I Brake for Demolition
Without question the single greatest item in my quiver of tools is the Wonderbar. I can’t even imagine what life was like before this solid piece of steel with its generous curves landed in my hands. All other tools that man has invented up to the forging of the first Wonderbar seem shiftless and unstable next to the substance and resolve of this beauty. When the Wonderbar gets called off the bench you know the game is on – like when Paul Newman calls in the Hanson Brothers in Slapshot. Simply put, the Wonderbar brings violence. Demolition is its game and it plays for keeps.

My favorite household project is anything that involves heavy demo. Beauty? Creating? Building? Planting? Fuck all that noise. I just want to break shit. Smash wide holes in walls and excavate foundations. Tear everything down until you’re staring at open studs and dirt floors.

Once you get going it’s impossible to stop. Black Sabbath pushes the limits of your 25-watt paint splattered boom box. Your right arm becomes intimately linked with Bill Ward‘s manic drum pounding. You get in a frightening zone and by the time ‘War Pigs’ finally crescendos, you find yourself standing like a lone warrior atop a giant pile of rubble, tile, and whatever the fuck else got in your path. Your head is covered in a mix of dust, sweat and blood. And then it hits you – with equal parts satisfaction and distress – you’ve completely overdone it. Whole. Eee. Crap. have you overdone it! Your own sanity is really what’s been whacked. It’s going to take a lot of work to put this mess back together.

I’ve found that after a good demo session there’s a bit of a depression that washes over me. It doesn’t last more than a couple of minutes. Usually I just start thinking about another demo project that might come up in the future or I simply make a giant sandwich and demo the living crap out of that.