...or maybe my airbrush has a bad case of kidney stones, maybe it just doesn't get enough fiber. Truth is I think it's possessed, clogged with hatred for me and my pursuit of model building. Now I remember why I hadn't picked up an airbrush in twenty years, I can't stand the things and the feeling is mutual. It's single, mean spirited goal is to rattle my nerves and put dark thoughts in my head as to what I'm going to do with it. Put it on the head of a rail and wait for a train to roll over it? Put it in the microwave oven? Toss it in the wood stove and watch it beg for forgiveness?
Then the compressor, evil's sidekick, who is lazy, loud and intolerable. Why would you be designed to vibrate so much and so freely that you could walk yourself across a table and throw yourself on the floor, taking all manner of paint bottles and cups with paint with you. If you want to hurt yourself, fine, just don't bring everyone else with you. Besides, I'm going to do some damage to you anyway, compressor. You're this close to being next summers boat anchor. I'll tie a cinder block to you just in case, to ensure you a muddy tomb amongst the dying kelp and rotting fish. Like I said, dark thoughts.
My intentions were utterly free of malice I'll have you know; I just wanted to paint some plastic walls white. I tried at first using a can of spray paint, but those buggers are just the airbrushes spiteful minions. Clogged spray tips. I even tried changing them out from other cans. Useless. Look at the photo above, that was taken in my workshop. Do you know how difficult it is to clean your layout of brimstone? And that sulfur smell?
So, I embarked on a painting session filled not with an even coat of Poly Scale Refer White, but a blood red event where growls and grunts became words I can't repeat here. The forces of darkness were against me. All I could recall was Hulk Smash!
But hey, it's Christmas Eve Day and I know that since before the dinosaurs, air brushes have worked fine, if you use them properly. I'm sure even the Geico cavemen can use an airbrush better than I. They must have read some cave painting wall that mentioned properly thinning paint. That's all it really takes and of course cleaning it properly after each use - never my strong point; you should see my paint brushes. Each one looks like they were used to scrub barnacles from an old boat hull or really bad teeth.
I could learn to respect the airbrush and all of its easily cloggable parts and passages. I could even grow enough, be mature enough not to beat my compressor with a crow bar. I might even evolve enough to bolt it to my work surface so it doesn't wander. I'll thin my paints until they're water thin. I'll take my airbrush apart after each use and clean it like a tiger leaves a carcas. But I'll always know that with every painting session, evil lurks and that I've made a deal with the devil.
