Bob Warner
June 28th, 2007, 11:35 PM
1. Anger. You watch the DVD, read the manual, check out those other guys' cookbook settings, and set it up just like they say. You watch your camcorder flop around like a smallmouth bass on a bowling pin. You utter streams of obscenities in the language of your choice. You look for Ashton Kutcher and the hidden camera. It dawns on you why it’s called the “Merlin” – you have to be a wizard to make it work. It’s a sick marketing joke. You’re the punch line.
2. Humiliation. You go to your mother. You tell her how the nice man on the DVD balanced his camcorder in 2 minutes. You’re crying. You tell her about the guy on youtube who had his video up 2 hours after opening the box. You realize you’re no good. You have strange thoughts: “I’m sure it said ‘point and shoot’ on the box, didn’t it? Or was that the HV20 box? Right...the Merlin box said ‘Easier than playing the saxophone!’”
3. Realization. You realize you play the saxophone. What was that song you used to play? Oh yeah: “Can’t Get to Heaven on Electric Fan.” You decide to look at the video and manual again.
4. Release. You read about the three ways to change the balance of a seesaw: change a weight, move a weight, move the pivot point. “Oh!” you exclaim. “Well then screw everyone! Cookbook Schmookbook. It’s my Merlin and I’ll do whatever the #@%* I want with it.” You start messing around with your Merlin. You do strange things with it, imagining that you have Garrett Brown tied up in your studio gasping in horror at every transformation. You use the hole no one has ever used before. Yes, THAT hole. You add TWO mids in the forward position. Garrett cringes. You study the manual and compute the arc. It says 12 inches. You slowly twist the caliper adjusting knob: 11 inches, 10, 9, 8…. Garrett pleads with you to stop. You twist the Guide Ring – up, down, up down, up, down! Garrett is reeling. Finally, you grab the Gezornenplatz Screw. “Not the Gezornenplatz Screw!” he begs. But you ignore his cries.
5. Boredom. You’ve screwed around with the Merlin for a couple of hours now. You’re sort of bored, so you let Garrett go. You decide you might as well balance the damn thing so you look over the manual again and you do. You take it outside for a spin. Hmmm, you think to yourself, not too bad.
6. Hope. You alternate practicing your saxophone and your Merlin. Your mom says you’re better than Bill Clinton. You keep practicing.
2. Humiliation. You go to your mother. You tell her how the nice man on the DVD balanced his camcorder in 2 minutes. You’re crying. You tell her about the guy on youtube who had his video up 2 hours after opening the box. You realize you’re no good. You have strange thoughts: “I’m sure it said ‘point and shoot’ on the box, didn’t it? Or was that the HV20 box? Right...the Merlin box said ‘Easier than playing the saxophone!’”
3. Realization. You realize you play the saxophone. What was that song you used to play? Oh yeah: “Can’t Get to Heaven on Electric Fan.” You decide to look at the video and manual again.
4. Release. You read about the three ways to change the balance of a seesaw: change a weight, move a weight, move the pivot point. “Oh!” you exclaim. “Well then screw everyone! Cookbook Schmookbook. It’s my Merlin and I’ll do whatever the #@%* I want with it.” You start messing around with your Merlin. You do strange things with it, imagining that you have Garrett Brown tied up in your studio gasping in horror at every transformation. You use the hole no one has ever used before. Yes, THAT hole. You add TWO mids in the forward position. Garrett cringes. You study the manual and compute the arc. It says 12 inches. You slowly twist the caliper adjusting knob: 11 inches, 10, 9, 8…. Garrett pleads with you to stop. You twist the Guide Ring – up, down, up down, up, down! Garrett is reeling. Finally, you grab the Gezornenplatz Screw. “Not the Gezornenplatz Screw!” he begs. But you ignore his cries.
5. Boredom. You’ve screwed around with the Merlin for a couple of hours now. You’re sort of bored, so you let Garrett go. You decide you might as well balance the damn thing so you look over the manual again and you do. You take it outside for a spin. Hmmm, you think to yourself, not too bad.
6. Hope. You alternate practicing your saxophone and your Merlin. Your mom says you’re better than Bill Clinton. You keep practicing.