You know... super weird, and nothing new from my court, but I actually donāt find it humorous. But that could lead to folks thinking that I were mad or butt-hurt at Burnham, but (and only Burnham could know this...) that is far from the case. If I wanted, I suppose I could glean from his remarks the fact that his overt facetiousness was a dead giveaway that he was giving me license to fancy myself some kind of a āfaller,ā or else, ādecent faller.ā But of course (and I love Burnham all the more for knowing it) this isnāt the case. A real faller is almost a mythological character, and he tends not to work in residential (though I have known two who did) settings. A REAL faller? A real father tends to work in the same species of wood, in roughly the same wood densities, ie altitudes/stand considerations etc, and almost never really has to guess about the parameters of what that wood can perform when cut up to a hinge. And those guys know stuff and can do things (swing Dutchmen type stuff) that I could never even imagine. Iāve seen it. Thatās not what I do. I wouldnāt make a zit on a real fallerās ass. Iām much more like a drunken (but calculating) gambler who periodically gets taken with a maniacal obsession to just find out what will happen, and who very much wants to guess right.
Rich: If you think that I am ass enough to come out there to Ohio to tell you what you can do with an Oak stump, yer nuts. Not in my wildest dreams man. I could probably count on one hand the number of Oak trees I fall in the space of three years.