The pros and cons of a good slingshot

Lately, I have been doing a lot of research on shooting slingshots. And, I’m proud to say, no self-inflicted injuries have yet occurred.

If I am remembering my childhood correctly, self-inflicted injury was the main occupational hazard of shooting a slingshot. This did not stop us, however. After all, self-inflicted injury was also the main occupational hazard of youth.

The truth is slingshots were actually quite popular when I was a young fellow. Most young boys had one and most were homemade, too.

If you had any experience with a slingshot at all, you had a special ability to recognize fellow slingshot enthusiasts. It was subtle, but if you knew what to look for you would notice, they either wore an eye patch or a splint on their thumbs.

The eye patch came from an elastic band that was not attached properly at the forks. The thumb splint came from placing your thumb in the line of fire at the moment of release.

Typically, this happened because your buddy would say something like, “Ready to shoot?” Which would prompt you to give him a thumbs up. This was so prevalent that I now believe there might be a correlation between this and the demise of hitchhiking.

In my youth, a good shot with a slingshot was the scourge of every pop can that roamed free in the wilderness. Conversely, a bad shot with a slingshot was just a scourge.

In many ways though, a slingshot was a perfect kid’s toy. They were exciting to use. They provided a use for your marble collection. Best of all, you could make one in no time at all using only a pen knife and an axe you “borrowed” from dad, provided you found natural materials like the perfect fork in a tree and an elastic found hanging on the clothesline.

The only problem with those slingshots, if I recall correctly, is that they had a short lifespan.

The typical life of a slingshot went something like this:

Day one: Your slingshot is made from nothing more than the elastics from dad’s pajama pants and a forked stick removed from dad’s favourite apple tree.

Day two: Dad wonders who chopped down his favourite apple tree. He is angry too. It is at this point you decide that you are not, and will never be, George Washington.

Day three: Dad swears he will never answer the door in his pajamas again. On the plus side, he bought