Glory Box
"You cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself one." -- James A. Froude
What is it about the humble toolbox that brings out the inner man? I was pondering this last night as I removed the philips head from my socket screwdriver with my teeth.
Most of what is considered to be the modern man is a façade, a smokescreen, a line of two-dimensional shop fronts on the film set of a cheap western. We do not want books about relationships and digital access to BBC4… What we really want is to have a damned big box full of things with which we can twist, hammer and wrench other things. Only then can we feel at once with our antecedents, an atavistic bond with the entire male line more powerful than any social conditioning.
Hauling a toolbox around is the closest we get to being a modern knight, only with a flat-head screwdriver instead of a 37 inch broadsword. Even now I cannot pass a toolshop without wanting to scamper inside and fondle a rack of expensive and shiny spanners.
An exaggeration, perhaps, but the satisfaction you can get from fixing something -- working with your hands and a box full of tools -- beats anything you can do with a computer. I am sure there are a hundred articles out there on the Internet about how this is all genetic, that it stems from the behaviour of club-waving cavemen, but I bet none of those lumbering idiots never had to grope around for a spare fuse in the dark.
What? Never mind. But in these civilised times the average man has to put in a genuine effort to overcome his genetic programming just to be seen as acceptable in society…how long before we all have to moisturise simply to avoid being laughed at in the office? Ah, but enough slippery-slope reasoning… The bottom line is that nobody really wants to revert to a kind of caveman thug mentality, but it is nice to have something we don't have to think about too much…a big box of tools makes an excellent substitute for the human male brain. And cheaper to replace too in the event of an electrical explosion…
What is it about the humble toolbox that brings out the inner man? I was pondering this last night as I removed the philips head from my socket screwdriver with my teeth.
Most of what is considered to be the modern man is a façade, a smokescreen, a line of two-dimensional shop fronts on the film set of a cheap western. We do not want books about relationships and digital access to BBC4… What we really want is to have a damned big box full of things with which we can twist, hammer and wrench other things. Only then can we feel at once with our antecedents, an atavistic bond with the entire male line more powerful than any social conditioning.
Hauling a toolbox around is the closest we get to being a modern knight, only with a flat-head screwdriver instead of a 37 inch broadsword. Even now I cannot pass a toolshop without wanting to scamper inside and fondle a rack of expensive and shiny spanners.
An exaggeration, perhaps, but the satisfaction you can get from fixing something -- working with your hands and a box full of tools -- beats anything you can do with a computer. I am sure there are a hundred articles out there on the Internet about how this is all genetic, that it stems from the behaviour of club-waving cavemen, but I bet none of those lumbering idiots never had to grope around for a spare fuse in the dark.
What? Never mind. But in these civilised times the average man has to put in a genuine effort to overcome his genetic programming just to be seen as acceptable in society…how long before we all have to moisturise simply to avoid being laughed at in the office? Ah, but enough slippery-slope reasoning… The bottom line is that nobody really wants to revert to a kind of caveman thug mentality, but it is nice to have something we don't have to think about too much…a big box of tools makes an excellent substitute for the human male brain. And cheaper to replace too in the event of an electrical explosion…
posted by Jamie at 11:03 AM
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