I got a good old fashioned 30 ton hydraulic press in the shop that will make those “high tech” magnets look like a friendly handshake.
Ala Terminator I?
Yeah, but you know what causes that press to apply the pressure. What reaches out and causes those two blocks of neodymium to suddenly slam together? If they were fixed in place three inches apart, you could feel nothing between them with your bare hand pulling them together, but that force is there.
Funny story, when I was managing a gun shop back in the early 70s, this guy came in and insisted on seeing the gunsmith. I told him we don't bother the gunsmiths because they are repairing guns and he could tell me his problem. He, however insisted that only a gunsmith could possibly understand his particular problem.
Our gunsmith was a guy who stood about six foot eight and weighed about 320. He thought nothing of test firing 12 gauge magnum shotguns without stocks by holding on to the tangs and pulling the trigger. He was tough.
After arguing with the customer about our rules about not disturbing the gunsmiths for a few minutes the guy started yelling at the top of his voice. . . so this big hulking guy comes out of the shop and says, "Can I help you?"
"You can, if you're a gunsmith!" Says the customer.
"I am." says our gunsmith. "What is your problem?"
"Here," says the idiot, er, customer, as he pulls a .45 Auto from behind his back, "I'll show you!"
Pointing the gun toward the counter top, he pulls the slide back and releases it. . . and I see a round go into the chamber. As the slide rams forward. . .
The bullet goes into the counter, out the backside, and right between the gunsmith's legs and into the floor.
"SEE!" The idiot cries triumphantly. "It does that every time! I want you to stop it doing that!"
The gunsmith didn't even flinch. . . all of the rest of us jumped and there were screams from other customers around the shop. My ears were ringing. . . but I heard the idiot's statement quite clearly.
The gunsmith reached out and carefully dropped the magazine out of the gun and noticed there was a round partially chambered. I recall thinking it was a miracle that round did not also fully chamber and fire as well. He carefully removed the cartridge and locked the slide back. . . and then one-by-one, removed the cartridges from the magazine. He then looked at the idiot and said, very calmly, "What do you want me to do about it?"
"What?!" says the idiot. "Are you stupid or something? I just told you!"
"No," says the gunsmith, "I just want to make sure I understand your instructions clearly. You want me to make it stop doing that? Is that correct?"
"Yes! I don't want it to do that anymore!"
"OK," says the gunsmith. "That will be $75. In advance. I'll take care of it right now."
The guy reaches in his pocket and counts out the money and plops it down on the counter, next to the bullet hole. . . and the gunsmith picks it up and walks back into the shop. I follow him because I know him. He is fuming inside. He has a tell you can see from a mile away if you know him.
We get into the shop and he walks over to OUR hydraulic press, puts the .45 into the press and starts cycling it. . . until the gun is about 3/8" thick. He then flattens the magazine to about 1/8th inch.
I'm laughing about the most I've ever laughed in my life. It's all I can do to get my calm back. . .
He, still dead pan, picks up the remains of both, walks back to the waiting idiot, and lays both on the counter and announces. . .
"It won't do that any more!"
The look on that idiot's face was priceless.