In a series of carefully controlled experiments, highly scientific to be sure, I determined that indeed, slime, the touted anti-puncture tire filling, does deteriorate rubber cement. I carefully noted and expertly applied a patch. The stuff is sneaky, it appears to take at normal pressures, but at double the pressure, something likely to happen when I plow up a curb or pothole, you can hear additional slime begin to leak under that patch.
Then, (I have the video), you can actually watch the bubble grow under the patch until it reaches an edge and flat you go. You can almost hear it eating away at the bond between the patch and tube. Since this tire has a satisfaction guarantee, I may send it to the manufacturer to see what happens. I also noted the inside of the tire (not the tube) shows signs of rubber particles, like a fine set of shavings. It will not wash off but I will leave it as the tube and tire are from the same source. Aren’t these exciting times! It is now already 8:00 AM so I’m going out for breakfast.
I talked with Guitar Jeff and we are going to rehearse at his place on Saturday afternoon, if it is okay with his wife. He [stated that he] uses crib notes on stage, but could that be from knowing 500 songs instead of the more orthodox 50? He has a job that takes him on the road that makes Thursday gigs a toughie.The rest of the day was a frustrating episode, one scumbag after another. Imagine trying to get something done in a room full of half-retarded nosy deaf people who want to borrow five bucks. Then, I just described most of Florida, the phone company and my upbringing. After breakfast, I thought I’d relax and work a Su Doku. Except you see, I forgot my pen back at the house. Try to find and buy a ballpoint pen in this town. After explaining to the fifth person what it was or what it was for, I walked a quarter-mile over to the Argentina place and borrowed one of theirs.
Some of you probably think I am exaggerating. Ask yourself, “Why would I?”
I have the vocabulary, but really not the patience, to spin a good yarn. Ask if I’m making this up: most of the people who did not know what a pen was also did not recognize the pantomime of writing. When I motioned like I was writing, there was no glimmer or spark of recognition on their faces. They are younger than I, so the conclusion is that they are all computer geniuses who word process everything, because they sure don’t know what a pencil is. One lady even looked to see if I was scraping something off the palm of my hand.
Multiply that out a few times, and you’ll see my day. Worst was this new guy, Dave. The staff hates him, where I merely consider him a vociferous idiot. Gruff and uncultured as well, look out people. He’s got his nose in everything already. The dodo does not know the basic rules of Internet security. I won’t go into that one. Get this, he printed out a three page invoice, and threw away the middle page. When I get there, I see the first page and last page but the figures won’t total. A wasted half-hour.
I asked why he did that, he did not apologize. Instead, he goes for the klutz defense that the pages had “paneled out”. WTF? The guy does not even know how to reformat a page! However, notice that he knew how to duck the searchlight, the sure-fire trademark of anyone who’s been to an American college since 1988. That, and the incessant jargon. I’ll bet the guy bullshits in his sleep, too.
Ahem, Steve, the cancer guy. He has some guy who looks after his finances. The deal was I clean his place out for $50. I’m afraid I got roped in on that one. Clean up became sort out, package up, haul over to my place, unload and store. I told them they had until Monday to rent a storage bin and arrange to have the stuff moved because it is outdoors and I am not responsible for it. The reply was that I should rent the storage and send them the bill. Fat chance. Monday, so quit wasting time talking.
I drove around close to ten miles to get the correct [non-slime] tube for my bicycle. It is ready to go, but as always when the tire is changed, the brake pads need adjusting. Guitar Jeff emailed later. It seems his wife has a soiree on Saturday, so we cannot practice there. I sent back that he should arrive here and we’ll rehearse without a PA. I should practice tonight, but I think I’ll put on a movie.
Later. I did, the movie was Blade II, with the “II” part displayed as stylized fangs. Another vampire-killer movie. On one hand we are told that martial art teaches goodness and virtue. Now explain how all the undead learned it. How could they even afford the lessons? The movie has one scene where all the vampires are at a rave in yet another abandoned LA warehouse.
What? Well, yes, the parking lot was empty. Maybe they arrived through the sewers or some other cheap-to-film conduit? The music was disco, so I can confirm that, at least in America, being immortal is not enough time to acquire taste.
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