Daily Chuckle

[i7win7]

Then the fight started

 

[Bmyers]

 

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View attachment 71549

Along the same lines, it's amazing how many spoons are accidentally made convex instead of concave...

 

[Bmyers]

 

[i7win7]

 

[i7win7]

 

[Bmyers]

 

[i7win7]

 

[Old_Paint]

BELT SANDER:An electric sanding tool commonly used to convert minor touch-up jobs into major refinishing jobs.

These can also be repurposed for the removal of index fingers when getting ready to wrap up the cord (that you forgot to unplug FIRST). However, my attempt was an incomplete and shoddy job of completing that process. I set a top end model Rockwell in my left hand unawares that the belt was turning (at school in woodshop, radial arm saw running right next to me). Hit my thumb, rolled my hand. I felt the heat of it grinding on the first knuckle. Snatched my hand out, set the sander down and watched it take off across the table. Looked at my left hand, and said UH OH. I immeditately clasped the wound with my right hand as tightly as I could. I walked to the principal's office, and was met at the door by a secretary I knew to be squeamish, and tried to make sure she saw the blood dripping from my right elbow as I approached, hoping she'd just turn her head and step out of the way so I could talk to someone I knew would not faint. Told her I needed to go to the hospital, and she insisted on seeing my hand, despite the blood oozing between the fingers of my right hand which was white knuckled on my left. I was leaking pretty bad, sort of like my Kubota did when I took off the hydraulic filter on the first maintenance. Nothing else would get me past the door, so "OK" and I removed my right hand. This secretary was EVERY young male's favorite secretary with a rather large bosom, and ALWAYS a low-cut blouse showing lots of cleavage and her curves had curves. When the fourth spurt of blood missed, it was because she was horizontal, on the floor, and passed out, completely. The first three had hit her right between her boobs. Then, I had a problem. I couldn't stop it again. The principal's daughter-in-law, who was also one of the admins (it was a small school), walked in on the chaos, saw the Sexetary passed out and bloody on the floor, and realized I was the one that was actually bleeding pretty quickly, and loaded me up with a lap full of towels in her car. We were only about 10 minutes from hospital, but I nearly bled out before we got there. ER doc stopped the bleeding but the blood was still dripping off my pants and out of my shoe when my mom got there about an hour later, and I was barely hanging onto consciousness. There was a huge puddle of blood under my feet, and I had a half dozen folks keeping me awake because I was definitely in shock. In walks the family doc about the same time my mother got there. He told her very quickly this was well outside his scope as a GP, and called another doctor, one Dr. Mudd. Mudd shows up, has a few looks at my hand, and proceeds to tell about the skin grafting and rehab I'm gonna need to regain use of my left index finger. My mother was a tiny woman, but what she lacked in stature, she more than made up for with attitude. She had a rather intense German temper. She asked how bad I was going to scar and if I'd regain full use of the finger. Dr. Mudd was about 6'3", and at least 300 lbs, a big fella. He says something to the effect of "Lady, I'm not here to satisfy your whims." Seeing a woman the size of my mother back a man that size into a corner shaking her finger in his face was perhaps one of the most memorable experiences I've ever had. That was probably one of the worst injuries of the many I had during my adolescence, but yet, one of the funniest experiences I ever had. The Sexetary at school never again questioned me if I told her I needed a doctor.

 

[i7win7]

 

[bmblank]

These can also be repurposed for the removal of index fingers when getting ready to wrap up the cord (that you forgot to unplug FIRST).

I had a *somewhat* similar experience with a belt sander, though not nearly as exciting.
I was deburring some shims that we cut square. Probably 1/16 thick, can't remember, it was probably 15 years ago now. I had a stack of them in my left hand, and with my right hand I would grab one, quickly run the edge across the 60 grit belt, rotate, repeat. I let one get down a little too near the tool rest. In a matter of a quarter second, probably, the belt sucked the part, and my hand, down in between the tool rest.
For just that moment, my thumb got pinched up against the belt. I pulled it out and looked at the mess that was my thumb. I didn't try to take the whole thumb off, like your finger, but the tip and the nail were basically gone - just shy of the cuticle. I had a moment of seeing how a fingernail melts when it's hit with a belt grinder before the blood started flowing. I managed to nearly stop the bleeding by just pressing my thumb into my fist, kinda pulling the pad of my thumb up over the tip.
I went out of the grinder room into the machining room where Sherman was the only guy there. Sherm was an old man with a rage against the machine sticker on his truck. Nicknamed "Rage", anything but excitable.
Me - "Sherm, I fucked up."
Sherm - *looks at my thumb* "Yep. You did."
In walks another coworker who sees my thumb and instantly starts freaking out. What do we do, what do we do?

So, my brother (also a co-worker at the time) brought me to the ER, doc puts what looked like the mouth of a balloon around my thumb and that basically stops the bleeding. Fills my thumb up like a balloon with saline and anesthetic, sews it up and, voila, I'm like new again (except for the giant bandage and splint I wear for the next week or two).

It never really hurt a whole lot. I wasn't really in pain until I was in the hospital, and then it was just a dull ache. I guess the ache was relatively intense, but I never really hurt right at the tip unless it got poked or hit or something.

 

[Bmyers]

 

[i7win7]

 

[i7win7]

 

[Daren Todd]

 

[i7win7]

One Sunday morning the pastor noticed little Johnny was standing staring up at the large plaque that hung in the foyer of the church. The young man of seven had been staring at the plaque for some time, so the pastor walked up and stood beside him and gazing up at the plaque he said quietly, "Good morning son."

"Good morning pastor" replied the young man not taking his eyes off the plaque. "Sir, what is this?" Johnny asked.

"Well son, these are all the people who have died in the service", replied the pastor. Soberly, they stood together staring up at the large plaque.

Little Johnny's voice barely broke the silence when he asked quietly, "Which one sir, the 8:30 or the 10:30?"

 

[i7win7]

 

[Bmyers]

 

[Bmyers]

 

[Bmyers]