup copies of everything. The cost of decision making (opportunity, delay, missed milestones) is higher than the cost of the replacement items. Keep a production attitude at all times. Allocate for organization and identification and make sure everything stacks nicely in clear lit containers. Go through cycles of absolute chaos until the organization cycle can happen.
Learn a new skill, gather everything you can, explode into chaos, consolidate knowledge and get additional tools or make them since you actually figured out something now, and do it again. Build on skill sets.
This is how real programmers grow up. Too bad that will never happen again. All hail the new AI overlords. By the way, I think I've created the only AI proof job, at least for a while. We'll see how that works out.
I have the best grow room goggles and it pisses me off that they're the only pair. But I have so many pairs of serious safety glasses with perfect UVB tint and the variety of visual acuity levels that I shouldn't mind. But I sat on those and they bend on my ear a little and they annoy me. I'm still delaying buying more of those. I don't want to waste the money. They crossed my over toy money budget. There's always something else to buy. But I don't have money to throw away.
There are always flying sparks and slag. I've got the scars to prove it. I weld in fuzzy slippers. Occasionally. I got 220 volts from many sources around my house. I've got a steel drum with an incredible grate situated on top of it. That is my plasma cutting table.
I'm playing with some really goddamn strong magnets to create a magnetic vise. I don't like opening and closing my vise to reposition stuff. I don't consider the flexible arms strong enough. I don't like twisting that handle, it hurts my hands.
A magnetic vise should solve all that. But when you start putting magnets together and playing with the on/off path, it can snap on your finger and you've just lost that finger. It's flatter than a piece of paper. I want that magnet to hold 50 lb of steel from a 6-in contact point sideways while I am pressing downwards on it.
I have film that I can press against the various pieces to be able to actually determine the magnetic flow. I know the exact points where the force is applied and I can use this filter to adjust many angles to make it stronger and stronger. There comes the point where I can't control it.
Think about the force needed to suck something to that magnet (which is underneath my welding table at that point) and then think about your finger in between.
Okay back to current welding and collecting.
You got to start somewhere. There's big chunks of steel sitting on the side of the road waiting to be cut. Simple as that. Cast off chunks of steel from road or construction projects. The project is over and they left chunks behind. I pick them up.
But then I go to an active construction site. I speak to the manager and the workers. I wear an orange vest. I have a helmet on. I have my boots on. Hi, what happens to the cutoffs? Oh you send them to recycling at the end of the day, is it okay if I pick through it and pick up a few? Yeah, thanks, cool, don't worry I'll be safe, you can see I'm showing up safe.
High impact crush proof gloves at that point. That's the moment things fall on your hands. When you're playing with the unknown.
I've given my mechanic a few thousand dollars over the last 5 years. He's returned the favor. I've gotten a few thousand dollars of stuff, at least to me, out of his scrap bin.
Things at the hardware store that cost me hundreds or thousands of dollars are free from my mechanic. The center of struts or shock absorbers or the various ball bearings that are easy for me to unfreeze or all the threaded rod or the rims and the rotors, God damn it. I love those rotors. I have so many uses for them.
Every time I do a new pickup, I discover something that I noticed on a YouTube video that I said I don't have that. I can't make that thing. I spent years being annoyed with those thoughts in mind. I don't have that skill and I don't have that inventory. I don't have the tools.
Those days are over. I have everything. Now. I need time.
I spent 2 hours pulling through a shipyard bin before management came out and said there's a special contract for that stuff and you're not allowed to do that stuff and you shouldn't be in there. 100 lb beams. Chunks from the mast. Portholes that were multiple levels of locks that could be the side of a submarine. This was fucking amazing stuff and I wasn't done. It's way too dangerous and someone's going to be suing us and what the fuck are you doing in there.
The mechanics said I could. I blindly show up wherever there are mechanics cutting metal. Simple as that. The shipyard has many of them in a concentrated area. Target rich environment. There's a recycle bin somewhere. I have to make sure I'm not stepping on the scrap yard owner's toes. He has contracts.
So the management dude backs off and says visit the office when done please. Great, you mean I get to keep it all?
I was sure I was going to have to put it all back. I had a couple thousand pounds of stuff laid out behind my Yukon ready to actually start loading. I had to organize it all before I started so I could fit it.
I visit the management office and I make friends. I apologize for my insolence. Of course I should have spoken to you first. Those silly mechanics can't possibly know all the back office deals you got going here. You guys are the smart people. Would you like me to build something for you? I can weld and I can do carpentry and I'm really really cheap. Treat me like an intern, a gopher, I'm a responsible old guy who takes my safety gear seriously and as you can see I just quickly loaded up a Yukon full of scrap steel. You probably could use that type of go-getter attitude.
Do I want that job? Fuck no. But I'll make sure that they have a possibility of a friend in me and I can be useful. I won't be back to go through their dumpster again unless they want me to. There are many, many more dumpsters left.
I maintain that attitude for every pickup. Someone will always show up and tell me to go away. But I keep doing it. High stress comes with some risk but high reward. My risk reward system is finally tuned.
There's really big fucking beams in the junkyard that I can't possibly haul away but I want to make a few anvils. So I have to slice them up on the spot with whatever portable gear I got, and when it gets thick I got to dance with the really thick angle grinder because the portable bandsaw won't do it, that's only 4 in, and I can't move 220 volt equipment which is my plasma cutter.
It does 110 but 110 won't cut the really thick stuff. And that 110 battery will power the regular hand gear. But it will not power the plasma cutter. I can't get an extension cord to the middle of the stacks and I'm not hauling a generator out there. I can't drive my truck down there because the nails will go through the tires. I'm not allowed to drive the heavy equipment. Yet.
Speaking of dancing, yes, I dance with that angle grinder. To my own music in my head. When I'm at the scrap yard I always have to be aware of a big crane swinging behind me. I climb the stacks. Literally. Like a fucking monkey on a jungle gym. It's insane.
I'm flexible. I have a disease. Yeah I got lots of diseases, but this particular disease is called EDS. On bad days, and this is a pretty bad day, no dancing, I just look like a poorly bred German Shepherd. Hips popping out simultaneously. This is a bad day.
On good days I am an acrobat.
I started with really bad shoulders so I spent a lot of time working on them and I'm a firm believer in pull-ups and chin-ups.
At one point in my life I went from 220 to 145 because my blood pressure was high so I lost some weight. In 6 months. I set a goal. I can do that. Not a problem. When I hit 180 I could do 180 lb overhead pulls and that meant I could put the chin up bar up and at that moment I could do infinite chin-ups. I've rebuilt my body a few times in my lifetime. This time it just happened on its own cuz I had stuff to do.
I have the most extreme flexibility of anyone that exists. Genetic disease. I can't avoid it. It's got its benefits. Freak show baby. One time I was doing a doctor intake exam and they had me lay on my stomach and said arch your back and how close can you put your feet to your head?
You mean like this?
Gasp gasp gasp. giggle giggle. All the cute nurses gather and point and start making observations. How that type of flexibility could be quite useful. And fun. It was far beyond the extreme of anything they'd ever seen before and they were in the business of the extreme to start off with.
The doctor comes in and says holy shit and starts taking measurements. He plans on writing a paper.
My upper body strength is beyond compare since I spent almost all my youth on crutches. And last year I lost 50 lb and turned it into muscle while lifting 100 lb plant containers. Since my hips suck so bad I've learned to use my knuckles and walk like a gorilla whenever I need an additional push.
My lower body strength is beyond compare because I danced. I was drafted into the Pennsylvania ballet when I was 8 years old. You don't say no when the lead instructor of the Pennsylvania ballet grabs your foot and announces to the world that you have the perfect point and you will start tomorrow.
When in position on the bar she would come up to me and scream into my ear.
Suck in your gut!
Heavy Russian accent. She walked with a limp. She always had her cane. She escaped the Soviets. They were looking for her, they knew where she was but there was some political stuff going on in those days. She was one of those people who the government was pissed that she existed because she wouldn't dance for them anymore. She came over here and became an instructor when her body failed. We're not talking some local dance troupe. This was the fucking Pennsylvania ballet In the '70s.
I've been hanging out there for years waiting for my sister to finish class and those people now got me. This was not a school, this was a dictatorship. She would slam the handle of the cane into my stomach while screaming that.
Suck in your gut! Russian accent, loud, 2 in. away, the cane handle slammed into my stomach.
Oh, don't forget the music. There was always loud music going. It drove a beat of how we were supposed to move. You follow the music. The music controls you. But don't fuck up that position. Do it exact. Sucking your gut while doing it.
She had to scream louder than the music.
When I was eight.
Three times a week plus rehearsals plus prep for the major performances such as The Nutcracker at the Academy of Music. I put up with that for 4 years before I told them to go fuck themselves.
So I can dance. I can dance really well. I can monkey around and I can lift myself by my arms and launch up through the stacks, but I always have to test every step of the way because obviously there's rusting hunks of rebar and cars that I'm about to fall into and impel myself upon. This is the most dangerous dancing I've ever done in my life. But I'm dancing.
I've done some repelling. I was taught by the best instructor in the world. He taught himself. It took him one day from the point of zero knowledge until he had an instructor's certificate. He then taught me. My brother was awesome. I might end up doing some repelling here. I can do face forward single-handed downward self belaying if I need to. Repelling is fun.
But I have no tie down points. Simple as that. And these stacks move everyday. It's amazing what he does with that steam shovel. So stop that thought path.
Then I find the piece that I can't possibly pull out. That means I have to have been carrying an angle grinder with a cut-off wheel with me that whole dance. I have to brace myself and I have to try to cut that off and sometimes I have to give up. I hate giving up.
But there is an infinite amount of steel before me and there is a limited amount of time and that scrap yard owner is enjoying watching me (He told me, it's some of the best entertainment he's had in years, and he loves the stories) but occasionally he's shitting himself as I have my near miss and I don't want to give him a heart attack. So I have to accomplish my goal and get my metal and get the fuck out.
That was just a bit of an angle grinder dancing spiel.
I have many of them. I have the corded ones that are worth bringing the big house battery along with. I love that Bosch. But the Ryobi is really good in the tight spots. The crap harbor freight ones are always there with the crap wheels but they had that ass kicking paddle trigger control. I can lock some of them in but not others. I'm always thinking about what the next little vice like device I will create to hold the angle grinders so I don't have to press the trigger. That shit hurts my fingers after a while. I got to have cut off wheels and I got to have grinding wheels then I got to have flap discs. And I got to have more more.
So I break or cut or do whatever it takes to haul whatever it takes back to the front of the scrap yard.
Then I winch that fucker into my Yukon. On my handmade dolly with many, many ball bearing one-sided casters and a lot of goddamn effort on some thick plywood with the winch attached with several 2x4s through the front doors.
Alone. Because I got to get shit done.
Enjoy the ramble, because I haven't rambled enough:
At that point I have my boots on. When I make the decision to put the boots on shit's getting done. They are comfy. I have feet that hurt with huge cysts that feel like marbles and these boots are comfy. They're better than relaxing.
Something better than steel toe and feather light and they go up to my shin and they're waterproof. These fuckers are magic.
I have various levels of safety gloves. I have cut level 9 for close grinding and lathe work, I've got various levels of fire and heat proof but they have to allow me to handle the stick or the mig gear or the plasma cutter, while simultaneously handling the whelpers.
And yes for you non-welders, that's a real tool name.
I have different types of sleeves depending on the level of toughness and the level of fear I have for what's about to shock me or slice me or attack me.
My gear is almost always generating high levels of UVB and some significant UVC. Skin cancer is a real probability with this type of close high exposure.
I have my Fonzie leather jacket but sometimes I'm going to put my goddamn canvas apron on top of that.
My long hair is always tied back in a tight cap and if I'm working outside I'm probably going to have my highly reflective silver baseball cap that is soaked with water and keeping my head cold. But not enough to drip on what I'm welding. Make sure I'm not sweating and doing that as well. Pay attention to any sweat in the gloves. Pay attention to the ground path!
If I'm working with shit that generates gas or dust, I have OSHA approved different levels of filter, different types of masks. Some masks fit within the welding masks and some masks fit within the steampunk mask, which is truly a high quality full color auto darkening mask, it just looks steam punky. Hey, I got my style. Fuck the rest.
When I am walking into an ozone room I have my full industrial chemical disaster full head crystal clear full face multi-filter, can handle ozone, trust me that's not common, face mask.
And I have a stack of filters to swap out because I don't trust them to be exposed more than a couple of times.
I could have fans, I could have suction gear. I could have my incredible wind tunnel booth that I set up for quick exhaust after doing highly poisonous work.
Keep in mind I'm rambling and I'm new here and I'll try not to overwhelm. The oxycodone is finally kicking in though so I might get a bit stupid.
The DEA did say I had one of the most sophisticated mushroom labs they've ever seen.
During the fucking press conference on my porch. Multiple fucking press conferences on my porch for weeks. I watched them from jail. Those bastards.
They only found 1 oz of mushrooms because that's all I had. I didn't even know I had those. I lost those. I was experimenting. I was testing. Note the handle. It's always time to test.
The bottom line is I just applied some simple engineering that I learned building computer rooms and combined it with what I knew about microbiology and then came up with the perfect sterile environment. Computer room raised floor air flow is so much better than anything that biologists use by default. Follow the example of microprocessor clean rooms. And the correct application of ozone is magic . Follow how surgical suites are sterilized, but then narrow down to things that won't hurt your fungus which allows for open exposed growth while sitting next to open growing contaminants but will kill everything else. They were right. They did not know how right they were. Oh well, I won't be publishing that paper.
This was Kansas' tribute to Albert Einstein. It the song, it describes how he was an underappreciated genius who knew much more about the secrets of the universe than we thought he
genius.com
This isn't me. That song's not about me. It is about my brother. He's dead now. He died about a year or ago. He was that smart. Oh well, he doesn't get to see the plant either.
So right now I'm applying this knowledge to a variety of subjects. Feel free to check out my current rambles on the monster plant currently growing.