October 31, 2009

           Here’s the lovely Jill, whom I dated in the ‘90s. This was a night at the opera, notice the cold weather gear. She doesn’t know it even today, but she was almost the one. (She had two kids and I was not ready for that.) This was downtown somewhere on the west coast about this time of year. She is cropped out of a group photo here. Jill was extremely popular among my circle of friends and has the distinction of being the only non-musical gal I chummed with in something like ten years.
           She was the lady in the famous “cell phone” incident. I was talking to her as I drove over and knocked on the door. Her mother, whom I’d never met and who had never seen a cell phone, answered. She immediately barred the door and would not let me in. Later, it turns out mom was frantically waving behind the door, “Jill, get off the damn phone. There’s a man outside and he’s driving a Cadillac!”
           Work, music, bingo and band. That has become my basic Saturday, my plans to take that day off are out the jalousie windows, although I did get away with the plan for several years. I was in the shop long enough to discover I have to completely redo all my computers. As with all Windows products, the longer you leave them, the slower your computer appears to function.
           So you’ll know, they’ve returned to the moronic “counterfeit message”. Your computer says you have a pirated version of the operating system, but this time you are not a victim. Instead it says that you have “failed to resolve” the issue. Sure, Microsoft, okay. If you must know, it is an ActiveX script and it can be disabled using that module.
           The guitar class was fast, since I put them through the mechanically simple methods of playing barre chords, hereinafter called “bar chords”. We also viewed the DVD of the “Hialeah Five” and worked on some country riffs. Next week is the big rehearsal, then the act goes live. I’m disappointed that no natural lead player emerged from the group.
           On the topic of lead, the Hippie called to say he is no longer performing at The Bakery. He didn’t say but chances are they cheaped out on him. You quote them your lowest price and a month later they want you to put on a show for $5 less. He indicated he is still on Harrison (Street) so maybe we’ll jam yet. As for my act, this month has been financially the most successful ever and I didn’t play as often as I could have.
           This evening more people showed up for Bingo than the Halloween party. We had both bases covered, I played for two hours after the game. One person won four of the ten rounds. Pirate Bay provided the backing music for which many compliments came around. From my point of view, I am seriously out of practice. So drink up, I’ll sound better.
           Trivia of the day. A story I followed was the original “palimony” trial, the lady who shacked up with the actor Lee Marvin and then sued him for alimony when he dumped her. This is the type of law suit I think of when people talk tort reform. I found her claim meritless, and in fact, set a bad precedent that the courts would even entertain such nonsense. For crying out loud, she was shacked up and only suing because he had money.
           I’m with the side that keeps the courts out of people’s bedrooms. Well, she finally died without ever getting the $104,000 award. For the curious, her name was Michelle Triola. And when she croaked, she was shacked up with yet another actor. Dick Van Dyke. Once a shack up, always a shack up. Some people never learn.
           This may sound harsh, but these women bring it upon themselves. It is not a gender issue, since rational people can agree getting shacked up with the Queen does not make a man the Prince of Wales. Even the dumbest woman can understand the decision to live together involves a different criteria than the man uses to select a bride. Besides, right or wrong, the last thing society needs is a legal system that favors the methods most women must use to wind up with the creeps they get.
           Have you heard the newest theory? Two years ago, it was the Chinese year of the bird, and we had the avian flue. Last year, the Chinese year of the horse, look at what happened to the horses in Australia. This is the Chinese year of the pig, and sure enough, there’s a swine flu epidemic. What is going on, you tell me? I passed up on the hospital’s offer for a vaccine shot last month. Then I find out 2010 is the year of the cock.

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October 30, 2009

           Today is proof that even here, not every day is exciting and adventurous. But I have this inkling that it will be an excellent Saturday. If so, maybe Wallace and I can rustle up a couple of women and go for a drive this Sunday. Sounds good to me.

           Meanwhile, here is another photo blast from the past. Yep, that is me with the boss’s daughter. You’d have to read a lot to find this episode, so I’ll give you the short version. This is Los Angeles. I was one of the first employees at a new franchise starting up, called Kinko’s. I was, at that time, the only person in the entire area who knew how to work a computer and word processor.
           This is the front counter by the first shop to rent out computers by the minute. There was no serious Internet back then, but the computers still had to be networked (to the printers that you can just make out in the background). In those days, anybody who knew anything about computers was making big bucks, so I was considered a real find--somebody who would work cheap and could teach customers the basics. (I was drawing my full $5,166 monthly pay from the phone company all the time, but that is another story.)
           I became the resident expert in business cards and resumes. This was a fascinating place to work, but as usually I was the one who wound up doing almost everything for the same pay as the rest. This location is near the corner of Laurel Canyon and Ventura, so my customers included Eddie Van Halen, Michael Jackson, Gene Hackman, and a host of screen and script writers that scroll past too fast to read. Like Al Vicki. I made excellent money in the evenings with my laptop, charging them a fortune to enter scripts onto disks. Since I made many suggestions and corrections, chances are if you heard the perfect script in those days, I ghosted it.
           The daughter, I forget her name, took a real shine to me. Well, who wouldn’t, ladies, I mean just look at what a darling I can be. She had this preoccupation all the men in the place were staring at her butt just because they were. She was Lebanese and by that standard a real beauty, but you know me and non-blondes. She was actually only distantly related to the two owners so she’s a metaphorical daughter. This photo was in August, Robynette and I began our breakup (which dragged on for another five twenty-two years) and that November I quit this job never to return to LA.

           I awoke woozy and had to spend the day quietly indoors. Mostly me, the cat, and the dog. Wallace did his rounds to the Panera but I didn’t even feel up to that. I’ll be fine in another day but this is a lesson to me that there are no more “routine” hospital stays for the rest of my days. Wallace is sure chirping around these days, mark my words, he’s met another gal. And I have a touch of food poisoning.
           We’ve got another unseasonal heat wave, but we have the nicest outdoor patio in town. I’m sure I mentioned how it grew back with a vengeance after the 20 some barrow loads of cutting, underbrush and dried leaves I hauled out of there last year. The high point of the day so far is that we cleaned the torpedo barbeque. That was more than a treat, working that thing with the coals and ashes. Let me say a bit about that.
           I told you we’d never barbequed before. Now all those TV commercials and such make sense. Even those commercials for steak houses, well, now we look at them and say, “We can do that.” I made a huge batch of barbeque sauce, noting that in many ways it is similar to sweet and sour sauce. This could be my imagination, but it appears that meat cooked on the barbeque is not as “fussy” as the same thing on the stove. That is, you can leave it for unattended at times without much trouble.

           Speaking of trouble, there is talk of sending another 40,000 troops to Iraq. Let me get out the old calculator. It costs $5,000 per week per soldier over there, roughly twenty times what they’ll make begging at intersections when they get back. The war tab zooms to a thousand dollars per year for each American who still has a job, that is, $66 billion per year.
           We’ve forgotten nothing but we’ve learned nothing either. The American system that pits million-dollar crime labs against penniless defendants and similar ingrained social injustices mean soldiers no longer enlist for patriotic reasons, but because they can’t get a job or afford school. Although the angle is extremely media-friendly, we just know they are not willing to die for such a country. “We, the unwilling….”
           The good news is they will be sending mostly $5,000 men. The bases on Antarctica tell us if they send women, it will cost each $35,000 per week. That's your trivia. It costs seven times as much to keep a woman in the field as it does a man. Remember to include ALL costs.

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October 29, 2009

           Nothing new today, it was one of those limbo situations where I know I should not feel so great. So take it easy. And that means more ancient history. Here is Robynette, at the “Medieval Times”, a theme restaurant in LA. I believe this was on our anniversary, August 21. The structure is a hockey rink now converted to a large stadium, with live jousting by knights in armor. Well, aluminum armor.
           The food is served on pewter plates and you watch the show, normally cheering for the knights wearing robes the same color as your seating section. We were purple. Or was it yellow? The place is a great good time. There was an astonishing occurrence shortly after this picture was taken.
           One of the sports was falconry, and in this huge arena, a knight would let loose one of these trained birds. An extremely rare African falcon of pale red color took up into the air, circled just a moment, and then flew straight over the crowd of thousands to land on Robynette’s shoulder.
           Explanation. When Robynette was a little girl, she lived on her parent’s horse ranch in what was then Southern Rhodesia. They had gone to a nature preserve one winter and she had fed this falcon. As one of the rarest birds in Africa, it was brought to America to prevent extinction. (So America poached it so it wouldn’t be poached, foreshadowing our present military situation.) These birds can reputedly live to be 120 and this one somehow recognized Robynette twenty years later.

           Back to here and now. I was still feeling spry later in the day, so I went to two Karaoke shows. The first, Jimbos, was a little too quiet for me. I also know to avoid the place any time near rent day. Still, I managed a good six songs. Instead of going straight home, I cruised past the Octopus and they have yet another new act in there. This gal had the wrong equipment, wrong setup, wrong sound and appeared to have no idea how to work a good show. Even her song list was crappy, like those old laser disks with song “collections”.
           I had a quick chat with her and sang another batch of songs. Yes, I can sing as well as any Karaoke type, but I cannot yet play bass at the same time. This is good progress from a year ago. I’m thinking, is there some kind of Karaoke circuit in this town? Where are these beginning acts coming from? I should start asking around, since I can put on a dynamite Karaoke show with my equipment. Plus, I read a crowd, which is totally different from those who only think they can.
           For nearly an hour, I watched this Karaoke show with interest. I think I’ve seen that setup before and I definitely have seen those PA speakers elsewhere in this town. The emcee, a dark-haired lady, had some guy trying to make all the adjustments, so I was able to see the workings of a store-bought Karaoke setup. I was not impressed. I’ll stick with a computerized system all the way. After a lean summer, I’m no closer to the $1,400 worth of new equipment I need, but when I get my act together, I do believe I’ll blow a lot of these other operators right out of the water.

           What I’m saying is I have never gotten on stage and just played "at the audience". I believe in a great show every time, hence I'm more the of type that draws the audience into the act. I see these Karaoke people lugging around bagloads of disks and fumbling between songs. They seem to play what they can manage. I’ve already done all the things I intend to incorporate into my show. If you don’t have a Karaoke version of your favorite tune, I can put the words, or any words you want. If you put all the televisions to Channel 3, the words will broadcast throughout the club.
           I can put theme music and bar advertising on the screen, even bingo numbers if you’d like. I can change the key and tempo instantly (where others need to burn a disk for each change), plus create your custom playlist. When you step up, no hunting for disks, I just click your file. The screen will even list who’s singing and who is up next, with the exact wait time. You want duets with the lyrics on different screens, you got it. You want a copy of your performance, give me five bucks. My show is already very (for around here) interactive, these are mere technical items I’m ready for. If possible, I would set a new and hopefully higher standard in Karaoke around this town. Some of the existing shows are so plastic it isn’t funny.
           However, these things take time. I would point out that this is a different kind of “time” than the usual gang of musicians who do go on about the years of suffering before they “make it big”. I have not suffered and don’t intend to. I lack talent, not originality. Big difference. Talent can be faked. Ask Hannah Montana. She's heading straight for the bottom, a blow cushioned only by money.

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October 28, 2009

           Another day in the hospital, which also explains the ever-popular pictures of my ex. There is nothing new of interest so you get pictures from before the ice ages. I know you prefer my excellent photo-documentaries of the Everglades, but the hospital wouldn’t admit my camera crew. As you see, my eye for excellence in design by Mother Nature has not been compromised by my IV solution and I pass on this view of the eighth Wonder of the World for, as it were, “posteriorty”.

           Even then, this jpeg is just to let you know they didn’t amputate my sense of humor, because you ain’t getting any more of the same. True, neither am I, but that is another story. I would point out, mind you, that this photo is in no way indicative of the basis of our relationship. Rather, we were both born entertainers and the originators of the bass-vocal music set I still perform today.
           The longest delay was getting discharged from the hospital and Wallace kindly drove out to pick me up after dark. Check back later for more details of the day, as I need nothing more than a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed. To all who called me at the hospital, thanks for your caring. I’ll return all calls once my battery is recharged. Thanks again and I remind all this was a planned procedure, not an emergency in any way.
           It was a pleasant stay for a hospital and I must again compliment the place, Memorial West. I’ve heard it referred to as the Memorial Hilton; that is an adequate compliment, well-deserved. Here, in any order, are the things they do better than any other hospital I’ve been in:

           • Excellent meals, with a choice of menu, and they are the only hospital I know that serves coffee.
           • Staff is genuinely friendly, helpful and cheerful. I mean it and there is no way to fool me or shine me up.
           • They have a knack for knowing what you need, such as an extra pillow or blanket or a glass of ice cold apple juice.
           • The room has a free telephone and television with remote control.
           • Checks are timed conveniently; there is no “wake up for your sleeping pill” routine.
           • The area is unusually quiet, allowing for truly restful sleep. This is important.
           • The various doctor visitations are kept to a minimum, and always polite.
           • Overall, there is a top-notch atmosphere of efficiency.
           • The mattresses are comfortable and don’t make crinkling noises when you move. I was on my back immobile for 12 hours.
           • There is a real chair in the room, it is a recliner and what a welcome it is by morning of the second day.
           • They have a closet for your things, everything is looked after for you and, in a nice finishing touch, they give you a little pair of hospital socks with a no-skid surface for those tile floors.
           • They give you a crash kit of shampoo, toothpaste, etc. which is I woefully missed at Mt. Sinai and Jackson in the past.

           Don’t underestimate the coffee. Other hospitals seem to ignore the fact that it is a highly popular drink, and I’ve heard all manner of excuses why they don’t serve it. Memorial has an excellent Sanka-like brew. This was one of the few times I didn’t get discharged and race for the nearest Starbucks. Memorial seems to have thought of everything.

           [Author's note: this is also the day I found out my ex may have re-married a billionaire. With a B. She'd do that kind of thing.]

October 27, 2009

Yesteryear
One year ago today: October 76, 2008, begging for lessons.

           No new photos today, so you get an old one. This is me leaning on a pinball machine in California back in the good old days. You know, back when the economy was a shambles and all the jobs were going to Mexico and everybody was out of work and the government was spending all the money on overseas wars and all the local factories were closing down and all the remaining jobs paid minimum wage. Those days. (The shirt says, "Californication".)

           Yeah, I’m in the hospital. Unlike my earlier stays (Mt. Sinai and Jackson), this one seems like a fancy hotel. It is a really nice hospital. Blog rules say I must tell you about any superlatives, but I’ll do my best to talk only about the hospital and not my wonderful heart operation. Heck, I won’t even mention that I now have five stents. If staff attitude can make a difference, Memorial West is top of the list for me.

           Wallace dropped me off at 9:00 AM (Memorial even seems to have considered the convenience factor on that one) and it was an hour of standard tests. Including something called MRSA, a staph infection that’s clearly a concern, but I don't have it. They also offer a swine flu inoculation and I passed on that. Thanks to all who called in to check on me, I would return your phone calls but you drained my cell batteries today.
           The procedure was over in an hour and it was all the other stuff that took half the day. Including the need to lay prone for “six to eight hours” to allow my artery to heal. That was the hard part, just lying there. They put me into Intensive Care with basic cable that was so boring I watched two episodes of “Judge Judy”. I have since forgiven the hospital on that one.

           I was flat on my back so long I developed aches and pains from that. I took along a history book about civilizations and wound up reading all 900 pages during the following 12 hours. There were some novel perspectives, including a Hindu that toured England in the early 1800s. He found it so strange that rich people had to lock their doors and that the only thing stopping the poor from robbing the rich was fear of the authorities. Later, one of his contemporaries was to also note that, contrary to what was seen in India, all British did not live in mansions with servants. They figured out that the British Empire was mainly created by men who back in London were considered social rejects. And criminals.

           In the next article, a Frenchman described the system in India. Fear of confiscation meant nobody ever improved anything. Why bother if you'll just lose it? The entire Hindu organization works against progress, mental, physical, spiritual, scientific or at all. Whereas they could predict eclipses, they felt them caused by an evil spirit. Such a people won’t even codify their own laws, for that is a form of commitment. The result is a culture of one mindless generation after another. The only activity ever rewarded is drifting stupidity and everything else is held in check by strict obedience to rules everybody knows are wrong, so they justify it via religion. (What I can’t figure out is how my parents, who had never been to India, learned all this.)

           Back to the hospital. It is a very well-run organization. In particular, it lacks the atmosphere of “budget cuts” at Mt. Sinai and the “assembly line” of Jackson (both of whom I thank for excellent earlier care). Memorial West was my first non-emergency stay, in case that makes a difference. I was more than impressed by everyone I met (at Memorial). Sorry, no names. Yes, I did meet a lot of nurses but the gal that really caught my eye was a PA, or “Physician’s Assistance”. Ah, the advantages of advanced education.
           Except for the odd overhead, the hospital was pleasantly silent. The meals are remarkably excellent and your choice, including desert. This is the first time I’ve seen a hospital serve coffee and I can doubly appreciate that. You can’t get a cup even in movie theaters in Florida. Whereas each department tends to ask repetitive questions, in general the paperwork is handled behind the scenes. In fact, let me think if I can come up with even one thing to complain about. Thrump. Thrump. Nope. If you have a choice, make it Memorial West.

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October 26, 2009

Yesteryear
One year ago today: October 26, 2008, Fishing Hall of Fame.

           I managed to create an editable file with my junky equipment. Today’s photo is a still from that, my newest production, “The Hialeah Five In Concert”. You can see all five with myself at the far left in the hat. Many thanks to Jim, next to left, who managed to put together five people from such differing backgrounds. If I didn’t mention, the class has voted to continue after next week. That’s a real vote of confidence.
           Wallace and I have a fridge full of barbequed chicken, which was handy since another spell of hot weather kept me from doing much more cooking. Although I did bake an apple pie from a frozen shell and canned slices. Hey, you can slave over the hot stove, I’ll work the can opener. It was the cat and I on the computer most of the day, creating the video. Six hours and the result is 17 minutes and 52 seconds of footage.
           Not that I have anything good to say about Hewlett-Packard printers at any other time, but not only do they have 800 different cartridges, it is impossible to get the ink out of one and inject it into another. I had some older units for a printer I threw out years back. I decided to give it the old college try. No way, HP doesn’t like that. The cartridges have a sponge filling that makes the ink bubble if you try to draw it out. It’s what you expect from those people.

           I’ve met another vocalist slash guitarist. He’s a dog groomer in real life but knows about ten chords. Good enough for me and here we go again. I dropped by Jimbos to make a computer delivery and he recognized me from Karaoke (up at Capt. J’s). Turns out he is a fan of country, which helps immensely, but he’s got no transportation. That’s not the barrier it once was. (Turns out the barrier was his inability to stay out of jail.) (And later, he seems to be always wired on something.
           Tomorrow is hospital day. It should be common knowledge that I have a heart condition normally associated with old age. But, but, I'm not that old! The panel is still out as to why I have it, and they are going looking once more. If they find zilch (again), I’ll be home by mid-afternoon. The biggest symptom I have is the inability to walk more than twenty minutes, although I can ride my bicycle all day. You see, the depth and range of Florida potholes notwithstanding, a bicycle is low-impact exercise.

           The cat still has dermatitis, so I dropped into the library. Note that the Hollywood, Florida, downtown library has 3 books on biology but over 200 cookbooks. The cat books seem to mention every obscure and rare cat disease and condition except the one my cat has. Be sure such facts don’t, as it were, get under your skin, or stay out of Florida. This place is geared toward a sub-standard low-IQ half-bastard rat mentality. They have no more use here for intelligent people than the phone company.
           Today’s trivia is some military facts. The closest that Germany probably came to victory in WWII was with the U-boat campaign. Tanks also need steel, but what I was curious to learn is that the new generation (of Type XXII) boats were the equivalent of 30 tanks each. I take this to mean either the boats were very easy to build, or that tanks are a far more complicated proposition. Or that I know nothing about engineering.
           I was reading a passage about German plans for victory after Stalingrad. The world has generally been taught that after that battle, Germany had no hope of winning and was only fighting because they were Nazi fanatics. Not so, they developed weapons that could very well have turned things around, although they didn’t seem to realize the enemy was doing the same. I did not know that almost 50% of American Lend-Lease aid went through Vladivostok and the Japanese could easily have sealed off that port. They did not do so, it seems, in return for a Soviet policy of not allowing US bombers to operate from their territory.

ADDENDUM
           One more item, this time from the Falklands War in the early 90s. Britain was highly miffed at Canada for canceling large shipyard orders, thereby tipping off the Soviets that aluminum was not a suitable metal. The destroyer “Sheffield” had been hit by an Exocet (anti-ship missile) and sank after burning for six days. What I did not know is that the Exocet warhead did not explode. It was a dud. The unspent rocket fuel was the culprit. My theory is the Canadian Armed Forces figured nobody would notice because of their funny way of spelling “aluminum”.

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October 25, 2009

           I guess we now know how to barbeque. Here’s some chicken and pork on the torpedo. We got the grill cleaned and all the rusty parts oiled up. For anyone who just got here, this is the first time I’ve ever barbequed anything in my life. It is a lot of enjoyable work, a learning experience. You might say we have an authentic propane barbeque since it is made from a propane tank.
           My North Carolina hillbilly cookbook said barbequing was the art of cooking things in spicy sauces. Okay, so I made spicy sauce. Remember that jar of horseradish? And since I had no pineapple I figured raspberry jam was close enough. Sauce to grow hair on your chest. Wakes you up just fine, too.
           Lots of things went wrong but we still came out with a feast. For some reason, the potatoes didn’t bake, so I had to microwave them. Next time they go in first and over the hottest part of the coals. Millie got plenty of free samples, just like happened a million years ago when some dog first tamed a caveman to make fire and go hunting.
           It was a total day in the yard as the weather has turned tolerable. The Canadiens are starting to show up again. By the dozens. The “hundred mile an hour” lady is back, she’s got this characteristic heads-down walk that makes it look like she’s in a major rush getting everywhere. Everything and everybody in the neighborhood has to walk past our yard, so we see all and know all. But they can’t see us because of the forest. It would be hard to find another place like this at any price.

           It was not all play, as I went through my entire software library to discover I don’t have anything (application-wise) that will reverse a vob file back into any of the editable formats (such as avi, mov, ppc, mpeg). For those who don’t do this much, vob files are the format you’ll find on rental movie disks. By a complicated system of adaptors and tweaking my sound card, I was finally able to import my music videos from y’day. And I actually used the piece of crap V-stream connexant card from K-World.
           If you ever delve into the world of digital video, keep in mind the bewildering sets of incompatible formats. I could only get this video to render in the clueless wmv format, meaning basically you play it where MicroSoft says you can and up yours otherwise. You worthless lowlife, who are you to think your system should work just because you paid for it? I’ll get this thing to work yet.

ADDENDUM
           All this cooking and eating tires a person out in this weather, so we cranked on the air conditioner and watched another Roy Rogers movie. We’ve got something like sixteen more to watch. This one was called “Utah” and Trigger got higher billing than Dale Evans. No comment. The plots are cornier than hell and still better than anything on cable TV. (I am a reader, not a watcher, so all these movies are new to me.)
           Interestingly, in many of these series, Roy is depicted as breaking the law whenever he feels like it. This time, Roy breaks out of jail by [mildly] electrocuting the sheriff. (Later, he gets thanked for curing the sheriff’s arthritis.) If you want to see some shocking scenes by 1939 standards, watch Dale Evans, the natural blonde, prance across the floor in her cowgirl outfit. Lots of leg.
           I wonder if Carlos thinks he’s getting his barbeque back now?

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October 24, 2009

           Another business goes under. The Italian ice cream joint on Harrison and 20th is history.* Supply and demand is only one factor at work downtown, as the character of the neighborhood changes. This shop always was too pricey for me and I admit to only going in there twice in five years. Judgment says the evolution of the district is not necessarily for the better. It seems more and more “shallow” businesses appear every month. Maybe I should explain.
           Take the difference between a hardware store with a half-million of inventory and a night club that is little more than a bar and a sign in the window. I say one is more solid, more permanent, than the other. Which one will pack up and leave the instant there is a bad season? Hence, “shallow”. We know shopping malls have a concept of anchor stores. Those tend to be on-going concerns.
           There remain just a few boutiques and specialty shops downtown; even the science store is long gone. Replacing them, and creeping westward along the boulevards, are food joints and night clubs. I’ve never been in most of them, they smack of high prices. Now I don’t mind price if the quality is there, but there is nothing you can to do an empanada in Hollywood, Florida, to make it worth $4 to me.
           Also, call it development if you want, but the clubs are all following a pattern that I can easily see. They have similar décor, hours of operation, even similar non-Anglo staff and (it seems) identical settings on their air conditioning. That’s what I’m getting at—the area isn’t attracting new tenants so much as it is attracting only a single type of tenant. And as you walk past, their stereos are all playing that “shigga-shigga” music.

           This was a fast-moving day and the high point was again the guitar class. This lesson is soon to be on CD and we have enough material to put on a small show. It will certainly shock anyone who thinks 15 hours can’t make a difference, or that group lessons can’t produce results.
           The class has voted to continue with my lessons although I can’t really teach them much more by way of guitar. (They’ve all graduated, they are ready to go.) We are slated for a show on November 7. It is inspiring to see the group, since none of them realize yet that they are already in a band. Five acoustic guitars, one bass and a drum machine. No singer, but with a group that big, who cares?
           It looks like I won’t lack things to do in my old age, not the way I’ve taken to bingo calling. The most popular item is still my choice of background music. Well that, and the fact that tonight there was a small crowd meaning somebody won the powerball. I found an extra twenty in the tip jar, so I dropped by Capt. J’s to see Rhonda’s show. I’ve somehow become associated with that tune “The Perfect Country and Western Song”, Karaoke version. A year ago I would never have dreamed I could sing something like that.

           Advice you’ve heard before: forget albums and get-togethers. If you have any photos worth sharing, get them on the Internet. Just make sure they are innocuous. You don't know what will change in the future, so that family photo of you hugging your sister might come back to bite you by 2020. Now that I’ve scanned a few hundred, I regret waiting so long. There are pictures of bands I played with in Los Angeles and women I dated in Colonia Tovar that I can’t remember.

           Sometimes I recognize the furniture and the amplifiers, but not the people. With the passage of time, I can only publish here the few that have any relevance today. Like this photo of my Cadillac under a foot of snow this day in 1992.
           Do not use the Stratford Labs IS-505 slide and negative scanner. It is not suitable for any serious work, in fact, it is a piece of junk to be avoided. Except for the fact that it can be made to function, every possible thing imaginable is wrong with it. Even the software (from the otherwise reputable Arcsoft) will wipe out earlier applications without permission by installing itself in the same directory.

           *[Author's note 2015-10-21: this particular location, as I found out later, seems to change hands every few months. It is a block south of the main drag with only two or three parking spots. They've tried everything there from coffee shops to Jamaican food. It is one of those places that seems like a good location, but isn't. I've jammed there on open mics.]

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October 23, 2009

           Here’s a bus like you’ve never seen before. Look closely at the design and the open cargo bins along the side. See the slide-out bin just left of the lady getting on board and ahead of that the diver’s cab. Look again, I said “ahead of that”. This is one of those bus tours I told you about in South America. They set up camp and cook the meals. You sleep in the bus or in tents. This scanned picture is from thousands of negatives I have just begun to sift through.
           It is also a yellowed 15 year old negative. That should give you an idea of the fantastic volume of things I’ve never had time to publish here. These bus tours cost around $6,000 per person and go all around the continent. I believe it is two or three days on the bus and one day in a hotel. This photo is near the Orinoco River in Venezuela. Food and camping gear is stowed under the passenger compartment for about a week. The tour is around a series of base camps set up for the purpose. It is mostly European tourists who have been sold a six month package, or more.

           Today is my anniversary, it has been five years since I’ve had a “yob”, and frankly I don’t miss it at all. This is not to say I’ve done nothing or had no income in five years. I was originally going to celebrate by driving up to West Palm Beach to see that band “Whiskey River”. However, mapquest shows it was a 111 mile round trip. I’d rather use the car to go visit JP this weekend. So I called JP at work and everything is fine and Alaine got on the phone. Now I have to visit.
           The days are decent [cool enough] to spend outdoors again so Wallace and I cleaned up the last of the patio area. Carlos left behind a weird barbeque made out of an old propane tank. Shaped like a torpedo, it is now set up near the garden. Wallace has got the vines moved away from the building. The trees now form a canopy making it possible to use the patio during the day. Also, that old table saw is gone, but we took the table part and are using it as a base for the barbeque. Carlos is in New York so all his stuff is here for a while.
           I have never barbequed anything in my life. Seriously. I admit to having been only a barbeque guest. It looks like we are about the find out if I’ve got a knack for it. I’ll get myself domesticated yet. I’ll be looking into what else there is to barbeque since beef has not been big on my diet in close to a decade and ribs I can take or leave. Today we had tuna casserole and baby corns, so it is time for a change.

           Finally, I got around to looking more closely at shoe polishing. There is more to it than it seems, just as I figured. A properly polished pair of shoes can last 35 years, and there are two types of polish, a cream and a wax. The cream keeps the shoe soft and the wax gives a better shine. You are supposed to alternate and doing a proper job takes good old practice.
           I didn’t quite understand all the brushes and cloth in a shoe shining kit. The brush is to spread the wax and apparently a toothbrush works better than the fancy wooden models. There is a dust brush to clean the shoe before you start, and an “off” brush to work the polish to an even but dull consistency. Here’s the trivia. I did not know the reason the cloth buffs the polish to a shine is that it melts the layer of polish (on a molecular level) nearest the leather surface. I have to thank the Internet for getting all this information to me so easily.

ADDENDUM
           Did I mention Roy Rogers? Wallace has a set of disks and we have been watching movies after supper, time permitting. The plots are weak and things can get corny, since they have to find an excuse for Roy to sing even when locked up in a cell. Some of the episodes are prophetic, such as the “Rough Rider’s Roundup”. Roy gets stripped of his badge when falsely accused of starting a brawl. Acting on his own, he disobeys orders, crosses the border and all is reinstated when he catches the guy in the black hat. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Bruce, Clint and Mel?
           Great scenery, mind you. All the stagecoaches and such were rented, I think, because they are very careful not to damage anything during the chases. The women have 1939 hairstyles instead of the period portrayed. Like this one lady whose hair was tightly done up in curls. In black and white, it looks like you can see her brain.

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October 22, 2009

           First prize to whoever can identify this picture. You’ll have to return tomorrow for the answer, but I’ll give you some clues. See the green car? The one in behind the lady at center. That’s one of three taxis I own in the city pictured here. That's my Dodge Dart. Anything else unusual? Yes, notice the black dots on the yellow pillars along the sidewalk. Those are 50-caliber machine gun bullet holes. And just behind that bus is a river Christopher Columbus sailed up. Fingers on yer buzzers.
           Of the roughly 200 books in this place, none are biology or chemistry. There should be more books but I move too often. Most everything here, including history and travel tales, are actually research material that has been read many times. I am re-reading “The Great Hunger”, the story of the Irish potato famine of 1846-1850 (last mentioned 2009/08/15). This time I understand the parts about the plant virus.
           When learning about this disaster, I cannot help but to see parallels between the callous attitude of the British and my own family, the resemblance is so instantly clear. Both have an outstanding ability to draw the wrong conclusions. Putting consideration and biology together, I must be a different species than all those people.
           Consider instinctual behavior. In examples I’ve mentioned before, when I walk down an empty corridor, I will keep to one side in case somebody else has to pass, even though nobody is there. Or when home alone at night, I naturally will not make loud noises simply because it is night and one should be quiet. Or how I intuitively use my own resources rather than conniving when others to turn their backs. See, same genus, different species. (I'm saying humans that use their own resources are different than those that try to use the resources of others.)

           Actually, I can think of dozens of counts that prove that point, you bet. Some of you probably think I’m joking. But take the shoemaker’s machine today. It is around twelve feet long and does a few simple things, like sanding and shining. However, one end of it has a series of cutting blades unlike anything else. It is used for finishing the heels on women’s spiked shoes, and it quit working y’day. Shortly it turns out that in all the years, it had never been adjusted since nobody knew how. For probably more than 30 years, nobody fine tuned the thing.
           Enter the old electric brain. Remember, it ain't braggin' if you really done it. I did. Without looking at the machine nor understanding how it worked, I was able to solve this problem in around twenty minutes. (Did you get that? I did not even look at the machine.) Alfredo got a first-class demonstration of what deep thinking looks like. Since that critical piece of machinery could have put him out of business, he will never again confuse me thinking with a person just sitting there, as is wont to happen when people watch me think. There is nothing else much like this machine, yet I was able to walk up to it, remove a cover that nobody knew was there (“this piece has to come off”) and expose a complicated series of setting dials. It took five minutes to convince him it must be a removable cover.
           Looking much like a complicated cappuccino machine inside, he was shocked to see me select the correct spring-loaded thumbscrew out of the maze and double-shocked that I knew is must have a left-hand thread. I’ll take credit where it is due and on a scale of one to ten, this problem was probably around a two hundred and fifty. Yet, you know I cannot solve those logic games, the ones with clues like Mr. Jones was not the cousin of the lady in the blue dress. Really, I can't do those puzzles.
           But, compared to my family, I’m a regular Albert Frankenstien. I could charge admission to watch them try to fix something. They'll bust it worse. They'll also try to "fix" anything of yours that probably does not need fixing. If they break it, they'll put the hatch back on and deny everything. If, by chance, they do fix it, they'll want money when you get home. All this without being asked and without the benefit of a good basic education.

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October 21, 2009

           Here’s a fifth floor shot of the local Memorial Hospital, through the window blinds. The relevance here is that this is where I began to investigate the occupation of medical technologist out of curiosity’s sake. For some reason, available publications don’t seem to agree on the rates of pay, ranging from $33,000 to $68,000. I don’t buy that crap about working to achieve self-actualization. I work because I was born poor and I need to know the dollar figures.
           So here is my progress report. Should I take a pre-med course on my own? I see the two prerequisites for any medical jobs are biology and chemistry. Arbitrarily, I chose biology first and I am still looking at the options rather than commencing study. I won’t bore you with any technical points except where something is socially interesting, since I can already see the whole field of biology is impenetrable to most.
           Mind you, I get lots of medical trivia, which I have been shy writing about for obvious reasons. (So obvious, I forgot what I meant by that. But probably something to do with all the information they want to let anyone enroll in courses in this state. You cannot go to school anonymously in Florida, even if you pay cash. This is so ingrained into the Florida mentality they have gone insane over it.) Did you know Aristotle said animals evolved in certain latitudes? That is why Columbus thought he would find elephants in Haiti. How about I breeze through the eight pages of notes I took after work today and tell you anything I found interesting. Deal?

           An American catfish farm produces 4,500 pounds of food per acre per year, while a Japanese mussel farm cranks out 268,000 pounds in the same statistic.
           There is a field called “bioinformatics” which is to gather, store, retrieve and manipulate medical data on computers, with a web site www.nbii.gov.
           Biocommunications is writing for medical papers and magazines, including a community college program called “technical writer” for producing instruction manuals, quoting freelance rates of $50-$60 per hour.
           There are 13 vitamins required for proper health.
           Bioterrorism is the weaponizing of disease-causing agents.
           There are two types of viruses, lytic and lysogenic. Lytic kills the host cell, lysogenic keeps the cell host alive and producing more virus.
           Most scientists never invent anything of practical value.
           The strongest opponents to the theory of evolution believe they inherited superior qualities from their ancestors.
           A gene has been identified which makes some people more likely to be religious fanatics. I think it is called the Syrian virus. Just kidding. Or am I?

           There is no way I know what, if any, of this new information is worth learning. But I can already deduce biology is a lot like beginner’s computer, where they take five cents of schooling and stretch it into a $1,000 semester. The first half of most computer degrees is junk for passing exams that does you no good in the field. A good example is how every exam asks the name of the first practical computer (ENIAC). Who friggin cares?
           So as to not waste the day, I will memorize the four nitrogen bases that make up all genes. They are A for adenine, C for cytosine, G for guanine and T for thymine. A typical combination of these bases would be AGTATTGATGC. I’m confused already, since I heard humans had 23 genes, but roughly 3.5 billion of these heredity molecules. But if getting such ideas straight is all there is, I would not be discouraged.
           Now, I did delve into some actual biology to see what made sense to me. I’ll leave things like fungi alone for now. The association I make with biology is, I learned today, called physiology, which is to study functions of cells, tissues and organs. I managed to cover the basics of DNA and cellular compartmentalization.
           Despite reading second year college texts, there was nothing there I didn’t learn in grade seven science class. No, I am not exaggerating. That year, myself, Mike Zimmerman, Graham Smith and Gerald Swichenuik built a model animal cell for the science fair. I was already 12 years old, playing in a band, and totally aware the facts of life. My motive was to meet women at the science far, that is, women from out of town as, you see, I had already done some biology experiments of my own.

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October 20, 2009

           This unusual picture waiting for my ex to finish a live audition in Pasedena. Normally I did not attend these sessions but she was a fan of “old” music. Then again, she was young enough to have studied jazz as an anachronism. I leave at the first strains of any music from before 1954. Except for the rare drummer, I have never been in a band playing acoustic instruments as shown here.
           Considering it was a work day, quite a lot went on and I managed to spend three hours at the local library. The library full of third world nationals whose cultural heritage is to call home from public places. Everyone knows the telephone was invented in Madrid in 1491, followed by toll charges in 1492. Library means today’s trivia, which concerns sickle cell anemia, and to keep you reading, Osama Bin Laden.

           I did not know that sickle cell disease was a consequence of human resistance to malaria. One “copy” of the gene helps people resist malaria, two “copies” and they develop anemia. In order to find out what would be in store to someone studying biology, I read through some college-level texts. I came away with some mixed feelings.
           It is like studying a foreign language. Yet, I found no concepts that were unfamiliar since my grade school courses in frog dissection. My impression is that biology is 90% cramming Latin-based terminology into one’s brain rather than learning how to think. (Suddenly a few doctor-types I’ve know make sense.) High marks on such exams is a function of how good one is at rote memorization and it is foolish to pretend otherwise. And I don't just say that because I am terrible at memorizing things. I'm actually as good at it as anyone, it's that I do better on thinking-type exams.

           If there was ever a classic barrier-in-itself field, it is biology. Like the Chinese written language, it becomes itself the largest hurdle to success. Years of intense schoolwork were required just to learn the symbols, yet the Chinese could claim advancement was open to all. I get this vision of medical students poring over lists of biology terms into the early mornings, studying words instead of biology. My ability to memorize is as good as any but nothing I’ve done academically would be much preparation for such a subject.
           When I lean back from a physics or computer text, I’m pondering consequences. If I pause with biology, it is trying to figure out if some word is spelled backwards. Computer acronyms probably strike many people as the same thing. Funny, that my learning curve should favor one over the other. It would be a shocking disappointment to learn that the field of medicine is largely based on the type of study I tried this evening.
           Is there anything new in biology since way back when? There are now five kingdoms [in taxonomic classification]. I was taught there were two, namely plants and animals. Now fungi, bacteria and cells without a nucleus form three more. Is this really new, or just another case of public school budgetary cutbacks? One thing that has not changed is the difficulty in defining life. These new categorizations are not helping any.
           In 300 pages, I took in what I could, right from cellular structure to the concept of biospheres. Most interesting were tissues and organs. I’m now more well-versed about the options. Let somebody else specialize in earthworms and heredity. It is hard to tell how much more depth there is to each sub-topic, although I assume quite a lot since it takes years to master them. An example is cell structure. Despite closer attention on those chapters, I found nothing I did not already know. Is that all there is to it, or am I about to discover an entire new section of the library? As usual, there is nobody around to ask.

ADDENDUM
           Here’s some more trivia. Bin Laden, the mass murderer, is one of fifty heirs to the wealth of a Saudi construction company. That’s both some family and some construction company. What I did not know is that his original beef was that American soldiers were stationed in Saudi during some war, where he felt that desert fighters from nearby Afghanistan should have been used. This type of idle thinking is very big in many cultures.
           But there is a prime example of your "other culture" mentality. They want the American dollars and color TVs, but not the American attitudes that created an atmosphere where such things could be invented, built and made into financial successes. Nope, they just want the money and the TVs.
           He has vowed to fight until the last American soldier has left their ancient fabled land (that sandy stuff the British gave them in 1935). There is no mention as to why he does not think the Saudis should use their own army with him leading the charge. Odd that he attacks the Americans rather than his countrymen who invited them in. Then, we are dealing an individual whose thinking has never been tempered by a single day’s hard work. No need to study biology to see that boy is a real specimen.

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October 19, 2009

           Here’s the back of the patio with our favorite vine. Wallace is training it to creep toward the fence. The first good weather all year and I spent it riding the bus to Flamingo Road. I spent hours in waiting rooms. I honestly wanted to hang around with all the nurses and student nurses. As a consolation, I managed to have a half-hour conversation with somebody on the inside. He was quite happy to steer me right about rumors like nurses making $75,000 per year to start, see addendum for more facts on that.
           I’ve had a stern talking to the cat about prancing through the living room and bothering Millie. Explaining that the staring contests had to stop seems to have had some effect. The bottom line, Tat, is that Millie has 30 times your body mass should she decide to insist, it is game over. Much like working for a corporate entity.

           A few newspaper articles have found the time to agree with me on the topic of real estate. The reality of why the market has not imploded is has nothing to do with those fake TV reports of economic upturn. There is no recovery in Florida and there will not be for many, many years to come. Florida is a sucker’s paradise and the suckers have run out of money.
           The reality of why there hasn’t been a meltdown is that Florida banks haven’t got enough lawyers or money to repossess 1.4 million houses. Nor can the court system handle that kind of case load (they can only deal with around 36,000 per year). Disaster hasn’t struck is because existing repossessions are clogging up the courts and they can’t take on new ones. Sooner or later, this backlog will reach street level; then get the hell out of the way.
           The media has further declared a “slowdown” of bankruptcies, which is true to the extent that there is now a one-year wait before the bank can file the papers. This chokepoint is oddly serving as a brake on plummeting prices. Worse, if the mortgagee just walks away there is an extra delay proving abandonment. Only this arthritic legal process has prevented 140,000 houses from hitting the market at once. There are reports of families “living for free in houses” for that year already by giving up making the payments. Recovery, my eye.

ADDENDUM
           Now, our nurses and their high living. I got talking with the lab technologist about the difference between what is advertised and what kind of income nurses really have. He says it is more like $18 per hour to start. Now that makes sense to me. He says they can get a $10 per hour shift differential for working nights and another $7 for working Friday to Sunday. But that is still not $75K per year and “differential” begins to sound frighteningly like the phone company.
           The tech was ex-army and gave me a few pointers on his new job. At $30 per hour, he is one of the highest paid non-physician people in the hospital. He attributes the fantastically high wages reported for nurses as due to private clinics who regularly recruit the top nurses from hospitals, but only the cream of the crop. On average, a nurse makes about the same as a good local construction worker.
           Of course I asked why such a gap between his wage and nurses and he says simple—the doctors can’t make a diagnosis without someone like him knowing the trade. He was new but said a good lab technologist was also a candidate for headhunting. In return he asked why I wasn’t in the medical field. You know, that is a damn good question.
           I admitted that in college, I had never studied the two pre-requisites for med work: biology and chemistry. He described the difference between a lab technician and a medical technologist (you can look that one up yourself). The courses can be taken independently at Broward Community College. I’m thinking to pick up some used textbooks and seeing if I can retain the material. It is only a two year course. This is not a commitment, the lab tech concept for me is sheer dreaming at this point.

           And don’t nobody tell him he makes less than half as much as a shoemaker.

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October 18, 2009

           Here’s my old ex leaning on my old ’85 Cadillac. All I can say is that was a far happier time. This was somewhere in Los Angeles. I see a building with the number 9110 in the background so probably Ventura. Sigh, those were the days. I worked a few hours with Wallace’s scanner to get an idea what we are in for. He’s got something like 10,000 photos and at this rate, it will take 1,500 days to digitalize them. There is clearly a better way but we needed this device to test the concept. It works, but there must be a better concept.
           News about the disappearing Carlos. Wallace reports that he has moved to New York. The rumor was there was construction work out there. The other rumor says there isn’t. At least we know he isn’t living in his van down on Key Biscayne.

           Theresa called from Wilmietown. Our quick chat lasted 46 minutes and she again reports the first impressions of that area are misleading. There is no work and the downtown does not even have an Internet Café or a Publix [supermarket]. I was just there a day when I felt it looked prosperous. She says no jobs that pay over $10 per hour. She should head back here, keeping in mind there are 1,012,000 unemployed in Florida, with up to 70 applicants for every new job.
           She is qualified for that government program to go back to school full time, which should find her on campus by next summer. It took a baby boom to make the government realize it is cheaper to educate people than put them on assistance later in life. I just wish they’d know that when I was 19. Theresa says no decision on what to study, but if it was me, it would be deeply in the medical field. The reason I didn’t when younger was not totally because I had no idea about the occupation, but because I knew it took seven years and was afraid to commit to something I might not finish.
           Last night, it dropped to 70, and you know who gets the blame for that. Freezing, I had to pull two blankets over myself. It’s all Russian weather control. Pudding-Tat has migrated back inside to sleep with me once more, her and Millie now get along at a distance. I purposely stayed indoors all day, Wallace braved the patio. Actually, I like it outside but I find it boring unless I am reading. And it is uncomfortable to read outside most of the time, not to mention the distractions. I don’t exactly read Dean Koontz, you know.

           I have a Halloween gig, cash plus tips. It will be a chance to hit the audience with my new material while still emphasizing country music. I’ve been toying with the idea of customizing my bass, but not like usual. Arnel had his guitar customized to include all types of effects and gadgets. I would like to have a drum box built in. I dismantled the Alesis after it crapped out and I’m sure the circuit board would fit. What I’m antsy about is all these drum boxes have displays for dickheads, such as “60sRockBeat”. I want a real display. (It turns out there is no such thing.)
           Which is why Wallace says I should go back to computer school. I’m thinking. (Now I think Wallace should plain have gone to school himself.)

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October 17, 2009

           Here’s a blurry photo of my ex, partially produced by the scanner Wallace brought along. It scans slide and negative but is very inefficient. It takes forever to scan and the manual is totally useless. Avoid the product, called a Stratford Labs IS-505. Sure, I got it to work after an hour, but then it took another hour to process a just 30 pictures. Worst feature was the display – it shows the negative view. Stratford’s got balls calling themselves a lab after that kind of dodo error. The negative view is for scanning negatives, you dorks, it is not a special effect.
           This photo was taken in a snack bar on Ventura Boulevard, Los Angeles. It was a cool fall day, you can tell by the sweater. It was one of our very last “dates”. Her hair is dyed red, she is a natural blonde. They aren’t making them like that any more.

           Quiet Saturdays around here are history for a while. Three cameras are in operation at the shop, including one exterior. You are invited to stick around and learn about this business with me, I’m starting from scratch. I get the impression that most of what I knew about Internet transmissions was either wrong or incomplete. Mr. T., our software setup guy, walked me through a setup today. I’m lost, but not confused. He is able to configure IP addresses to do things that were not even mentioned in all the expensive manuals I’ve studied.
           Neatest feature is the ability to log on and watch the cameras without installing anything special on your computer. If I gave you the password, you could see our front office area in real time, and I’m considering giving you that capability. First let me clear it with the powers that be. Security cameras are turning out to be one of the more direct things I’ve ever done with computers. Fred and Mike are also enthused. It is one thing to repair and install but here is an instance where we are using the final product for a non-computer end.
           Our friend with the store-bought PhD was in the shop. He’s older than the rest of us but still plays the business hustler. He reminds me of many people at the phone company but twenty years later. Still thinking they’ll get rich by working hard and following the rules. Who was it said behind every great fortune is a crime? Well, his newest money-making scheme is doing tax returns. He was stunned when I explained to him that the real money comes from buying the returns, not filling them out. Store-bought.

           Music class has evolved into a very enjoyable, if exclusive, social meeting. Today was reviewing assigned homework and it is time to get these people on stage. To put things in perspective, all five students have had less than a total of 15 hours instruction, none of which were private lessons. The result is breath-taking and we’ve had people listening in offer their disbelief despite six of us saying it is so.
           In every class, other talents emerge. In this case, our disk jockey turns out to be both a good singer and in possession of a powerful voice. He can drown me out. That means he can front a band soon, but don’t mention to these singers that it is rare they are able to sing softly. It is usually all or nothing for such vocalists. Next week we are planning to tape the show, it is about an hour long. The following week, Halloween, is time to get the class over to Jimbos for their debut. I don’t know, how was your Saturday so far?
           Speaking of taping the show, it seems another of the students is a photographer. I usually give out a non-editable copy of the recording. This may be a chance produce something a little fancier. This is my first all-adult class in two years and of course I think they should have the graduating ceremony playing to a live audience. You see, until they do, it will be impossible to convince them how ready they are.
           After full days like this, I look forward to quiet relaxation. That took the form of bingo tonight. The powerball is up to nearly $100, not bad for a small crowd. They want to split it into two smaller amounts, but I feel that defeats the purpose of powerball. That purpose being to let it build up to ridiculous proportions and pack the room two layers past the rafters. I’ve never underestimated the value of greed.

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October 16, 2009

           This is the hardware for the video surveillance cameras being installed in the shop. (In the end, that's as far as it got.) The display is going on the east wall beside the toothpicks. Everyone is hopeful but the reality is nobody knows how anything is going to work out. I have all the manuals memorized and want a working system to experiment with. I carefully watched the team you see in today’s pictures to watch how long things take. I was impressed.
           The drop ceiling makes our place an easy install. Compared to the cheapest imaginable CCTV, this digital operation is a breeze. The control computer, once we match up a few minor compatibilities, is the link to making this system more sophisticated than many seen in casinos. The installer is on the ladder and the technician is at lower right. I had several flashbacks watching them work. My top regret working in a cubicle for years was that I missed out on the experience these guys have.
           At the same time, these guys know they’ve met people who know what they are doing. I’ve already got software working that had them baffled. Software is the part of the computer trade that can be tricky to stick to a simple model. In business, complication is rarely a good thing. We use a controller marketed by a company called DiViS, it seems quite capable and I look forward to getting in there for a test drive.

           Wallace and Millie are back and the cat has disappeared. Wallace likes the way the trees have grown over the patio and creates all the shade. He’ll change his mind when the branches bend our awnings and bang on the roof during storms. He brought some pictures from the north end of Vancouver Island, I’ll see if he wants any published. Another gadget he’s got is one of those slide and negative scanners that operate at something like 4,000 dpi. Do those things really work? (Not as well as one would like unless you spend the big bucks.)
           The audience at the club was too small to perform tonight. By mid-evening only four people were there, so I did not put on a show. But I got all those sound effects for bingo mentioned in y’day’s blog. You know that bugle sound that they play at the race track? It is a military signal known as “First Call”. I don’t get the connection unless they just play it because it is so neat. I also downloaded the Russian National Anthem, and let me warn you that is exactly what it sounded like.

           Looking a little closer at our fugitive, Jason Derek Brown, it seems curious that accounts of him seem to quote the same scant facts, and in almost the same order and length. Rather odd. Don’t mis-read me, the guy is a murder suspect. But there is even a Wiki entry about him and the one thing now known for certain* is that he’ll never get a fair trial. That alone is one of the reasons I am an opponent of spectacularism in the press. If it were up to me, until after a person is convicted, he would be publicly referred to only as “that person there”. I said publicly.
           Why does my spider-sense scream “setup”? A ten-speed bicycle was found near the crime scene on which Brown’s fingerprints were “positively identified”. Normally I would not even ask, but were any other bicycles found nearby? Did they also have fingerprints? Are they saying Brown, with an advanced education, was dumb enough to abandon incriminating evidence at the crime scene? A guy who capable of the perfect heist suddenly forgets the FBI likes fingerprints?
           Shortly after Brown was placed on the list, the authorities began to emphasize another angle, that Brown was illegally fleeing prosecution. Does this imply there is a legal way to flee? (Having the surname “Kennedy” comes to mind.) Folks, in this case, the “prosecution” has 6,000 gun-toting agents, tacitly declared their intention to shoot on sight, put a $100,000 price on his head, then tried and convicted him in the media. Who wouldn’t “flee”? He’s not only the first educated man on the Top Ten Most Wanted, he’s the only first-offender. What in Sam Hill is going on? I’m not sticking up for Brown, but I damn sure want to hear his side of the story.

           [Author's note 2015-10-16: another thing becoming certain is that years later, even if they do catch him, he's outsmarted his pursuers for so long as to make them a mockery. They need to institute nation-wide face recognition on innocent people just to catch this one suspect. And that's all he is? A suspect.]

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October 15, 2009

           Here is her highness, Pudding the Tat, lolling in the sun. She really likes that red brick. Pet photos tell you it has been a slow day. Jeff has been in touch, this is the Dr. Sports guy. He’s got a Sunday 12:30 PM slot opening at a Ft. Lauderdale AM station. I believe it is 1230 AM call letters WZBT. The show is “live” even though we produce it on a computer well in advance. If you can think of anything except sex, religion, politics and sports, I’d like to hear from you. Pudding-Tat couldn’t care less and that’s the general mood of our audience.
           It would not be the first time one of my ideas was scooped, but today I saw a band doing my act. A trio with drums, lead & bass doing a Karaoke show. These guys were fully funded by a beer company and had everything I’m shooting for. That includes two large flat-screen monitors facing the audience. Like my plan, it was not really Karaoke because no band can do a good job of a thousand pieces. This makes for a rather limited song list but it was noteworthy that so many of my top numbers were on it, including a disproportionate number of the chick tunes I prefer.
           These guys were strictly one-at-a-time Karaoke, so my concept of audience participation with multiple microphones remains somewhat novel. You can go see this band at the corner of Hollywood and 19th, or at least a similar show. The Karaoke monitors are permanently placed and the work needed to match up all the lyrics is too much for this to be a single show. I would like to point out that despite this discovery, my original idea was independently derived in my own head without external input from any source, and that I intend to continue as planned.
           I ran into Eddie, who still has not learned any of my material. It’s been what, four months? I keep telling him I am putting nothing more into the project (I learned all twelve tunes he input) until he shows some progress. But Eddie keeps wanting to add more of his favorites without learning my material. Gee, Eddie, you should start a band.
           Wallace made it into town, safe and sound. Millie is here, and this time with a far more sensible crew cut. We got out the roadmap and traced the trip from Seattle. The waypoints on this excursion were Boise, Salt Lake City, Rawlins, Hurricane, Flagstaff, Little Rock, Memphis, and Tallahassee. I've never been to Mempis.

           Ah, asks the sharp-eyed reader, how could Wallace go through Rawlins, Wyoming, and then Hurricane, a tiny town in southern Utah? Right you are, a blizzard caused him to retreat to Salt Lake and head for warmer weather*. He got it in the form of a two-day rainstorm all the way to Memphis. Of course, I am jealous because I’ve never seen much of that country except from the freeways. Wallace stopped and saw Zion, the park, and says it was fantastic. He also stopped at Crater Lake, but reports it is surrounded by a 12-foot high wire fence and there is an admission charge. Wish I could get money for people to see a hole in the ground. (He neglected to say it was also private property with signage to fake tourists into thinking it was a national monument. See November 2013.)
           He met a few lively lasses along the way, another reason I like to travel. In my characteristically opportunistic approach to meeting women, I find it far easier to converse with strangers in a new place than take a chance in my own neighborhood. More about the trip once we get caught up on things.
Here’s the oddball idea of the day. My interactive entertaining style is legendary and bingo is not immune to innovation. The game is awfully one-sided, so what can be done to unfreeze that? I want to add sound effects. I can tell when the critical point is crossed and each number could be the winner. How about a drum roll? The theme from Jaws would build tension. Taking a queue from Seinfeld, I should find a distinctive sound for a bingo. Doorbell? Tarzan yell? I’ll look for a sound to signal the start of each new game, such as the post bugle. And for that dead spot while we are confirming numbers, the Jeopardy Jingle, you do the do-do-do-do.

          [Author's note 2016-10-15: little did I know that less than four years later, I would make a similar trip, and be forced south due to early cold weather. But remember, I was dying faster in 2009 than I was a few years later.]

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