[Hammarlund] Net Reminder - Some Halli Poetry

[Duane Fischer, W8DBF]

All vintage gear of all flavors and scents is always welcome -     	
	
HCI Saturday November 16th 40 meter Net. Pre-Net at 12:30 PM EST, (1730 UTC).
Net proper at 1:00 PM EST, (1800 UTC). The frequency is 7.280 Mhz lsb +/- for
key clicks, mike splatter and the sound of Frogzilla chasing the red squirrels
with the leaf mulcher while the boom box on board blares out Ray Steven's
classic Mississippi Squirrel Revival! 	
	
There is a place of velvet black, 	
Where darkness rules and lights denied.    	
The probing fingers feel the mark, 			
The seller said it worked, he lied?	
And nobody knows but me.	
	
A feeble glow lights up the room,   	
A hissing sound soon fills the air. 	
One short could spell a certain doom, 	
You spin the knob with loving care. 	
And nobody knows but me.   	
	
A crackle from the speaker leaps, 	
A signal flutters in the wind. 		
The smell of something burning seeps, 		
Some EBAY guilt, for all have sinned.	
And nobody knows but me.  	
	
With trembling hand you pull the plug,   		
Scorched insulation burns your eyes.   		
A molten metal tuning slug, 		
As color codes curl up and die.	
And nobody knows but me.  		
	
A vacuum tube explodes with light,   	
And voltage arcs to waiting hands. 			
Resistors pop with all their mite,   		
And I.F.'s bulge within their cans.	
And nobody knows but me.  	
	
A knob falls off and hits the floor,   	
Capacitors pop like seed corn. 	
You duck a coil that strikes the door, 		
Wiring hangs from where its now torn. 	
And nobody knows but me.  	
	
The fuse explodes and hits the fan,   	
Transformers glow a cherry red. 		
The Chassis turns a sickening tan, 	
As wire fragments strike your head. 	
And nobody knows but me.  	
	
The Halli glow fades out to dark,   		
The smoke detector screams Alert!   		
This EBAY bargain left its mark, 	
A nightmare from a vintage dream.   	
And nobody knows but me.  	
	
Through open window goes your prize,   		
The snowflakes sizzle as it sinks.	
Another relic meets demise,   	
Sometimes the past can really stink!  	
And nobody knows but me.  		
	
You'll try again, of this you're sure, 	
Nothing quite like a boat anchor.   	
Perhaps your wife would like a fur,   					
There must be some way to thank her.	
And nobody knows but me.  	
	
Her house is smoked like roasted fowl,   	
The morning may find you packing. 	
So hide the checkbook coos the Owl, 		
Right now no more circuit tracking!	
And nobody knows but me.  	
	
And who am I you kindly ask,   		
While wind moans through attic rafters.  	
As moonlight shines across my mas, 	
I am the ghost of Hallicrafters.  	
	
Duane Fischer, W8DBF	
NCS: Hallicrafters Collectors International	
netcontrol@w9wze.org