tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31296344372280567052024-02-07T08:31:29.118-05:00Blue Collar Woodworking with Stumpy NubsA woodworking video blog for the masses! Tools, jigs, shop improvements- everything the average, everyday woodworker could want. Oh, and it's funny!Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-8914348261759781972013-04-04T08:43:00.004-04:002013-04-04T08:44:34.288-04:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.stumpynubs.com/">New Stumpynubs.com website launched!</a></h2>
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We just finished our all new website and that means you'll have to update your bookmarks and favorites- but once you see the new Stumpynubs.com, it'll all seem worth it.</div>
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<a href="http://www.stumpynubs.com/">What are you waiting for? Go check it out!</a></h2>
Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-84140793850794230612013-03-24T19:06:00.003-04:002013-03-24T19:06:40.754-04:00Episode 32- Drum Sander Dreamin'<br />
If I were a drum sander, what would I want to look like? That's the question Stumpy Nubs and Mustache Mike tackle in the latest episode of Blue Collar Woodworking. Plus, Charles Neil talks dyes and stains; Stumpy continues his review of Stanley's bench planes with the #4; and Mustache Mike steals the camera during his lunch break and makes a big announcement!<br />
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This is the first of a two part drum sander series. In this episode we work out the unique design features. In the next episode we put it all together. Enjoy...<br />
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Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-50415534312461660472013-03-20T09:05:00.002-04:002013-03-20T09:05:49.347-04:00Festool's Finest Woodworker in the WorldThis is a parody of the Dos Equis "Most interesting man in the world" commercials we did for a Festool thing. Hope you get a laugh!<br />
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<br />Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-87015821500573355592013-03-02T22:18:00.001-05:002013-03-03T08:25:49.960-05:00Episode 31- The "Franken-Cyclone" lives!<br />
They said it couldn't be done. They said it was impossible, incomprehensible, in other words, insane... But IT'S ALIVE!!!! The "Franken-Cyclone" is finished and none too soon because it is about to go head to head with the king of commercial units: The Clear Vue CV1800! You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll wonder why it took four episodes to complete, but most of all you'll have the best 19 minutes of your life this week!<br />
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...that and a whole lot more on this HIGH DEFINITION episode of Blue Collar Woodworking!<br />
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This is the final part of our 4 episode dust collection series. In part one we began building our wooden cyclone; in part two we addressed blowers, in part three we built our own wooden duct work and an overhead filtration unit, and in this one it all comes together. Enjoy!<br />
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(Oh, and if you want to save 10% on any Clearvuecyclones.com purchase, even off sale prices, use the code "stumpy10" and tell them I sent you!)<br />
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<br />Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-58313461593298651442013-02-27T10:13:00.004-05:002013-02-27T10:13:47.640-05:00BLOG: Ohh- You meant THAT kind of stool sample!<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Have you ever said something you regret? I’m not talking about the time you cussed out that noisy baby in the movie theater or when you asked the fat lady if she was expecting. I’m talking about something that seemed to make absolute sense at the moment you said it, but upon further examination, you wish you could cram it back into your pie hole before anyone else noticed how stupid it was.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">As a maker of fine films, I have learned the importance of carefully considering what you will say before the cameras role. In this day and age only two things last forever: Little Debbie snack cakes and things you put on the internet. If you make yourself look stupid on video, as I try to do every couple of weeks, your stupidity will spread like wildfire as it is linked to and embedded upon websites across the world wide web.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Here’s a classic illustration. I came across this video on You Tube last night. Here I was, minding my own business, enjoying a cold one, when George at WWGOA made it all come out my nose. Watch the two minute video below and see if you notice…</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">See how one word can change everything? A video about stool design suddenly becomes a parody by inserting the word “sample”. By the time he said he liked to invite people to sit on his big stool samples to see how they felt under their butts, I had figured out his true (and very funny) intention. My wife, who is not one for potty humor, wasn’t fooled either. Intentional or not, I am here to tell you that even the smartest people can look dumb if their words aren’t chosen properly.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Take it from me, a guy who looks dumb for a living!</span></div>
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<br />Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-87756271028794539672013-02-22T19:52:00.002-05:002013-02-22T19:52:48.802-05:00BLOG: Rappin' Roy Underhill VideoI made this one for the Rockler Nordy's video awards. It's a little cheesy, but a lot of fun. Plus it expresses my true love for Roy Underhill!<br />
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The video had to be limited to 2 minutes, so a lot was cut out. Here's the full transcript. It's done to the tune of Weird Al's song "Couch Patato", which is a parody of Eminem's "Lose Yourself".<br />
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What inspires me to work wood? Yo-<o:p></o:p></div>
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My hand plane is ready. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s hot in here, armpits are sweaty.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There’s a grumble from inside my belly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Too much spaghetti.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I’m nervous but on the surface I look calm and
ready.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
To push on, but tear out is all I’m getting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I could try a plow, see if that that would work
somehow<o:p></o:p></div>
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Another minute from now I’m throwin’ in the towel<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I’m dying, wow, I feel like crying now<o:p></o:p></div>
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I bite my tongue or I’ll shout something foul<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Snap back to reality<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Stop the insanity<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Think of your family<o:p></o:p></div>
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No cause for profanity<o:p></o:p></div>
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I don’t give up that easy<o:p></o:p></div>
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If I try it again I’ll see<o:p></o:p></div>
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Shavings curl wonderfully<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ll be working happily<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Woah<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s just like on that show<o:p></o:p></div>
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With that guy we all know<o:p></o:p></div>
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34 Years in a row<o:p></o:p></div>
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With those suspenders he wears<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Wish I had a pair<o:p></o:p></div>
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He has more talent than most in just one mustache
hair.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
You’re gonna lose your fingers in woodwork they
told me, they scold me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But this is what know<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Set up shop and you can’t stop, do not give it a
go<o:p></o:p></div>
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Unless you’re prepared to do it for a lifetime<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
You’ll never be like those guys on the TV, they
told me, cajoled me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Turn off those videos<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But I love it a lot, do not- touch the remote<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Woodworking isn’t just a hobby of mine<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
My back is aching<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Don’t care how long it’s taking<o:p></o:p></div>
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A highboy is what I’m making<o:p></o:p></div>
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Made to order, with bi-fold doors or,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Maybe a lowboy if the boards come out shorter<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next project will be the same story<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ll make one object or I may just make forty<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Half done projects, all over they’re layin’<o:p></o:p></div>
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I try to do work, but just end up playin’<o:p></o:p></div>
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With a new tool- just for a minute<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I had to go all the way to Rockler to get it<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
You’re gonna lose your mind with this woodwork,
they told me, they scold me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
You do too much of it you know<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
All that sawdust and wood lust- your mind will
blow<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
They don’t understand this hobby of mine<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Turn the channel on the TV, they told me, cajoled
me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
No more woodworking videos<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I love PBS, can’t take a rest, I have to know<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
How to finish southern yellow pine<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I never miss Tommy Mac, season 3 is back<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He’s got a knack for spreading shellac<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I built a wood rack like the one in his shop<o:p></o:p></div>
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Can’t wait to pack it up to the top<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Norm Abram can make anything in a half hour<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I guess that’s why all his tools run on power<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Bob Villa thinks that he’s the one that’s got ‘er<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I wouldn’t let that hack grout my shower<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And then there’s Charles Neil with all his DVDs<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I’d own ‘em all if money grew on the trees<o:p></o:p></div>
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I could learn to bump cut with a router bit<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I’d never screw up if I sneak up on it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He’s got a website and an internet show<o:p></o:p></div>
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He’s forgotten more stuff than I’ll ever know<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I watch ‘em all cause I’m a woodworking freak<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I can’t wait to see what they’re making this week<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A 30 minute spot where joinery is the plot<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I’m always learning more stuff that I forgot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I try it all out right here in the shop<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Till my fingers are numb and my eyes are bloodshot<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Cause I’ve only got<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
One favorite spot<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I’m gonna be at my workbench a whole lot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
You waste your time with this woodwork, they told
me, they scold me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
None of them really know<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I love dovetails, stiles and rails, the raised
panel<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Let me work and I’ll be just fine<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
You’ll never be like Roy Underhill they told me,
cajoled me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
But I’ve seen every show<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
His floppy hat and all that he lets me know<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Not a minute of it has been wasted time<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
You can learn anything from woodworking shows.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I’m outta here.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-91096311084658366622013-02-07T13:52:00.005-05:002013-02-07T13:52:57.432-05:00BLOG: Look out evil- I have a measuring tape!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Woodworkers get inspiration from the most unlikely of
sources. Recently I was eating a sandwich when it hit me: I’ve been getting
ripped off! Maybe I should give you a little background on this…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A couple of weeks ago I read a news story about a guy who
was suing Subway restaurants because his “foot long” sub wasn’t a full twelve
inches. Apparently he felt a little
empty inside after consuming his cold cut combo. So he went around town
ordering from every Subway he could find and measuring the sandwiches. His
suspicions were confirmed when he discovered, to his horror, that the average
length was a mere eleven inches. Someone in the dark, smoky back rooms of
Subway’s corporate offices was conspiring to cheat him out of a full inch. So
he did the natural thing in such a situation. He sued. The case is currently
pending, but I know we are all sitting on the edges of our seats, waiting to
see if a jury awards him a lifetime’s supply of the bread end stumps that he so
desperately wants.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Settle down, I’m getting to the woodworking part…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, here I am eating my third eleven inch sub when I start
to wonder if I was also a victim. I’m not worried about my sandwiches since I
always steal a few napkins to make up for the smaller buns. But when it comes
to woodworking, value is paramount. Had I been taking too much for granted? I
wiped my mouth, stuffed a few extra mustard packets into my pocket and slipped
out the door to do some investigating.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My first stop was Home Depot, the place where every fine
woodworking project begins. As I walked through the automatic doors I made my
way straight for the coffee stand. No orange vests in sight, so I put a few
extra creams in my cup. I like my coffee milky. Over at the 2X4 pile I started
pulling lumber off the neat stack and tossing it into a pile on the floor. I
like to get my boards from the middle of the pallet. As I held up a
particularly damp specimen of Douglas fir, sighting down it’s length with one
eye closed, I noted a slight twist. It may have been the lighting, it may even
have been my imagination, but I demand the best so I tossed it aside and
continued rummaging through the stack. Finally, at the very bottom of the pile
I found the perfect board. I pulled a measuring tape off the rack, ripped open
the package and used it to check the width and thickness. I KNEW IT! It wasn’t
even close to being a 2X4. Home Depot was peddling undersized lumber. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By now I was ready to blow the top off this whole thing. I
took my measuring tape all over the store, tearing packages open, filling a
shopping cart with evidence. Drywall screws were a 64<sup>th</sup> of an inch
shorter than the label claimed. The quarts of wood finish were only 90% full.
Every single sheet of plywood was off by at least a 32<sup>nd</sup>. It’s true that a great deal of the stuff I
destroyed in my investigation was fine; some of it was over the size or weight
on the package. But I managed to collect a full cart of fraudulent merchandise
which I pushed up to the front of the store and left by the service desk with a
note that said “I’m on to you, fella!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wasn’t ready for a confrontation. I didn’t want to blow my
cover until I saw just how high up this conspiracy went. So my next stop was
Woodcraft. Same story here, extra cream in the coffee, and I ate six of the
mini donuts before I grabbed a pair of calipers and headed over to the router
bit cabinet. The lock wouldn’t budge no matter how hard I rattled the cabinet.
Well played Mr. Woodcraft, keep the inspectors out and you can get away with
anything, I bet. This nut was going to be harder to crack. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I called the clerk over to the lumber racks and asked him to
cut me six board feet off a piece of Honduran rosewood, in one foot chunks. I
watched closely, sometimes leaning over his shoulder so he could feel my warm
breath on the back of his neck as he made the cuts. Finally he laid the last
piece on the bench and I immediately snatched it up. With one accusatory eye on
him I measured each piece. Then I asked him for a board foot calculator, which
he surrendered without question. Good, I thought, it’ll go easier on you if you
cooperate. To my surprise, each piece came out slightly over sized. They must
be on to me. I threw the calculator toward the magazine racks and used the
distraction to escape back to the free coffee station to refill and regroup. I
knew something was fishy; I just couldn’t put my finger on it. And I’m usually
very good about where I put my fingers. After all, I’m a woodworker.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s when the manager and a very tall security guard brandishing
a Taser asked me to leave. Someone must have told them about my investigation.
This was much bigger than I ever imagined. I knew right then and there that I was
destined for a special purpose. I am to be the advocate of the regular
woodworker, the eyes and ears of the helpless masses. Whenever there is a sale
item out of stock, wherever the free coffee is less than hot, I’ll be there. Like
a mysterious superhero in a Roy Underhill hat I will hide in the shadows behind
tool displays and lumber racks in woodworking stores and home centers
everywhere, waiting to expose those who try to cheat woodworkers out of their
hard-earned money. My identity will be a mystery, my name only heard as a whisper
in the wind as I swoop past faster than the eye can see, responding to every
call. Justice will be my legacy, thrift my daily mission. And I will not stop
until woodworkers the world over can buy a 2X4 with the confidence that they
will be getting their $2 worth!<o:p></o:p></div>
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…After all, it’s not like we demand too much sometimes!<o:p></o:p></div>
Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-57007574088081172242013-02-02T13:25:00.002-05:002013-02-02T13:25:55.524-05:00Episode 30- Dust Collection part 3The good times never end at the Stumpy Nubs Workshop- this time build our own 6" square wooden duct work, we make a ceiling mounted air filtration unit from a furnace blower, we talk all sorts of technical details about dust collection, and we welcome four guests including Charles Neil- who gives us a tip on making face frames really pop; Paul Moore- who entertains us with a crazy Canadian 100HP lathe; Mustache Mike makes his first appearance on the show as Stumpy's new sidekick; and Puddles the shop dog sits and shivers on the bench. All this and more on this episode of Blue Collar Woodworking...<br />
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<i>This is part 3 of our 4 episode dust collection series. In part one we began building our wooden cyclone; in part two we addressed blowers, and in the next episode we'll have the conclusion of the wooden cyclone build where we'll show how we hook up two Harbor Freight motors for dual suction, plus we're trying out a Clear Vue cyclone on our wooden duct work. </i><br />
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<br />Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-1408794708501852472013-01-17T13:59:00.004-05:002013-01-17T13:59:50.657-05:00BLOG: Powermatic Snubs Stumpy Nubs!<br />
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<em>So, a while back I got an email asking me to submit a paragraph or two to Powermatic for their Facebook contest. They were going to give away a mortising machine to the best story about what you would do with one. Now, I already have two power mortisers (a Harbor Freight and a Craftsman), but I’m not one to turn down free tools! So I wrote something up. Bottom line is, I didn’t win. They gave mortisers to three people with heart rending stories that deserved them a lot more than I did. But I thought it was fun anyway, and now that the contest is over I thought I’d share my entry and see if you would have voted for it… or just laughed…</em></div>
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<strong>If I had a Powermatic PM701 mortiser? Hmmmmm…</strong></div>
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The first thing I’d do is put on my best jacket, you know, the corduroy one with the leather elbow patches. That and a pair of those aviator sunglasses is all it’ll take to get me spiffed up like Tommy Mac and ready to hit the town. I’d go to all the best joints, the night clubs and watering holes where woodworkers hang out. I’d walk up in there like a playa’, high fiving and giving those “point n’ wink” moves to random people in the crowd so everyone can see that I’m a guy who knows other guys. I wouldn’t order any drinks, because I want a clear head when I whip my new mortiser out of my backpack and start drilling square holes right into the top of the bar. The bartender doesn’t care because it’s my trademark move and all the ladies are crowding in just to see me work. Everyone’s waving their arms in the air like they just don’t care when I leave because I can’t stay long, there’s a party going on at the lumberyard and I’m the bell of the ball.</div>
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It’s nothing but guys in Roy Underhill suspenders and girls with tool belts who swoon when I step up to the nearest woodpile and fire that baby up. I added dual exhaust pipes and a sticker that says “No Fear”. The pipes don’t connect to anything; they’re just there to make me look like an outlaw on a Harley and dudes move aside when they see me come. Walnut, maple, basswood, it doesn’t matter because not a tenon in the place will go home without a mortise tonight!</div>
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A hush falls over the crowd as in walks Christopher Schwartz, his hair carefully parted to the side and a bandoleer full of chisels across his chest. He challenges me, but I’m not afraid because I have the power of Powermatic. Without a word we both tear into a stack of 2X4s because we’re woodworking titans who live on the edge. Mortises of every shape and size riddle the grain like pimples on a thirteen-year-old’s face as flames shoot from the steel and the chips rise knee-deep on the floor. It’s no holds barred, do or die, money for nothin’ and chicks for free. Chris wipes the sweat from his eyes with a foam paint brush but I show no sign of fatigue. My suped up mortising hot-rod hums to the tune of The Devil Went Down to Georgia and I’m laughing like a maniac as I cut more holes than anyone’s ever dared to imagine possible.</div>
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Then it ends when every woodworker in the joint drops to a knee and presents me with their best chisels like generals surrounding their swords. I am crowned the handsomest, most manly mortising king of all woodworking kind and at that moment, for the first time in my life I feel truly, completely ALIVE!</div>
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…that or I’d make some Morris chairs. Those chairs have a lot of mortises in them.</div>
Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-90745962417591717242013-01-11T21:02:00.004-05:002013-01-11T21:02:29.616-05:00Episode 29: Dust collection P2<br />
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MAN- there’s a lot of great stuff in this episode... First, we talk about true dust collection power with Bill Pentz (part two of our dust collection series), Charles Neil stops by again, I show off my four favorite block planes and start an experiment that might destroy the world.</div>
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Besides that we talk about the Harbor Freight dust collector, ask average woodworker five dumb questions, talk about King Tut’s stool, and that’s not even everything...</div>
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Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-70919827261855455872012-12-22T11:56:00.005-05:002012-12-22T11:58:48.606-05:00BLOG: The reason for the season... JUNK MAIL!There's nobody on this earth I like enough to buy a $2000 tool for as a gift, I don't care what the ads in my mailbox say. This week's video blog is all about the reason for the season... JUNK MAIL. And there's some great old woodworking photos to look at while you listen to my sweet, soothing voice...<br />
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If you're a smarty pants and prefer to read, here's the text version:<br />
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I love this time of year. The snowy streets, the sparkling
lights on the rooflines of every building, the gaudy inflatable snowman
villages on my neighbor’s front lawn. If you asked me what I liked most about
the month of December I would answer, without hesitation, that it’s easier to
clean up after the shop dog now that his poo is frozen. But a close second is
the junk mail. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, we live in an electronic world. No longer are our
mailboxes the only receptacle for flyers and catalogues and coupons and crap.
We get loads of virtual mail to sift through as well, and these are often the
most fun. On a good day I can get half a billion emails advertising everything
from pills to make me skinnier to food to make me fatter. If I ever need
testosterone boost to help sprout more chest hair, or a twelve bladed razor to
shave that mess off, there’s an email for that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But the best ads by far come from the woodworking suppliers.
Woodcraft, Lee Valley, Whiteside, Highland Woodworking, everybody has a “Black
Friday” or “Cyber Monday” or “Overspend Tuesday” or “We Just Made This One Up
For The Heck Of It Wednesday”. I suppose they weren’t satisfied with the buying
everyone does for Christmas so they had to make up a bunch of new shopping
holidays too. Soon Roy Underhill’s birthday will be a national holiday and
everyone will have buy suspenders and mustache trimmers as gifts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Of course, it’s not all bad. There are some good deals to be
found if you have a few hours to sift through the garbage. Just yesterday I
found a free half sandwich my neighbor didn’t finish. But more on topic, I feel
like some people are getting a little too carried away with the gift giving.
Case in point: Today I got an email from a tool company telling me about their
one day deal for the woodworker in my life. Touted to be the perfect gift, it
cost a mere $2500… on sale. Now, I’m no cheapskate. I spend freely on foam
brushes and dollar store sandpaper. But to me, $2500 is a big investment. A
huge investment, especially for a tool. So if I’m going to shred that kind of
lettuce I don’t think I’d be giving it away. There is nobody on this earth that
I like enough to buy them a $2500 tool. I didn’t spend near that much on a
health plan for the workshop, and have you seen the prices of tourniquets and
sewing needles? Do people really spend that much money on someone else?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve given a few gifts in my day. A month ago I gave Randy
the shop boy an Arby’s coupon that expired two month ago. Chip got a free smack
in the head just yesterday. I even bought Joy a foot bath so she can soak those
big kankles of hers while she does the paperwork. I gave all these great gifts
freely, not because of some new holiday that Hallmark made up just to sell more
cards. (Secretaries day… seriously?) Nor was a single gift inspired by an
email, except for chip’s smack in the head, which resulted from an email he
sent me asking for time off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The point is this… As much as I enjoy sitting on the toilet
and reading the woodworking ads, I am seldom going to spend enough money on
things in those ads to justify the enormous expense of producing all those ads.
I’ll buy the $2 glue brush and the 70% off honing film if I need some of it.
But the big stuff you’re trying to get me to spend on just so I can give it to
someone that won’t really appreciate it as much as I appreciated all that money
I laid it down to buy it… not going to happen. Because if there’s one thing
I’ve learned, it’s that there’s more happiness in giving than in receiving. So
if receiving my gifts isn’t what makes people happy, why should I waste the
money?<o:p></o:p></div>
Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-58036115476507028402012-12-21T13:53:00.001-05:002012-12-21T13:53:17.949-05:00A message from Stumpy Nubs for survivors of today's Mayan Apocalypse...When the Twinkies ran out we should have known the end was near. This video was recorded from the Blue Collar Woodworking bunker just before the world ended. If you're watching it, you must be one of the few survivors. Good for you. I hope you enjoy it...<br />
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<br />Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-25140485254853443952012-12-20T17:09:00.002-05:002012-12-20T17:09:26.964-05:00Episode 28- Homemade Dust Collection P1This week Charles Neil visits the Stumpy Nubs Workshop to help make me smarter; with the help of Bill Pentz we begin our three episode dust collection series with a big ol' wooden cyclone; and I talk hand plane physics with the Japanese. Plus a review of the Wixey digital angle gauge, tips on doing segmented glue-ups, and why my abs don't look like Tommy Mac's... that and a whole lot of fun on this episode of Blue Collar Woodworking...<br />
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<br />Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-74838946191988082452012-12-01T20:00:00.003-05:002012-12-01T20:01:32.670-05:00BLOG: I had a dust collection breakthrough while eating tapioca from a hospital trashcan!<br />
The other day I yawned and a thick cloud came out of my gaping mouth, floated around my face for a moment and then disappeared, sucked into my nostrils as I inhaled my next breath. For a moment I assumed it was a cloud of pipe smoke, like my grand mother used to puff out in rings above her head to impress us kids on special occasions and weekdays. But since I don't smoke, I knew this was something more serious.<br />
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*(Tired of reading? Listen to Stumpy read this for you below. Or read on like a stuck up, smart-alec. It's your funeral...)*<br />
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Now, as you can tell by looking at me, I'm the type of guy that likes to take care of himself. Sure, I eat a lot of cheese and drink my share of malted beverages, and my wife's share too. And my idea of exercise is to sit in a lawn chair in front of the shop swinging a flyswatter and yelling at the neighborhood kids. But just because I neglect my waistline and my arteries doesn't mean I'm not concerned with my lungs. If I can't breath, I can't talk. And if I can't talk I can't order at drive through. So this is a health crisis.<br />
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The first thing I did was visit my doctor. And by doctor I mean Randy the shop boy. I make him smell my breath several times a day, so if anyone knows my breathing habits, it's him. Now, I could go into detail about what Randy said and how much garlic I had eaten that morning but I'll cut to the chase. Randy is an idiot and I've got dust in my lungs. Yes, you heard me right. My chest cavity has more filth in it than most internet videos, woodworking ones excluded. I should have guessed the problem months ago when I was kicked out of the wine club for saying everything was oaky. I wrote that off as a case of a bunch of fru-frus who can't stand to see a chubby guy shotgun a bottle of Cabernet with his shirt off. (Another joke, I drink only in moderation and only out a brown paper sack.)<br />
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Anyway, my mailman told me that what I needed was a good lung dusting so I went to see a real doctor and was immediately admitted. Now, the best part about intensive care is the food. They get a whole different menu from the rest of the hospital. And I quickly learned to take advantage by sneaking into that wing and looking for the comatose patients with unguarded trays. That's when reality really hit me, a real bottom of the barrel moment. Here I was sitting next to a recently deceased old woman eating tapioca from her trash can and I had to ask myself, was this all worth it? Wouldn't it be better to just get a new dust collection system and avoid this whole rigmarole altogether?<br />
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I mean, we all spend vastly more time sweeping the sawdust from the floors and blowing dust from every surface than we spend with our children, and only half the reason is because we woodworkers hate kids. Am I right.. huh? I'm winking, nodding and elbowing you like an idiot trying to make a point right now, and the point is this: My dust problem has overgrown my shop's ability to suck. Not that my shop doesn't suck in a lot of other ways. I don’t have cable for one thing, or an omelet bar. But neither of those is as important as getting that dust away from my giant nose and into some sort of filter like God intended. Chip collection isn't doing the job any more, my raw windpipe and splintered nostrils can attest to that. I tried to battle the dust clouds by opening the shop doors and windows and installing fog lights on the table saw. I'm tired of chewing after every breath. I'm tired of burrowing through the shop like a hamster. But most of all, I'm tired of being tired… which I've been told is caused by the low oxygen levels in the shop, and if there's one thing my Union employees demand, it's oxygen. And a break every ten minutes.<br />
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So, right then and there, on the cold tile floor of the late Mabel Butterfield's hospital room, I decided to change my life. No longer would I be a slave to the sawdust and wood chips that a good deal of my projects became. From that moment on the only thing I was going to sniff was glue fumes because nobody was ever harmed by those. I fell to my knees, took a final swig of ensure and swore to myself and Blue Collar Woodworking fans everywhere that I would design a dust collection system of such beauty, such efficiency, such unparalleled genius that Einstein himself would sit up in his grave, take a snort of my workshop air, wipe a tear from his eye and say… "Stumpy, you complete me."<br />
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In the next three episodes of Blue Collar Woodworking history will be made. Will you be there to witness it?Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-11469449742983464512012-11-28T12:35:00.004-05:002012-11-28T12:35:49.219-05:00Episode 27- Router Table Madness"I nearly lost my lips kissing my beautiful router" This is a router table/lift/fence combo that will terrify the the guys at Festool and Incra. As Stumpy completes the three episode router table series he unveils the completed setup- two router tables complete with micro-adjustable lifts, built in bit storage, dual dust collection, a fantastic sliding table and a fence that uses Incra's innovative positioner technology without violating any patents.<br />
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In the meantime you'll see how to get a high quality router plate for about $10 and Stumpy will talk about how his magnetic personality makes tools stick. Oh, and the "deep thoughts" style humor segment returns under a new name.<br />
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All this and more on the latest episode of Blue Collar Woodworking...<br />
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<br />Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-22727387327713265562012-11-25T10:48:00.002-05:002012-11-27T20:03:34.265-05:00BLOG: I survived Black Friday at Woodcraft!<br />
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Listen to the audio version above, or read the text version below...<br />
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The biggest holiday of the year has just past. Bigger than
Christmas, bigger than Rosh Hashanah, even bigger than Washington’s Birthday. It’s
called Black Friday and for good reason. It’s the day the shopping gods are appeased
by the sacrifice of virgin greenbacks. When America’s trailer parks empty and
the Walmarts fill with herds of greedy consumers looking for a deal on
something, anything that will satisfy their lust for stuff. I’ve seen a dozen
overweight women brawl like ultimate fighters over a bin of bath towels as if
they were desperately hungry and this was the last stock of government cheese.
(OH SETTLE DOWN! Before you call the P.C. Police you should know that I spent a
good chunk of my childhood living in a trailer park off government cheese,
which makes me qualified to make a joke or two about it!) <o:p></o:p></div>
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How does a woodworker fit into this grand celebration of
consumerism? As the saying goes, if you can’t beat ‘em… well, bring a bigger
club. That’s exactly what I did this past Friday. Determined to find a deal
worthy of a reasonably adequate woodworker with a tendency to pinch a penny or
two, I got out of bed at the crack of 9am and pointed the pickup toward
Woodcraft. I was prepared, sales paper neatly folded in my pocket, wallet
stuffed with plastic, pepper spray secured in a holster at my hip. You could say
I was a late shopper, but you’d be wrong, so why would you say that? No, I was
arriving just in time because Woodcraft doesn’t open early like the other
stores. They know that woodworkers won’t camp out on the sidewalks days in
advance, sacrificing sleep and dignity to save a few bucks. But I wasn’t taking
anything for granted; I was prepared to defend myself should any nut-job, drunk
with the holiday spirit, want a piece of this. As I pulled into my parking spot
I pointed an eye in each direction like a gecko, scanning the lot for dangerous
hooligans. <o:p></o:p></div>
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At this point I should tell you that I was once infected
with the Black Friday disease. Yes, even I, in all my worldly wisdom and
maturity, could once be found standing in predawn lines, thawing my blackened
toes over tiny fires kindled among discarded McDonalds wrappers on electronics
store sidewalks. I’ve elbowed my way into more than one store, emerging through
narrow entryway doors with my shirt torn from my body and my pants in tatters
around my ankles, scarcely alive but deeply focused on the mission ahead. The
intoxicating smell of discount televisions and giant summer sausage rolls for a
buck has enticed me to do things I am not proud of. I excused myself with the
fact that I’d never shoved an octogenarian with a walker or used a child as a
human shield. But I’ve lost a great deal of self-respect simply by being among
the crowd as passersby mockingly honk their horns and shout expletives on their
way home to warm beds as we fend off hypothermia with body to body heat. I have
spent long hours waiting to save fifty bucks without considering that a minimum
wage job would net me more for those hours, and spared me the painful
amputation of frostbitten digits. So I speak from experience, from wisdom
earned the hard way. You might even call it street smarts. I know the sort of
people that a reasonable shopper must look out for, because I once was that
sort of person. I’d kill you for a cup of lukewarm coffee as soon as look at
you. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So as I emerged from my pickup at Woodcraft my senses were
keenly alert. I scanned the sidewalks in all directions like a man in a horror
movie being stalked by brain hungry zombies. I gripped a chunk of hardwood in
my right hand, spikes fashioned from drywall screws driven through the end. I
sniffed the wind, listened intently for any sign of danger. But there was none.
The few customers I saw seemed to be human and they were filing into the store
with order and something I had never seen before: I think my grandfather used
to call it…. manners. One man held the door for another who smiled, yes,
SMILED! This was no day for smiling! This was Black Friday! It had to be a trick;
I resolved keep my guard up. But even so I surrendered my club and stalked
toward the entrance with my hand over my pepper spray like a desperado ready
for the quick- draw. As I entered the store the scent of coffee struck me in
the face like a slab of hard maple. I wasn’t expecting this, it felt wrong. The
lady at the front counter greeted me by name and I shouted “LEAVE ME ALONG! I’M
JUST BROWSING!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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This is where the whole incident took a dramatic turn. You
see, I had come expecting to me molested by angry crowds whipped into frenzy by
the tantalizing sales papers and the heartless employees mocking us through the
glass as they delayed opening the store for a few seconds just to see if one of
us would go off the deep end. But I found no long lines at Woodcraft, no
toothless cussing or savage beatings among unruly shoppers. People were
browsing, chatting, even laughing and enjoying themselves! The “door-buster” items
that many had come for were easy to locate, without the crushing disappointment
of losing out on the last one to some teenager with an infected nose ring that
is clearly just going to put it on ebay and make a tidy profit. I drank three
cups of coffee without a rebuke from anyone; the salespeople were accommodating,
even friendly.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, you may think an internet woodworking celebrity such as
me would have a hard time in a Woodcraft store. But I swear it was as if I was
just another customer. Nobody asked for an autograph, not a single child peed
his pants with excitement, nor did any of the store’s female clientele toss
their undergarments at me when I walked down the aisle. I hovered around the
front of the store for a good long time just to confirm my suspicion, and was
satisfied that everyone was just too polite to bother me. Clearly they were
trying their best to pretend that they didn’t know that I was among them, and I
was very grateful for their convincing act. I collected my items, drank another
cup of free coffee and checked out with speed and efficiency. It was like an
episode of the Twilight Zone, without the poor acting and even poorer special
effects. In a city full of chaos, where sirens could be heard in the distance
as emergency personal rushed to the latest scene of consumer carnage, I had
found an oasis of peace and tranquility, a place where a person could spend a
little more than he could afford without feeling like a steer in a stampede
toward the killing floor with the smell of blood in the air. I wasn’t shoved;
nobody tried to feel me up. I only had to throw one punch and that was over a
cookie, so it’s at least partially excusable.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The bottom line is this… I survived Black Friday at
Woodcraft because woodworkers know how to deal with shopping without losing
their minds. We don’t shoot anyone; we don’t get into our cars and try to run
down the guy who got the last VCR. We are a breed of honest, reasonable people,
with a ratio of nut-jobs that is infinitesimal when compared to your average
population. I take at least partial credit for that, as the host of Blue Collar
Woodworking. I mean, after all, what clams the holiday nerves better than good
old fashioned woodworking entertainment from a chubby guy with questionable
skills?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Next year, I might even leave my flak jacket at home. But
the pepper spray stays on my hip. You never know when you’ll need it.<o:p></o:p></div>
Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-21735968463126005242012-11-17T07:10:00.001-05:002012-11-17T07:10:21.579-05:00BLOG: Old School vs I-Phones- My "Traditional Woodworking" Manifesto...
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Technology is unavoidable in today’s workshop. Be it a smart
phone in your pocket that rings just when you’re stretching to apply that last
clamp in the most awkward of positions, or an e-reader filled with the last two
decades of woodworking magazines and sawdust, only the most stubborn among us
has successfully banned all technology from their workspace. Even Roy
Underhill, who will not allow something as modern as a steel measuring tape in
his shop, tolerates the digital filming equipment that beams his show into our
television screens. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A woodworking shop is by definition a place where a bit of
the past is kept alive and the future is held at bay. In a world where more and
more furniture is made from manufactured wood products that a tree would never
recognize as its kin, by machines that suck a board in one end and spit a chair
out the other, the small garage shop is a throwback to vanishing way of life.
When we make something by hand, one piece at a time, with a material that is
widely considered an old fashioned luxury, we are reversing some of the
progress of our modern and enlightened society. So, why would a woodworker
allow his shop to be invaded by the very essence of this society, the computers
and cellphones and the tablets that are the tools of the society that seeks to
destroy what the small shop stands for? Why would a man who retreats to the garage
to unwind, after a forty hour work week in an office, flip on a satellite fed,
high definition LCD television screen over the bench? Why would a person who
cuts his dovetails by hand design that project on a sixty-four bit, four
gigahertz hyper threading computer with three dimensional modeling software?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today’s woodworker is a sawing, sanding contradiction. We
take pride in our traditional craft, but if you offer us a faster way to
dovetail a drawer we’ll give you four hundred bucks for the jig. We rail
against cheap, mass produced furniture, but if we could justify the expense of
a CNC machine you can bet we’d make every project with a digitally controlled
router bit and just assemble the parts like a puzzle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of course, not every woodworker embraces all of the latest
technology. Some still insist on the quiet, dust free bliss of traditional hand
tools. Not the wood-bodied planes used for centuries, mind you. No, the best
“traditional” hand tools are precisely machined to tolerances measured beyond
the thousandth. They upgrade to the new tool steels created in labs and
cryogenically hardened. They sharpen that steel with state of the art honing
films and diamond pastes that are far finer than the messy old oil stones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t get me wrong, I’m one of you. I love the idea of
traditional woodworking. I imagine myself sitting on a shaving horse with a
drawknife and hickory shavings up to my waist. But I also love the idea of a
micro-adjustable, multi-functional, lead-screw driven box joint jig. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I suppose it all comes down to the meaning of two words:
“technology” and “traditional”. I imagine that the first caveman woodworker
simply banged a stick with another stick. To him, any edged tool was
“technology” and those who used them were betraying the “traditional” craft.
I’ll bet the great masters of the eighteenth century had an entirely different
idea of traditional woodworking than we have today. To a guy with an iron
combination plane, a set of wooden skew rabbet planes must have seemed old
fashioned indeed. When Stickley began mass producing his craftsman furniture in
a big shop full of steam powered workstations Roubo surely rolled over in his
Paris grave. But who today would look at a piece of Stickley furniture and call
it a betrayal of the craft?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The point I am making is a simple one. If you want to be a
true purist you’ll have to reject far more than workshop computers or power
tools or even iron hand planes. You’ll have to go back to rocks and sticks.
Otherwise you will just be the newfangled woodworker with all the fancy tools
to the first cave man you meet. Today’s latest technologies are sure to become
tomorrow’s traditional tools just as yesterday’s innovations are today’s
antiques. My solution is to embrace the true tradition of the craft, and it has
nothing to do with the tools or the way you use them. It has little to do with
your selection of materials or choice of joinery. It’s what drove the first
woodworker to pick up the first stick and say “ugh… me turn this into chair for
Thag…” It’s the desire to create something from scratch, to take raw materials
and turn them into something you can point to and say “I made that”. It’s art
even if you’re not artistic, you’re creating even if you’re not creative. THAT
is the true woodworking tradition, and it won’t matter if woodworkers of the
future cut flawless joints with lithium crystals controlled by a series of eye
blinks from an easy chair. Because some day, even that will be considered old
school woodworking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-61409766186809969832012-11-14T14:47:00.002-05:002012-11-14T14:47:23.201-05:00Episode 26- Tables & FeathersPart two of the three episode router table series: Stumpy makes a router table that will rival the Festool CMS (at least he thinks so)... We make some featherboards and show a unique safety jig from an old woodworking magazine. Then Stumpy tells you how he keeps Randy sharp, what Joy does when you call her fat and starts a revolution. It's a lot to fit into one short eposide, so you'd better get started...<br />
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Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-49099204770315485422012-11-01T17:36:00.003-04:002012-11-01T17:36:35.501-04:00Episode 25- Router Lift and Wood ChiselsThe “great particle board build off” that’s captivated the woodworking world is progressing nicely, but Stumpy takes some time off to make a router lift that just might save the universe. Then he chisels away at the confusion surrounding what types of chisles people should own, does a tool review, and gets Randy to touch dog poo. That and a lot more on the new, exciting, action packed and informative episode of Blue Collar Woodworking.<br />
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Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-61253700888511126912012-09-24T15:00:00.002-04:002012-09-24T15:00:22.534-04:00Episode 24- Pin down those particles!The Bunyan brothers challenge Stumpy to a particle board contest and that can only mean one thing... A NEW JIG. You've never seen a shelf pin jig like this. And Stumpy gives his hard learned, top five tips for ending your hand plane frustrations. Plus a bunch of other stuff, so... enjoy.<br />
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<br />Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-14312425936074082712012-09-16T22:01:00.004-04:002012-09-16T22:01:50.642-04:00Episode 23: Homemade Jig Saw<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16.633333206176758px;">When I saw the commercial version of our new “invention” I thought… why would anyone ever spend $200 on that? Then everyone started arguing about the term “jig saw” and the old man next door went out looking for the Kaiser and I bought a ton of old 8-track tapes… next thing you know it’s a great new episode Blue Collar Woodworking. And a new homemade shop machine is unveiled.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16.633333206176758px;"><br /></span>Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-34074871196795685252012-09-01T20:05:00.004-04:002012-09-01T20:05:38.750-04:00Episode 22: Carving Copier & Radial Arm Saws<br />
This week we reveal the latest "invention"- A copy machine that duplicates woodworking projects. Then we talk about using a radial arm saw without losing any fingers, bees wax and hand planes, before ending with a tribute to a lost loved one.<br />
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This episode is one for the Woodworking Hall of Fame... enjoy...<br />
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Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-81220262254011866482012-08-27T08:45:00.003-04:002012-08-27T08:45:26.805-04:00Blog: Grandpa's Green MonsterGrandpa had a secret that he kept covered with an old blanket in the back corner of the basement where we were forbidden to go. It was a big evil monster that would leap upon and devour any unsuspecting soul that wandered too close. But I was fascinated with it, and I often risked death to peek beneath the cover. I admired its scaly green body, its long arm and gleaming teeth. I knew it was old, because most everything grandpa had was old. But it still looked like the day it was born because grandpa took good care of it. Once in a great while he’d chase us from the basement so he could let it out, allow it to run for a bit and keep its joints loose.<br />
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Grandpa bought his “pet” many years before I was born, from a friend who got it new and had little use for it. It was magnificent, and grandpa paid a pretty penny, as he liked to say. Grandma wasn’t as excited to have it move in with them, but she always let grandpa have his way. So it was given a place in the basement when my father was just a boy, and there it sat for thirty years. In 1990 they sold the house and grandpa moved the monster to the new place, where it sat in a new corner still covered, still waiting for the day when grandpa would have time to play with it.<br />
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Grandpa died last week. He’d been fighting a very aggressive cancer for almost two years. He was a hard worker his entire life, running three separate businesses including a hardware store, a well drilling business and a water treatment business. His “pet”, his pride and joy, was a circa 1950 radial arm saw, which to him was the pinnacle of woodworking machinery. He bought it with big plans, but he had a family to raise and little time for woodworking. So he stored it away, only occasionally getting it out to dream of the time when he’d retire and make furniture with his saw.<br />
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But grandpa never did retire. He worked right up until the cancer made him too weak to do anything at all. The radial arm saw sat, covered up in the corner, waiting over half a century for a time that never came. Now that green monster, in all its magnificent glory, is in my workshop. I already had a radial arm saw, but I just had to make room for this one. Grandpa might be gone, but every time I use his radial arm saw I’ll remember him, and in some small way I’ll fulfill his dream of making furniture with his beautiful green monster.Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-44556493284529818352012-08-07T19:36:00.001-04:002012-08-27T08:46:25.971-04:00Blog: Teach a kid something useful for goodness sake!I’ve been married for almost 16 years, an unbelievable accomplishment for a guy who picks his nose in public. I remember when I first announced I was getting married. Some said “To a girl?” others said “How old are you?”<br />
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I was 18 years old, old enough to tie the not, but too young to lead a toast at the reception. She was 19 and I was a lucky man. And I am still a lucky man, because I got in on the ground floor of marriage. We learned as we went along and now we’re professionals.<br />
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It’s much like the French classes I took as a first grader. They taught us young, when our minds were open and before “french fries”, “french toast” and “french kissing” spoiled our ability to understand what France was really about.<br />
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So today I am a French speaking, happily married man in my mid-30’s, trying my hardest to be a good woodworker. Therein lays the problem. Why the heck didn’t they teach us woodworking at a young age instead of a language we would only use if we were shanghaied into the French Foreign Legion? What good is a handful of French words to me now, in Michigan, a million miles from the nearest madamwaselle? (Yes, I know that’s not the proper spelling Mind your own bees wax.)<br />
If my parents would have put a chisel in my hand instead of a book, I am convinced that I would be the third Greene brother today. (If you don’t know what Greene & Greene furniture is you need to move out of the cave and read up on the finest woodworkers of the last century.)<br />
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The point is, kids should be taught something useful. Something like woodworking.<br />
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I don’t have kids. But I would be more than happy to teach yours. I promise to treat them well. I only spank occasionally with a good leather belt or perhaps an extension cord… but I always unplug it first. I don’t swear, but I am willing to teach them a few. I won’t teach them to smoke or chew, but I can spit like a champ and they’re sure to pick that up. Most importantly, I plan on teaching them to pound a few nails, saw a few boards and which glues are safe to eat. Two or three years with me and you’ll have a son (or daughter if you’re one of those “modern families” that allow that sort of thing) freshly programmed to love something besides video games and texting. The down side is they might become addicted to my “unique” sense of humor. But it’s better than those special brownies they’ll be jonesing for once they get into collage.<br />
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Of course, you could teach them yourself. I suppose that would be a far less traumatic option. Fewer calls from Social Services, and all. But for the love of everything holy, TEACH THEM! Cram something useful into their young skulls full of mush before they get filled up with the nonsense they learn in school like science and… math.<br />
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If you do decide to go it alone, try sitting them in front of the television with a bowl of cheerios and a few episodes of <a href="http://www.stumpynubs.com/">Blue Collar Woodworking</a>. I hear it’s the best woodworking show since the invention of wood. Then you can sit back and have a cold one… because you’ve earned it, my friend!Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129634437228056705.post-5148890797587321622012-07-30T09:59:00.003-04:002012-07-30T10:00:40.950-04:00Episode 21: Drill, Baby- DRILL!!!!!!!!Some homemade jigs just have to be called what they are… stinking amazing. This week we come back from our summer break with a vengance. And the drill press is in our sights once again.<br />
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We’ve completed the “Drill Im-press Table” by adding some unique bit storage, and some attachments that allow you to turn spindles, knobs, even pens without a lathe. Add that to the innovative X-Y sliding table and milling features, downdraft dust collection, and the microadjustable positioning capability, and you’re looking at a woodworker’s dream come true.<br />
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The best part is, you can build it with just a little hardware and some plywood scraps. And once you try it… well, you’ll see…<br />
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After that we talk about getting the biggest bang for your buck in the drill press market, deal with a feud between a 90 year old man and a chicken, and Stumpy puts something up his nose for science.<br />
All that and more, this week on Blue Collar Woodworking.<br />
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Enjoy...Stumpy Nubshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114205286607198917noreply@blogger.com