Here's my meager progress for today:
"Use a heat gun," he said.
"I'm afraid I'll burn the house down," I told him.
"I'd be a little worried about that too," he admitted, "but keep it moving, hold it on there just until the paint softens, and you'll be okay."
So I tried it. To absolutely no effect. In fact, I think I heard the paint laughing at me.
Back to the carbide scraper I went. By the end of the summer, maybe I'll muscle up to the strength of a ten-year-old.