Due to the danger of losing another key, I bought a new combination lock for my bicycle chain. Only this one has no numbers. Can you figure it out? It will become commonplace, but for now nobody I showed it to could devise the operation. It works by sliding the large black center knob up, down, left or right in a pattern of any length. The little stickers are meaningless. (This close-up photo is by the camera I made from spare parts, isn’t that something?)
I took a head count of ads for college courses while testing my antenna. How strange these ads touting career choice, but those careers are a sad joke. How many chefs, cosmeticians and photographers does America need? How many can we even afford? Those are not high-paying occupations and what is the sense of spending all that money at school to earn less than $20 per hour? I don’t know the answer but expensive education for a questionable return is a dumb plan.Another amusing ad is the real estate people plugging how home ownership puts $60,000 into the economy and creates 2.5 jobs. Are they nuts? True, they want a return of high house prices, but forget it was caused by a credit fiasco. Questions: $60 grand is a lot of money, but what happens to the rest of the price tag? Does it evaporate? How many carpenters and roofers does America need?
I saw that NCIS show, there’s another bad example. Again, why do we need courts and lawyers and Constitutional rights when all we need is more police training on how to trick, blackmail, and threaten people into confessions? In today’s episode, they set one suspect up to think he was being sent to Nigeria to have his hand cut off. He confessed to save his body parts, yet our noble courts will uphold such a confession. It’s the olde English way, trial by ordeal.
A question I asked on April 7, 2005, finally has an answer. I was speculating on the source of canola oil. My new diet restricts my use of corn oil. And I suppose canola sounds a lot better than “rapeseed oil”. So there is a big field of canola somewhere. Funny I didn’t follow that up in 2005. There must have been a reason but I’ve made do without the answer for 6 years. I was using up the last of my vegetable oil when I finally met a potato that could not be deep fried.
They weren’t on sale, just one ordinary bag of white potatoes. Even ten minutes in the oil barely browns the edges. I once knew a food worker who said they had to boil their potatoes first. I put that down to some management theory shoved onto the people who had to do the actual work. I tried that, too. Yet, today I met my potato nemesis.
Who would sell a potato that won't fry? I’ve got the suspect list narrowed down. It is one of the following:
New York marketing. You have to pay extra for something they didn’t put in, like unleaded gas.
Latino marketing. They want more money to make it work like it should have.
Chinese marketing. The potatoes are a by-product but miraculously they are good for the spleen, bowel movements, and many grandchildren.
Florida marketing. They are a defective batch, so they unload them with impunity since the dolts over at Florida’s consumer branch think caveat emptor is a sink hole.
Genetic engineering gone wrong. I mean, a potato that won’t French fry is like a you-know who won’t you-know.
One thing that is working superbly is my food budget. I notice prices but I don’t complain. I’ll leave that for the people who didn’t listen to my warnings about this, n’yuck, n’yuck. The hard times are on the way for that crowd. Look at this tomato. It is just an ordinary type, the kind we used to call salad tomatoes. We ate them like apples, with salt or sugar. Once cut, they had to be used quickly. The price tag on this one single tomato was $2.01. That must be hurting a lot of those people we hear about who have a “fixed income”. Hell, they couldn’t manage back when their income was variable. Let them spend cake.
Friday is gas up day, a gallon of premium is $4.05. Between fossil fuels and large vegetables, it’s a good thing I’m staying home tonight with a gallon of iced tea. This morning I rigged up a shelf in the shed for all my canned goods. Like spray paint, furniture polish, brake fluid, transmission oil, insecticide, hand cleaner and WD-40. Most of the work I do in the shed is working on the shed. But that will change and you know me when I’ve got an equipped shop. I’ve been monitoring the interior temperature and it is a winner.
Taking a few measurements shows I have enough spare gear to completely wire the shed to spec. Right now it has one extension cord dangling from the rafter. One shortcoming of most sheds (for me) has always been that you can’t work on an eight foot length of material. I’ve devised a flap on the hidden side of the structure where I can temporarily slide a long piece through to outside until I can manage it. Time to build a sailboat in my basement.
I certainly have the time to plan. Just me, the giant tomato and fifty pirated bit torrent files to spend the evening right here and see who drops over. Somebody always does now that they’ve learned how comfortable a place becomes once I’m back in charge. I’ll bet you Dave-O buys a place as soon as he gets his settlement. Like myself, he didn’t know about living by the French-Canadians. They may be gruff and have bad reputations, but they aren’t trailer trash.
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