June 30, 2009

           It’s a dragonfly came to visit me at the Publix bicycle rack. My entymology is a little rusty, but no doubt this has some name like the tiger dragonfly. You know how I love people who name one animal or plant after another.
           Carlos and Jay crashed overnight in complete comfort. Wallace returned from an early trip to Panera to find them feasting on pancakes and sausages. He said he likes to see that. (Well, who doesn’t? I just need to find a woman who can cook.) Jay is the dude I met several months ago but he just showed up again y’day.
           For a lark, we jammed for a half hour. He is a guitarist and vocalist. Since both he and Carlos repeatedly complimented my bass playing, I have to wonder what they were thinking when I told them I was trying to form a group. Jay is traveling north to visit a gal he knows with bipolar something or other. So maybe he’ll be back sooner than he realizes.
           He described some of her symptoms. Flying off the handle, forgetting she made promises, constantly needing reassurance you love her, and so on. Now remember, I am old school when it comes to such mind problems. I know women that were completely spoiled brats who exhibit exactly the same “symptoms” whenever they want to get away with bad behavior or cover up bad performance. They tend to surround themselves with those who can see no further than said “bipolar” causes for their terrible conduct. And they call anyone who doesn’t buy their act “heartless”. I guess what I’m saying is I’ve been around people who would definitely by today’s standards be rated bipolor, but who definitely knocked off the crap the moment they saw I was not buying into it.
           Today on the job we built shelves, worked on the computer, changed a watch battery and actually got a few shoes repaired. I know Alfredo is amused at the changes since I arrived, although I still manage mess up now and again. Like making two left soles this morning, but I won’t mention that. Besides, another pair came in later that needed two rights. Amazing, really.
           Theresa in Camp Wilmie, we made your tuna casserole for supper. The recipe torn out of your coffee table magazine. We added a hint of garlic, being that the pets don’t seem to mind, and who else is around here? Well, there’s Carlos who came back after supper, so he’ll be crashing here again. We watched the video of the “Cocaine Cowboy” and the opening ceremonies of the Chinese Olympics last year.
           The reason for staying indoors is the constant rain. Whenever it stays for weeks on end, some people say it means no hurricanes this year, others say it means severe weather is on the way. All I know is it has been raining longer than any time since I got here. It keeps the days cool. It gives me a chance to cruise through the German CDs, and I’m on lesson 3 (of 10). If the pace continues, I should have around a 300 word vocabulary before too long.
           The shoe database. It is coming along fine and I’m learning Filemaker. It has some of the same report defects as MS Access, mainly that fussy layout that will not simply print a report. You have to spend far too much time fine-tuning it. Not one of the “report templates” is suitable for a quick and dirty report, but they sure do look nice. As with Access, I wish they had spent a fraction of the time wasted on the pretty colors on a simple command that printed all fields the same size as they are in the files. (Instead, each field is automatically around thirty characters wide and has to be shortened, which means you have to shorten and redistribute the labels as well, and so on down the line.)
           Last, who remembers Epinion, the site where I review products? Look me up, just do a Google on “veryatlantic”, that’s me. I quit doing reviews when I somehow forgot my password around a year ago. I finally reset it, and what do you know, 6 thousand people have read my reports and I’ve got stellar ratings. And a whole $63, but I can’t take out any until the balance hits $100. Still, I am finally a professional Internet publisher. Neener, neener.

June 29, 2009

           These are strange days, harkening back to the era of “Russian weather control”. I’m only talking the weather because it has been raining heavily for a week and the forecast is yet another week on the way. Or as Carlos would say, the chance of rain is “sixty per cent out of a hundred”. Here is a lousy picture of the flood, a river running right down the road, ankle deep.
           I do not own any boots. The fact is, that water is warm and it is best to just walk in it barefoot. Oddly, Millie appears to be afraid of rain and will often bark at the thunder. Never seen that before, not in the ten years I’ve been here. Alls I know is the cat just curls right up and goes to sleep, which is most of what she does anyway.
           I see the guys across the way were moving on short notice, but nobody told me they had no place to go. Carlos was getting ready to crash on the living room floor when I got in late. No, no, we have space (now we do anyway) and we put him up in the Florida room. His buddy, Jay(?) was going to crash in the van, so we broke out the air mattress and let him camp in the living room. Strange how things work out, but Wallace knows them and they are fellow musicians. I put on the coffee.
           That reminds me I need another few hundred bucks to finish the Florida room. It will never be as comfortable as a fully air-conditioned and insulated part of the house. Still, it is quite habitable. I’ve been sleeping in my real bedroom and I never realized how nice it is. No birds on the roof, no rain noise, no neighbor noise, the A/C gives a hum that blots out everything. And no sound of tree branches scraping the walls. Sigh, but nobody will disagree we have to take in a renter for a while. What a racket when it rains, it gets too loud to hear anyone talking.
           I’m slapping together a computer from spare parts for Alfredo. That will cut down on the surplus gear I’ve got around the place in various states of disorder. Here’s trivia for any rye whiskey drinkers out there. Rye is only one-sixth of the grain in the pot. The rest is corn. Kind of makes you wonder about people who say they don’t like bourbon, but who will drink rye. You dummies, that is why the label on the rye bottle tells you it is blended.
           I admit, I was reading about corn, in regards to its use as a bio fuel. During which I stumbled across the major uses of the grain. Mostly, it is livestock feed. If you boil the corn in water and hydrochloric acid, you get corn syrup. Don’t say yuck to hydrochloric acid, your stomach is full of it. The first step to refining corn is to soak it in water for a few days. And don’t throw away the steep-water, it is used for making penicillin. In all, I conclude not to consider corn or any food grain as a viable source of engine fuel.
           Wallace has noticed our gutters are not working right. Somebody as to get up there and clean them. I saw an ingenious contraption in a magazine that collected rainwater in two 55-gallon drums. The water was used for toilet flushing and made a significant impact on the total water usage of the household. This water came from the rain gutters. I like such ideas.
           But I don’t like everything. How about those guys who were sitting around and saying, “This vinegar doesn’t taste bad enough on its own. Why don’t we strip some bark off a balsa tree and throw it in the vat?” At least that’s my version of how it went.

June 28, 2009

           Are there any crib players out there? If so, you’ll know what this hand represents. If any of 20 face cards had show up instead of that six of diamonds, this would have been a 28 hand. Even this hand beats all the odds, and I did have a Jack I had to throw away. The world’s greatest crib player just pegged over the skunk line in time.
           Carlos and Dan-O are gone. That means new neighbors across the lane soon, it has always been the only rental in this whole area. They did last there longer than usual, the average stay being just over six months. Dan-O is heading back to Michigan and Carlos will no doubt find another place in this vicinity.
           There are roughly 750 fancy condos in foreclosure in south Broward. I glanced through the listings to conclude that buyers are simply holding out. Why bid a penny more than the balance? This is good news for me, signaling that a heavy downward spiral is pending. The few sales propping up the market are the sucker last-chancers. Some beautiful places are going for less than $20K. But those are condos, I want to see houses doing the same. I really have little sympathy for people who bragged and borroed their way to unbelievable poverty later in life. I guess what I’m saying is that if all these people did the right thing, where are all the millionaires?
           It also emphasizes the major problem with the American system—politicians are not held accountable for their actions. Thus, they are not compelled to represent anyone but themselves. I’m trying to remember the name of that bozo who pushed for deregulation, saying the current laws were like making “a man wear the same clothes he was born in”. He pushed for removing financial controls on the stock market, and is a sad example of my point. Anyone who followed his advice lost, but he cannot be held responsible. It didn’t help that he looked like the dumb old bastard he turned out to be. This lack of accountability encourages these morons get on TV and coach other morons. I know people who only want a job so they can get a credit card.
           I’ve gone through Eddie Monroe’s music a few times and he has a penchant for those slow ballads. While all music is just chords and lyrics, these tunes are even more so. I’ve tried several times to get into the lyrics of “Pancho & Lefty”, but I get distracted within the first minute and have never finished the song. This makes it bad for stage work. Customers who don’t know the song will not likely listen to it no matter how well played or presented. It just does not have the right appeal.
           Cakewalk [the midi edit software] is back in the picture. I’m looking at patching [replacing instrument voices] but I don’t have the right sounds, and some of the versions are going to need major adjustments. Some tunes I will have to enter the hard way, for example, “Cover of the Rolling Stone”. There is not a single site readily available on the entire Internet that gives the bass tab. One feature I really get results from is the midi track volume. Most of the composers seem to have left the individual instruments at full volume [setting 100], and that explains a lot of the wrong things you hear as you try to sing certain Karaoke tunes.
           Big Al has also been in touch. He’s the guy looking into all the Internet businesses for something he can make money at from home. I warned him they are scams, yet I appreciate his doing the research. There is very little I can do, which I’ve explained, plus the fact that if a legit business does come along, who needs partners. My ideal Internet business is one where the money is made “selling” a service that is automatic and cannot be returned for a refund.
           My newest laugh is the on-line ads that seek a web master who knows PHP, Apache, Joomla and is an SEO expert. It is always some “big idea” person that wants to go partners with a programmer. My point is, if you can do all the things he wants, what the hell do you need him for?
           Does anyone want to know what happened to the German lessons? Well, I’ll tell you anyway. I’m on lesson two (of ten) and you know that convoluted phrase from way back, “How goes it with you?” Now I know precisely where that came from. If I ever meet a lady called Frau Schneider, I’ll be able to state I am American right off. Where is all this leading? I don’t know. As my parents would answer, “Shut up and look out the window. You might see something you never saw before.”
           Just don’t see an amusement park full of kids your own age driving go-karts, or the side of your head will get real sore in a fast hurry. I speak with authority.

June 27, 2009

           Take a look at the yard on this beautiful day. This is the west side of the patio, to give you an idea of the vegetation and scenery. It is too hot for comfort, but not for staying outside for a while in the early mornings or after sunset. That is the Jamis 7-speed against the railing. The mileage must be approaching 3,900 miles by now.
           A perfect summer day for staying indoors. That’s why I was in the shop doing research. That didn’t fly well as customers kept bothering me with work. The world is behaving like everything out there is at a standstill. I know the recession is world wide, not just here, but the cause of it is here. Too much of the world business was based on cheap easy money. DC was announcing great things while back on the streets people were buying pizza with credit cards.
           Karaoke Denise was in. I’ll have to give her all the uncopied disks back and try again once the proper software arrives. She’s got a steady gig in Ft. Lauderdale and doesn’t need the Karoke display. I’m hunting for software to streamline that process. Meanwhile all other music and performing remains on hold.
           At the bookstore y’day, a series of language courses went on sale for $6. One of the was German. Wallace and I listened to Lesson One, and you know, we were able to follow the drill. Stick around to see how far that goes. And unlike my interest in Mandarin, which is confined to reading numbers, this German is spoken only. Some parts I couldn’t tell if it is one word or many.
           The cruel jokes about Jackson are flying. Whose fault is that? Some sources are saying his death nearly grid-locked the Internet. Other sources say that is only because the announcement coincided with some long-awaited new music releases. One thing Jackson and I agree on is that all publicity is good, though I add the codicil that it is best when you make your living using it. I hope to some day.
           Thus, I took a very close look at, um, I don’t know what they are called yet. Those sites that encourage everybody to be a reporter by sending in local news and pictures. They appear to be highly modified blogs, and encourage people to leave comments. The standard news categories are presented, such as weather, sports and community events. I’m looking for one that would be suitable for excerpts from this blog. Nothing so far.
           Saturdays are at-home nights for me, and we listened to Andre on public television. I admit I prefer the music to the singing. But that might change if the lady singers made just a couple of small changes. Here and there.
           The only other thing atypical of today was that we sampled powdered milk. I had explained to Wallace about the increasing number of recipes that call for it, and the impossibility of keeping two different types of liquid milk on the space available here. Using two precautions, the powdered milk makes good drinking, but is best as an ingredient. First, always make it in a glass container; second, make sure it is ice cold for a few hours before you use it. I’m just sayin’.
           I’m taking some flak over my description of people who put a negative twist on everything. They seem to outnumber the rest of us, and get antsy when their illness is pointed out, even from this secluded distance. Let’s put it to the test. I’ll supply some facts and let the readers supply the conclusions. See how you do:
           On August 20, 1923, a yacht owner (named Sterling Wincapaw) crashed his flying boat, whence a splinter from the wing went through his brain, killing him instantly. His two passengers (Miss Wilson and Mr. Light) survived. The official verdict was a gust of wind tangled the lady’s dress around the joystick, jamming it so solidly that it could not be unbound. What was Miss Wilson doing in the cockpit? Return on the anniversary, August 20 this year, for the answer.
           Plus, I’d like to see if this new tactic increases readership.

June 26, 2009

           You know that rumor that Lab dogs have three layers of fur? This is just the first layer; either that or Millie melted in the sun. This was done by hand with scissors, as the electric clippers were instantly defeated by a thick mat that looks like those pictures of Aussies shearing sheep. Anyway, the project so far took two man-hours. Once the remaining fur is raked, she does not look too bad. Hardest parts were around the neck and tail. One laugh, Pudding-Tat, and you are next.
           Was Michael Jackson a financial genius? He died a half-billion in debt living in a rental home. That is something I once planned to do. You watch, it will turn out to be a full billion and all his assets will be hidden in a family trust. I say he is just the most famous of a string of the so-called wealthy who have lived their entire lives on credit, and this is only the beginning of the problem. Others in the past have successfully pretended to be rich, but never has it been done by almost an entire generation.
           For clarity, I don’t mean every generation since WWII. I mean just the generation born between 1946 and 1956 and who cannot be blamed for the credit binge. Their parents witnessed the government take every available man, feed him, train him, hand him a gun, airplane or submarine, and ship him overseas and back. Once the war stopped, why shouldn’t the same government also give him a house, car and education? In a sense, with lax credit, the government did.
           These people were born believing credit was a right, and began having their own children around 1966. That brought the Yuppies, then Yuppie-Puppies, and now Generation X who no longer know how to live without credit. One in a thousand could survive on their own; I wonder what fraction of them could successfully grow a carrot? Credit reporting companies control their lives and there is no way out. Even if they never borrow another cent, those records will remain to haunt them. The only nice thing is that it is all entirely their own fault.
           Another Friday off, I went to the bookstore at Aventura. On the way, I gave a lift to a lady from the shop who lives near MacDonald’s on US-1. I have not associated with people like her in twenty years, and I was reminded of why. She is one of those people who has an extremely low opinion of others and is shocked by everything you do, because she assumed you are as useless as she is. “Oh my God, you’re typing a letter!” “Oh my God, you are using a computer!” Not the letter or computer, but “you”, as in of all people.
           Another annoying habit related to the above is the way she makes really evil assumptions about your motives and does not apologize if you explain. As far as she is concerned, you failed to keep her informed (you kept secrets), and it is your fault she had negative thoughts. “You didn’t tell me you spoke Arabian so how was I supposed to know you weren’t a terrorist? That woman is beyond help. I’m sure we all know someone like her but my question is how do such people survive without getting punched in the head fifty times a day? Do you suppose that might be what’s wrong with her?
           I told Wallace about this gal and he recounted a tale of how he and I were near the Skytrain and I bought a pack of cigarettes from a stall. I smoked fifteen years ago (in case you are like the woman in question, I also smoked fourteen and sixteen years ago.) Anyway, I apparently ordered the cigarettes in Arabic and the lady handed them to me. Then I asked for a lighter in English, and the lady was stunned, asking where I had “learned to speak English so perfectly”. I have no personal recollection of this incident, but obviously Wallace must have seen it.
           Later. I’d never tried it before, but I’ve just discovered I can read bass music. So I don’t need the tabs, I can play right along with the notes generated by Cakewalk. That was a nice surprise. Today’s trivia. Did you know that men who are castrated before puberty live over 13 years longer on average? That explains a few things about politicians and guitarists who flag on Craigslist, doesn’t it?

June 25, 2009

           It’s the Yamaha, one of my PA speakers. It’s a prompt that I’ve got way too much gear. The box is no longer in this sparkling new condition and Pudding-Tat has scratched a lot of the el cheapo flock covering off the sides. The slated replacement is a powered speaker around a third this size. Powered means the speaker has a built in amp, you plug a mixing device in and you are ready to go.
           Here’s a tale of a couple of older Ukrainian brothers in one of the nine different towns I grew up in, average population around 400 each. (I mean older than me, they were around 30.) In those days when you wanted a pair of skates, you went to the hardware store and hoped they had your size in black. These two guys opened a sporting goods store in the middle of nowhere, next to the old post office on the wrong end of main street.
           It took off. People would drive out from the city to shop there. I remember them because everyone began to tout these brothers as role models. The fact is, you rarely met people with less intelligence or personality. How it worked was they were good old boys who were thus easily able to borrow $250,000 against the family farm, a sum which, as a startup hurdle, practically guaranteed success back in 1980.
           Anyway, I didn’t like them. I was probably a little envious, but not much. I was a radical and they represented the hated “system”. They played everything by the book, with brush cuts, fake manners and exaggerated respect for the building inspector. They were everything I was not, and their instant hit further embedded the unfairness of the world. Of course, these days I realize part of being rich is to deprive others of the same opportunities. You get this history lesson for lack of anything else much today.
           Maybe I spoke too soon. A variety of tasks came in this afternoon to keep us hopping, but between them, we managed to build a set of shelves for the soles. In a time-honored situation, a lady came in without a ticket. She was just gonna die if we lost her shoes, despite our assurances such things don’t happen. When she said they were black and white, they were grey. The database will soon solve these problems. She was one damn sexy woman, let me tell you.
           So, Michael Jackson died. He was 50, if you believe the ages as given on the old Ed Sullivan show. (The Jackson family lied heavily to make it appear the singers were much younger.) The two worst MJ jokes of the day come from Texas: When he died he had so much plastic in him, he was melted down for Legos and now for a change the kids play with him. Or, he died of food poisoning from eating a 12 year old weenie. [Author's note: I have seen no evidence that Jackson was a molester, but he was certainly weird. The jokes are included because of blog rules, and because I think they are funny. I never cared for Jackson, his style or his music, so I'll take the laugh.]
           Millie joins the army tomorrow, she gets the buzz cut. When I got home, Wallace showed me the skin rash on Millie. We held her down and applied the lotion, which she accepted. There is an option to keep her in the house all the time, but that is unrealistic for a part Lab. That heavy fur coat has to go. The plan is to shave her with my barber clippers in the morning. Millie, this is going to hurt Wallace more than you....
           Here’s a little inside information. I’ve always wanted to sit down and learn the exact bass riff to Janis Joplin’s “Bobby McGee”. It has not happened because I can crank out ten other lines for the same time and effort. I learned bass by tapping out the notes on a piano, then finding them on the fretboard. The significance of that came out while playing through the new midi files y’day. I’m in the other room when I hear an incredible rendition. When I walk over to highlight that version, there is the on-screen piano playing the notes for me. All I do is slow it down to quarter speed until I catch every note, as can be done with any midi files. How about that?

June 24, 2009

           Have you ever seen such a disorganized mess? The answer is no, because this is what it looks like after we built the shelves and stacked the gear up so neatly. The bins hold every scrap of leather, neoprene and glue left over since 1988. Don’t clean up, we sort of know where everything is. At least I think Alfredo does, or the other way around, some.
           It was a successful day, shoe-wise. You have a learning curve, I have quantum leaps. I’m glad I carefully explained that to Alfredo, who patiently let me make all the mistakes on his equipment. Today he was impressed by the quality of a few things I did, bearing in mind I still have a huge way to go. I just found out the correct way to dye shoe leather, which I used to do with my dance shoes. (Yep, I really was a dance instructor.)
           The shop is full of shoes that people never came back for. I get first dibs, but my size 8-1/2 feet turn out not to be a common item in the recycle bin. Most of the shoes seem to be size 11 or greater. Logic says either people with my foot size either always pick up their shoes or never have them repaired. Which theory you adopt depends more on your personality than mine.
           You know the blog rule says I must record anything that happened in the superlative, and today coffee was on sale for $2.99, less than ever since I arrived. Bicycle or not, I carried five boxes of it home. It is another one of those things we never run out of around here. Which reminds me, it is time to stock up again. Never wait for hurricane season.
           Music. By trial and error, the Ernie Ball volume pedal is repaired. I got around a year out of it before it started to crackle too loudly for stage work. I remember when it was a good brand name and I was expecting it to last virtually forever. Wallace and I looked at it, tested it, tried everything and concluded it must be an internal problem. It was. I noticed a tiny gap in the rheostat housing and got a glob of WD40 in there. Presto!
           Pudding-Tat has been feasting. A week back, I noticed those eentsy tins of meat spread were cheaper than cat food, so I put some in her dish. She won’t touch it. Brainiac here did not buy any of her favorite just in case. So she gets tuna and chicken until I make a special trip to the grocery. She’s not complaining.
           Actually, there are a couple things I should record about the change of diet for the household as well. We now pay a lot of intention to how much salt is contained in all items, since at least half of our average meals contain some form of prepared products (known to contain salts). We are neither vegans or health-freaks, but it plain became time to heed the warnings. It turns out we actually like turkey bacon and Wallace is going to try unsalted butter.
           Of course I know that today’s blog is not terribly exciting. That is a major hazard of working for a living. One of my biggest beefs about a job has always been how it causes the lack of variation in many people’s mind-sets. The day-in day-out routine produces routine people, something I am not known to willfully associate with. One of my earliest experiences with this factor was a garage door factory I worked at one summer before joining the phone company. Not being a TV addict, it was so amusing to hear all my co-workers suddenly start using the same expression one day. The word “gnarly” comes to mind.
           Allow me to reiterate my feelings on work for anyone who missed them the first time around. My philosophy is that you should only work to get ahead, you should never work for a living. I was programmed to work for the wrong reasons, but I got out of that dead end route (it took 19 years) and so can anybody with a half a brain. It starts by losing your credit cards and (this is important) beginning to associate with others who wouldn’t have one. You’ll find you may have to “lower” your standards to associate with people who drive used cars and refuse to spend $200 on a concert ticket, but the benefits will accrue. It should be easy to detect that I just spent a day working instead of living, but remember you, I am also the expert at spotting the dull routine in others. It’s a talent best described as gnarly.

June 23, 2009

           Um, here’s a picture of G’s Place, on Tyler and Dixie. No particular reason, except I was caught there under their awning for nearly an hour, which I’ll explain in a few moments. To follow up y’day, I do not have any facilities for duplicating the CDG disks and there is no practical way to trick my DVD burner into faking a CD. I’ll have to be satisfied with the fact that just figuring it out was quite an accomplishment.
           Karaoke progress report. My music quest is ended for a while anyway. I underestimated the number of subdirectories on the disk, which contains folders like “Greatest” holding countless tunes. I’m only up to the letter “G” in the alphabet and already I’ve got 6,200 pieces of music. That does not count specialty items like Christmas music, sound effects, TV themes, classical, Celtic, and what sounds like the backgrounds of every video game in existence.
           I again mention the effect of home recording technology on music. When recording began, most artists, Elvis aside, made a living off a few hits, usually less than ten. Toward the end of the century, obscure bands are cranking out music by the ton. People I never heard of with 200 songs. This emphasizes the difference between recording artists (them), and performers (me). Since there are only ten spots for the top ten tunes, some mechanism other than musical ability has taken over the charts. There is not physically enough time to merely listen to all the music out there much less to go back and rate them against each other.
           It is a question of money, but after all this time, I still do not have any backup musical equipment. One cable, one component, anything that craters will put me out of business. I do not have a working spare of anything. That explains why my Ernie Ball swell pedal is
           Swine flu. Mike’s kid got it, and he got it at home, not at school. They won’t let him in school. Circumstantially, the source points to their housemaid, who is quite healthy and just returned from visiting her family in Mexico. Mike wears a surgical mask, but didn’t we recently debunk that theory?
           Is Kraft Dinner a staple? I think so, although the world demands evidence. I think I can answer that. Whenever I stick any of the sauce in between two sheets of paper, it holds them together. Therefore.
           Today was a rainstorm, dawn to dusk. Nothing got done, except for helping Fred solve a few software problems over at the shop. The shoemaker is dependent on walk-ins and the rain can stop that 100%. Theresa checked in from Camp Wilmie and reports 100+ degree weather up in the boonies. The Cape Fear BluesFest is taking place. That would be interesting to see in a college town.
           Millie is too shaggy and the clippers are on the spare dining room table. Wallace saw a dog at the park with a mane left, and that seems the best option. Millie the lion. Who will do the deed? I know dogs existed long before humans but they must have had a rough time in this kind of heat. Right Millie? One bark, yes. Two barks, no. Three barks undecided.

June 21, 2009

           It’s Millie on the Atlantic coast. Wallace, Dan-O and I wound up in the surf on what is the hottest equinox day in years. You may notice other dogs in the background, this is an area of the beach set aside for that purpose. Millie likes the water but barely manages to stay above the larger waves when her fur gets wet. You try it when you are 82. That was it for the day, we came back here, baked a pie and watched Ocean’s Eleven.
           Tor is back in the news. This is the outfit that anonymizes the path of Internet packets. I’ve warned people since day one that everything they do on line is scrutinized by somebody. It should be clear by now that this is an invasion of privacy and that the motives to snoop in this fashion are evil no matter who is doing it. Of the many businesses out there offering anonymizers, Tor is the best because it does not require you to identify yourself. That potentially incriminates you should a company have a future change of heart, buyout or Supreme Court subpoena.
           Remember what the police did when that little town in England tried, as promised, to destroy all the citizen’s DNA records after an early research project was finished. Also keep in mind that the police themselves use Tor when conducting warrantless searches, so that the party being investigated does not get tipped off the inquiries are all coming from the same source. Likewise with the FBI and CIA.
           Still, I dislike Tor’s algorithm. It merely randomizes the path of your Internet packets so those who spy can’t see a path back to your computer. All they see is some proxy servers. The catch is, anyone who knows computers can tell you that computer random isn’t quite as random as real random. That is how a Finnish company was heavily fined recently for offering peer-to-peer file sharing. They were convicted of “assisting” copyright infringement.
           I have great hopes from that Finnish company. You see, they finally realized that the real money on the Internet is going to come from making it private again. I predict they will write a program that will use every on-line computer as a packet scrambler. By joining up, you agree your computer can act as a relay for the messages of other members, making it impossible to trace anything. Servers will no longer be chokepoints to filter data from targeted IP addresses. The way it should be.
           By mid-afternoon I have logged every possible copy combination on my equipment and none of them will work on a commercial Karaoke disk. The best I can do is get the audio to play back without the lyrics, almost as if I can rip the music, but not the lyric files. Do I need special software? I can produce wma files, but the lyrics disappear during the rip.
           There is a small possibility that a special CD reader or burner is required, both to read the CDG disks and to burn them. My instinct says the laser does not care what it is burning, yet every burn failure today points to that very situation. Of course, every Karaoke person I called on my list to ask this question did not have any idea what I was talking about. This is why I am careful to point out many differences when people say they have done the same things as I. Have they now?
           By scrounging spare parts, I got a full Karaoke show up and working in the front dining room. Check back soon for pictures. The Karaoke machine outputs line level, which requires a PA channel. Utilizing a spare microphone and the old movie speakers, even Wallace agreed the sound has potential. As soon as I get a flat screen and learn to copy, I’ll be looking for a show. Arnel called around 6:00 PM, he had been playing the Walkabout but was rained out just before we arrived. He is avidly following my progress since we will prove to be an excellent combination with the ability to put on a seven-hour show. He’s only playing Fridays for now.
           [Author’s note: The motive for copying the CDs is to save weight. If you’ve ever seen a Karaoke operator lug in 600 CDs, you’ll know I cannot do that. On average, only three tunes per disk are of any use to me. I believe I can get all 1,800 tunes I will ever play onto less than 130 CDs. Do the math. Until I can find an app that burns and plays back to a hard drive or DVD, the only playback device I have is a CDG player.]

June 22, 2009

           Karaoke. The more I wade into the technicalities, the more I realize Karaoke was more discovered than invented. During the process of building up tracks, a no-brainer technician programming midi must have often wished there were lyrics to refer to as he went along. Y’day I failed to find a standard method (Ahead Nero/NTI) to copy the CDG disks, thus I was in the shop solving that problem. Today’s photo is an intentionally grainy shot of the Karaoke setup I am going to miniaturize. When done, the whole show will be half the size of the grey DVD player shown right of center.
           Yet again once more, nobody I know in the music industry seems to have any idea what I’m talking about. Now it makes sense why they are so protective of their disks. If they lose them and don’t have the money for replacements, they are out of business. So much for the towering financial tycoons in this field. And their whiz kids, too.
           My conclusions were as follows: I could copy the music, but not the lyrics, as already said, but I could also not even view the names of the lyrics files on the CD. This kind of situation makes me think, so I did. The files exist, but they cannot be seen. Where have we all encountered this before? I know, I know! Rental DVDs. They have those French and Spanish subtitles you can enable. Aha, but if you have ever looked at the file list (using your computer), there is no folder full of subtitles. Interim conclusion—the hidden files are on a sub-channel.
           Continuing, I have copied DVD movies before, therefore a DVD burner must be capable of burning sub-channels. There is a backward compatibility between DVD and CD, meaning you can burn CDs with a DVD burner, but not the other way around. Therefore, I reason that any Sony DVD burner (all of which can play subtitles) should be able to duplicate a CDG disk. Am I right or wrong? We’ll soon know. This kind of thinking is best done out loud and Fred said he has never seen anyone figure something out the way I just did. I believe him.
           Still at the shop because my burners are at home, I now began to Google armed with a list of questions I had most recently learned to ask. Sure enough, I found dozens of excellent sites with hardware and software, including “ruggedized” laptops intended for Karaoke work. There are programs to copy the CDGs but they cost money, the same with apps that will change the key of MP3+G. That last format, MP3+G, is most interesting, because that is exactly where I stated I wanted to go without yet knowing it existed. The same article said MP3+G on a hard drive was “the future of Karaoke”. Gee, they’re catching up to me.
           So I went home and copied 19,000 midi files in 450 directories, every tune released since 1952. No ticky-bob vibraphone versions, the real studio productions. Including Japanese, German and all known national anthems. Arnel, I think we just hit the jackpot. The CDGs will follow, if only pending their conversion to MP3+G. That is an interesting conversion because each tune requires two files with the same name but different extensions. Hmmm, doesn’t that sound like my old Serenade program? Dang, there I go, thinking again.
           Eddie Monroe has been in to chat. Did I mention I finally heard him sing at the Thursday Karaoke show? He sounds a bit like Bill Monroe, his great-uncle. Eddie has been laid off his job and wants to play. By assuring me he is a lousy guitar player (which is exactly what I am looking for), this may be an opportunity for both of us. A poor guitar player won’t strike out on his own, and I assure you every other musician he could ever team up with in this town will let him down. I will keep my solo act in the works just in case. He likes old CCR, a group I don’t mind.
           Trivia. Buffalo is no longer an endangered species. Once numbering 1,000 in 1900, they are now home on the range at 225,000 head.

July 20, 2009

           One of the easier ways to get mentioned here is to be the stupidest or most inconsiderate person I encounter in a given day. Take a look at the lady in the jeans and the black top, she accomplished both. This is over at the Barn in Oakwood Plaza. I’ve learned to sit at a table first, then go up to the counter when there is no line-up. This screwy broad took 16 minutes to order a coffee (to go) and get out of the friggen way. Around half the people behind her had to return to work without their morning coffee break. Lady, if you ever read this, I hope you get what is coming to you.
           Speaking of dummies, I never said they should not be taken advantage of. From the “Why Didn’t I Think of That?” department, we have a classic stupid idea that made money. Jig-saw puzzles for Dummies. You’ve been there, a massive expanse of sky-blue where nothing fits. Enter a schematic of the puzzle where each piece is inscribed with a serial number for each matching piece and position. You just lay the pattern down on your table. The puzzle pieces you pick up each have a matching number on the reverse side. Turn over each likely piece until you see the serial number and it fits.
           Have you been to Best Buy lately? They now have a music department. The quality is mid- to high-end, and the emphasis is on Karaoke and DJ, the two lowest forms of musical entertainment. Who remembers the famous Fender Twin Reverb? This classic amp was $140 when it came out circa 1960. The new made in China product (yes, it is a real Fender factory) is identical right down to the patent numbers. It now sells for $1,700.
           I finally drilled out the Karaoke RCA jack to extract the broken pin with tweezers. See, I told you I should have been a veterinarian. Coupled to my old DVD player, I have a slick if somewhat bulky setup, lacking only a 22” TV screen. There is more good news, I was able to determine the JVC was built in 1994, meaning it must use disk formats available on that date at the latest. That’s what I was doing up at Oakwood—buying blank CDs. These are sacrifice disks, I will burn every available pre-1994 format until I find the one that works. This could waste $10, but I figure that is a bargain over trying to get a straight answer out of anyone in this town.
           Since it was not busy, I looked into bicycle trails between Maine and Washington (always meaning the state, never the “other Washington” which I call DC). There are several routes, all appear well-kept by a large American bicycle association. I don’t know about camping or safety yet. They have organized tours I may consider, but you know me and groups. I am a great team worker as long as I am the captain. I measured a trip from New York to Seattle, returning via San Francisco and Nevada. A total of 4,000 miles.
           Oddly, the bicycle recommended for the trip is made of bamboo. These custom-built units cost $2,500 a pop. I’ll stick with my Jamis. At a leisurely 35 miles per day, the trip would take only four months. Didn’t I once read it took six months to go across the country in a covered wagon? I do want to see this 6/10ths of an acre of farmland that each person on earth has, on average. It may be my last chance and to do it with no gasoline is an attractive idea.
           We are nearing the anniversary of the first moon landing; I don’t want to miss my chance to comment. As far as I am concerned, the Space Shuttle wasted forty years. As soon as you build anything re-useable, the American system will soon cause the refill to cost almost as much as a new article. That’s how the dickheads make their money. If there had been a single respectable person at NASA standing up for the right motives, I might today be writing this blog from Mars.

June 19, 2009

           Here’s a report, you can decide if it is progress. I’ve been up since 5:00 AM working on the Karaoke disk copy, only to make a different discovery. See today’s grainy picture, we now have Karaoke in the living room. No, this is not a posed setting, there is musical equipment all over this place. Look closely at the white rectangular box on top of the big screen TV, over to the right.
           It is that ancient DVD player I bought at the computer show in 2005 to check out the technology. It is three times the size of a contemporary unit and is from the 1990s. Remembering how the Sony Walkman was discovered by accident, I walked over and put a Karaoke CDG disk in the slot and it began to autoplay. This prompted another round of investigations, whence I discovered copies will not play, only the originals. But I’m hot on the trail. If an old player will decode the disks, then it is not any type of special Karaoke format, in itself a valuable tidbit.
           By noon, I have determined that at least one format used for CDG is called “CD Extra”, although the separate tracks cannot be seen on the disk. A dodo named Mark L. Chambers managed to write a 329 page “CD & DVD Recording For Dummies” in 2004 without once mentioning Karaoke. He describes CD Extra on page 182 without giving a single example. (Actually, the whole book is pretty bad; he is more concerned with sounding clever than imparting any information.) It is well known how exasperated I am by such authors, I often call them “MicroSoft grade” as an insult.
           By quitting time I had determined the only thing wrong with the Karaoke machine is a snapped off RCA plug, but it is so solidly in there I may have to chance drilling it out. I was pleasantly surprised to find out JVC, the manufacturer, has a free on-line instruction manual (downloadable) for every product they have ever manufactured, including those no longer in production. Hey, Sony, did you hear that?
           That was enough to get me out on a Friday to do something besides perform. I drove to the Barn in Aventura, and since they didn’t have a single book on File Express, I read trivia for three hours. They have switched to some bitter new brand of coffee, exactly the wrong thing to do to save money. I read several articles on the path that entertainment is to take in the next generation, and I think the predictions of 3D media are wrong, or at least further away.
           It appears to me that for the first time in history, the form has outpaced the authors. There will always be rare and remarkable talent, but in general, even freebies like YouTube have failed to produce any blockbusters. If the current crop of authors cannot instill us in 2D, either the medium has to change from mass to mini or be replaced by something not yet dreamed of.
           Pop-Sci has another article on a flying car. Hey, they’ve got fifty years and zero air miles on that theme. There is something to the rumor that by 2012, most cars made in Europe will have an engine that shuts off when the car is idling, resulting in an 8% efficiency gain. Does this mean it dies in standing traffic? (Most American cars over ten years old already have that feature, ha-ha.) Unless they have also invented an engine that restarts instantly when the accelerator is pressed, I’m not impressed yet.
           Can I use the word “pundits” again? No? In that case, the experts are saying that global warming has already gone too far to be reversed. At the concentration of greenhouse gas already in the atmosphere, we have 5,000 days left. A four degree rise in average temperature means most coastal cities will be under water and half of all species will die. That’s February, 2023. Looks like I’ll have to move further up the mountainside and learn to cook small mammals.
           I gave a long listen to the music on Eddie’s list, I’ll refer to him as Eddie Monroe. Like many guitar strummers, he sure likes those slow tunes. I’m the other extreme; I’ve played two years without any draggy “mood” songs, and all that time without a complaint about it. Some of it I like and that is why I leave lethargic music for the audience to play on the jukebox during my breaks. I find it too risky to lose the crowd by playing a sluggish Eagles number at the wrong moment. I swear the only talent some Florida musicians have is knowing when to kill the moment. Hopefully I’ve found an exception.

June 18, 2009

           I promise this is the last of the Everglades photos for a while. This statue is outside Ranger Leslie’s visitor center. This may be the closest you’ll ever see to this endangered species, with about ten specimens left. Don’t tell them they are called specimens. The literature nearby says the national park is largely due to some guy’s steely determination. And his coppery statue.
           Wallace says my shoulder injury is off the critical list. But yesterday he thought I had the plague. Did I ever tell you about Ernie Kelly, a town bully. Actually, he wasn’t so much a bully as a fourteen year old in grade five. Ernie had a long needle made in shop class out of a coat hanger. Whenever any of the kids had even the smallest zit, Ernie would prescribe “Lance it!”
           Now Ernie pronounced his last name “kuh-LEE” and so did you if you knew what was good for you. I wonder if he knows how many kids he gave complexes to, the way he would take out his Zippo and run the flame up and down that needle. “Gotta stair-lize it for ya.” I believe Ernie became a town councilor in Spedden, Alberta.
           Time to correct an error. I have been mistakenly referring to Mitch’s machine as a “trike” when in fact it is called a “trikke”. Looks like I’m about to find out if my search and replace feature works. Sorry ‘bout that, big guy. Thursday is Jimbos Karaoke and I was there to finally hear Eddie, the great-nephew of Bill Monroe. He’s certainly got a distinct country style and I explained to him why I was seeking a guitar player who could not play much at all. That is correct, I do not need a good guitar player. I actually sang “Secret Agent Man”, the first time I’ve dared to present something that was not from my regular song list.
           Closer examination of the CDG machine shows that it has very few features beyond a regular CD player. Mind you, the disks have proven difficult to copy, you get either a CDA format single track or a series of wma tracks that don’t play back the video. You cannot drag and drop such files. Nonetheless, it appears the Karaoke tracks are nothing special, just ordinary video added to the CD. This suggests the CDG disks may be nothing more than VCD or SVCD (Video CD or Super Video CD).
           The fact that others may already know this does not impress me, for they were raised around the technology and did not figure it out for themselves. Tomorrow I will investigate the possibility that the reason both Ahead Nero and NTI [popular disk copying software] have special video disk options that nobody ever uses. If only it turns out to be that simple. It would also mean that not one of the many books and optical disk manuals I’ve read over the past four years has ever mentioned a single word about Karaoke.
           File Maker is ill-designed for some features, but it is still a superior product to MS Access (the relational database that comes bundled with Windows). I’ve gotten it to produce a report to discover it is then difficult to get that report off the monitor so you can see the files again. Also, the report then disappears into the machine without any direct way to reprint it. Nor have I found any way to do compound queries, File Maker seems to only have native ability to do single-field matches. I understand almost anything could be scripted but it would be nasty of them to require such monumental effort for basic functions.
           Oops, I’ve just been admonished for using jargon. What is “bundled” and “scripted”? Bundled is a phone company term adopted by the computer industry, it means a group of features that are generally not sold separately. This practice often surprises honest people who understand service to mean something that works. Take a look at your bill and you will realize how many different things the phone company regards what you are getting when in fact all you may have is plain old telephone service. If it were not for harsh government regulation saying the phone company must bundle dial tone with phone service, they would probably charge extra for it.
           Scripts are another computer term. These are generally small programs that list a series of steps for a computer to perform. When you issue a print command, the computer executes a script and out spits your document, at least in theory. These scripts are very finicky and there are far too many of them. They are not a good thing if you have to construct them yourself. They are not plain English no matter what anybody claims. Scripts are usually only necessary when somebody else intentionally left something out. That is, they unbundled it.

June 17, 2009

           The vultures are waiting in today’s picture. Weren’t there three tourists at those tables the last time we looked? The picture is all full of symbolism concerning the economy. This is near West Lake out in the Everglades national park.
           The new job keeps me moving along. Today I came home, made supper, and it was already 9:00 PM. News from across the lane, Carlos and Dan-O are moving away end of the month. They lasted longer in there than most, the average stay being a few months. How long before Arnel and I are the only two people left working in this town?
           Alfredo likes me to answer the phone at the shop, kind of screen the calls. One thing we get is telemarket calls, and I love to put the screws to them. They’ve got to go through me now and I’m impressed by how evolved their scripts have become. They will not answer a direct question about whether they are selling anything. Let me tell you about one such call today.
           The lady asks for the owner by last name. I ask her if she is a telemarketer, she replies that she would like to speak to the business owner. Am I the business owner? No, then I must be an employee and she “needs to be certain she is talking to the right person”. I ask her for the business owner’s first name, she again dodges the question by asking if I am “the FBI”. She got nowhere, but it was a clever script indeed. If I was not the owner, she acted like I did not have the authority to screen her call. If I was an employee, she didn’t have to do what I said. If I was not an employee, she acts like I should not be answering the phone. We get around three such calls per day.
           When I stepped out the door at quitting time, Marcus came by (a coincidence). For the first time in years, I went for a drink right after work. My old 9:30 rule still applies. This is a holdover from my college days when drinking after class was considered normal. In my entire college, university and years at the phone company, I never once left from those to go drinking. I always did something productive until 9:30 PM, hence the rule.
           This made me a pariah at the phone place, where the three beer lunch break was common. But it also ensured an enormous gap in productivity and quality of life between me and the pack. Take little gems like this blog. I understand how for some people, a blog like this take so much time they would assume I, and not they, had no life. If I had no life, would I have anything to write about? Hold on, that sounds like a telemarketing script. Sorry.
           Don’t expect any important posts on the Karaoke or database during the week. There isn’t time and you know it. That only means I’m not writing, it does not mean there is no progress. Besides, I’m still in pain over that insect encounter last weekend. Wallace says “lance it” but I twisted around until I could see it in the mirror. It is tiny. I will go to a doctor if it does not disappear in another day, promise. For the record, I was wearing a loose flowing but sturdy cotton shirt at the time. Maybe it was a horsefly, but can they bite through a shirt that thick and not make a hole? There’s never an entomologist around when you need one.
           Worst joke of the day: Who lost the election in Iraq? Answer: The USA. Like some of the most lauded military experts of all time, Clauswitz and Lao Ting, all military philosophy is wholly obvious to anyone who has played with toy soldiers in the sand box. Just as I predicted about hurricanes when I was eleven, as time goes by and knowledge increases, humankind with eventually figure out the way stupid people behave is far from random. For proof you need look no further than my oft-quoted example of “family emergencies”. Our politicians have created another unwinnable war.

June 16, 2009

           Here’s the customized Harley I mentioned on the weekend. It is not something you’d go cross-country in. Too fancy. Those are car tires on the rear rims. The detailed chrome work is top-notch and I’m glad I’m not the one to keep it clean. The owner says it will tow a small trailer and he has replaced the transmission with a model that has no reverse gear.
           I’ve designed a small database using File Maker Pro 8, and that program is already showing monumental limitations. There is no report module. One should not have to consult either the manual or the Internet to print out a report. There is no query module. I know that reports and queries are there, but why no button or instructions, why nothing on the File Maker webpages? I will eventually find them but shame on File Maker for not making these features super-intuitive. It’s not like databases just got invented last year. I want a big, fat, juicy menu option saying “Print Report”.
           Another shortcoming is File Maker has resorted to the disgusting “forum” instead of providing clear documentation about known quirks. That’s a cop out. Have you ever noticed forums and FAQ never quite address the problem you have, or are worded so badly you still can’t find anything? You just know File Maker made up half those questions themselves. Makes me glad I didn’t pay for their software. (But nor did I steal it, so relax.)
           Am I the walking wounded? Whatever bit me through my shirt on Sunday was not a mosquito. For openers, it knew to bite me on the shoulder blade right where I cannot get to it. I finally showed it to Wallace and he said it looks like, well, never mind what he said it looks like. I’m not allergic to anything so it was one big bad insect of which that swamp has no shortage.
           Denise came by with the Karaoke Machine and I am waiting for a spare evening at home to put it to the test. I ripped all the CDGs, whereupon Windows Media Player put them in wma format without even being asked. Does wma play back with the lyrics? I know it does not play them using WinAmp. Am I up against some idiot-proof copyright scheme? No matter, it will tumble and fall.
           I’m doing a lot of repetitious work at the new job. That is how apprenticing works. It reminds me when I was young how many bosses would tell you things like working a wheelbarrow full of concrete was all part of learning the carpentry trade. Sure. My consolation is somehow knowing with their attitudes, all of them got caught up in the real estate bubble. Tell them sweeping my floor is part of the computer trade. Money is not worth more because someone worked for it.
           Pudding-Tat is back on track. I reassembled my desk after a thorough termite inspection so I’m in the same room with her more often. All this cat instinct is beyond me. For the last two years she would not touch boiled chicken, now she loves it. She used to prefer dry cat food. She sniffs and spurns it. I’m certain all this is common knowledge on the cat forum. Since she has become an outdoor cat, I keep her with a flea collar and spray but she still manages to pick up hitch-hikers.
           I bumped into Marcus today, he is riding a bicycle and losing weight. I wish that worked for me. I’ll be approaching 3,900 miles on my bicycle in three years and have not lost an ounce.

June 15, 2009

           Some continuing observations of the field trip y’day to Flamingo, Florida. That was the first time I’ve ever been bothered by mosquitoes in the swamp, at least to the extent of making me high-tail it for the car. I’m the type that naturally does not attract insects, so imagine the plight of others. The only wildlife seen besides birds was a deer crossing the road and an alligator watching for us to make a mistake.

           Something new means I have to mention it, and today it was a garbage can. Also today’s photo, I had to call Wallace over to look at this solar panel covering the top of the unit. Possibly these have been around for years but as a country musician, I really don’t spend much time inspecting garbage cans. That’s for jazz guitarists. Did I really say that? Anyway, Wallace figured it out, it is a trash compactor.
           We finally got to the end of the road around 2:00 PM, since we investigated every sight along the way. There is a store out there, but it is more for fishermen and tourists, they don’t sell any known brands of insect repellent. There is a tiny museum a short walk to the south, located upstairs in a building that plainly used to be something else. The entire area is a rather unique landscape, dominated by the famous “river of grass”, where the water flow just one hundred feet per day.
           There are various nature walks and trails off the main road. I can’t imagine camping outdoors in this climate, even in the winter it can be hot and muggy. It being still spring, I hoped to bring home a few of the thousands of Florida Pine cones that fall to the ground. But every last one was gone. Even the ones that hang in the trees had been picked and taken away. Despite walking into a grove in one of three forested campsites, there was not a single pine cone anywhere. What is the explanation?
           Maybe Ranger Leslie knows. If so, I hope she’ll contact me here and sends me a better picture. Here is the best one of the three I took, I’ll only publish this for a few days because this picture does not do her justice. We also met a guy with a $45,000 customized Harley Trike, return later this week for photos.
           Back at the office, I got some abrupt bad news. Marney, the prospective tenant, called at 7:00 PM to say she didn’t want the room. She waited until the last possible moment, as in after I had driven up to Ft. Lauderdale and was waiting to give her a free ride over here. Well, I warned you many times how flakey the Florida people can get. She was a farm girl from Colorado but this area can be a magnet for the type who disappoint everybody they meet.
           Denise called to confirm her disks are all CDG. It is a pity that difficult format became a standard. These can be tedious to rip and special software is required to get at the lyrics. The files are also huge, in fact, the music tracks are the same as you get on a standard CD, which holds only 70 minutes of music. Her Karaoke machine is a CDG player with three bays. If nothing else, this equipment will get me familiar with what I’ll need for my new act. That alone puts me a few months ahead of doing everything on my own. Check back for progress reports.
           Fighting City Hall Dept. You know I love to do it. The reason is that as soon as an ordinance is passed, the individual inspectors begin to enforce it unevenly. Today the inspector told Fred his "neon banding" was prohibited under ordinance 8.6.G.19. Of course, I'm the type that look it up, and sure enough, sub-sub-Section G is a list of prohibited signs. Condition 19 states you cannot place neon banding around a prohibited sign. But paragraph 8 does not specifically prohibit a neon sign. The banding is therefore permitted because the banding is not placed around a prohibited sign.
           The entire paragraph 8 does not state whether neon is permitted or prohibited as a sign material. It is silent on the point and silence is not good enough to define non-compliance. Now you know the origin of my statement that I love law, but I hate lawyers.

June 14, 2009

           Hey Wallace, look at that eagle’s nest on top of the radio tower. By mid-morning, we were on a tour back to Flamingo, the small museum and marina at the far end of Everglades National Park. It’s been a couple of years and we did not go on the boat ride as planned. It seems to have doubled in price to $26.50 per person. Plus, I met a young lady who is going to be disappointed because my digital camera let me down. Her picture is blurred (my camera trips the shutter very slowly in low light, instead of beeping a warning).
           Ranger Leslie is one of those rare people you meet where there is an instant compatibility. Makes me wish we had met at a different time. She is the type of gal I dated in college and I’m so glad there are still a few such unjaded women around. The rules say we’ll never meet again, but the electricity was there; a very captivating mutual attraction on the personality level. Some might say “chemistry”. Sigh.
           All these years I’ve been in the area and I did not know about the summer mosquito problem. I’ve been in the swamps before, so did they stop spraying? Even a heavy layer of repellent did nothing, we had to take turns jumping back into the car so only one door was open at a time, and still they got inside. One bit me in the shoulder blade right through my shirt. Question. How is it that even a good brisk wind won’t blow mosquitoes away?
           Wallace and I stopped at every stop and had key lime pie at the marina. We would have walked up to a mile on the trails but the mosquitoes stopped us after a few dozen yards. Mosquitoes are among the most useless life forms in existence, they don’t do anything but bite, they don’t even pollinate plants, they are a hated species. With a whine-like buzz, they annoy all but each other and spread foul diseases. They are the invertebrate equivalent of the US diplomatic corps.
           We declined to take the boat ride although we toyed with the idea of renting a canoe. Instead, we stopped and spent a few minutes at everything along the way. It is off season so there were no tourist crowds. I was impressed by the amount of distance we walked, mostly along seashores. We found a popular park I’d never seen before, called the Dante Fascell Center, but by then we were both dog tired from such a long day.
           Of course, we stopped at Robert is Here, the fruit stand. They were having their 49th anniversary. Popularity may be responsible for their relatively high prices, we did not have the $5 milk shakes this time. The place was packed full of boy scouts and antique cars. All these were places we’ve been before (2007/04/21). It was actually nice to be familiar enough with the area to explore. I think I’m becoming a minor authority on mangrove trees. The round trip was 224 miles, Wallace driving most of it.
           We saw more of those Everglades City style “homes” for sale. These are the 12 x 33 pre-fab shacks that would easily fit on our patio. The asking price is $49,900 and I doubt that includes the land. (The same models in Everglades City were $80,000 five years ago.) I took this photo of one of the nicer units on Xmas day, 2006. You can get an idea of the tiny dimensions and clearances by the neighboring shack on the right.
           I must feel sorry for people who find they have no choice but to live in such a place so far out into nowhere. Two people would have a hard time sharing what is basically a decked out summer cabin. These are not the only things nibbling away at the agricultural areas south and south-east of Miami. Urban sprawl means there are now acres of those obnoxious duplexes with the slate roofs.
           Housing developments on farm land are known as “the final crop”. All three of the connecting commuter roadways (Dixie, Florida Turnpike and Krome) are the same size as they were twenty years ago, which gives you some idea of the daily traffic jams. Yet only three states (CA, NY & TX) have larger populations than Florida, at 39 million.

June 13, 2009

           This is the classic photo of tedium. A caterpillar on an infinite loop. I saw this poor tyke on the patio this morning and let him go around in circles. Who am I to interrupt the Florida cycle of life? The rim of the cup was just long enough to confuse him into thinking he was moving in a straight line. This is where you insert the obvious allusion to my musical career.
           I conducted several impromptu surveys to determine the direction to go with my act. The decision to not play Jimbos for at least a month was mine. It is time to practice intensely, bringing my act into this century. That is where a friend, Denise, comes into the scene.
           This is the black lady who I talked with about potentially starting a duo (remember “The Johnson Twins”) before she had a bout with breast cancer. She is giving me an old Karaoke machine which has a broken output jack. I know I’ve got a spare jack around here and Fred used to be a television repairman. Denise also has an immense collection of Karaoke discs, both midi and cd+g, close to 10,000 tunes. For the record, I was heavily complimented on my singing last Thursday.
           Jules, the lady patron of Jimbos, had an interesting episode fifteen years ago. She was bopping to the warm up tunes at a concert in Oregon, much like she does to a favorite tune when I’m playing. This black dude joins in and they dance up a storm to the cheers of the crowd. Later, when she goes to sit down as the concert starts, all these people ask her how long she’s known BB King.
           Pudding-Tat worries me, her not eating. It could be instinct since they don’t make a kill every day in the jungle. So I’ve looked up a chart of equivalent cat ages. Did you know at 1 year, they are like people at 16? She was born in mid-2006, so that puts her at 32 on this varying scale. How does that compare to human females? In most ways, she is better off. She is slim, light-footed, looks great in a fur coat and does not have four teeth missing. And she gets to sleep with me.
           Did you know the average woman at 32 is missing four teeth? That, and more trivia, for I was at the library. Do you know why doctors wear surgical masks? If you are like me, you thought it was to protect him or herself against all the sick people they encounter. Nope. It is to protect the patient from contamination.
           I also found out the reason behind that system of two part jar lids. You know, the canning jars that have that separate disk and screw cap. So when you lose the disk, the jar has no lid. Turns out this arrangement is also to prevent contamination. No matter how well made, the disk warps a little and it is meant to be disposed after a single use. I have never canned anything, but I did find Kraft Dinner on sale at 27 cents each. Isn’t that the universal survival food? At that price, I may find out if Pudding-Tat likes it.
           Then, I read a passage about a passage. The early explorers who rounded Africa were Portuguese, the Diaz and De Gama crowd. Part of their mission was to find Prester John, a mythical Ethiopian king (back when all of Africa was called Ethiopia). Sometimes myths are based on fact, but this one I am certain is a hoax. When they reached India, they mistook the populace for Christian, the type of judgmental error not repeated until Viet Nam, income taxes and the space shuttle. Finally, one inspired sailor took a closer look at Hindu religion and wrote, “(they) have so many foolish tales about their idols, such as it is out of reason for men to believe.”
           For the benefit of those without the time to study the subject, I’ll break down Hinduism for you. There are three main gods, and eight million minor deities. Plenty to go around. Enough for all. Really. The major players are Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. If I was as busy as they are, I’d need three heads and eight arms, but they already thought of that. It is simple. Brahma created the “everything”, for which he needs to be thanked continuously. Accepting that much gratitude takes time, so Vishnu has to protect and preserve the “everything”. Such a defense budget must be justified by the creation of an enemy. Enter Shiva, who, for reasons unknown, is lurking around ready to pounce and destroy the “everything”. This is the basis of belief for a billion people and at least as many movie plots.

June 12, 2009

           It’s Pudding-Tat, keeping an eye on the premises. She still has the habit of not eating unless I’m watching. It doesn’t work to be in the same room, she needs attention. Take away the eating problem and that describes half the women I used to work with.
           We all have those days we could do without. I’ll trade anyone as long as it is just today. The blunt news is that I got wiped out at my gig. Three people in the room, all running bar tabs (no tips). This, on my second anniversary as a soloist. At least that means I lasted 1 year and 46 weeks longer than expected, and considerably longer than my erstwhile competition.
           I’ve decided to stop playing the same room for a period long enough to make my standard material fresh again, and to use the interval to practice up an entire new act. I am no longer afraid of singing. That does not mean I can make up for all the lost years. Jackie and I had time for a talk, he is not as optimistic as before. His prognosis is that he won’t last six months after his disability claim is approved.
           That I can identify with. When you have a medical condition, everybody knows somebody else worse off. If you said you had five minutes to live, they’d say the other guy had four minutes and wasn’t complaining. These are not the hard-nosed bureaucrats who are even worse. Who does he have to chat with? The waitresses become utterly beyond unsympathetic after the first shift.
           We have contact with Wilmieville, North Carolina. Theresa reports the situation is not ideal so I hope the weather is nice. Fred gave me a copy of Filemaker, a relational database that will likely replace File Express (FE), which I first used back in the Stone Age. FE is DOS based and I was unaware that most contemporary printers require special drivers. If I recall, all printers used to have a default “Epsom compatible” setting that would always work in a pinch.
           Of course, I’ll give you a full report on the software.

June 11, 2009

           Did I already show you this picture? On thing Mark Twain new well was the incompetence of city planners; he and I know they began running out street names back in 1492. This is “Solid Hollow” in south Wilmington, NC. They call this an oxymoron, rather similar to the words they call the people who come up with such combinations.
           Who remembers (Eddie) that distant relation of Bill Monroe whom I met at Jimbos? He finally did a return visit, right on Karaoke night. I wound up singing tunes I never registered for, although the same could be said about most things I do. He wants me to compose some original bass lines and I was going to decline until he played several of his own tunes (by his band called “Left Over Salmon”) on the juke box. That instantly separates him from the wankers in this town. Have a listen yourself, “Highway Song” and “Nobody’s Fault But Mine”.
           Then he told me about an episode I was unaware of. He walked in one day when another band was playing and asked if he could jam. Turns out he had been expecting me to be there, having told his people he’d finally met “a serious bass player”. He got on stage and did so well, “The singer got pissed off and grabbed his guitar back and walked out the door.” He can’t remember the band’s name, but I’ll give you three guesses. One guess per word.
           This could be easy, as his music would remind you of Jimmy Buffet. A little bit country with a completely different band each time. That suits my split and/or multiple personalities just fine. A lot of 9ths and major 7ths yet keeping to the circle of 5ths. He knows the entertainer at the Lamp Post, where I admit to only visiting once and that was five years ago (didn’t like it). The regular musician there owns a recording studio.
           Eddie also knows Arnel, and was in the audience one day when some people commented that everything was recorded and Arnel wasn’t really playing anything. So Eddie went up and asked for “a well known instrumental”. Arnel did a five minute lead break that showed everyone who was boss. That was at Boston Johnny’s. Remind me to tell Arnel about that. I see most other musicians share my opinion of Boston’s.
           Turns out besides music, Eddie and I are fans of limericks. Here’s the one that cracked us up last night:

           In days of old when knights were bold,
           Commodes were not invented.
                They dropped their load
                Beside the road,
           And walked away contented.

           It means nothing at this point, since my technical Spanish is too rusty for intense instructions, but Alfredo said today I was one of the best apprentices he’s seen. The tale is emerging of how he has tried for a long time to find any decent help. I know some of the people he asked. I don’t think I told Alfredo I had some minor experience with a stitching machine because that is something I prefer he do himself. The point being that he also said he had not taken a vacation in years and mentioned letting me run the shop for a few weeks. Do we detect a pattern here?
           The shoe shop gets a lot of telemarket calls. Part of the reason is that many people don’t know about the no-call list and Alfredo’s number has been targeted. There is a fine point here, where I tell the callers the number is on the no-call list. Occasionally some smart ass will argue out that you “cannot put a business number on the no-call list”. Nonsense, you can put any number on the list, but they are permitted to call business numbers. I didn’t say they couldn’t call, but I am saying they totally miss the point, which is probably why they are telemarketers to begin with. I hear the reason they don’t outlaw telemarketing is because some people would lose their jobs. Well that just breaks all of our little hearts into itty bitty pieces.

June 10, 2009

           I’m celebrating a little. As usual, it takes a few months at a new job before you accumulate a surplus. Mimosa is not cheap but I can manage the specials. Wallace has mentioned Flamingo, the place we visited deep in the Cypress forest. He wants to see it again, and I’m all for that. There was a boat ride we missed last time by arriving too late in the day. We’re unlikely to miss it again. Those swamp tours are a must, don’t ever pass up an opportunity to go on one.
           The thing about shoemaking is how you learn by mistakes. There is no completely right way to do most of it. I built a pair of (women’s) shoes from nothing but the soles today, which might not sound like much, but then I don’t know what everyone else accomplished during the same time period. The process is just as technically complicated as any other job I know of. In its favor, I may have found the least stressful job left in town.
           The mini-database of shoe tickets is progressing. Except for address type programs, there are no real beginner’s level database applications I know of that are easy to implement. You know I like to talk database, so here is a report of what is happening at this stage.
I found the original input screen to be faulty, in that it required the data entry person to turn the ticket over at least three times to collect the information. This is not an uncommon find when converting paper forms to something more efficient. I put forward that nobody who has not undergone this step can grasp how utterly idiotic most paper forms really are, or actually, the people who designed the paper form.
           Also, we need a field that will extract the last four digits of the customer phone number. It is the only unchanging field that is unlikely to be misremembered during the lifespan of a ticket. I rejected the [customer] name field as a lookup since there are too many in Florida who might forget their own name, and because I, as a former programmer, appreciate how many different ways people can spell “Elizabeth”.
           I have not been cooking breakfast much since nobody is around when I get up. Let me correct that. I usually awake around 4:30 AM and write this blog. Over the years, I have trained myself to go back to sleep until 7:30 AM. Now you know too much. That is why I am planning on going to Wallace’s new spot, the Mimosa Café, tomorrow for a store-bought breakfast. Well that, and his account of a new blonde lady waitress. When did I last go for breakfast myself? Probably 2007.
           I’m celebrating a little. As usual, it takes a few months at a new job before you accumulate a surplus, but Mimosa is cheap enough that I can manage it. Wallace has mentioned Flamingo, the place we visited deep in the Cypress forest. He wants to see it again, and I’m all for that. There was a boat ride we missed last time by arriving too late in the day. We’re unlikely to miss it again. Those swamp tours are a must, don’t ever pass up an opportunity to go on one.
           Here’s your daily trivia. As a heart attack victim back in the prime of my time, I noticed a lot of healthy doctors take Lipitor (according to National Geographic). You can do the research on your own; it is a statin, which controls not your heart, but your liver. That’s where cholesterol comes from. Guess where profit comes from? Lipitor all the way, with sales of over one billion dollars per month. Or around $25,000 per minute. Can we shoot the first person who says that’s enough to give Bill Gates a coronary?