I’ve come to a grand conclusion — one so profound it shakes the very fabric of society. May I share it with you? It is this: do-it-yourself projects are for fools. Yes, fools! Dummies. Imbeciles. Ignoramuses. People afflicted with a deadly disease that I like to call “manure for brains.”
Don’t be offended. No, no. Don’t get so upset. Listen, I’m the king of do-it-yourself. The “King of the Ignoramuses.” My manure is brought in by the truckload.
But I’m through with it. Done. Next week I start contacting political campaigns. I will ask each to add to their platforms a ban on do-it-yourself projects. Sure, you can run on the economy or health care or who has better hair days. But why not run on an issue that really matters to people? That will change lives and prevent gray hair. That will bring lost weekends back to millions of Americans.
An issue that will put people back to work. Because someone will have to do all of these infuriating jobs we homeowners aren’t allowed to touch. Millions of new workers will be needed. We have ruined a lot of stuff over the years.
It will be the engine of our economy. A new opportunity that guides us forward. A moment when we all stand up together and declare, “I am sick and tired, and I am not going to do it anymore … that guy over there is!”
Goodbye do-it-yourself. Hello do-it-for-me.
Are you with me, America?
This revelation came to me in the bathroom. No, no, let me explain. While I was working in the bathroom. Hunkered over, crammed inside a vanity. I looked like Houdini practicing an ill-fated trick. I held a flashlight in my teeth. Garbled curses flew in every direction. I was figuring out how to remove an old faucet. Half a stick of dynamite ought to do the trick.
But that wouldn’t solve my problems. The new faucet — shiny, proud, eager — was laid out on the floor. It promised ease of installation. “Ease” if the water supply connections matched the existing valves. If not, all bets were off.
Decades of half-[filtered word] plumbing — quick-fixes melded to quick-fixes — had combined into a perfect storm. New supply lines would have to be run. The two-hour project would last two days. I would need supplies and ingenuity and sweat and courage.
I dove in. Because that is what ignoramuses do. We make trip after trip to the hardware store where we buy-out whole aisles of adapters and elbows and pipe thread. We reach hands into walls, hoping all our fingers come back. We pray and we bend the very laws of physics hoping that “miracle” we drew on paper — some implausible Escher print — will actually work.
At some point — I remember this very clearly — I grabbed myself by the shoulder and asked: “Why didn’t we hire someone?” It was day two of the project. CPVC cement was smeared across my bare hands. I could feel it leaching into my skin, changing my DNA. I would be a horribly disfigured mutant by nightfall.
I had no good answer. And this was before the Internet went out. Oh, yes. The Internet went out. I feared my crawling around under the house had pulled a telephone line loose. Or had ruined a splice a technician once warned me about. He told me run new line. So I convinced myself that was the answer, and I set about the new task. DIY to the rescue! I’ll do it.
It didn’t work … for good reason. (I found out later there was a service outage in the area. There was nothing wrong with the old line. The sobbing of a grown man could be heard for blocks.)
How many weekends have I given up to do-it-yourself projects? How many brain cells? Have I saved any money? The endless trips to the hardware store. The time. The horrible injuries I’ve sustained. I think a pinky finger is still in a wall somewhere.
And for what? Why do we do it ourselves? It’s an affliction, my friends. We must see it for what it is. We must strive for do-it-yourself independence.
So, I ask you now, my fellow Americans. Are you with me? Can we stand together, united in a common cause? To end this scourge that has ravaged our country. That has caused our children to go to school and tell teachers, “I’m really worried about daddy. He mumbles about pipes in his sleep?” Only together can we do it. As a great nation. Please join me. Say “no” to do-it-yourself, and say “yes” to do-it-for-me.