Captain Andy and 1st mate Simple Green!

Here are some shots of the bilge, after a good scrubbing and removal of all the unnecessary crap:







I have decided to replace pretty much all of the frames, enough of them have rot and/or breaks that I would just be worrying about the ones I left behind. I haven't pulled any out yet to see what the planking underneath looks like, but overall the planks look like they might be OK. The sheer planks are pretty rough, I think as a result of the decks leaking for a long time.

I have built a kickass steamer box for the upcoming frame job, out of an old turkey fryer, and assorted furnace duct parts. The burner sounds like a jet engine (and living in the shadow of Boeing Field, I sure as hell know what a jet engine sounds like!), and will boil 3-4 gallons of water in no time. It also looks more like a meth cooker than anything I've built before. If there were any grizzled Appalachian hillbillies walking by, they would probably say it looks like a moonshine still, but it's the 21st century for pete's sake, get with the program!

This is what one of these beasts looks like if you were to remove it from your yard and put it in the water:



And here is me on my old Blanchard. Note that life has not yet crushed my gentle spirit. I also seemed to have hair:

One More Time...

Or, another attempt to document something, knowing full well that what will be documented is my total inability to stick with something for any length of time

This time will be different, I just know it! This time: a goal, a project, something to document besides the excruciating minutae that is my life!

The project:


















A 1947 Blanchard Sr. Knockabout, hull#53 out of 97 originally built.



















The interior appears to be very clean and original, under a lot of grime and stuff. Note the manly ropework curtains. Not macrame, manly ropework!



















Some decently sistered frames. I will assume that any unrepaired frames are due for replacement, as will most repaired ones.















At first glance, the keel bolts seem somewhat new. I'll investigate further, but it's a good sign.















The original electrical panel. I love this kind of stuff!

OK then, there's the boat as she sits in my back yard. First step will be to remove everything that's not nailed down, then most of what is. I know that there will be new decks, maybe not all over but plenty nonetheless. The deck framing seems serviceable at first glance. Some hull frames will be replaced, if not all of them. I assume that I will have many opportunities to learn how to replace carvel planks, but so far the planking looks good. To summarize: Not a bad project, I give it a year. (Note to self: Don't forget to come back and read this last sentence in 16 years when the boat is still on blocks and I am dead)

Dropkick Murphys Bring Out Andy Bookwalter’s Secret Skinhead

Note: This article originally appeared in Seattle's community music and culture site nadamucho.com.

February 28, 2008

Dropkick Murphys are the greatest band in the world, and I’ll stab anyone who says otherwise.

Lumped in with plenty of great but inferior street punk bands like The Swingin’
Utters, Flogging Molly and The Bouncing Souls, DKM remind me what punk rock
meant before life crushed my delicate spirit.

I was a small town teenage slacker in the early 80’s, and punk promised
me a community and an escape from suburban mediocrity. Punk then broke that
promise, as will any subculture based on teen angst and beer.

After a few years of watching one punk rock dive bar after another become
condos and parking lots, I got bitter. Then one day I heard “Cadence To Arms,”
the opening shot from Do or Die and it all came back to me.

I dove into Oi! and street punk boots first. I gave myself a buzz cut
with clippers over the bathroom sink. I got myself a flight jacket and a pair
of braces. Soon I discovered two things:

30 is too old to become a skinhead, and I didn’t like getting into fights.
Since skinheads spend huge amounts of time being defensive and
punching people who call them racists, then generally turn into rockabilly guys
or football hooligans well before 30, I decided to turn in my membership card
before it got stamped. Still some things stuck with me, and through it all
Dropkick Murphys kept churning out anthems for blue collar guys, unions,
drunks, fat bagpipe players and the Red Sox.

If a DKM song didn’t grab me right off the bat it turned out I wasn’t
hearing it at the right time. Their latest CD, The Meanest of Times, celebrates family, both the blood variety and the other kind that you get to choose. As a theme, it’s thoroughly un-punk.

While I was evolving rapidly in and out of skinhead culture, DKM
were evolving and growing as well. They never stopped celebrating working
class solidarity, loyalty to your friends and general betterment. Since Do or Die their original lead singer Mike McColgan (current Boston
fire fighter and Street Dogs singer) left and was replaced by Al Barr, formerly
of the longtime Oi! band the Bruisers. Bassist/vocalist Ken Casey still sings
like he wants to grab you by the shirt and shake you, while Al sounds like he’d
rather wait and just kill you while you’re waiting for the bus.

Get a job in a dusty, noisy place, work your ass off for a while and on a tired Friday
afternoon on the way home put on “Worker’s Song” really loud, and it will all
make sense.

Why do I do what I do?

Why have I decided to shun desk work and plush padded cubicle walls to work on a hard concrete floor and engage in extremely dangerous tasks, making noise that will deafen me, dust that will choke me, and possible lead to the loss of many sticking out body parts? Status, baby!

What did I build at my desk, even during the most productive years at Amazon? Well, my ass grew quite well. I made remarkable progress on my drinking problem. I also developed a way to nap, sitting up, in the same room as my boss and bosses boss, without being caught. (Except when I would start to snore, or my head would get off balance and snap back until it hit the cement wall behind me)

Now, I bask in the glow that every blue collar man feels when a pasty, bluish skinned software developing guy looks at something you have put together and says "You built that? On purpose?"

Oh yeah...