THE WOODCHOPPER'S BALL AND CHAINSAW

I hope I´m not too late with this column. (Originally titled: Never Drop Your House On Your Spouse.)

This is for the novice woodsmen out there who either received or bought themselves chainsaws for Christmas: Cheers to those armchair lumberjacks just itching to get up and go outside and use their new tools. You´ll now need some artful dodging on how to safely and efficiently become felling fellows.

One request: Please don´t tell your wives that you took chainsaw operating advice from a humorist.

Now, for the rookie woodchoppers among us, let´s begin by defining the two types of chainsaws:

Type 1: Those that don´t start.

Type 2: Those that never start.

A few years ago, prior to my first owning and operating my own chainsaw, I employed a local contractor to remove a couple of humongous, dying oak trees alongside the driveway. Their decaying branches had begun to break off on occasion, and though there probably is no truly glorious path to mortality, the idea of being squashed in my truck by a fateful, falling chunk of wood as I returned home with the week´s supply of dog cookies was more comic futility than I could contemplate.

I could think of a lot of ways to expire, but being mashed in a vehicle from on high while holding a lapful of Milk-Bones was not my first choice.

So, I hired Crazy Ed The Handyman Guy to cut ´em down. (Everyone has a Crazy Ed The Handyman Guy in their family, either as a relative or a home contractor, or both.)

Crazy Ed cut them perfectly. He dropped them exactly where I asked. He also spent one-quarter of the half-day he was here trying to start his chainsaw.

You must accept this right up front. Chainsaw-makers install some kind of retardant flywheel or hesitation gasket in their product, because no real man could or should cut down two trees without pulling his starter cord a minimum of three hundred and forty-six times. Per tree.

This ritual must occur before the chainsaw either starts or he has to give up his Type Two and go borrow or buy a Type One.

It´s a crazy handyman guy wood thing.

THE FIVE ROOKIE WOODCHOPPER RULES:

1. Don´t maim or kill yourself.

You don´t want to live with the notorious "Two-Stumper," i.e. "one on the tree, and one on the knee." Hey, pay attention! We´re not talking dehydrating vegetables in a Ron Popeil spin-drying centrifuge -- this thing can ruin your day.

To this end, I was given a pair of Kevlar lumberjack chaps by my housemate, made specifically to ward off the Two-Stumper Syndrome. She didn´t relish the idea of seeing me knob-hobbling back from the woods carrying my left leg in my right hand. Rule # Two naturally follows:

2. Wear your protective gear.

Before embarking on your Paul Bunyan imitation, put on your chaps, helmet, steel-toed boots, shin guards, ear mufflers, goggles, chainmail gloves and a leather choke collar. Variations are allowed, but you get the idea.

This will insure that you return to your house without becoming the world´s first human jigsaw puzzle and in dire need of an icepack tourniquet the size of your refrigerator.

3. Never drop your house on your spouse.

Some time ago in a nearby village, some poor arborman wannabe thought that because he was a guy, and could pull his starter cord 347 times, he knew all there was to know about tree-falling.

Despite his wife´s more than reasonable protests to the contrary, he attempted to drop a humongous, dying oak tree between the driveway and the house.

Yep. He cut it perfectly wrong, and the tree, according to its cutting specifications, fell perfectly right, neatly cleaving his abode into a symbolic, if not prophetic His & Her towel rack.

His wife survived. His marriage didn´t.

4. Unless and until you reach the expertise of Crazy Ed The Handy Guy, if you encounter a tree with numbered lettering on its trunk, and power and telephone lines in its branches, you should probably leave it.

5. Lastly, NEVER, as a practical joke on your sleeping spouse, don a hockey mask and bib overalls, burst into the bedroom brandishing your saw, and yank the starter cord in a mock pre-massacre mode. It will be the only time it will ever start on the first attempt.

Even Crazy Ed couldn´t pull you limb from limb from the ruins.

Cutting to the chase -- I´ll see you in the woods.

Syndicated humor columnist B. Elwin Sherman writes from a partially cleared area in Bethlehem, NH. Copyright 2009 B. Elwin Sherman. All rights reserved. Used here with permission. This column is protected by intellectual property laws, including U.S. copyright laws. Electronic or print reproduction, adaptation, or distribution without permission is prohibited. Ordinary internet links to this column at Humorist-On-Loan may be distributed without written permission. Illustration courtesy of Brad Fitzpatrick. Used with permission.