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Another gem of wisdom from the bullshark. Subject: "The Compressor" <OT> From: bullshark <A HREF="mailto:bullshark@my*.co*">bullshark@my-dejane ws.com</A> Date: Wed, Jun 28, 2000 9:32 AM Message-id: <395A2883.92400F60@my*.co*> There once was a diver named Jammer who made a fair wage with his hammer. His dive shop he deemed, not fitting it seemed to be filling the tanks of The Jammer. So to find the elixir of life, he went to the store with his wife, to buy a compressor, not bed, bath or dresser, not vittles, not nubbins nor knife. With compressor in hand, his dreams they were grand, of scuba tanks filled to the brim. No treks to the Mom'nPop, rinky-dink diving shop, his tanks would be filled now, by HIM. Directions eschewed, he thought himself shrewd, as he hammered and screwed down the wire. "Today is the day", he heard himself say, "I'll pump up those tanks...even higher" On Dasher, now Prancer. On Donner, now Dancer and Comet and Cupid and Blitzen! His fill whips engaged, and his mighty three phased, compressor commenced its conniptions. Burst Disks? Not any! Like fuse box with penny, his tanks they securely were plugged. As everyone knows, on air tanks or hose, the DOT Specs, well surely, they're fudged. How much would they hold? Much more than was told, by the figures seen stamped on the neck. Recent or not, they came from the DOT, So Jammer decried, "What the Heck!" "Super de Duper ala Peter T. Hooper!", That's what they'll say at the shop. When they see with great pleasure my tanks filled to pressures, beyond where they thought they would pop. It huffed and it puffed, and it moaned and it groaned, and Jammer was nothing but smiles. He chortled with glee, his creation you see, compressed not by leagues, but by miles. As Jammer admired the cure for his ire, there's one thing he plainly forgot. A switch on the top of a little gray box, to tell his compressor to stop. A lesson is here, for wise men to fear, the tank you see, it exploded. No matter who wills it, or drains it or fills it, ....tanks don't like being overloaded. Without an alarm, the tank took his arm, two legs, and most of his face. As his parts filled the air, he had but one care, "My back plate is blown to disgrace!". To his wife's great dismay, Jammer left her that day, a victim of what he had wrought. What he got for his money, was not milk and honey, 'Twas the farm now that Jammer had bought. His epitaph reads, his greatest of needs, the words of his last desire. His comment 'tis said, "Im better off dead ....than not diving DIR" -- safe diving, bullshark -- Send mail for the `techdiver' mailing list to `techdiver@aquanaut.com'. Send subscribe/unsubscribe requests to `techdiver-request@aquanaut.com'.
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