November 30, 2009

           Gander at this hazy digitally-zoomed beach photo. Two local rednecks on the beach, no swim gear, no towels, no nothing. Even if they aren’t taking a break from the nearest saloon, the image is so strongly suggests that event, I had to capture it. Hey, Zeke, where’s all them horny girls in bikini bathing suits? I dunno, Elrod, you tell me ‘cause this was yer idea.
           This may be the end of an era, the computer shop is in the red. The rest of the gang can no more afford to operate at a deficit than I can, and I lost over $100 staying in business last month. I don’t mind because of the overall benefits but I doubt others feel the same. Losing that shop will be a painful amputation. Even operating at a loss, the income from the computers pays for many things that would have to be replaced over here, to the extent that losing $150 per month is a more pragmatic breakeven point.
           If I recall correctly, the lease is up for renewal next month. My advice to Fred is to tell the landlady the rent must be brought into line with other available properties or we haul ass. There is a corner shop on Tyler for $499 per month and it has tremendous exposure on the westbound one-way. While Fred may have some misplaced loyalty to the premises, I remember when said landlady used the CAM clause to double the rent in early 2008. That was cold and heartless.
           So what is the going rate? Considering vacancies are turning entire business districts, especially the outlying strip malls, into quasi-ghost towns, dropping prices to $499 per month for prime central locations. That’s 75% less than a year ago and only a block or two away. Too bad we can’t make a living selling “Going Out of Business” signs. I’ll remind Fred of my offer to get a crew together and move him out in one day. There will be some concern about a move losing our customer base, but the fact is, they haven’t been around in months as it is.
           The biggest danger with relocating is linear thinking. We are all surrounded by people who are experts at cause and effect. Unfortunately, for such types, every effect has only one cause—the one that pops into their thick heads. One customer earlier today told us it was easy to start a business. He said, “You just find a good product that people want, buy it in bulk, advertise heavily, and sell each unit for as much as you can.”
           If you follow his rules, he went on, success was certain. He gave Sam Walton as an example . “See?” he kept saying, demonstrating his wisdom. But he warned in a cheerless tone, if you didn’t follow his formula exactly, you would fail. He could point out (after the fact) precisely what each failed business did wrong.
           The problem with linear thinking is such people have no ability to consider how other factors outside their limited experiences inter-relate. I’ve got one guy who does not believe I have an MBA because I work in a shoe shop. The facts about my health short-circuit his brainwaves because he “knows” why I’m not making $150K per year: I must be a dropout. He keeps saying “a smart guy like [me]” should post a resume on the Internet, something he couldn’t do himself. What a regular Albert Frankenstein.
           It may be time to move on, but to what? I’m glad to have experience and confidence [that I’ll find something]. The job supply is drying up pretty fast, though. The businesses that survive will be subsistence level and unlikely to provide much of a customer base for any tertiary business, the only kind I know how to operate. I’ve been on a cash basis for nine consecutive years so at least that won’t be a problem. According to Reader’s Digest, 27% of American don’t own or refuse to own a credit card, so I’m not alone. Just part of a minority.
           The same magazine says don’t order drinks with lemon slices. Lemons. Everybody touches them, nobody washes them, they just get sliced and thrown in the liquid you are about to consume. Never thought about that, but now that I do, yuck.
           Trivia. In Japan, lumber is expensive. They actually microwave each log and then squeeze the water out of it until it is square. The process takes seven minutes, the resulting lumber is stronger, and there is very little wastage. Be careful, due to different wattages, cooking times may vary.

November 29, 2009

           If it had been up to me, I’d have stayed in all day. After you hit maybe 24, there is nothing to do in this area except make faces and waste time. Now do not get me wrong, I do fine because I am an entertainer, but I’m saying there is still nothing to do. Wallace talked me into going over to the bowling alley (Holiday Lanes), where an old acquaintance of mine was playing. He’s the Rod Stewart impersonator.
           He is English with the accent, so he can get away with observations I could only dare think on stage. Anyone here on vacation? (What a loser, going to a bowling alley on vacation.) Anyone wearing shorts? (Are you stomping grapes? There are no women getting out of a shower hoping to meet a guy wearing shorts.) There was one good-looking gal, but as Wally now knows, I can spot a groupie miles away. The one tonight could not even dance.
           But the show is European-flavored and centuries ahead of the locals. It was a novel act, may I point out such things as it was bass & vocals with backing tracks and as people kept walking in, the band did not take a break for over two hours. There must be some universal motives at work here, since I have no idea what music is doing over in the old world. Their act was independently so much like mine I had to deny to Wallace that I had worked with this group.
           The atmosphere at the Holiday seems incapable of change. The crowd is jaded, the drinks are a dollar more than anywhere else and the staff is too evidently only interested in tips, often begging for them. I got there late hoping the party would pick up. I should have stayed in and wrote more letters. To Colorado and N. Carolina, if you must know.
           Most of you will never receive a personal letter from me. Those who do will note that today I developed a new style that enhances my “blast from the past” format. It incorporates printing relevant or thought-provoking pictures covering the otherwise blank backs of the letter pages. This made sense after my recent studies of the placement mat flyers. Denny’s mat has both sides plastered with pictures of their overpriced Slams. My pictures are personalized, in some cases photos from so long ago it will shock the recipients. Didn’t think I kept things all this time, I’ll wager.
           Since Pudding-Tat’s birthday is unknown, I’m searching the archives for earliest mention of her name. And she’s been mentioned 228 times. I researched the most recent stats for the equivalent ages of cats, and they do not always agree. I remember the cat it seems forever, but the first mention of her is “Fraidy-cat” on April 4, 2007. That makes her just over two and a half years old. Or around 20 people years. That doesn’t make sense to me, how she could take over this place in such a short time. As [Wendy Christensen] said, “In ancient Egypt, cats were worshipped. They have not forgotten this.”
           And here’s some news for those of you with nothing to hide. In the 2010 census, if you do not complete the mail-in form, you can expect a GPS-equipped census official to arrive at your door. The first question is, as always, “How many people live in your house?” Canadians are more familiar with being compelled to answer census questions, but in their case, the first question is far more sinister, “How many people over the age of 18 live in your house who are not registered to vote?”
           I’ve been looking out for more trivia in case Theresa responds to the long letter and sample flyers I sent. If there is to be trivia, I want it to be as far removed from the frivolous brand, I want it to be informative trivia, high class stuff. For example, did you know that all phonetic alphabets, no matter what language is being written, average 27 letters. Now that is interesting trivia. Or how about, did you know that 38% of cats are left-pawed? (The ratio for human lefties is just under 10%.)

November 28, 2009

           Scotty gave me a magazine about WWII, one of the new issues featuring recently declassified material about U-boats. There was also a very disturbing article about an illegal arrest. The Allies, who are supposedly the arch-proponents of democracy and rule of law, threw Axis Sally (Mildred Gillars) into the jug until 1961.
           That is outrageous, for she broke no American or German law, and she was not guilty of treason (because she wasn’t an American citizen). Thus, I consider her a political prisoner entitled to just civil compensation, not by the American people, but by the criminals who arrested, tried, and prosecuted her – the US Army personnel at their own personal expense and that of anyone whose orders they were following. There is a point at which a soldier has a duty to disobey, and breaking the law is well within that definition.
           [Author’s note: I say again that I am against any form of ex post facto law and will never respect or support anyone who does so or attempts to do so. Ex post facto has got to be the most disgusting crime ever conceived and the penalty should be death for any lawyer or judge who evokes it as “due process”. Law should only pertain from its creation onwards. Ex post facto law is to prosecute people today for something they legally completed in the past.]
           There, I feel much better. It was hardly a day off, I made up five lesson kits, taught the lesson, then called bingo at Jimbo’s. Nothing is that taxing but it breaks the day up into two hour stints and nothing else can get started. Financially, this week was a dud but I did get a semi-request to begin calling Tuesday bingo at “The Moose”, which I take it is nearby.
           I don’t call(bingo) for free so that will have to be worked out plus they will have to use their own PA. The popularity with my show is the, well, it is the show. It is far more than bingo, featuring themed background music (Halloween, Thanksgiving), sound effects, favorite numbers, and of course, the caller wearing a suit and tie. And you can’t beat the way I call the numbers. Micosukke Casino, eat my dust!
           Now Millie is in remission, rolling around like a puppy. Two people have told Wallace not to give her any bones “in her stage”. That’s idiotic as far as I’m concerned. Don’t give a dog a bone, indeed. There is no shortage of old wive’s tales, superstition and crackpots around this town. Wallace is the one that isn’t eating. He eats, but he skimps, like he’ll toast a bagel and then hardly put any cheese on it. You know me, unless your stomach is upset (in which case you head for the clinic), a healthy appetite is paramount.
           I was able to find time to investigate a few prices for the placement mat flyer. They still make wide-carriage printers, and they are surprisingly cheap at $200 low-end. That’s within range, I’m sure the mechanics are identical to regular size printers. I am surprised they don’t make a black only inkjet (I think), and I’ve considered refilling all the cartridges with black ink. Still no further word from Wilmieville. I will assume that Theresa will look closely at the flyer distribution, since that is the remaining obstacle, and I can’t do anything to help about that.
           Bowing to requests, I will describe the worst scam faced by the shoe shop. It works like this, but don’t try it. “Yew, that is terrible workmanship. If I’d known you were going to do this I’d never have brought my shoes here. I’m not paying for that. Give me my shoes back so I can take them some place that will do it right.” Fat chance.

November 27, 2009

           My Jazz camera turned itself on during the Thanksgiving jam y’day. Thus I’ve got some excellent audio of the crowd vocals and the clarity of the bass lines (I never use distortion pedals, finger-pluck or snap my precious bass strings. Don’t have to, learned how to play instead.). Here is an extracted still of the old band, with The Hippie in far background, taken y’day.
           There can be no doubt that for consistent crowd-pleasing performances, all I need is a semi-decent guitarist. Don’t ask why that is so hard to find, the answer is the persistent belief that each guitarist has his own “style” only lacking an equally hard to find backup band to launch him to stardom. He doesn’t want to learn “other people’s” material as it cramps his imaginary “style”.
           I scan Craigslist once a month for leads, but I don’t know why. This time I noticed others complaining about bass players, and I agree. Most so-called bassists do indeed play lead or retard riffs and cannot keep time. One comment that says plenty was that, “Afterall, bass is the easiest instrument to learn.” Spoken by a true guitar player, for sure. If you see bass from that perspective, then that statement is probably true. In another likelihood, whoever said that never tried drumming or singing. Rule #1: guitarists rarely make good bassists.
           I participated in a lengthy discussion about music this morning. I see that many people do not understand how music has changed in the past five years. The way it is produced, distributed and listened to is not the same as 2004, and completely different than before that. While there will always be a radio market for rap and country, the success stories of yesteryear have no relevance today. Very few artists are discovered or make a fortune off big albums (on CD).
           Even the way bands are formed and managed has evolved, the “cult personality” band is stone cold dead along with Jerry Garcia. There is still money to be made going on tour, but it is made by stadiums, bus companies and ticket sellers. These outfits encourage the one big show rather than a series of small ones, but as I said decades ago, there would be no piracy if bands worked a 40-hour week. Everyone seems to know the Monkees and Led Zep were instant hits, but they also seem to think this means anything.
           It is the Thanksgiving aftermath, so we are back to simple food for a while. Today I made chicken soup, spaghetti and a supply of jambalaya (which Wallace has never had before). The brisk weather it was all day inside reading with the TV on. Surprising amount of movie reruns for the weekend. I am leery of movie marathons, it usually means somebody has died.
           My Nokia cell phone died, I think I said that already. I went into the phone store next to the shoe shop to find a lady in dismay. She’d suffered a couple of bad employees and was, she felt, hopelessly behind in her books. I stayed a couple of hours and showed her the easy way to get back on track. During this time, much information changed hands about how these stores operate. I’m all ears. I know it cannot be that difficult but that is normally the situation where you can’t get a straight answer out of anyone. At any rate, she is renting an entire store when, in fact, all she needs is a small sales area. I’m thinking.
           For a laff these days, there is always that Hollywood Ex-Wives show. Listening to these women rationalize is a joke in itself. “I’ve learned another side of forgiveness.” She means forgiving herself in the hopes the world will do likewise, a completely selfish motive. Their bleached hair and sunken eyes and plunging necklines show they have not learned a thing, that they would do the same over again if they could. It is noted that when forced to actually pay their own bills, they become waitresses and motel maids.
           By early evening, I biked over to Jimbos to scout the situation. I don’t play on the Friday before or after the first of the month. But I noticed Rhonda did. Her Karaoke show went into that slot. Now I know she must get a healthy float from the bar, for the night was otherwise a money-loser. Don’t get me wrong, I make more playing music than anything else, but I also know what nights don’t pay when working for tips. Interesting, because although I don’t want to cause any hard feelings, hers is the exact type of outdated Karaoke show that I am targeting with my new act.
           Last, over at Office Bunker I chanced to meet the pre-eminent web programmer in Florida, from South Beach Grafix. We had a conversation about what projects are most likely to succeed in the upcoming year. For people who had never met, it was astonishing how closely we agreed on reading the economy. More on this later, as we have also agreed to swap considerable amounts of gear each of us own but don’t use any more.

November 26, 2009

           Those down-home parties with the small crowd never really happen much outside of the movies. But there was one at Dania Beach today. Here is a photo of me actually letting somebody else touch my Danelectro Longhorn bass. That is only because he owns one himself. The PA and gear seen here belongs to that bass player, and he sure does like to play loud.
           The most religious of the holidays left in America, Thanksgiving. Even Millie is dining on pork today. Of course, there has to be a few ants at the picnic. One is Nokia, and have they ever gone downhill. Their new phone lasted ten months. I noted inside the sticker said “Made in China”. Yeah, well, they’ve lost my business in any language. Nokia is supposed to be doing great things for the Finnish economy. From now on it will be without my help.
           In worse news, I may have to close up the computer rental business. Now that e-mail is instant, my core income is down 64% with no other prospects. This is the first month I had to cross-subsidize (something I am loathe to do although people with credit cards seem to have no problem there). The security cam business has not moved a single product.
           My November income from performing is down to a third of October levels even with the extra cash from Bingo. Yes, bingo is considered performing when you are the caller. It’s a good thing I’ve got a job, but that job is to keep me above water, not to take cruises on it. (For the record, I am getting paid for today, a holiday, something few Florida employers see fit to do except on Xmas and Easter.)
           I missed an excellent photo/video shoot by not bringing my camcorders along. It had been a blustery morning and nobody likes humping gear in the wet. Too bad, as this party turned out as one of the definitive Florida cook-outs, the kind only seen in the picture books. Around fifty people came and went for the afternoon. It was the music that set this party in its own league.
           One thing the videos would have shown is the gigantic gap between the styles of The Hippie (him) and Da Bassguy (me). It is comparing apples and oranges--but those differences are valid even though they are not opposites. When the Hippie plays, musicians get up. When I play, the audience gets up. Today showed that beyond any doubt. The Hippie took a break after four tunes, I kept playing, just as a guitarist might.
           Whereas we had been playing musical favorites, I switched to crowd favorites. “Gimme One Reason”, “Fire”, “Stand By Me” and I had the dance and stage areas instantly flooded with people. I had people up that had been sitting all afternoon. The crowd was dancing to my bass lines and nothing else. (I purposely stopped a couple of times to emphasize that point.) I just know a country band would be a killer draw around here, and I should have tried out my new backing tracks at this party.
[Photo delayed]
           Interesting. I thought I’d show you a picture of said dancers, but I don’t have one. Yet, I took 128 photos at this event, half of them at random. Why do I not have a single snap of the crowd at the stage, even by accident? As this photo shows, I had no trouble taking frontal shots of the [rest of the] band from front row center. The dancing area was therefore vacant when I was not playing. This is a very revealing contradiction.
           Bear in mind, this was not a contest. It has always been my inclination to analyze the overall presentation rather than the musical quality (although I can get picky about choice of tunes). This was a little Thanksgiving gig in a Dania Beach tiki hut that turned into a first class mini-festival. I would rate this gig for audience effect as one of The Hippie’s best ever. Free food helps. I’m still going to steal his accordion player.

November 25, 2009

           Millie’s situation is described later. If there is a paradise for old dogs, it is Florida. This photo evokes sympathy, but in fact, Millie has had the best of times. Her expression is totally the old “give me food” look of a Labrador. But as you will see, it conveys that she is also grey and somewhat feeble. Read later for more information, as it is early today.
           I dug out my old binder of Hippie tunes, including pearls like “Down on the Corner” which we never did play right. Same with “Margaritaville”, except I play it right because my backing track is Jimmy Buffet himself. There is no G chord coming out of the chorus, it is double measures of A (“But I know…”). I’ll see what’s planned for Xmas and New Years, both of which land on Fridays this year and I have nothing lined up.
           Chances are I could do a decent job of jamming through again although the fact remains I have never yet heard around a quarter of the tunes we played. As per habit, I datestamp such booklets and found markings from 2000 to 2008. The old truism goes that no matter how many times you form a two-piece group with The G, you never know how many people are going to be in it.
           It has been a blustery day since 4:00 AM. Steady, noisy rain. This got me up early with nothing to do, although that is never strictly true. Just the cat and I. Say, Tat, are you putting on a few pounds round the tush? She still prefers those dry pellets for lunch, which puts away the theory that they are scientifically designed to keep your pet healthy. Those crunchy-wunchie pelletoids, she gets the regulation one cup (8 oz) per day. And no more till she finishes what is there.
           Looking ahead for 2010, it should be another well-documented year, unless I get distracted by something big. Winning the Lotto comes to mind. The fact is, that year has long been labeled “It’s Over” in my other correspondence. For many reasons unspecified, that is the year tons of projects, some of them life-long, get dropped. I always wanted to build my own house somewhere. Never happened. Same with riding a motorcycle around Australia and spending another year in Iceland or Venezuela.
           Where some families set their sons up to be doctors in order to make money, my raising was such that, to become a doctor, I would have had to make the money first. And if I did that, it was proof I didn’t really need any help, so either way you lose. I’ll be putting getting rich on hold as well. In the end, the only person you can count on is yourself, but I never learned that until far too late.
           Until I was 27, I kept false hope that others would honor their promises. While I was successful in not becoming just another wage-slave, it was not what I set out to do. It is sad but true being smart or educated doesn’t pay well. But it sure beats being rich and bored and divorced and on cocaine! I have never yet met the typically happy man pictured in the movies. Yes, I made incredibly good money working at the phone company and I will never make that mistake again.
           Later, the predictable news about Millie has arrived. She has cancer. Millie has done more than most people, she’s been from Alaska to Key West and swum in many oceans and tasted my cooking. It don’t get any better.
           Things get better as the day progresses. “Batchin”, that is being a bachelor, is easier once you know how. For instance, now that I can prepare a five-course meal right here, it is once again fashionable to go out. There is no sense of “loss or lonesome” when you can do it yourself, not that I ever missed big Thanksgiving get-togethers. The point is, one is supposed to miss these things. Sure, Wallace and I had some plans for dinner today, but we’ve both been invited out twice over.
           I better understand the buffet meal now. Instead of poring over a stove, focus on making one big dish very well, then share it with others who did the same. This may be homespun wisdom to you, but like a lot of men, I never thought about it much. For instance, I made a huge tray of olives, including the tuna-stuffed because I could not find the almond-stuffed. Much superior to the pimento centers. Try the almond brand.
           The challenge was buying three times as much of each, then picking the very best ones to arrange for perfection, size and appearance. In fact, I would have done even better if not for that rainstorm. The Winn/Dixie aisles were packed, though I wonder if it is the shopping or the money that people had to leave until the last moment. All pitted olives and jumbo sizes were sold out by the time I arrived.

November 24, 2009

           With heavy heart I inform you Millie is not doing well. It is unfortunate, but like most animals once in the wild, dogs cannot generally show any symptoms until the advanced stages. Also, I remind everyone that the human-to-dog years conversion is based on a number of aging factors. That conversion does not imply the same life expectancy, and for dogs it is lower than humans, around the equivalent of 62. Millie is past that. Even allowing for her twice daily dip in the Atlantic, she is getting up there.
           The computer shop is another question mark. I know that I’ve been breaking even for months and I’m the only one left making money over there. We’ve all agreed we have to sell something but nobody is agreed what that should be. I suspect that there is a general decline in businesses that require lump sum payments of more than maybe $40 at a time. The shoe shop is doing a steady trade.
           The neighbor to the south, the guy with the mother of all Christmas lights, has his place up for sale. I admit, it is perfectly maintained and in top-notch condition. He rakes the yard every day and I don’t doubt the interior is equally spotless. I sent Wallace on a snooping expedition and found out the asking price is $55,000. It will never bring in that much. The neighbor has lost his grip on reality, there are country estates for sale at those prices. It has no patio, no shade, no green zone, the entrance faces into the noon day sun and it is smaller than this place. I blogged pictures of his lights a few years back. Too bad he can’t sell those.
           The high point of today was the opportunities for me to demonstrate my problem solving skill. Unfortunately I can’t get far relying on this skill since, for starters, I have to be physically present and see the situation. Today we had to fix some expensive outdoor furniture covers that required four hands to hold it during stitching. But there was only room for two hands. I aced that one in less than a minute. I put a temporary row of stitches using the greased twine meant for soles, but I fed it by hand. When done, the grease made it easy to slide out. Ta-da!
           We will be closed on Thanksgiving, so I will go in on Friday, I need the money. Man, times are tight. I’d like to go up to North Carolina for a bit, but I’m having enough of a circus keeping it together over here. Shift work or not, that homeland security position at the airport is starting to sound better all the time. I always did look good in a uniform.
           For the record, today I broke up officially with my first true heart-throb. We had separated a little while but this was the day she started seeing other men, and she found one in a marrying mood within two months. Sweet Judy Blue Eyes, and yes, I still miss her. That is one of the few situations in my life that seems like y’day. She is one of only two people from the past that I think about almost every day.
           Speaking of the past, how about some trivia? The year that MicroSoft finally incorporated was 1981. Before that, they didn’t make much money, since they only did minor BASIC routines. I first programmed a computer when I was 17, but had nobody to inform me where that stood in the world. I did not know the spreadsheet had not been invented. I actually had more programming experience that Bill Gates, who was living 108 miles up the road from where Rusty and I had summer jobs in the Yakima Valley. I was 17 and Rusty was 15. We rode the bus into town.
           Gates was, at that same time, claiming to be the smartest kid in the world. You can get away saying things like that when you are born a millionaire. I knew more about computers than he dreamed of at the time, but I had to go to work propping apple trees in the orchards. I don’t admire that man, for I am unaware of anything he ever did entirely on his own, but I do envy him, not necessarily a good thing. Other than computers and Washington State, there is nothing else we have in common.

November 23, 2009

           This is not a steam engine. It is a $1,500 barbeque, roughly modeled on the one Carlos left here. It has a bigger chimney that will smoke things, and a little bun warmer on the lower right. Sure, it has wheels but it weights 250 pounds. Maybe this is the contractor’s model. I still say it is just a bigger rig than ours.
           If you are looking for inspiration or a pep talk, avoid today’s blog. There are so many lazy liars in the system that those with legitimate claims get put on the waiting list and treated like dirt. Don’t get me wrong, I allow for it, but I must pity the unsuspecting ones who get caught up. It is fully possible to work while being loony, ugly, obnoxious and unpopular, these are not disabilities. Look at the civil service.
           In the news today, some native Indian lady was cut off disability benefits for “depression” when an insurance agent found videos of her partying on youTube. (It seems companies with medical insurance hire these depression cases 200 to 300 times as often as companies with no insurance.) I’ve an opinion on that. I understand being depressed is a matter of degree, since it happens to everybody. But at what point is depression cause to stop working and party?
           To me, at the point just short of being confined to an institution, of unable to function in society or at home. You must be so crazy you are a danger to society, not merely yourself. I’ve worked with people whose personal life was a shambles. They were so depressed it was annoying to work beside them, but it was no worse than being stationed next to a TV jock, a co-dependent or a Seven-Dayer. Whacko or not, they still crawled into work every day. I don’t buy this depressed “sometimes” nonsense or can’t “deal with the pressure”. The lady’s picture (in the article) showed not a single worry-line or wrinkle one would associate with deep, contorted mental aberration.
           Kudos to the sharp-eyed insurance agent. The lady is claiming her doctor told her to go have some fun; he should be on the docket as well. Apparently fun to depression cases means momentary distraction and does not involve the on-going benefits a good book or an evening course. (At the same time, I know that to some types, reading is very depressing because they discover they are full of it. No jokes about my family here, please.)
           Nail her female aboriginal ass to the wall, IBM. Depression, my eye. I’m not talking about merely being depressed, but claiming one cannot work over it. A truly depressed person would have no concept of drinking and dancing at a night club as a form of anti-depression. Doctor’s orders indeed. She would say that, wouldn’t she?
I noted the address on the article was in Toronto. Gee, she’s gonna go to a night club and witness all the young, single, blonde, skinny white girls get first pick. Then the rich, educated and charming ones. Darn, how depressing, you know what I’m saying. If I can adjust to the unfairness in this world, so can “depressed” women. But she’ll probably win the case. Playing the underdog in the Canadian legal system has never failed any woman in history.
           While I’m red-assing, rip-off that the Internet is, I still have to thank the USA for it. Short of real estate, there is probably no other single large gathering of con artists being ignored by the authorities. My search for information on the business card project was intercepted by every two-bit shyster imaginable, yet I was still able to sift through the nonsense and get some details. Due to lack of an index, it is traditionally impossible to find anything on the Internet unless you already know what it is.
           The original concept of the flyer was a restaurant “placement mat”. It is amazing how many people suddenly remembered that term after I dug it up myself. I wanted information on how other people were conducting this business and what prices they were charging. Most Internet types fancy themselves clever trying to turn your question into a “selling opportunity”, but if you keep focused, the information is there. Hooray for American dot coms, bringing computer criminality right into our homes.
           I won’t leave you cheerless and without trivia. Let’s see, um, okay, everybody remembers that photo of the movie audience wearing the 3D glasses. What was the name of the movie they were watching? It was called “Bwana Devil”, the first full-length such production. That was so much fun, here is more. If you leave you computer, monitor and printer on all year, they will use $105 worth of electricity. Multiply that by the hundreds of millions. That’s a lot of juice.

November 22, 2009

           It’s not the overgrowth you’ll find on the bayou. This scene is from a park over on Jefferson. Get your map, the city streets here are not named in any logical order. Not alphabetical, chronological or even by presidential term. The reason for this seems to be nothing other than to confuse tourists. Is probably the only thing in Florida that works so well. These branches are around eighty feet long.
           Sunday is always a good time to talk food. It’s been enough time to learn to cook and according to the diners, I have. Today I threw a seven pound picnic shoulder in the oven, with carrots, onions, garlic and pepper. Man, what an aroma for the next two hours. That will cure Wallace’s poor appetite since the flu was around a few weeks ago.
           That’s served with brown rice, sweet corn, bread and coffee. Sort of a teaser for Thanksgiving, you might say. Wallace reports it smelled so good while he was walking up the road he thought it was from the wrong house. Told ya. Just keep at it, I think a lot of people who don’t cook may also not know how to shop for things in the quantities needed. I know for I had to learn it late.
           What’s more, once you learn to time things, you can get stuff done instead of waiting around the kitchen like some cooks I know. I wrote two half crossword puzzles. It is better to do them in halves, as it breaks any mental locks or moods that affect the word choices. Didn’t know that, did you? I’ve got one Xmas theme going, another with no real topic. Notice how things go together so naturally, like cooks and crosswords. Makes perfect sense to me, doesn’t every cook know how to write those puzzles?
           I’m still just playing with the idea of the crosswords, testing if it is any easier than it was twenty years ago. I should have a better vocabulary. Plus a lot of new words have crept in, like ROM, email, and roflmao. I wish I had kept my pile of duds. Every author has a stack of them that are 90% complete but cannot be finished. I know I threw them out but anyway, a 15x15 is several magnitudes more difficult than my old 12x12s. What we need is a crossword dictionary that lists the truly oddball strings like letters on the phone dial. Don’t look at me, it would be a monumental task.
           Learning to cook has taught me a few other lessons. While I always understood that food seems expensive, I can now understand the housewife that complains of the cost of putting together a good meal. Complementary foods are rarely on sale at the same time. But this is not to say I understand or agree with the prices that restaurants charge for ordinary meals. I cannot see paying $20 for pasta, no matter where you are.
           Tomorrow is the anniversary of the Kennedy assassination. The more tasteless television stations are showing movies featuring snipers. Others are doing documentaries around the more gruesome aspects of ballistics and human skulls. I doubt it really matters any more if there was a conspiracy. I never bought into that Kennedy legacy stuff anyway; they came along after the presidency was really performing any true leadership role.
           Much later, around midnight, I get a call. I missed out on a paying gig because the Hippie didn’t have my phone number. Argh! Could have used the cash but I have no control in that situation. He did mention that he was paying his bassist, who still didn’t show up. You don’t turn down music money in this town. The Hippie, a.k.a. “The G” has an all-dayer on Dania Beach. But I also have a paying gig on my home turf that day.
           Last, I took the liberty of writing a pep letter to North Carolina. Although the manners of business operation have changed, the rules applying to startup have not. When you begin, if you have any other purpose in mind except making money, you will fail. Ah, you might ask, what do I mean about the part that has changed? Business has become “democratized”, meaning that business is now conducted to include the betterment of the managers, shareholders and staff.
           A hundred years ago, the sole purpose of business was the enrichment of the owner. The Rockefellers, Morgans and Du Ponts never gave a ratz-azz about anybody else. I once worked for a company whose boots were firmly cemented in that era. The reason I know so much about this subject is that I am convinced the next round of public rip-offs is going to be the failure of many pension plans. I believe millions of workers are about to develop an instant clear understanding of what “fully-funded” means when they discover they do not have it. My plan, for the record, is fully funded and insured.

November 21, 2009

           Music was not, for a change, big in my activity today. My guitar class has a week off, which I am sure they are using to practice hard. There is a strange effect from this twist that finds me teaching guitar. I have become a fairly decent expert on an instrument I cannot play. (Purists may disagree on my use of “expert”, but they were not there to see my class deliver the wow two weeks ago.)
           I could teach you in detail how to play a blues lead break, yet I cannot play it myself. Take heart, we can all do Karaoke, and here is a photo of the amazing quality now available on a $100 flat screen. I took this photo with the Jazz camera. You could not get such brilliance at any price ten years ago.
           A morning at the shop, which means you get some facts about something. I’m very fond of information. I could not help seeing the headlines proclaiming the real estate bust is over, that there has never been a better time to buy. Yet there are over 16,000 condos on the market in this area. Let me tell you how it really is. I know the reason the bottom has not fallen out of the housing market. Do you? Here’s how it works.
           The middle class are the ones totally responsible for real estate prices, so they have nobody to blame but themselves for what is about to happen. Prices have dropped over the past two years. The middle class thinks, “That was just the speculator and investors. That will never happen to me.” Then recently, the prices have apparently stabilized.
What has really happened is the middle class still have mortgages. They’ve noticed their houses are not “gaining in value” like they used to. This is unsettling and they’ve quit “trading up”. That is, they’ve stopped selling. So each one of them is sitting on a mortgaged property falsely thinking theirs is the one house in the community that is holding its value.
           Fact: prices aren’t dropping because nobody is selling. They are sitting, hoping for the market to return. And it is amazing to hear them rationalize. They bought the home to raise a family, or houses in some other part of the continent are still selling high, or their banking system is different. These are lame positions taken by those secretly praying they won’t be next. They will be.
           As I wrote long ago: beginning in February 2011, the real crisis begins. Ten thousand boomers a day turning 65 and trying to unload their houses. Here are 85 million people who are about to realize they cannot afford to live in a big empty house with $800 per month in taxes. They will realize they only thought one could live cheaper after retirement. But living cheaper takes a lifetime of experience.
           And they can expect no mercy or pity, for they are also the ones who supported the system that supported Madoff and Enron and foreign wars and the welfare state. People like me (the minority) repeatedly tried to warn people like you (the majority), but you didn’t listen. They can still vote themselves some borrowed cash that their children will have to repay, but my money is safely in Euros. Did you read about that couple that vacationed in Greece and found the locals no longer accept American dollars?
           Evening found me at Bingo. That has quickly become an institution. It has been some three months but there is already an established clientele. The jackpot now regularly ranges from $38 to $52, depending more on the number of cards sold than the number of people present. My backing tracks are expected and my style unique enough to keep the crowd spoiled. Pity the person who tries to follow my act.
           That Saturday evening is also the slot I’m eyeing for my Karaoke show. I have the basic equipment, what I don’t have is the massive disk collection, as I cannot find a suitable format to commit to. The popular CDG is a bad choice but that is where some of the highest quality tracks are found. My idea is to purchase a burner with the G sub-channel capability and then make friends with an existing Karaoke show who wants backup copies. (Of course, I would quickly see if the CDs could be made into DVDs. Way ahead of you on that one.)
           The alternative is to copy all the CDGs onto hard drives. The problem there is the computer playback apps have personalities. None of them faithfully reproduce the sound of a good Karaoke disk player. Try it. Also, one would have to keep complete backup hard drives, due to something about eggs and baskets.
           No, I have not forgotten my quest for a decent drum machine. I’ve read the specs on several dozen pieces of drum software. Most are the same repetitious crap, where each “song” has to be painstakingly built up layer by layer and the built in beats are mostly useless. They are not so much a true drum machine as they are another instrument that requires skill and talent, and hell, most drummers ain’t got that, dammit. The literature never delves into the parts I need, like does the software burn standardized files in formats that can be played on other machines? On this venture, I’m no further ahead than months ago when that English guy quit responding.

November 20, 2009

           Here’s a representative picture of the house I will one day buy for a song and a dance. This gem is over in SE Hollywood, very well kept up and I believe it is at least a five bedroom. Smack dab in the middle of an area that is due to collapse from the inside when the market bottoms. I value this property, as I do most places in south Florida, at around $32,000. This takes into consideration things like available jobs, local food and gas prices, and the general atmosphere, both climatic and social.
           Five bedrooms! I can explain. I need one for the library. One for the music room. One for the computer room. One for my guests. That leaves only one for me, and that’s only if I make a workshop out of half the garage. That means it is barely big enough. I mean, where will I sleep when the girlfriend and I have a spat? (Probably up in that belfry thingee, but don’t tell her.)
           I can’t believe I’ve lost my favorite towel. A big Burgundy plush that Lizbeth got me for Xmas. Other people lose ordinary things. Their keys, their shoes, their way in life. Me, I loose a towel as big as a bedspread. In fact, now that I think of Liz, that’s exactly how big it was. Oh yeah.
           This year’s award for the worst TV commercials goes hands down to Allstate Insurance. That dreadful black actor with the worst pitches clearly meant to insult the spectacularly successful Geico lizard. It is hard enough to stay awake in front of a TV without him appearing every twenty minutes. God sakes, that is bad broadcasting. But for clients, you can’t get much worse than Kiss, is it 104.7 FM? The radio that advertises for diabetics to act as guinea pigs.
           You can infer this was not the most exciting Friday over here, but I did talk to North Carolina for a half-hour. The basic question is one I cannot answer, “Is the flyer project doable?” I’ve come up with all the operational statistics at this end, including getting the production costs of 1,000 pages down to less than $94, including allocation of fixed costs. That beats the $240 Kinkos wants just for the photocopies. This is all dependent on finding quality 11x17 printers and copiers at reasonable prices. The office could be outfitted for less than $600.
           It’s been a while, but I heard the Nano is finally hitting the markets. This is the $2,500 car (from India) with a 650 cc motor. Wallace called it a Tata, which threw me, but that is the name of the person who came up with the concept and set up the production lines. It is not yet slated for import here. Top speed is 65 MPH and would I buy one given the opportunity? Of course. I have utterly no loyalty to American auto manufacturers, their lack of quality, and the general sleaziness of their “sticker price” sales tactics.
           One of my clients knows a patent attorney, one who works with musicians. Good, maybe he understand the total lack of investment capital at my end these days. Word is that musicians are patenting their work but I still have no information about what is covered. But there is a chance of some pro bono arrangement and I’ll have to take another look at crossword puzzles. I’ve written them as a hobby for years and Satori Publishing has said directly they want puzzles with novel clues.
           The pay scale is simple. Five dollars per puzzle, and you get paid a royalty on how many different publishers buy that week. It works out to probably a hundred bucks per puzzle and I’ll write them for that amount any day. That doesn’t mean there is no irony to me finally selling my writing in that form. Time to dig out my 15 by 15 (the standard size of a crossword puzzle blank). For the curious, I can write a pretty good puzzle in just under two hours. There are software puzzle apps on the market, but the product is nearly as worthless as the people that use them.
           I’ve got a follow-up idea to the Buzz (sample flyer) that wants customers to spot the “fake ad”. It is just an idea but why not have the first letters of each solved word spell another word in one of the ads? The winner has to read many ads carefully to find it. Now, I’m marketing. I’ve also begun to include an ordinary but stubborn word in the final position, kind of let them know who is boss. Favorites are words with silent letters, like “island” and “tsunami”.

November 19, 2009

           Here’s that beautiful purple-flowering tree up on Washington and 19th. One day we’ll have these trees around here. Let’s look at North Carolina; that means Theresa. I admit to underestimating the job climate up there, for it looks prosperous. The entire Yoikers! puzzle was due to her bizcard flyer submission. It seems the option for setting up an office over there is slim to nothing. I am unprepared for that situation.
           Alfredo sliced his thumb at the shoe shop. He is too stubborn to go get stitches. I am not that handy with custom leather sewing, but I filled in for the day. Now that he has experienced my assembly line method, he wants me in there every day. That cannot happen. If I could do all the work and run the shop, I’d have my own front. He is still not happy with the concept of one guy beginning a repair and another finishing it, but he sure likes the money from the resulting higher production.
           This does not change the fact that this economy is in shambles. Prices for luxury goods are dropping, I’ll record here the ones that I find telltale. The major fast food joints all have an increased $1 menu. I find that less intriguing than how the lack of cash or credit has crept up to the near-medical fields such as “rejuvenation”. There are constant ads for half-price procedures. For the first time, many ordinary people are now aware of what plastic surgery costs.
           These prices are regular, not half. A nose job is $5,000. Breast implants are $10,000. Tummy tuck $7,500. The new lap band procedure, we already know, comes in at $30,000. Except for dating clubs, I have a hard time imagining what could more reflect to the world the decay of our values than this standardization of useless medical practices, along with the related staff and equipment. While some people are bankrupted by disease, others spend an annual income on looking pretty. What is the ratio of women to men at these clinics?
           Some may have noticed the lack of reader comments in this blog. Let me explain that the vast majority of comments that arrive are not valid from the standpoint of interest in this material. Instead, they are the standard phishing and linking probes which I moderate out. Counting comments is not a true measure of popularity anyway, particularly when those comments are false, “I found your blog very interesting as I did another blog at blah-blah-blah.” I estimate overall less than 1% of commentors have even read anything that day. (My readership is more likely to send me an email.)
           Today’s picture was taken on my new Jazz DV152 camera thingee, which I now review after a few days of ownership. The good qualities are the simplicity of use. It does three things: Take movies, take pictures, and play them back. Uses AA batteries. Hook to TV or computer without fuss using included cable. A 512 MB disk holds 4,112 jpegs, or 4:39 minutes of video (always Hi-Res mode as other modes are as useless as a MetroPCS employee). Has a tripod mount.
           The software is Arcsoft, trustworthy but a little too foreign for everybody. Has a module to directly upload to youTube which I quickly misplaced. Decent time-out interval. Includes a primitive and easy to follow video editor. Four buttons for four functions. Did you get that, Sony? There is also a built-in USB plug (with an extension cable), but it is far easier to pop the sandisk into your card reader as well as easier to forget it behind in there.
           Now the downside. No viewfinder, thus impossible to use in bright sunlight. No internal memory at all (zero bytes, nada), adding the cost of a sandisk to the $30 purchase price. There is a slight but acceptable shutter delay. No flash. When activated, the default mode is movies, not stills, and this cannot be changed. You will miss good shots over this screw-up. No self-timer. Internal sounds (on, off, shutter) cannot be disabled. No power source except batteries and it really eats those.
           Pell Grants. I finally delved in there, prompted by Theresa’s plans. Return to school grants are decent; a good alternative to a dead-end job. The only forms I found were for high school students, but didn’t the President recently say every American should get a college degree? Then they can have high-paying dead-end jobs. He evidently doesn’t understand the psychology of sitting around on welfare making babies. But he certainly understands poverty, along with all the other politicians who studied it at Princeton. Come this Friday, let me compare the Pell Grants to a part-time job.

November 18, 2009

           Here is a grill press. It looks like one of those old irons they used to heat up on stoves. In fact, I think that is what this might really be. It weighs about ten pounds. For those who cannot prevent our bacon from curling in the fry pan, here is the $20 solution. It has a folding wire handle you might be able to just perceive. The sticker warns it is not “dishwasher safe”. Yes, it is solid iron, perfect for hiking (duh); just don’t ask me who would go camping with a dishwasher.
           It took a moment to clue into the riff, but I have re-written the bass line to dueling banjos. Take away the old bluegrass bass and think of the banjo riff. It turned out the actual picking was to fast to follow on stage (though I can do it sitting down). Why not emulate the banjo fill behind the lead riff? What a lift, and nobody is the wiser except those who try to figure it out. Sure does sound neat, I’ll bet you a dollar no matter how many times you heard the tune, your ear didn’t pick out these notes.
           I wrote to Satori to find out what aspect of Yoikers! is to be patented. Copyright I understand. The new law is surprisingly easy to follow, provided you recall the differences between trademarks, patents and copyrights. Anyrate, copyright is today’s triva: you cannot copyright the name you gave a star, your last Elvis sighting, or your grandfather’s diary.
           However, if you write a book naming stars, you can protect that. Or, that blurry, out-of-focus photo of The King outside your favorite Laundromat is fair game. But oddly, you can’t copyright the diary unless you have a will or legal proof it is yours. Makes sense, that you can’t copyright somebody else’s work. What’s more, the copyright is a registration process, not a search for exclusivity. That means if you copyright something that is already copyrighted, they’ll take your money but don’t have to say anything. Your money is $50 by mail or $35 on-line, and you have to send them a copy of what you are registering. I can do that.
           Satori has some criteria to follow, such as “solvability time”. It should be minimum 7 minutes. I had planned for the Yoikers! to be solved during a coffee break. Marketing says no, it is better for the advertisers the longer the solver will “retain” the paper, plus the increased chances of the paper being passed on. Remarkable, the thought process of salestypes.
           That reminds me of the chat I had with MetroPCS today. They charge me for call block, except it is not really call block. Liars always have trouble grasping such fine points. It lacks the *67 feature, a call block standard, and it turns out they don’t block, they only scramble. I was in there because the insurance companies I called for quotes last month have been “returning” my calls. It seems MetroPCS sold them a descrambler.
           That company, you know, only hires semi-retarded dropouts. The specimen I had today said my complaint was invalid because he (personally) had not told me it was real call block. I didn’t follow up on that since he was a greasy little slime-wart and I figured he already had enough problems in life. But he wanted to know the name of the person who told me it was call block. I pointed out if he didn’t know who it was, how was I supposed to? He didn’t get that, nor the real point I was making.
           He did try the old angle about how was he supposed to help me if I didn’t help him. That is nonsense, since it is his job to help me. That boy, and anyone else who works for MetroPCS is in need of some severe career counseling. As soon as some Chinese company offers cell service, I’m bailing on MetroPCS. The Chinese company won’t be any better, but at least they can be forgiven.
           Want to know who else is ignorant beyond belief? Adobe and Java, both. These callous outfits issue so many bloody updates that it must cost businesses millions. You try to download a document but instead, you get a popup that yet another update is required. Updates my eye, there has been no perceptible improvement in their products since day one. It shows their disregard for the value of people’s time. These morons must have entire departments that sit around all day doing nothing but generating more useless updates.
           Speaking of insufferable companies, how many of you know how to view the words in your Microsoft Word “add to” dictionary? And how is something made out of solid iron not "dishwasher safe".

November 17, 2009

           Happy Birthday, Pudding-Tat. So you won’t have to dig for the history, she is the cat that can crawl into a drawer to remain silent and motionless for days. That is how she got here, hiding in a moving carton. She was in the house three days before I found her. This is a picture of her snoozing in my bottom drawer this morning. This is why things are kept closed around here.
           In an unexpected bolt of Internet honesty, I got a reply from Satori Publishing containing answers to the questions I asked. This was so unusual I re-read their home page and I see they emphasize they have been around since “before the dot-com bubble”. My kind of people. Plus, the man in charge is very well-educated. It is refreshing to deal with professionals.
           Consider this. One of his first questions was whether or not the puzzle contained the answer key, as opposed to the key in next day’s paper. I would not have thought of that; the customer buying a second paper to get the answers. My thinking is still at the post-card flyer level. There you go. I consider that “Jumble” puzzle to be an outstanding success and Yoikers! has the same potential.
           My financial review of y’day reveals I no longer have any system in place to handle an influx of new money. Satori gave me two options, 25% of all sales or 50% of their sales. I opted for the latter, since I don’t have their experience or facilities. The codicil is that the puzzle must be patented and copyrighted, and I was unaware that a puzzle could be patented. I contacted my attorney.
           Either way, it has been five years (Oct. 23) since I’ve had a “yob” and my planning department has gone to ruin. I’m no better prepared than some hillbilly winning the 6/49 [lotto]. Time to clean up my act. I suppose my concern over this is laughable to the people who think no plan is necessary, that they’ve got it all in their head. You know, broke people. Losers, or in the term I popularized on Craigslist, “loosers”.
           I am (again) running into the thick-as-a-brick “advice-givers”. Around 20 people are aware of the puzzle, but not one of them has ever created one. Yet they are all suddenly experts on what to change, what to add, what to take away. The point is, these suggestions are still at the retard level, like what color of paper to use. They seem collectively unable to understand that things are progressed light years beyond their thinking abilities. I can tell them I am dealing with a patent attorney now, but they still want to talk about the color of the paper. And you wonder why sometimes I get impatient.
           It’s a good thing Theresa called from Wilmieville, although we didn’t have much of a chat. She is receiving my mail, a confirmation I needed badly. She does not yet know about the puzzle negotiations. It was a real stroke of luck to find a reputable firm to deal with right off the bat, this Satori Publishing. Their contact person gave me today’s trivia. A few years back I commented here on the disappearance of the Sudoku puzzle creator. The supposition was that he grabbed his millions and ducked out.
           Not so. He failed to secure the intellectual property rights to Sudoku. In the end, he never made a thing. It is notable that Satori would volunteer this information early in our relationship, which instills confidence that they are square dealers. I also received an e-mail of basic criteria concerning all puzzles and was glad to report back to Satori that it matched my personal values. For example, I would never use words like “melanoma”, “prostitute” or “diarrhea”. It just isn’t done, old boy.
           At any rate, projections show that the puzzle will never make me rich unless it becomes an outstanding success. That isn’t likely as it is, in the end, just a word puzzle. But I was attracted years back by the residual payments I recorded for that out-of-print book dealer. Authors who wrote things decades out of date were still receiving royalty payments from China and India. I mean, I knew about it, I just was not aware it was such an enduring cash flow. Recall how back in Texas the major dividing line between college and joining the army depended on whether or not your parent’s farm had a single leased donkey (oil pump) on it.

November 16, 2009

           Here is an example of how one might measure wealth. This coconut palm is what I see every day, whereas some “rich” people are lucky to see one on vacation. The past week has brought money back into central focus. I still find it exasperating how so many people think that, since money and wealth are so closely related, that they are exactly the same thing.
           I’m going to describe a method of indirectly determining wealth; it is kind of a logic test. Believe it or not, this technique will make no sense at all to some types of people. Here goes.
           To have real wealth, you must have income-producing assets and that income must at least cover your living expenses or you are not “independent”. Most people never get to that state. Your house is not an investment, you fools. Consider the circumstances where you have $1,000,000 invested at ½% per month (simple interest). That would bring in $5,000 per month and you are wealthy provided you never touch the principle. Poor people do not understand this.
           But let’s look at the situation another way. Suppose, via insurance, or annuity, maybe inheritance, or by some method, your affairs are arranged to that you have a pension of say, $1,000 per month (apparently the average). This is the financial equivalent, repeat equivalent, of having $200,000 invested. Do the math. This is why pensions play such an important roll for most people. They get a steady monthly income but are prevented from touching the big pile. By extrapolation, the smallest Social Security check, for all their whining, is the best “investment” most people will ever manage.
           Sadly, this also gives the working class a glimpse at the vast sums of money needed to achieve a decent retirement (referring to cease work, not an arbitrary age). I ceased work 13 years ago, decades ahead turning 65. I am the first to admit I do not have a million invested, but I have secure pensions that will equate to a half-million, not much but enough for Costa Rica.
           I was wise enough by age 16 to grasp that earning such large amounts of money was fruitless and best left to the smart people all around me who, down to this very hour and minute are working quite hard at it, I am sure. You know the ones, they have mortgaged swimming pools in their back yards which they use about as often as I swim in the Atlantic Ocean, which happens to be in my back yard.
           The point of all this is if things work out this year, I will actually have the real money, not just the pension equivalency. And I need to be prepared to follow my own guidelines. Only time will tell, as these matters are traditionally beyond the sole influence of the person involved. Pssst, that’s me.
           [Author’s note: Due to unforeseen circumstances, I spent the morning making a very close inspection of the financial options left in this world. Admittedly it is very difficult for people to adjust to having money after a lifetime of poverty, and I suggest it is even more so for those who work, or have ever worked, for a living. Alas, I have both conditions in my background. I think we are all sufficiently aware of what happens to people who come into unrestrained money later in life.
           Case in point. Contrary to their peasant-minded behaviors, my family was actually very well-to-do. Between my parents promising they would put me through university and the time I gave up waiting for the money (9 years later), they had brought in $112,930 of which I saw exactly $21 in cash. (In today’s money, that is $2,000,000 and $420, a bit of a spread.) My family had no problem with promising one thing and doing another (In today’s talk that is “lying through their teeth”). In fact, to this day, that still remains the largest single difference between us: I never lie and they never tell the truth. They don’t know.
           I remember when my father drank himself to death, mother was pretty much forced by circumstances to go see a lawyer. Did this ever emphasize the gulf between my family and myself! My mother used to keep asking, “That lawyer says I am a well-to-do widow, but where is all the money?”
           I would sit down with her and explain that the pensions and insurances she was getting should be invested, and the lawyer was talking about the wealth she would accumulate over the remaining years to her own retirement, thus resulting in an estate of nearly a quarter-million dollars. But she would have to systematically invest the money and not spend it on bullshit like TVs for my shacked-up woman-beating brother and airplane trips to South Africa with my useless fat-assed sister.
           Mother was incredulous that I would suggest she invest and spend only the investment income. Like the rest of my family, they never in their lives ever “heard of anything so goddammed stupid.” Anyway, I leave it up to you to contrast that with the way I’ve handled my money to conclude it is a good thing I never learned a thing from those people or anybody like them.
           To those who might say I am mean-mouthing my family, you are wrong. I say nothing that is not common knowledge to anyone who knows them. The smartest thing I ever did was walk out that door when I was 17.]

November 15, 2009

           On an extremely rare cloudless day, here is Sportsman Park up on Griffin Road. We headed up there after morning coffee at the Panera to do some window shopping. This is the theatre attached to the Fishing Hall of Fame. I went through there a while back. Myself, I can easily get in a boat and not instantly start thinking of killing a fish.
           Wallace reports he has seen the word “Yoiks!” after a preliminary Internet search, so rather than take any chances, I am changing the title to “Yoikers!” (with the exclamation mark). Rather than reinvent the wheel, I’m going to submit the puzzle to the two top outfits that I know of. One is Sartori, a puzzle distributor, and the other is Kappa, the place that publishes those puzzle magazines I buy once every five years off the supermarket rack.
           The puzzle system is becoming automated as things progress. I can already generate the words and check to see if the lengths are correct (conditional formatting). It is clear a system, likely a primitive database, will be required to keep track of which words have already been used. That is hardly a challenge. The entire process is very flexible in case any future changes are required.
           We ran into Pete the Rock over at Panera. He is cooling it a bit with his plan to invest in a pizza parlor. I’d only heard this as a rumor. The Panera is a strange place, it is where the local last-chancers hang out. Tons of old guys pretending they are working on their computers. Doing what? The cover story is “playing the commodities market”, but last I heard that was closed on weekends. Or the ones wheeling and dealing in real estate, also called “checking your email on a $2,700 Toshiba”.
           All of them seem to be in the process of “raising capital” for their next ventures. I could be wrong, but it seems to me after a certain point (55) you are supposed to be selling your business to the next generation, not still having hallucinations about some day opening one. My rule of thumb is that you cannot open a “standard” business these days unless you have $200,000 per partner to float the thing until you make a profit. And if you’ve ever heard of the business before, it is a “standard”. Like a pizza joint.
           Pete the Rock is an oddball, he seems to be particularly inept at handling money. He gets an annual lump sum, which he tells every one about. Naturally, he is then hovered by broke bastards looking for somebody with cash to team up, the old Canadian with a nickel “between us we got a dollar” trip. I’ll wager Pete was at one time an American middle-management type you’ve heard me poke fun at. I would personally love to see any manager ever I worked with try to run a hot dog stand.
           The danger is the way managers get ingrained ideas about how much they know. Yet all my former $30 per hour supervisors are lucky to get $8 per hour jobs as security guards. They all explain how those dumb customers refused to pay $12 for a hot dog, despite the low down payment and instant credit approval, the ketchup rebate, and the ten free seconds at the condiment counter. And how about those cranky sorts who point at the picture and think they should get the bun, napkin and mustard? Next they’ll want the pretty girl, too.

November 14, 2009

           Okay, no more messing around. When I say scrambled eggs for breakfast, I mean business. Look out Paul Bunyan. Don’t just stand there, start making toast. This was a tour of the fishing supply shop. On a mission to find some camp fuel to test our hurricane preparedness, I chanced upon this aisle of serious kitchen gear. You ain’t lived until you’ve tried my T-Rex omelet.
           The music lesson is getting to the point where I just cannot teach them more than I know myself. I was able to spark some interest in few lead riffs that I know. I recall one of the first bands I started in my early teens had a guy who picked up lead playing in a few weeks. Tim Campbell, that was his name. Still plays today, and if he can do it, go figure.
           The point is, guitaring cannot be complicated, and already I know it is really a series of little patterns and clichés. Nothing verifies that faster than listening to the average Blues guitarist around here. And trust me, they are all average. I was off work early enough to poke around downtown and found the Hippie playing across the street. I returned later, after Bingo, and found the usual situation.
           That means six or seven musicians, each soloing and faking music they had clearly never rehearsed as a group, and dragging each song out to nearly ten minutes. There is a time and place for all that, but it is not downtown Hollywood, Florida. Except for one table who kept requesting country music, the cacophony was driving people away. The active audience consisted of one kid dancing on the pavements. I stuck around for a half-hour, but it was so bad (and loud and out of tune) I just walked away.
           Now don’t get me wrong, the Hippie is in his glory having large groups of musicians showing up whenever he gets a new location. It is just that I have never seen that kind of arrangement result in a stable, working band, and neither has he. The big band era is long gone, never to return in our lifetimes. But if it ever does return, it will not be any combination of musicians such as I saw tonight. They were having fun at least; I hope the cafe takes that into consideration when they are fired.
           Wait, there is more. It was still early, so I dropped in to see the Karaoke show at Capt. J’s. That is Rhonda, the lady who took over Ron’s old circuit when he passed away. There are two things to bear in mind. One, I helped her get her equipment working when she first started out and in return, she stole my two best gigs last year. I understand why she did that, and I jammed with the Hippie on New Year’s Eve. Two, I have watched her crowd shrink to peanuts. She flew well initially because she had Ron’s following but her audiences have dwindled to five or six regulars and they all sing the same material, following her around.
           I’m not ready yet, but I know I can put on a better show. She has picked up that I’m a popular entertainer, the whooping and hollering when I walk in the door is a giveaway. I can see the manager paying close attention to my style and the mass reaction. Tonight somebody actually requested a song to be performed by me. Very few will spot the extreme significance of that little fact. It just does not happen.
           While I’m in this mood, let me say something about a certain bass playing style I don’t even know what it is called. That stereotyped manner where the wrist is draped over the body and the fingers pluck the strings upwards. First of all, every one of you guys sound exactly alike, and second of all, that style was only original when the first guy did it. You are so absorbed copying somebody else’s technique that the music that comes out sounds like what’s left over.
           There, now I can breathe easier.

November 13, 2009

           This is what a group of men look like giving birth to a new sewing machine. Flywheels, pullies, belts, wrenches, pliers and gears. Skinned knuckles, foreign vocabulary, metric conversions and olfactory resonance. By comparison, one longs for the simplicity of biology, but we got this puppy working. That’s more than you can say for most contraptions that came out of Wisconsin in 1936.
           Do things change with time? Y’day I dropped in at the Octopus. I had spilled a little ink on my trousers at work and my hands were still dusty when I noticed a 30-something lady sitting by herself. Are women any smarter or more perceptive that in my day? I decided to test this one, could she see beyond my working class appearance? Is it possible for a modern, contemporary and sensitive woman to see past my outer look? To discover if I am worth talking to? The answer is no.
           This was offset by several pieces of potential good news. Foremost are the toothpicks. For those who just pulled into town, I created a display of one million toothpicks. They bought the car I am driving and I have (already in my life) made the proverbial ten thousand dollars a show, so don’t sneeze when I tell you some corporation as sent two agents to talk about purchasing the display. I have no details yet but I do have a minimum price fixed in my brain. Plus royalties, of course, because somebody has to pay the taxes.
           Next, the puzzle. It has passed the kid test and I’ve researched the name “Yoiks!”. There is an old Porky Pig or Elmer Fudd cartoon that uses the phrase “Yoiks and away”, but I was completely unaware of that, unless you can find proof that I ever watched television way back when. My market studies show that there are 55,000 publications that do not have any type of puzzle, usually due to the expense of including one. It ranges from difficult to impossible to get a straight answer out of anyone, but I believe the basic puzzles (crossword, sudoku, jumble and wordfind) seem to cost a base price of $5 each per publication.
           [Author's note: the term "Yoiks!" as I arrived at it has nothing to do with copying anybody, rather because the appearance of the clues is reminiscient of the Finnish language, or more precisely, what little I know of that language. Yoikers are people who sing old Finnish songs. Cartoons, my eye.]
           This puts the puzzles out of range for smaller papers, of which I can think of several. What I could not find was any regulations about the inclusion of puzzles. For example, do those who publish a crossword agree not to publish any “non-union” puzzles on the same page? Again, I find a very tight-lipped community who won’t say anything until they “know who you are”. I’m reminded of the time my partner, Rusty, went to the town hall to get some free public documents. They wouldn’t hand them over until he explained who he was and why he wanted them.
           If I had my way, I’d charge a flat $1 per puzzle. You buy it outright with the agreement to publish it once, no matter how many copies you make. Testing my software shows I can churn out 360 puzzles per hour. I can (but probably would not) include custom words upon request, but I could (if it was wanted) make your puzzle unique to your newspaper. I’m still in the formative stages so everything here is speculation, not to be relied upon.
           Of course, Theresa up in Camp Wilmie gets first dibs on all this. But I’m about to contact a few of my people to see if I can generate a little startup capital. Theresa and I need computers, photocopiers and general office consumables. What was the name of that local paper who liked my bicycle tour guide. The one where I pointed out the bicycle paths that went nowhere, and I was about to list the top ten bicycle obstacle courses. Like the sidewalk outside Publix on Young Circle, where there are 35 lamp standards, signs, parking meters and hydrants in a 100 foot stretch.

November 12, 2009

           By early morning I find myself trying to cook up both some potatoes and a new word game for the “Wilmieville Coffee Break”. It seems blatant a sheet like that should have a game that takes a few minutes but no longer. Sudoku can be difficult for certain types to finish in 15 minutes and I still meet people who can’t comprehend the game. Words it is, or at least enough of a twist on some existing game that would not constitute plagiarism.
           I look at the “Beach Buzz” from Theresa and it has very little depth, the editorial is pretty bad and in this instance, misleading to the wrong people by joking that eating steak is no worse than eating the grass that fed the cow. It is probably humor but why take that kind of chance? A good puzzle is more addictive and Wallace likes those “find the differences” between two pictures.
           The Buzz has too many fonts, the “ransom note” effect. I see now that it is geared for two different communities (Monkey Junction and Pleasure Island). Somehow I didn’t notice that at first—but it proves I’m awake and thinking. The main font is down around 5 points (5/72nds of an inch) and must be impossible for those without good vision. In all, I have lots to think and plan here while awaiting Theresa’s reply.
           Here’s where I talk about work. We had a customer bring in a job for $12 and by the end of the day. That guy now has a $100 pair of shoes and does not know it. We are never at a loss for material. In fact, you know that thin cardboard that canned soda arrives in? Each step to what was an otherwise simple matter got ever more complicated, where to get each thing done, you had to first do something else. A lot like signing up for Comcast Internet service.
           Later. The good news is that I may have developed a new word puzzle. Yoiks! While nothing is truly original, I’ve got something that is unique enough to work for now. Generated by a spreadsheet text algorithm, it asks the reader to reconstruct a 6 or 7 letter word. A test run tonight proves the difficulty can range from obvious to devious. Meanwhile, I just know Theresa up in the Carolinas is more than impressed by all this hard work. Just me and the cat.
           [Author’s note: The algorithm is a plucky use of an existing text function, which I won’t reveal unless I get famous over this. It’s right there, but you have to figure out how to trick it into working for this purpose. The puzzles can, in a pinch, be created by hand but that is tedious and it makes finding the right sequences a matter of trial and error. Around 2/3 of the results are too easy and we want at least some challenge. But I will give you a hint. The 7 letter maximum has to do with the limit of how many layers you can nest Excel formulas.]
           Dueling Banjos, the epic tune, always did have a boring bass line. Not no more. Both Arnel and I had by coincidence learned complimentary parts of it in the past, both rejecting it for stage work as not quite good enough. But you should hear us play it as a duo. Ha! What a show, what a show. Arnel has also written an instrumental tune that has led me to dub him “The Henry Mancini of guitar”. It is a hit somewhere and reminded me of such music as “Pink Panther Theme”, “Mission Impossible” and “March of the Que Balls”, if you care to give those a listen.
           I doubly like his new tune because it has my style of bass line. That is, a moving line with few repeated consecutive notes, a toe-tapping rhythm feel, subtle dynamics and just dissimilar enough from the melody line as to show it required thinking as well as talent to create. Arnel can do something I cannot, which is play jazz. Then again, you know my defense on that one: “You mean some people actually have to take lessons to play music?”