September 30, 2012

           It took me a while to understand what I was seeing here. Bales of hay for eight bucks. My, if Graham and I were back on the farm, we’d be rich. See the regular price of thirteen dollars? Bales of dry straw, useless dry straw. The price must be 99% labor and transportation markup. What is the connection with Halloween?
           Finally I’m back in this time zone. I’ve been taking afternoon naps all day long, as it were. Checking on my diet, I’m so far under that I’m going to splurge on fast food later today, probably McDonald’s and whatever is on sale. Autumn hasn’t arrived yet so it is far too hot and humid to work in the yard. I watched Joan of Arc (ho-hum) and tried to figure out why anyone would want to live in New Caledonia. That’s how quiet it was.

           I was at the bakery, always a good idea on Sundays because they give me enough to last until next week. My secret passion food-wise is peanut butter on raisin toast, but these days, I settle for the buns alone. We have the report that the new Ruby Two Shoes is also into moving furniture after dark. And a new stock joke has entered our vernacular. On the club meeting held at the bakery on my return, one of the staff there interrupted Agt. M and I, saying “You guys can talk later.” She doesn’t know that comment is now the most famous thing she’s said in her life.
           That was then. Today, it was just me and the women present. Believe it or not, educated women usually find me easy to talk to. The difference between me and the other men is two-fold. Not only am I not likely to lie to get anything, I’ve usually thought deeply about most situations likely to be discussed. Today, the usual, “what women want in me”, and I was greatly the listener.

           And what I heard was half-funny, because it is usually men who talk nonsense when officially asked what they want in a woman. Today the top quality was confidence, the women said they wanted a man with confidence. That’s one of those wishy-washy categories, since confidence is a very broad term. I’m totally confident on stage, yet the quantity of women (that’s quantity) has declined ever since I was 24. I can’t think of many situations where I am affectedly unconfident, but they would not likely be ones where I’m apt to meet the type of women I prefer.
           The women also want the bad-boy with a little money, that I’ll agree with. Now that I own a sidecar, anyway. What got me is how they could not seem to actually say these things directly, although there was general agreement if myself, the only man present, reworded things that way. My conclusion is that these women could not tell the difference between real and fake confidence. I mean, no man can be confident in my books unless he’s rolled up his sleeves and really done something in this life, and that does not account for very many men.

           In the end, I posed the question to these women what is it they were prepared to offer a man who had these qualities. That was the poser. Well, um, like, well, you know, um, stuff like, um. Given time to cook up an answer between themselves, they said they could offer loyalty, sense of humor, creativeness, and other words most sporadic in the divorce courts. My conclusion is the same as when I was 16. Women will listen to the guy with the biggest line of plausible bull. Where most men fail is the plausible part.
           This bank statement has absolutely no meaning whatsoever.

ADDENDUM
           Some money talk, generally about what not to invest in. The iPhone has pretty much bankrupted Nokia. That, and MicroSoft refusing to supply its mobile operating system to Nokia and some posturing about exclusivity. I told ya MS would start pulling stunts like that as they lose market share, so I don’t believe any of the announcements made public by either company.
           If I had $50,000 right this moment, you know what I’d do? Buy into the Parallella. One aspect nanotechnology has taught me is the present chips cannot be made much smaller or faster. Only parallel processing can keep pace, and the Parallella is the best bet. But sell out as soon as you’ve made your million. Then invest $50k in each of the follow on companies, of which one, like Google, eBay, or Amazon, will dominate the market even if they are crap. If things go well tomorrow, I’ll be seeking to purchase a Raspberry Pi. You can look that up on your own.

           If you’d bet our best-known fugitive, Jason Derek Brown, would still be on the run eight years later, you’d have won. I have a theory why he’s stayed free so long. The FBI don’t want to go looking for him. They just want to sit back and invade everybody’s privacy under the guise of chasing this one bad guy. But the bad guy is smarter if he knows the FBI have lost the art of finding people using only legal methods. It is amusing how the cops refuse to call him intelligent, preferring the term “arrogant”. Well, he’s reduced the lot of them to hoping he’ll one day get pulled over for a broken turn signal—and it’s been so long even when they catch him, he’s won.

           Here is the locomotive steam dome, the one I wrote about a month or more back. Right there, that is a steam dome. If the boiler over-pressured, there was a valve under that hood, which is there to keep the steam from blasting anybody standing too near. Most engines have two, I don’t know the reason. This was a typical locomotive workshop, giving an idea of how much maintenance was needed to keep these beasts in operation.
           Not another gift to the world from Africa! A new breed of mosquito has been found, and while it has not yet been deemed a carrier, it is from malarial areas. The danger is this mosquito feeds at dusk, not at night, as does anopheles. That means if it can spread disease, it will do so at a time when people are more vulnerable. My interest in mosquitoes is a result of Bill Gates (his foundation) funding most of the research. Apparently, they’ve engineered a virus that can block malaria, which requires a mosquito protein to incubate. Heady stuff.

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September 29, 2012

           I’ve never been a fan of that PopSci perennial, flying cars. But when I see an airplane that is made easier to fly, I’m impressed. And that goes for the Icon A-5. The cockpit is less complicated than some old Chevrolets. It is also amphibious and the wings fold with the touch of a button. But even those with $140,000 need to be reminded that amphibious does not mean the airplane lands on the ocean. No, don’t even try that. Amphibious planes require smooth water for take-off and landing. Everything else you fly over.
           If you link to the video, follow the part about LSA, the “light sport aircraft” category. This is something new, the US created the classification to allow more people to fly. The license requires only 20 hours instruction. I’m just sayin’. Another product to watch is the Makerbot Replicator . These printers are the future. At $2,200 each, they cost less than I was quoted just to design my 10x10 toothpick holder. The plastic “ink” is only $20 a pound.

           Here’s one that completely threw me. Can you guess who this is? I was stumped, even when I heard her sing. It’s Tanya Tucker, the “Delta Dawn” singer from Texas, only like the banjo player, she’s all growed up now. And then some. Wow, some people age fast. Of course, she did a bout or two with booze and drugs, blaming it on loneliness. That happens when you date Glen Campbell types. It’s a good thing she had all that fame and money for there’s no telling what would have happened if she'd been forced to get a real job. Well, at least she didn’t waste it all on facials and weight loss.
           This attitude of mine carries over to performing. Tonight I attended the single worse Karaoke show of my life—worse than the Sunday show at Sheabeen’s. A part of any musicianship involves value judgments of all acts, and particularly new acts—you get them up on stage for their first song fast, so they’ll stick around. If they thrill the crowd, you bump them up the line. Another part of the deal is that you don’t act bored with your own show no matter how many times you repeat it. Either change the show or learn to fake it. Here’s an overview, you can fill in the rest with your imagination.

           You know the difference between an elephant and a (insert ethnic here) grandmother? The black dress. I’m not saying fat old broads in dresses that fit twenty years back don’t appeal to drunks in the crowd. I’m saying it was disgusting to me. Do you know what an auto-queue is? Contemporary Karaoke has a marquee that scrolls the upcoming performers. The problem is, if you leave it at the default setting (any other setting takes brains), it works on first-come first-serve. Thus, newcomers, the very customers you want to stay, can get discouraged if they have to wait an hour.
           And that was my main objection to the show. Some people I know to be really talented were leaving. I show up late on purpose, so I didn’t mind being 15th on the list, but others won’t wait. Particularly if the same people are twice on the list ahead of them. Several times I glanced up at the DJ wondering what the hell she was thinking. She was not even paying attention, she had her head down behind the booth, stuffing her face with chicken wings.
           Duets are very rare in Florida, and it requires (uses up) a turn. So I asked the DJ if I could count that as a second reservation. She said yes, so I sang my fave tune first. Then I’m waiting and waiting for nearly an hour. Finally, I thought, who is this buffoon? If she’d been paying attention, she would have seen how my act completely brought the audience into the act. But who am I to compete with greasy late-night chicken wings?

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September 28, 2012

           Yard work, my least favorite pastime. Cutting back weeds, spraying, killing ant colonies, cleaning the driveway, these are not my idea of puttering around the yard. I don’t have a nagging wife to avoid or Jone’s to keep up with. And when I do get a house, I’ll plant a hedge this high so nobody can see my lawn or lack thereof. I still need a new camera, and here is the world’s smallest digital. With one of the world’s largest price tags, $2,100.00
           Am I falling behind in the technology race? Nope, that was just to get your attention. First of all, it isn’t a race and secondly, no single product or innovation is going to eclipse a lifetime of accumulated knowledge and experience. But I was still jealous when Alaine called this morning about her new iPad5. (Oddly, it is difficult to find a web page with good information on this device.) She wants to learn everything on it, except I don’t know. I shun products that require a contract before they work.

           The club has used these gadgets to look up parts and directions, but that was Agt. M’s department. I only viewed the results. And learned later that M has cancelled his service. I find the pads too limited for computer use and too bulky to lug around for much else. I suppose having instant everything is important to some people. Now to look more closely, and that means to look from the top down. I totally understand the average school kid knows more about these contraptions than I do—at the present time. Remember, in my mode of learning, all knowledge is scalable and therefore success or failure are just two of many possible outcomes.
           Professor Howard is plugging his new book “Apocalyptic Ring Tones”. I guess he finally found that text conversion program we looked for in June. His writing style contrasts with mine so I’ll wait for my complimentary copy. In a given situation, his writing is more apt to focus on what people do, where I am prone to describe motives and events. I like that meme about the Mayan calendar, if I find it again, I’ll post it. To the effect that they may have predicted 2012, but they sure as hell didn’t see the Spanish coming.
           There is a meme generating site, and here is one of my early efforts. This meme is “good-guy Greg”, a dude who always does the opposite of what a dork would do. Most memes are cartoons or stereotyped men, although OAG (over-attached girlfriend) is a welcome diversion. Have you seen her? The embodiment of clinging plain-Jane states of emotional denial. She probably works for the government.

           To the waterfront! I rode the eBike to Hollywood Broadwalk, and ran into Charles the sax player. I’d done the whole area when I heard that sax sounding better than the original, and sure enough, it was the man himself. And he was playing at Jake’s, formerly HWB. Yes, he would be interested in helping out with a riff or two on my project.
           Curiosity has found water-rounded pebbles on the Martian surface. Good. And some gypsum which is largely a liquid water byproduct. Also, the ground has been tested to contain around 1% water. Where there is water, sunlight and soil, I say life will spontaneously evolve. Could this be the verge of the single biggest event in history—the refutation of all organized religion on Earth? Well, make that recorded history, since that is where religion makes its claims of exclusivity. There will still be religion even if life is found, but it will take its place next to superstition and tribal lore.
           This morning I read the newspaper. It doesn’t really matter which one, they are all owned by the same people. Cruel as it seems at first, I had to snigger at the man who shot dead the burglar in a black ski mask in the driveway at 1:00 AM. Turns out to be his 15 year old son. T’was a jury of his peers. Or how parents are getting concerned about the amount of personal information needed to get their kids on sports teams, one author saying people should show the certificates, but not allow the teams to record the data. Hmmm, sounds like what I’ve been saying since 1980, don’t you think?


ADDENDUM
           I see Germany is again tempted to clear out of the Euro community. I find it ironic that Berlin is bailing out entire countries that recently fought against it. And to me, it plain stands to reason when outfits like Italy and Greece want to go partners with you, time to lock your windows and doors. These countries, despite billions in foreign aid, still can’t manage to grow their own damn food. In other news, Russia is about to invest $20 billion in Venezuela. The east end of the Orinoco is sitting on massive reserves of heavy crude.
           Germany should do a Ronald Reagan with Europe. Withhold all money and technology until they come around to admitting they’ve always been wrong AND [we] continue to do nothing until they and their reprehensible systems collapse. That’s what Ronnie did to the Soviets, and I point out that the 95% of all reporters, experts, newspapermen, television personalities, diplomats, and generals disagreed with him. Every one of them were all totally off the mark, and their big-mouth wives, too. Funny thing about America, how so many of them kept their jobs anyway. (They have still not stopped claiming they were right.)

           These are the people that predicted doom if we did not work with the Communists, forgetting that nothing had worked. For anyone who doesn’t remember, Reagan bankrupted the Soviets. Like my family, the Soviets merely adapted to endless confrontation, meaningless talks, broken promises, endless snooping, political intrigue, stolen ideas, and thirty years of portraying themselves as victims while ever stabbing you in the back. They assumed they had bested you at every turn and would play the same game forever because you were not as good at it as they were.
           Reagan said no and his opponents screamed the Soviets would refuse further negotiations. (Ronnie said “So what?”) American students would protest. (“Let them.”) The ambassadors would be embarrassed. (“Big deal.”) The press would scream doom. (“Who cares?”) In the end, Ronnie was right and I was on his side from the word go.

           Nor would I object to a collapse of the American elite. Reagan came from the west, where any man who had privileges was because he earned them. The east wants to return the US to the past, where the rich live in the splendor of inherited wealth, where they control the means of production through ownership. All others belong to a caste system where their lot in life is determined by birth and blind acceptance is their only hope of keeping out of prison. I say Germany should clear out and look after herself.
           Romney, the presidential candidate, who I remember because his name rhymes with "twit", made a comment about the 47% of Americans on government assistance. The caused a wail, but he’s got a point. Those who get a handout will never vote for a balanced budget or fiscal restraint. It could cost them their free ride. If you want proof, look at Canada. The Liberal party expanded the civil service so much that no new platforms will ever win in that country unless the west separates.

           Although I don’t know how Romney got that number, it seems a fair estimate of all people on some form of welfare. The only program I exempt is social security because it is an insurance plan, but I disagree with how the money is commingled with regular taxes. But, the able-bodied should work. And yes, lady, if you can have children, you are able-bodied. Who was it that said all the sins he used to know have now become diseases? No welfare for psychological disabilities. If someone is so crazy they can’t work, free money isn’t the answer. Put them in the asylum.

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September 27, 2012

           Other than morning coffee, the day was all electronics. Playing with my new toys from Colorado. For reasons unknown, the blog video upload doesn’t work any more, way to go Google. Blogger was better before you stuck your noses in. The good news is I’ve got the “gambling” circuit done, for the most part. This photo reveals the more sophisticated circuits now in the works, a good sign of progress, as you can see the string of ICs along the bottom panel of the breadboard.
           Some things I can’t do are reset to zero, play matching music, and count past 999. But those bells and whistles are not the important part of the game. Music and displays are the minimum wage aspects of the programming field. Get the conceptual done right, then call in the flunkies, I say.

           All this could be done probably easier with the Arduino. That wonderful device has fallen by the wayside as I learned regular electronics but to understand why, try to imagine that my perspective. Without electronics, I often had no idea what the Arduino was trying to accomplish. Learning things backwards was unorthodox, but when I return to programming, it will be with an unworldly understanding of real-time coding.
           I hear the people at the bakery have a Ruby Two Shoes in their condo. She hasn’t paid for a year and constantly bangs around including moving furniture in the early AM. Believe me, people like that need to be physically and financially hurt badly before they quit. You are not interested in their situation, only that they cease making the noise. And a condo association that won’t do anything. Of course, I find this strange, because whenever I had noisy neighbors, in no time at all they never made any noise again.

           I won’t say how, but folks, when somebody is depriving you of your right to quiet enjoyment of your own home, it is time to strike them at their weakest point. You merely have to find that point. If you want to be nice about it, you lose your right to complain. Trust me, some people only learn things the hard way and that is not your fault. Don’t try this today, but years ago whenever somebody left their dog out barking at night, we’d call 911 from a phone booth as “concerned neighbors”. You get the idea.
           In my return books from Denver, I have a copy of the Bedford Reader. Must have picked that up as an oversight, I’d think, because I don’t normally read pseudo-intellectual tripe. But since I know I must have had a reason to get it, I actually read a number of the articles. They are the sort of shallow literature that an uneducated person would read if they decided they wanted to sound informed. Topics like should they televise executions and skin color is not related to IQ. The same weary arguments by the same hack writers. Why did I buy that book? Don’t tell me I have to read it to find out.

           Keeping an eye on Colorado real estate. I don’t trust most of the ads, the houses are listed as “auction” or “foreclosure” without explaining exactly what that means, price-wise. Foreclosure entails dealing with the bank, but I do not agree with banks advertising a listed price as if it is the amount of the foreclosure. It isn’t. And this whole nonsense of a reserve bid makes a joke of the word “auction”. I also know that Quit Claim means the seller does not have to reveal any outstanding liens or debts on the property, which should be illegal as far as I’m concerned. Quit Claim allows the sale of property not entirely owned by the seller.
           During mid-evening I took to reviewing Craigslist, the drainpipe of the Internet. There is nothing like a free place to advertise to squeeze the sap out of the waterlogged Florida woodwork. I did buy my sidecar from that source, but after four months of intense scrutiny and waving real cash around for the deal. The musician’s list has totally degenerated into lessons and repairs, with one ad in maybe twenty relating to a connection. I have to laugh, how idiots don’t realize by posting in the wrong list drives away the very people they think are going to buy anything. Duh.
           And guys (it is always men) that put ads on their videos on youTube need to be dehydrated, with a very big and rusty knife. Same with those who post slide shows--what part of “video” don’t they grasp? They are about as bright as the little boys who post scenes of tanks and jets to blasting indie rock music, like it’s a big party and they’re hooking you up.

ADDENDUM
           That was Colorado on the phone for 30:39. Things went exactly according to plan after I left, but as we all surmise, that doesn’t last. One thing is Marion has to move, and I’m concerned. We snap at each other, we have our disagreements, but the relationship has stood the stress and strain for 30+ years. I do not like the concept of her moving into a place as a renter because she will find some place to share rather than a self-contained unit. That leaves her vulnerable to the whims of strangers.
           However, in the short run, everything is on queue and all documents have been processed. We have a standing arrangement whoever travels has half the distance to be covered to call for assistance in getting back, so she knew I was okay; although she laughed at me having $38 left when I arrived, as she says only I “could do that”. She recalls the days I’d get off the plane after 19 hours over the Pacific at 6:30 AM and be at work at 8:00 AM. Five times per year. Sigh, those were the days.

           We had the small town discussion. She likes living in small towns, but she has a more idealistic concept of that. The bottom line is we have to consider our options. If anything goes wrong before May, 2015, when possibility becomes likelihood, I’m the only one that has seen any small towns recently. Worse, I only drove through them. But I was impressed by Muskogee, OK, where I saw a beautiful 4 bedroom, 3 bath asking $52,000. Here’s the sun room, part of the 2,465 square feet.
           The good news is these are backup plans and the positive nature of our lifestyles means we’ve rarely been pushed back on nothing. I mean, if silver popped up to $250 per ounce even for a day, our problems would be over. And that is no far-fetched speculation. Silver is far more volatile than gold and the financial world is a house of cards awaiting a demo of the domino theory of credit-based economies. And it is not exactly like silver is something we intend to look at some day soon.

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September 26, 2012

           Being a hot autumn day starting early, I worked on part of the “gambling” circuit. This is the chip that “rolls” down to a stop. You may recall this from a few months back when we failed to get it to count fast enough and later figured that is because of it flashing 984 million times per second. And we are not sure about that. If you can see a video here, then both the experiment and the upload were successful. If you see a still picture, Google messed us up again.
           I decided to repair guitar cables and threw out $50. Yep, a buck a foot and you know the drill. If you can’t find the break, you cut the cable in to halves, a.k.a. the binary search. I was down to eighths, which are not much good except as patch cables before I found the short. That, and two bad phono jacks, I wound up throwing the whole lot out. That was one of those expensive PA cables from the original Jimbos show (2006). Even the made in America cables are now cheap-ass.

           In another instance, I built a series of 5V power supplies (the club standard) and there’s a bad batch of those on the market. The units I construct are constant voltage and done right, yet they consistently produce 4.98V. It appears a small difference, but I pay top dollar for good components.
           For an example of the country music I don’t play, listen to McGraw’s “Yeah Truck”. That is rock and roll with an edge of metal, but it is not country. Today I begin shopping for a new drum box for stage work, fully knowing that no adequate model exists. I have a plan for that, but my level of electronics is not up to the task. I’d like to use an existing drum box and design an interface. Country has changed to roughly what rock music was when I was young.

           Speaking of changes, first let me say I was born well after WWII. If I talk about that era, it is not from memory. But I saw the effects of that war as I grew up. That’s why I have so little empathy for people with credit problems. Did you know that prior to that war, banks would only put up a maximum ten-year mortgage—and you had to come up with a 50% down payment. Ah, I see most of you didn’t know that. Most Americans, as around 85% lived in conditions that today would be considered unendurable poverty.
           Then along came the government, subsidizing soldiers to the extent of thirty-year mortgages with 5% down and 3% interest rates. If I recall, vets could buy a house with a dollar down. No matter how you slice it, that is welfare. The millions who claim they represent the standalone American ideal family were nothing of the kind. This brand of government “free money” destabilized the housing market, and it is only right those who took the bait should suffer the consequences. And I mean suffer both individually and collectively because that’s how they got into such debt.

           The significance of this house picture is that the agent turned it upside down to catch the reader's eye. The problem is, to reader's like myself, this looks like a reflection in a pool. And people buying real estate probably don't need reminding that a third of the buyers before them have wound up with mortgages that are under water.
           My challenge is that transistor clock. Here is a video of the creation process, describing the thousands of steps needed for the prototype. This design is well beyond me, but I understand the concept. The guy took the 60Hz from the wall socket and divided it into hours and minutes, then converted to binary coded decimal and ran some 7-segment display diodes. I have all that equipment around here. But in the absence of any good instructions, I’ll be looking for the kit. I mean, I grasp how he used the 60Hz, but try to find any details on how to do it yourself.
           Wow, I just closed the books for September and I am broke. I had to remind myself I just drove 5,620 miles before I asked how I managed to spend so much. For starters, the return trip used 85 gallons of high test gasoline. That’s terrible mileage, but no way to fix that dragging brake pad on the road. Yep, I got $38 left and the electric bill is most of that. I think I’ll lie low for a week, kind of read a lot.

ADDENDUM
           For the first time in my life, I learned today of a child, William Sidis, whose parents were the opposite of mine. They began the child’s education at a few months and by 18 months he was reading the daily newspaper. He learned six languages by age five and at eleven, was admitted to Harvard. He owned a complete set of streetcar transfers and gave up studying law when he found it didn’t make sense. And he was a libertarian (sometimes a proper noun Libertarian).
           Before any obvious wisecracks, let me point out a few things. One, Sidis was completely encouraged by his parents and environment is the single largest determinant of childhood genius. I would have been severely punished for doing what he did. Two, the languages he studied were all Aryan based (Russian, German, French). I never “studied” the completely unrelated languages of Arabic, Siamese, and Spanish. Three, there is the matter of life accomplishment, he doesn’t seem to, considering his abilities, have done anything out of the ordinary with it.

           For instance, he wrote only material most people don’t understand, such as treatises on the Fourth Dimension. He never had to devote a single day of his existence to the mind-numbing drudgery of earning a living, which is known to lower the IQ. My complete set of bus transfers was not peridomophilia, but rather had the utterly practical motive of riding the transit system free instead of paying $60 per month—and I rode free for nine years.
           Last, there is no record of him developing any new hobbies or completely new fields of interest after becoming an adult. He never composed music or learned electronics or counted to a million. And as far as Libertarianism, I am of the opinion anyone who takes a serious look at the state would realize government exists only by coercion and that is fundamentally wrong for any society. It is the sheeple who need to be led around that impose their politics upon the free.

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September 25, 2012

           Back in the Florida 90 degree weather makes unpacking a chore. The evenings are cooler but I don’t have that many chores I can work in the dark. Today the eBike was upgraded ($137). Here is the photo, see if you can spot the differences. I’ll point out a few. Notice the front tire is larger and on a steel rim? And the back tire is twice the size (thickness) of the factory issue. All exposed wiring is now strapped every four inches and the new brake pads are adjusted a quarter-inch from the rims. The chain and gears are synched and internally the tubes are double walled.
           What is really needed is a new battery and battery contacts. This bicycle has been subjected to harsher daily use than designed. The plastic contacts are too fragile, the chrome is subject to rust, and that battery only lasted slightly over 90 charges (the 1-year warranty expired long before the projected 400 charges). It never did get the advertised performance and the hills of Colorado noticeably reduced the recharging capacity.

           In the background is the scooter, with its joke of a battery. Sitting a month killed it and I can’t find the correct replacement kick starter lever. The piston fires off a magneto type spinner but using it constantly breaks the lever. Further, ethanol is unstable and in a month, I can smell the gas is stale. Half the frame has to be removed to prime it, so that’s out of commission for a few days while I hunt the parts. Oh, I did find new front forks and a mechanic to replace it.
           My highly rated reviews returned a one-cent profit while I was away, so forget that as a hobby. Silver is up nearly 30% over the price when I spent that budget on the trip, but I won’t put a price on that. I need silver to hit $400 per ounce before I call it really volatile. Shortly look for some photos of a carburetor from a 150cc scooter. There is an American business that priced itself out of the market. The carb shop wants $120 to “rebuild” a gizmo that sells for $65 new.

           For openers, there are no rebuild kits for these Chinese models. I already know you basically soak them in carb cleaner and put them back together. Already I can identify all the major parts, which is quite a feat for me. This will follow the usual pattern, I’ll be an expert without hands-on by end of the week, and in a month I’ll have two years experience. I never studied shop, just like most of you never studied computers. My angle is simple, even though the new carburetor is cheap, not everybody knows that, and not every make and model is always available.
           My calculations show that I could gut, clean, and dress one in 70 easy minutes at which point it would be worth $35. I’d never starve. But I’m really after learning the cycle electronics, which is instantly a more complicated undertaking that is best learned from a book before trying to untangle any wires. There’s a reason so many mechanics don’t like electrical.

           And this carburetor has an electric lead. I wonder what that is for, but not for much longer. This is the first time I’ve ever handled a carb, which I bought for $10. To those who say it is a little late for me to be learning mechanics, I’ll quote Lucille Ball. “In this life, I’d rather regret things I did than regret things I didn’t do.”
           Here’s that computer demo that I was never able to figure out. It shows you a bunch of cards, and you think of one. Don’t click or point, just think of it. In a few seconds, the computer removes that card from the display. I’m not good at figuring out these type of card trick.

           {Author's note 2017: but I did go back and figure out this card trick. It doesn't matter what card you pick, since the second display is a complete new set of cards.]

           “All the candy corn that was ever made was made in 1911.” --Lewis Black. (Today's product is even worse, since it is made from HFCS in Mexico. That means it is not sold in Mexico, where modified food is outlawed.)

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September 24, 2012

           Still facing a lot to catching up, I already have some callouts that make this month a winner. The scooter battery went dead, which is the second replacement already. So I ordered the heaviest duty 18ah (amp-hour) lead acid vibration-resistant ATV model for $160. No need to Mickey Mouse any more, although that is usually the last thing said before something major goes wrong.
           West Palm is listing 505 foreclosures for sale, which hints that the turning point may have been reached. Banks have been holding back these properties, feeding them out in dribbles to keep prices high. This morning I found five times as many ads. Pretty please, let this be the long-anticipated break in the logjam. Here’s a place asking $61k that sold for $254k in April, 2006 and it is currently rented out for $1,460 per month. E24 is going to check it out, make sure it isn’t near the hood. I put in a crusty ad that would only appeal to a desperate seller with a great property.

           It’s been a while since I examined the job market as well. One glance shows the vast bulk of the “middle-class” unemployed are the cube workers who thought the bash would last forever. Those faceless masses whose jobs were sold down the river years ago. Their skill set amounts to following the rule book, ducking responsibility, and two-finger typing. I worked 15 years in a union, so grant that I know a lazy prick when I see one. The type who have not read a textbook in 30 years, but love television comedy. Time to take a peek what is out there. Check back in a while, it is a complicated undertaking.
           Here’s an open letter to Mr. & Mrs. Shopper. I buy my cheap plastic Chinese crap at Walmart. What I don’t buy there is processed Chinese food or medicine and feed it to my family or my pets. People who do that have a long way to go to qualify for my sympathy. Um, let me guess, you “saved” money by putting that stuff on your Visa card for air miles.

           Next, says the contemporary surveys, I don’t make a good mate because I “crave” attention. It would seem women with the same “condition” are faithful since they are “only kidding” and “aren’t serious”. Where have we heard this before? (“I only want to resist temptation, not discourage it altogether.”— Mae West.) Indiscriminate flirting is the major reason I am not today married to several women I won’t name, such as Judy Minty. How can you trust a babe who is always laying tracks?
           Much as I need a hundred items, watch shortly for a high-speed run down to see JP in a day or two. It is strange he is unable to follow my lead and drop everything. I didn’t ask anyone’s permission to go to Colorado. JZ! We are up there, we can’t be pretending good times might materialize. Let’s get out there, and so what if the family has to pay somebody else for the deliveries? If they squawk it costs more, raise your prices.

           Non-electronics buffs can skip this section. The lucky chip (integrated circuit) chosen for investigation is the 4026. It houses two different internal arrangements; we are interested only in the half called a VCO. Voltage controlled oscillator. As the name implies once you figure it, this chip produces a sharp digital (clock) signal that varies with the voltage. As the voltage gets less, the rate of flash slows up. Stay with me here any gamblers out there—for if I was a gambler this is the type of chip I would investigate. Two days ago we looked at random numbers. So heads up!
           If my brain is still in gear, one of the items that stumped me was counting the estimated 984 million cycles per second on my first circuit, and I possessed nothing that could measure that realm. But I tried using chips that divided by ten until I’d used up everything in town. I now have more, thanks to Boulder, CO. This chip or something similar must be the heart of all gambling machines that slow down gradually, like roulette wheels or slot machines (the electronic models).

           Here’s where to follow the logic. To get the chip to gradually slow down and stop, we need to couple it to a declining voltage. And the resistor-capacitor pair on the first circuit is ideal. There is only a one chance in 984 million of releasing the button at a point of guessing which of ten LEDs will remain lit—but so you know, it is in the end entirely predictable. I intend to replace the resistor-capacitor pair with adjustable components to investigate the effect—and to map the behavior of any used pins. There is nothing new about doing this.

           √ Mae West is also the person who said, “Keep a diary, and one day it will keep you.”
           √ Then there was Emo Philips, “A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kickboxing.”

           [Author's note 2017: nobody knew on September 24, 2012 the above clip would become a meme.]

ADDENDUM
           You know what’s replaced the Space Shuttle for a waste of good money? That International Space Station. It’s a ho-hum white elephant derived from 1950s comic book themes. If you read the mission goals there is hardly a thing there not done before, and even NASA is stretching things to explain what good the experiments are. Mission 34 (the current one) is studying circadian rhythms, which “might help” factory shift workers. You know what would help those workers? Part of the $10,000 per pound spent launching foreigners up there, who hail from countries that steal American jobs and harbor terrorists.
           I note that in March 2012, Wikipedia finally published an obscure paragraph that agrees with view of the Shuttle since 1981. Wiki casually mentions the Apollo program may have “evolved into manned missions to other planets”. The waste of the low Earth orbit junkmobiles is monstrous. They are planning a round of robots to deliver supplies to the station in 2017. Hey, spend the 180 days flying to Mars. The experiments could be done on the journey to keep the crew occupied.

           The station, first projected to cost $17 billion, has already eaten up $100 billion. That’s the same cost as Apollo in today’s money, but the Apollo program actually accomplished something. For the record, another $49 billion was paid for by other countries including Canada, Russia, and Japan. Yet this clunker is only 217 miles up there and doing “experiments” where the money should be properly spent on exploration. They could orbit for a hundred years and discover zilch.
           I admit to a predilection for robots, but I understand the public wants manned missions. Humans are infinitely more productive but I sometimes think the ability to make snap decisions is over-rated. Although I believe taxation should be based on consumption (and no, I don’t care if that hurts some people), I would pay extra for a Mars round trip in my lifetime. The way NASA is ignoring taxpayers, I’ll be lucky to see a robot return.

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September 23, 2012

           [Author's note 2017-09-23: Sadly, this day has disappeared. The September 24, 2012 post was duplicated. If the 23rd ever turns up again, I'll post it. These things can easily happen in a blog this size.]

           Meanwhile, here's a few 2012 or thereabouts photos to enjoy.

Russian model in Paris.

Mars.

Sony Photo of the Year.

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September 22, 2012

           Here is something most have never seen before. It is a chart of Rule 30, the original pseudo-random number generator. Those who have played the boring game “Life” might recognize the concept. There are ten rows of squares, and each row is dependent on the one above it, following a set of rules. Here’s a link to this particular version of Rule 30.

           [Author's note 2017: that link above quit working. This is always a hazard for long-term blogging. But the web site still exists and is an interesting site for microcontroller fans. It is called makeyourownchip.com.]

           If you can follow it, you are smart. If not, there are three important things. First, each row is unique, it never repeats (although the left side is always two reds). Second, the center COLUMN is random. Third, to know the color of the center square, say the billionth square, there is no formula to calculate the color. That is, you have to calculate the rows one by one up to the billion.

           To generate a random number, the computer picks three clock bits and checks to see of one of them is non-zero. It isn’t obvious, but the first row is three squares. The red one, and the two white ones on either side. If you are interested, the guy who came up with the Rule was 24 at the time, Stephen Wolfram. He developed business models that made him rich, and he walked away from it. You might want to research his life. He is the archetypical drop-out, visionary, and numbers guru. True, he also had enough money to attend Oxford, but other than that, he made it on his own.
           The thunder woke me up at dawn, just as well, since that is when people started dropping by. If you know what to look for, you can see my parking spot from the highway, meaning I’m home. Agt. M. was first, we went over the trove of electronic parts I brought back. Then over to the bakery for brunch, I had my traditional Trump the Trump. And I had to practically promise to call the blonde lady for a date, I don’t know if I explained that one. Probably, but I don’t remember.

           That goes to show you ladies, if you are not enthusiastic from the get-go, you fade quickly. I’m not about to knock myself out for any woman who doesn’t make my life more exciting than it already is. Tell you what, I’ll document this one to a degree, nothing personal to the person, but to record how this date fits with my experiences and my predictions. Trust me, and it’s happened before, a woman with anything going for her only needs to walk up to me and introduce herself. Women who have trouble meeting men are bad judges of character.
           I unloaded the rig during a lull, that’s when Agt. M showed up. We had to hold the club meeting in the rain to catch up and all we could decide in the time available is he is looking further into IP addressing, I am going to read a manual on Linux. Next big item being discussed is small engine repair. I mean lawn mowers, everyone else means motorcycle engines. My task is to look on line, but somehow I know I’ll get nothing but junk. A search on “small engine repair course” turns up three pages of indexes, not one of which is an outfit that actually runs a school. It is maddening because I know if I could find the training, I could write a search engine that defeats such asinine money-grubbers. I call on-line searches the “Idiot Barrier”. You have to break through it to get anywhere.

           I mean, have you seen the personal information these schools want on you before they’ll even talk? (They want enough data to do a credit check as they can figure out from that how much school you can “afford”, then put the screws to you.) I’m specifically looking for a school with a shop and a simple, hands-on course on rebuilding motors. No diploma, no ID, no lock-in, no credit check. I pay the money, show up, and it’s all over in six weeks. Just try to find that in America, where every question about school is twisted into a sales lead. What is it with those people?
           Time to move. The first notice in my mailbox is a rent increase and a lame explanation that all the other places also raised their rent. That’s a stupid reason. You should lower your rent and fill the park up. You’ll be making real money then, but of course, that fact is too difficult for the grade eight mind. At any rate, it is time to look for a mortgage since the increase is over my rental limit. At best, this location was temporary anyway, I have no ties to the property other than my money.
           Bingo was fun tonight. My absence loosened a few sticky items, but in reality, you’ll have to check back in a few days to see what worked. Let’s just say the gas budget for October has just been taken care of.

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September 21, 2012

           Here’s a day written in two parts. The part before I got back to town, and the rest. I left St. Augustine down mostly I-95. Folks, it is not your imagination that Florida drivers are the worst. I just drove half-say across the nation and the only jam in progress was the last two hours into Hollywood (Florida). Where I arrived to great number of people waving postcards who remembered me.
           Florida, land of the drive-thru burger joint. Speaking of which, Checkers has gone downhill by adopting restaurant pricing. You know, underprice the meal, then zap you $1.89 for the smallest drink. There was a rainstorm to welcome me back, I had to suit up all the way from Sebastian to Ft. Lauderdale. Florida is one scam after another, the proverbial sucker’s paradise. Now real estate agents are trying to bump sales by slightly raising the asking price. “Just increased $5,000”. The smart money is waiting.

           Mars Curiosity has traveled a thousand yards while I was away. It looks like I correctly guessed NASA is plugging the whole affair as a publicity stunt ahead of the science. They’ve released a lousy 29 pictures, mostly of the distant horizon and part of the rover itself. And one photo of the ChemCam, the device that shoots a laser at rocks, to let any Martian microbes know the invasion has begun. I am impressed, mind you, by the shots from the orbiter showing details of the landing.
           Elliott, my inventor buddy, has reminded me of his motorcycle trip through California and Oregon, via Las Vegas. That was twenty years ago, when I was busy driving my Cadillac and never considered land travel any other way. He actually rode across Death Valley during a hot spell. I’m going to assume he broke the speed limit on that one. Anyway, hello from the blog, Elliott, and yes, your name is spelled wrong on purpose. No breaking the speed limit here, n’yuck, n’yuck.

           I’m bagged beyond exhausted. Seven days on the road. I could have done it quicker but I got worn out enough to keep me sleeping in for a week. It took five hours to get 300 miles, then another two hours to drive from Cypress Creek, the last thirty miles. So peeps, it is not your imagination, Florida drivers are really that bad. Speed could be improved 50% by merely arresting the 5% of known bad drivers who cause all the jams, but the cops don’t want to stick their necks out on that one. That would mean they had to think before acting, you know, make effective value judgments.
           Here’s something that defies science. I’ve mentioned how, for a guy that loves travel, how badly I get jet lag traveling east-west. Guess what? And it is 4:30 AM right now. From a road trip! Figure that out. But the difference is there is no alarm clock to remind me I was born poor. I can snooze myself back into the local time zone. In the same vein, driving a motorcycle does not leave me immune to the same stress as driving a car, and I can detect when I overdo things. I could have made the return trip in four days, but that is why I took seven.

           Oh, and did I mention Charlie, a regular at the old club? He’s the first guy I ran into when I got back, and he’s now got a perfect set of teeth. Said it cost him less than half what I was quoted. Waaaah, I want perfect teeth, too. He gave me the dentist’s card.
           Here is a snap of the transistor clock I’ve been tempted to build. It has around a thousand components and the attraction is that it uses no integrated circuits. No link provided here, as this kit is very easy to locate. The point is that I’ve downloaded the instruction manual and every part of it makes sense. So that is progress, at least for me. And much of that understanding was gained in the Aurora Public Library.

           The rainstorm that welcomed me back is Tropical Storm Nadine, so I get to check out my wet weather gear by unloading my sidecar in the blinding rain. And wunderground says it’s gonna pour all day and half of tomorrow, so I don’t get my bakery coffee unless there is a letup. I just don’t know how much more of this Florida insolence I can take. Ah, did you see that study about rainy weekends? It seems there may be something to it. The car exhausts during the week build up the particulates, which come calmer days, form the nucleus of raindrops. After my 15 years in a cubicle, I believe it.
           Anyway, back safe and mostly sound, I’ll get the exact stats on the trip for you later, but here’s one fact where I usually quote only statistics: on entertainment, I spent $1,700. That includes the trips to Colorado Springs, Boulder, Estes Park, the Da Vinci Exhibit, taking Marion to Outback, steak at the Big Texan, and the licensed theater. If I’d done everything I wanted, I could easily have tripled that.

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September 20, 2012

           [Author's note: begin today with hat's off the two brilliant American businesses. First Google, who screwed up the posting format of this blog. There was nothing wrong with it before, and they neglected to include a button that reverted to that version. Google, you suck. As seen below, I was able to restore the format and take out that blank line below the pictures, but this requires advanced HTML programming knowledge. And next, the Kappa Map Group, LLC. It takes genuinely truely inbred deep-seated rural Texas ignorance to print a road map on paper that sticks together when it gets wet. Insufferable ignorance. They've convinced me to go GPS.]

           Below you'll read about a wasted day thanks to a combination of errors, I'll show a picture of just the most serious one. The Kappa Map Fiasco. If you look closely at the roadway south of Opelika, AL, you will see that highway 280 (shown here as 38) doesn't quite reach the Interstate. Look closely, you'll see it. It comes to an end between Auburn and Opelika. Ah, you think, I'll just follow the local signs. Not this time. You are on your own.

           [Author's note 2021: too many peole did not get that, so I'll explain. It's a joke, the dotted lines and such indicate a freeway that has not been built yet, but usually under construction. I've gotten through on a motorcycle, but you should not try this in a car.]

           On the enjoyment barometer, today is mighty mixed. I made it to St. Augustine, but a camera malfunction lost some great views, such as a pea soup Alabama morning fog that would put London to the test. I took the secondary, which is confusing as hell because they don’t adequately post route markers. There is always a handy GPS, but I’ll shortly give you an example where that fails. And GPS does not do an adequate job until it tells single white (Anglo) travelers what parts of town not to drive through. I can type that in all caps in case anyone didn’t get my meaning. I had to haul ass out of northern Birmingham.
           My quota was 400+ miles, but I had a minor breakdown in Opelika, GA. Not to be confused with Opa Locka, FL. Heck no, Opelika is a nice town, with a great looking heritage area. But the roads, GPS, and locals are unclear on how the freeways operate. When I have access to a scanner, I’ll show you the proof. There is actually a small 8 mile jog between where the two sections of 280 meet. GPS says take exit 60, except if it is blocked for some local repairs or celebration.

           Everyone said, oh, just take exit 62. I teamed up with another motorcyclist, and we could not find that exit in an hour. (Turns out it was labeled “Phenix City”. The other guy gave up and drove to Atlanta, I pulled into a gas station and asked a total babe for directions. She said go to the first traffic light, go right. At the second light, go left. I asked her if there were any landmarks on the way to keep me on course. She said yes, there was a small white flower shop and bakery on the right.
           Now, technically, she was right. The first light was just up the street, the second light was 31 miles away. I didn’t see the bakery, but lady, it was kind of hard to miss that half-mile causeway through the middle of the lake. I wasted two and a half hours in Opelika. But thanks to Patrick from that town, who pulled over and helped me get the Honda running again. It was a simple problem that would have taken me hours to figure out, he saved the day. In the process, I learned how to troubleshoot the fuel pump and lines. Thanks again Pat, this bike will make a mechanic out of me.

           Running late, I sped past Albany and a dozen other small towns where the largest square footage was the cemetery. It was still too chilly, then near Tifton, I hit a splattering rain that forced me into my foul weather gear. Rain slows it down, as it limits visibility more than you’d expect. This causes a further slowdown, and I hit dark around the same time as the thermocline, about 25 miles north of the Florida border. This put me into Jacksonville after dark, not much nicer than Birmingham.
           Then I thought, well, I know St. Augustine, I’ll press on. Took me another hour and a quarter, thanks to the crappy drivers in Jacksonville. Top of the pack would be license plate “TJ MARK”, a total peckerhead. Yes, you, the one who made a right on Sunbeam. You cut off a motorcycle in the dark. During a rainstorm. Hope you made it to the mill for third shift. Actually, I hope you choke on a fart.

           Sorry for not dwelling on the scenery. I’m the type that likes to see the sights on the outbound. On the way back, I’m as broke and dusty as the next guy. Let me think what I recall. That 31 mile trip to the second light was nice. A back road through the Georgia pines, even if I was still in Alabama. Breakfast was a corn dog at the first gas station after another of the river valleys. I did not see that many cotton fields; the cash crop seems given over to corn. That most man-made of grains.
           I add that I hoofed it all day, even the side roads. The Honda will do better, but I don’t like taking it over 70, and even then, only the best of roads. I’ve rarely been disappointed choosing the secondaries, that’s how I wound up in Demopolis. Tomorrow my plan is to dash down 95. That’s ironic the twice I’ve driven south that was in ’99 in a primo Cadillac, and ’12 in a semi-vintage sidecar.

           What? The return from Wilmie in ’09? Hey, I didn’t drive that time, I rode Greyhound, the line owned by dogs. Except if Greyhound had stranded dogs that long, the SPCA would have stepped in. Up yours, Greyhound. Sixteen chairs for nearly 50 people. Remember that, you scumbags? Of course, your contract protects you from delays. But what about people going hungry because you refused to hold the bus if they walked across the tracks to the sandwich shop?
           By now, St. Augustine seems like home. The motel gave me a parking spot under the canopy. I found a chair at the Brit bar across the bridge. And they had Karaoke, surprisingly professional, and the DJ substantiates my conclusion that every woman over 16 in that town has been snapped up. That’s reality, whenever the drinking age is higher than 18, you will never meet a single gal in a club. Unless there is something seriously wrong with her.

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September 19, 2012

           Decisions. By road, and I mean Interstate, I’m 1158 miles from home and a day late. It is a question of finances now. Comfortable travel on the bike is $90 per day for 300 miles, including motel. But that climbs to $142 per day for a 500 mile day. That tallies because of the extra gas, extra speed, and eating in restaurants. I’m three days away, arriving on the third day, two more motels, the single largest avoidable expense. If the bike was in perfect operating condition, I’d take some tours, but this time, it’s a freeway run back.
           To assure you it was an eventful day, here is the railroad bridge over the Mississippi, looking north from Riverside in Memphis, TN. Now that I have your attention, here’s how I got there. An equipment check in the AM shows my alternator is not topping off the battery. But I know that is no big deal. As just mentioned, I took the freeway today, the first leg was Lonoke (Little Rock, AR) to West Memphis to a top notch Honda dealership with some of the finest looking used machines, and I’m serious. Barton is a business to keep an eye on when you want the real deal.

           Their mech guy spotted the problem instantly, and gave me the spare parts to repair it myself. It worked so fine, I took two hours off and toured downtown Memphis, across the river. I went downtown and saw the cable cars, but no place to park. They had mounted police in a central green area. I drove down Second to see Beale Street, but no parking again.            In fact, there was not even any place to slow down and snap a picture. Hey, Beale Street, there would be lots of parking if you’d move all those traffic barricades. So, no shots of the area, but it is a one block kind of club and restaurant mall. I was still charging up the battery, so I was in no mood to park it and walk several blocks, but man, I could smell the Cajun shrimp and steaks. You get that on a motorcycle.
           So I drove up Third to Union and over to Bellevue, which turns into Elvis Presley Drive. I’ve never been there as Graceland is not on the freeway. By now I was so hungry, I stopped at Jack Pirtles and had the combo with a side of breaded livers and rice. After the glorious aroma of Beale, a man’s gotta do what, you know the rest. Then, fed and sleepy, I asked where is Graceland? It seems it is now in the middle of a predominantly black neighborhood, as in “Elvis Presley who?”

           Since I’m no big rockabilly fan, I didn’t look for the place, but drove a few miles south into Mississippi, where the Honda loves that 93 octane no ethanol juice. It purrs instead of rumbles, it pulls 75 mph at 42 mpg on that concoction. I figured if I had to drive past Beale Street and Graceland, I might as well drive past Tupelo, where I stopped at Elvis’ birthplace. Damn, there were tourists all over the place.
           I could not help but notice the house was much like a summer cottage, and slightly smaller than the places I grew up in. Mind you, Elvis was not scrunched in that shack with seven garlic-breathed savages. But glancing around, Tupelo, it is not that bad a place to live, the houses are well-spaced, lots of green areas and parks. It also shows that unlike musical prodigies, Elvis was not that talented, he was just that lucky.
           Now, I have an extremely rare photo for you. So rare, I’ll need to fill in the blanks for you. Thirty miles west of Tupelo, the freeway was backed up because a flatbed, complete with police escort, was hauling a huge pipe down the middle of the road. Until they reached an overpass that was too low. Sorry, that’s another priceless picture I missed, but I have a lousy camera for at least another month. The point is, all traffic backed up for miles. But I noticed a space between some of the pylons (the road was under repair), and sped the sidecar through that, over a small ditch, and onto an off ramp. The sidecar always garners lots of attention, and this was a maneuver even an SUV would not attempt.

           I got to the top of the ramp with a hundred motorists in disbelief a sidecar was so agile. Coming off the down-ramp, the next half hour was truly the most enjoyable freeway drive I-40 ever provided. Here is that rare and precious photo. An Interstate as it was meant to be, a pleasurable trip with NO DAM TRUCKS. They were all blocked at that overpass.
           No smelly diesel fumes, no jake brakes, no buffeting ride, nobody blasting past, no smelly cattle trucks or garbage trucks, you get the idea. Consider also that there are usually so many trucks, there is almost always one passing you on every curve, every bridge, every scenic stretch where you might, given the opportunity, want to take your eyes off the road for a split second. Furthermore, without the trucks, the cars naturally spaced themselves and drove a quarter mile away from each other, as you can see.

           Sadly, the trucks got prevalent again and it was back to white knuckles. The premium gas did let me spring from Tupelo to Birmingham in and hour and forty-five, but with darkness over my shoulder. Then, the freeway ended, all vehicles must exit. Yeah, into a nasty neighborhood with no street markers, where the street urchins want five bucks to point where the nearest gas station is. Thanks a lot, Birmingham. The place was so bad, I drove an hour after dark just to get the hell out of there. I finally found route 280, you can look that up. I had to go cross-ways from I-65 with a jerkface tailgating the entire time.
           Which brought me to Harpersville and this motel which isn’t really open but I’m not fussy 90 minutes after dark and it got open when I offered cash payment. The batbike is running fine, so I think I’ll take some secondary routes back to Florida. Thanks to Trent, who pointed out Sherman didn’t get this far, there should be some fine little towns along the way. The finest so far is Demopolis, but I haven’t got the money to take that road this time. Today was either easy driving or a freeway dash, so let me get the mileage. There we go, 406 miles today.
           There is nothing quite like the American national guilt trip. We are so rich and everybody else is so poor, why, it must be our fault. They are blameless just because they try to adopt our ways and wind up on the skids because their religions and cultures don’t mesh with democracy and freedom. So you go to Google to find the distance between cities, and no matter how you set your parameters, you get India. I got news for you. The Internet is an American invention. When we want the distance from Amritsar to Bhopal, we’ll specifically ask you for it. But I guess they sure showed us how smart they are. At using our tools, our software, and our protocols. I got brodder like dat.

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September 18, 2012

           First of all, phooey on you, Google. They’ve enforced yet another “improvement” to this blog posting site that accomplishes nothing but annoyance. There is no improvement, it is worse. You’ll note extra blank lines and such. Why can’t you Google people just leave well enough alone. There is no need to continually dumb-down everything you do.