: I've felt like punching my CRT before, but then I remember how many inches of
: solid wood or how much human bone I can break with my fists, and how my
: CRT is made of glass, and then I remember working in a tech shop and the
: frightening shards of glass that go flying inside the double cardboard
: boxes when you very carefully devacuum a CRT, and then I remember watching
: people almost die accidentally touching the capacitors inside the CRT and
: the fact that I'm not entirely sure where the capacitors in my CRT *are*
: so that I can deliberately not touch them and... by that point I'm usually
: not so angry anymore.
meh... what a pussy. After a busy day of screwing all the girls, their mothers, and THEIR mothers I like to relax with a little angry CRT punching. REAL men aren't frightened of the terawatts, flying glass and eminent death and can keep their anger intact! You have no focus. What got to me was after my fist exited the back of the CRT, it impacted an iron beam behind the brick wall.
Gary Simmons
the Battle Cat
