January 31, 2013

           It is still early, but this is normally an adventuresome day for me. Shown here is an excellent shot of the near pristine condition of the Honda batbike. One can see the details and the monster motor, quite a technological leap in its day. I’m straightening the chrome motor “roll bar” that was hit in the parking spot at the Aurora library. Notice I am letting gravity do most of the work as I favor my right arm and shoulder.
           This bar is necessary as a footrest. I’ve said how the motor throws off significant heat and for some reason it is most noticeable on the left side, near the gear lever. The original purpose of this bar must have been to protect the motor but that function is dubious.

           We’ve to a cold spell and it might stay for a while. So I picked Estelle up from the Y and we opted for the Dania Beach library, one of the very worst. Huge unused shelf after shelf of African American heritage and two atlases. And the usual sections on baby-naming, what you can do for free to help the bipolar, and that strange paradox, self-help books. I wound up reading some forms on copyright law, methods of measuring the Earth’s circumference, and learned that even without global warming affecting sea levels, the entire northwest of Europe is slowly sinking.
           We thought about the movies, then the mall, then just driving around. But that chill down below 68 degrees, once you acclimatize to Florida, is really uncomfortable. I own no parkas, sweaters, or long-sleeve shirts. I’ve got one twenty-year-old jacket that was once jet black. Instead we went for Chinese food at the “Pagoda”, a totally Americanized joint on North Federal. Great prices, huge portions. We could not finish twelve bucks of food between us. Generally, I miss good conversation, which is not her strong point. But we get along more than well enough.
           By late afternoon, the cold was bothering my shoulder, so we called it a day. Who remembers Jerry, the Irishman from the Thrift? We passed him along the Dixie intersection and stopped to chat. The guy has not aged in decades. He’s got this cool bicycle with handlebars two feet straight up, except it isn’t fashion. Turns out he has a back problem and that is needed to keep his posture. Myself, I definitely hunch over when pedaling and now he’s got me thinking.

           Then we swung past the Wayside to watch the film crews. They are making an episode or movie based on Elvis, called “Graceland”. No familiar faces in the crowd and I don’t see the connection between Presley and prehistoric bars. I thought he never played the circuit. The movie is due later this year. If you are new here, I drove past Graceland in September last year and could not find the place.
           I watched a documentary on Zionism and was surprised to learn the original Bolsheviks (Soviet Communist Party) supported it. What’s more, 16% of the top party leaders were Jews. It’s common knowledge the English threw around all kinds of promises during WWI grasping for any allies and one such maneuver was the Balfour Declaration. (The Zionists viewed this as a treaty or contract, which it certainly was not.)
           Now it makes more sense why the first European Jewish settlers formed communal farms. They were Russians. Incidentally, there was no Palestine in the sense of an Arab homeland at this time. The area was part of the Ottoman Empire, a Turkish outfit of boundless corruption. England and France divided up the land and a map shows how touchy the Brits were about anything getting near the Suez Canal. The largest influx of Jews were from Russia, remember this was WWI and they were on the same side. It is plain nuts to think the troubles started after WWII when the English hightailed it back home.

           Yet the-Jews-stole-Israel remains a popular myth. Ask Wallace. That reminds me, I read in Scientific America that huge numbers people who are otherwise intelligent suffer from a form of compartmentalized thinking. They can believe the world is billions of years old and also believe the world was made in seven days. Their minds don’t show any conflict harboring both these notions at the same time. Here it is, a mental defect and all these years I’ve been calling it “weak-mindedness”.
           Trivia. “Wiki” as in “Wikipedia” comes from the Hawaiian word meaning “quick”. More trivia, I am quite aware that the proper way to set off long book titles and to indicate other types of emphasis is to use italics. The above sentence should say Wiki as in Wikipedia. But everyone by now realizes Tim Berners-Lee of Internet fame was singularly ignorant of English punctuation. He appears even unaware there are 53 letters in the language (count 'em, and don't forget the blank between words). When there is no auto-command for italics, it is a burdensome task to create them using HTML. Thus, to achieve the same effect, I almost universally employ the double quote.

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January 30, 2013

           The Barnes & Noble in Aventura is the latest bookstore casualty. Gone gone bye-bye. Their on-line page still lists the address so like myself, many will waste the trip over there to find the doors locked. That was the last bookstore in commuting distance of my place and I think the last one along the coast between Miami and Boca Raton. Face it, along the Miami/Broward county line there is no breeding mass of book-readers.
           But we do have a surplus of beady-eyed women who blame the world for their bad choices in life. And the type of reptilian men who go out with them. That’s my incentive to move to Boca. And join the university glee club as the only baritone. Did you know I was once goalie on an all-girl hockey team? I scored a lot. I repeat that joke every so many years, too.
           So I drove up to Boca bookstore. I miss the open road so bad I was tempted to keep going. But I only had $80 on me. I took A1A and tourists should know that except for a couple blocks on South Beach, the only place you can see the beach and ocean is Ft. Lauderdale. And even then only for a big mile with limited parking. If you are planning a scenic drive, the Florida Atlantic is not your best bet. I got me an awful lot of thinking done along the way.
           The Colorado formula worked best—stop and see things [on the] outbound [leg], [then] take a high speed run back before sunset. Observation: men will yell out and compliment your ride while you are moving, women will only say something when you are stopped at a light or something. The Barn in Boca is across the road from Florida Atlantic, this is the second time I’ve been there. I do not believe anyone working a computer in public is getting anything done. I was the only person with a pencil taking notes.
           On everyone’s lips is the question of how did the GPS perform on its maiden run. I dunno, not being used to the thing, I was in Palm Beach County before realizing I’d forgotten it. I have some critiques on it already, though. First, it comes without instructions either in the box or on-line and that just isn’t right. It has a series of defaults I don’t care for though at this stage that might be me. It is difficult to use without a specific known address of a destination, including a postal code (why the hell isn’t that programmed into the thing?) and it has no mode for just asking it, “Where will an hour’s drive take me?”
           It has a very limited battery life, which makes me wonder why it has a setting for walking and bicycling. The charging plug is one of those auto cigarette-lighter style gizmos, shown here [on the robot workbench] is my workaround charger. I’ll have to install a socket on the batbike, but where? And to think I threw one [matching assembly] out just a week ago because it was a little rusted. The GPS unit, though about the size of a slim camera, does not have a handy shoe mount assembly, which I consider an oversight.
           Say hello to my favorite aisle at Winn/Dixie. I’ve never indulged because they don’t sell anything by the slice. This is not a sepia tone photo, it just looks that way from all that chocolate. What? Oh, I don’t dare buy the whole thing and take it home. Temptation has its limits. My trip to the grocery was to buy 250 packets of Sweet ‘n Low. Returning across the lot, a vet begged me for change, I told him no. He said he’d come to Florida for a job, but at 62 he found nothing. Saying he’d done two tours in Nam, he finally opted for his SSI of $1140 per month, but it didn’t start until February.
           As I drove away, I stopped him and asked where he had been stationed. He rattled off the fire base locations in the correct order. With a damn good accent, too. So maybe I shouldn’t say how I gave him $20 because it would look like I’m bragging. So I won’t mention it. He was stunned, saying he could eat at MacD’s for three days. Remember, it was a similar situation where I met JP and I never regretted that twenty bucks. I wonder, did he ever pay me back? I think he did.
           I’ve ordered the new headlight and windscreen for the Honda. That faring has to go, the one that is useless and was never mounted properly. I opted for some fancy chrome with outrigger turn signals. It will also give the machine a lighter, airier look. Somehow I suspect the faring is interfering with the airflow over the engine block cooling vanes. Either way, expect more motorcycle data now that my beautiful sidecar is back on the road. I’m heeding Marion’s advice to mount a second headlight, this one on the sidecar and they are not cheap.

January 29, 2013

           The nature of this blog is entertainment, but not which frumpy starlet is pregnant this week. I like to imagine that curiosity means a variety of academic, if not intellectual, topics get covered. There are no scientists around here meaning you’re not going to find many equations or Latin words, just an introduction to what I personally think is new and exciting. I won’t live long enough to learn most of what is happening, for I am the type that needs a lifetime of exposure on a subject to feel at home with it.
           So imagine my delight and satisfaction upon picking up the January 2013 issue of Discovery magazine (which the perceptive will spot means I now have my budget for magazines back on line). Why so happy? I’m getting to that. The issue spotlights the top 100 of the preceding year, and what do you know? With their massive staff and thousands of contributors, the core of their choices, 15%, match the same subjects covered in this blog.
           And I do not seek out topics that sell, only those that have real promise for advancement. These include DNA, nanotech, 3D printing, robotics, memory gates, cloaking, Mars, transistors, and mutations. Their further selections contained many topics I don’t report because of spectacularism, repetitiveness, and routine blah. Such as the idiot who jumped out of an airplane 24 miles up, yet another ho-hum “biggest fossil find”, and lame comparisons between the great Neil Armstrong and some obscure nobody name of Sally Ride. On the what’s important scale, this blog delivers.
           Here I come along, the last guy to adopt new technology or so it would seem at first glance. The last guy to get a DVD burner, last to go flat screen, and now last to buy a GPS. It’s actually not that serious since I’m the type to get far better use out of older systems than those who fail to read the manual. It was more the lack of good road maps than getting lost that prompted the GPS. I rarely buy something just because everybody else does. That’s how around here we find the paradox of 2013 electronics being unpackaged on a 1962 wheel rim [shown below].
           It [the GPS] goes on the batbike with the new rear tire, also shown here. It is a mystification why the previous owner let it [the old tire] get so bad, since it turned out not at all that difficult to replace. He must have done the brake pads, those were good. Anyway, see the best tire made for this machine now ready for a test run. Shown also is my new flex camera mini-tripod. Another wonder is why, by this time, nobody has invented a good universal camera clamp that isn’t as cumbersome as these twist-on shoes.
           This motorcycle develops bad habits if it is not used regularly. It is a sign of age, really, so I took it on a spirited run down Biscayne Blvd. for ten miles or so in the heavy afternoon traffic. Why, I even did Starbuck’s again because for all the weirdos that patronize them, they do get more pretty women in there than the only other coffee shops in town. Which amounts to Dunkin and Denny’s.
           It runs fine and I’m casting longing looks at a trip at least to St. Petersburg. They have Ural store and I need all kinds of goodies (see addendum). I would spend a day or two to say I saw the place but even for Florida, one rarely hears of anything going on in that town. In a decade I’ve not even met anyone from there. The weather is perfect for a run up. On the flip side, my bone doctor still hasn’t called about my shoulder. I’ll get on his case tomorrow.
           And here below is the surest sign that mass complacency has allowed the Internet to change from free access to just another government-controlled media. Lack of public opposition to the take-over is a huge loss for humankind. I doubt one person in fifty even understood the issues involved. As long as they can check their e-mail, so what if the system is going to hell. But I stated before, I suspect there is a replacement for the Internet being planned somewhere. Call it a gut feeling.

ADDENDUM
           I’m shopping for extras for the sidecar, return in a few days for an update on how that is progressing. One item for sure is armrests (these are not a stock item). The sidecar seat is not all that comfortable for long range and people tend to drape their arms over the side. While it’s not dangerous road-wise there is nothing at that level on the motorcycle that isn’t sharp or red hot. I’ll be looking for a better Honda seat as well, something with a backrest for the driver.
           While I fancy a trailer camper combination, without some extra storage on the cycle itself, I found I had to keep the sidecar full of gear for the Colorado trip, unloading when I arrived to free up the passenger compartment. This photo is a luxury custom seat with a $450 price tag. By extra storage, I mean add-on luggage racks. They are made for both the front (nose) of the sidecar and one that fits over the spare tire.
           Here is some repeat info for any new people. My motorcycle sidecar is a Ural manufactured in 1962. It is mated to a 1978 Honda Goldwing, which has more than twice the engine power of the original Ural 650 (84hp vs. 37hp). Top speed with the sidecar has never been determined but by remaining throttle feel, I’d guess it to be somewhat better than 90mph. I don’t recommend anyone try that. Both the Honda parts and Ural parts are easy to find but expensive.
           The Honda by itself weights 640 pounds dry, the sidecar adds at least 270 pounds estimated. It will tow up to 1440 lbs of trailer, although I have no intention of trying that much. Yes, we’ve already thought of the joke to tow a Fiat behind the Honda. If anything breaks down use one to tow the other.
           The Goldwing has a shaft drive, it being a Honda there is no reverse gear and no drive to the sidecar wheel. This has never presented a problem with traction. The Ural has a reputation for going where it wants and even has a steering tension knob to help out, but the Honda drives straight and true, requiring almost no pressure to turn and it will right itself dead ahead but once there must be held, requiring a slight but constant attention that can be fatiguing over a long drive. So stop often and enjoy the trip.
           The Honda engine throws off a lot of heat, making high-top leather footwear imperative. At speed on the open road, mileage is around 166 per five-gallon tank, or 33 mpg. Around town cut that in half. There is a reserve lever for the last gallon which you initially dislike but realize is needed since the fuel gauge is approximate at best. Average daily travel should not be over 400 miles as you will stop every three hours for gasoline. A full heavy duty rain suit, with wrist and ankle snaps and drawstring hood, is necessary as no weather report will prevent you being caught in the open.
           Whether parked or moving, the sidecar draws attention. It is not at all “invisible” to drivers in the same sense as a regular motorcycle. Even when parked, it can draw a crowd, so no valuables left in sight, please. Don’t be surprised when people pass you doing 80 and take pictures. The rig requires 2/3 as much space as a car, but that also means you can often create a spot between two bad parkers.
           If finances keep looking up, I see a car in my future, but I have no intention of giving up my beautiful chariot.

January 28, 2013

           True, the longer I spend at home, the more investigative the blog becomes. That’s why we have a balance here. Not everyone enjoys reading blogs about kittens and weight loss, a little brain spice once in a while is neat. For me, that can mean anything new and what have we here? It is a bicycle headlamp touted to be as bright as a car headlight. The downsize is it costs as much as a new bicycle, $300. So be careful where you park it.
           Here is the photo from this month’s Pop-Sci. Called the Taz, they claim it runs and hour and a half, but doesn’t say if it is rechargeable or batteries. Also, we were quick over here to spot the USB button behind and under the lens, see it? This item is not described, so I’m still looking. I stumbled on another site with the same “light and motion” logo that sells interesting underwater cameras.
           Moments later. Got it. The battery is a rechargeable, which never live up to their claimed lifespans, and the USB is the recharging plug.

           I went to a Starbucks and reminded myself why I don’t like that outfit. The coffee is overpriced and brackish, and although the clientele can be eccentric, today they were mostly abrasive or mentally disturbed. Yes you, lady, making telemarketing calls. And you, the Cuban spitting over the railing. And you, the douchebag with the raspy voice talking about your sister—you are just telling the world with those problems she must be ugly. Once again I was the only person reading a magazine. I confess I have never really gone to a coffee shop just to watch who else is there.
           The sidecar returns tomorrow and I have a few words on that. For all my digs about low mileage, the sidecar is a tremendous bargain compared to a car. It doesn’t eat up money when it is parked. In fact, it is so economical even including the recent upgrades, that I’m considering a $25,000 insurance policy and installing a second headlight on the sidecar itself. And the new front end with windscreen is going to be customized with a lot of chrome. Bling is okay on motorcycles. I’m shopping for some real Russian cargo racks or carriers as well.

           These racks are correctly called “panniers” although often they are referred to as ammo boxes. That’s fine but while they may be used for ammo, that was never their primary purpose. (Some versions have a clip for an AK-47 inside the tub.) Colorado showed me the need for a large spare gas can. The Russians have produced a cruise control but it is a beast. I use a big pair of those spring loaded plastic carpenter’s glue grips.
           No, we have not forgotten 3D printing here. I’ve watched it closely and one of the major holdbacks from purchasing now is the ongoing cost of operations. I have no data, which in Internetspeak means it runs into money. I am also not happy with the files needed to print objects, there has to be an easier way. Some items people are now printing that impress me:
           Guitar picks, drywall plugs, guitar nuts, door stops, eyeglass nose pads, drill bit holders, house numbers, doll house furniture, and fermentation locks. I see soon somebody will be printing credit cards, fake fingerprints, and I wonder about countries that have the new plastic money. Note that what is being printed are still mere substitutes for the regular plastic articles. But 3D printing is in its infancy.
           Basically, the “reform” on immigration means allowing 11 million illegals into the country, most of them Hispanic. It is clear this will continue until the Anglos in America are a minority in their own nation. Anyone who doesn’t want their family to become half-Latino is to be labeled a Nazi racist redneck. It is another sad day for democracy. By that I mean the authorities will never respect the wishes of the majority to cut off all immigration and begin mass deportations. My view is that the Second Amendment applies only to children born in the US if the parents were here legally and only those with hidden agendas would argue otherwise.

ADDENDUM
           While this blog is not primarily human interest, it is probably more interesting than many humans. Generally things move along efficiently but then there is JZ and I together. We are a team, and a team of opposites to boot. Today you get a description of the aftermath of my big birthday fiasco of November. That’s when JZ’s truck broke down and he missed the party and he didn’t even have a cell phone to let me know.
           Here is the complicated situation which I’m given to understand that however unusual this confusion is for me, other people think nothing of it. JZ has not yet had his wake-up call from Mother Nature so he has not slowed down the way I have. Then again, he is traditionally difficult to get going. I want to take a trip out of state for a few weeks, he has no experience traveling on a budget. I say the way to learn is by doing.

           He wants to wait for a new truck. His Mazda is getting old with 230,000 miles and no routine maintenance. Plus it has two complicated fuse boxes even I would not touch. So he’d rather go to the Keys, a place we have already been often enough. Nothing new over there. Ah, but Georgia, that’s just a day’s drive and they are having a spell of perfect weather. Everything would be new and fun.
           So this is a log of the prevailing discussion we’re having. His truck has a tow bar but no hitch. I say that is $10 for a ball at Home Depot. JP says we stay for free at the condo on Marathon, I say it isn’t really free because it is family-owned. We cannot realistically bring home women overnight because we don’t know who will show up. Better we find a nice coastal town, say Savannah, and rent a fancy place for a month. He hesitates to be that far from home for so long. How are we doing so far?

           JZ likes the tried and true familiar, while I suggest that is only because he has never experienced the thrill of the open road. He has traveled only with family, the last thing I would do is get stuck on a road trip with my relations. He thinks everything is expensive, and so do I but I know how to get around all that. I’ve had women leave the fancy-pants soiree to walk over and join me when they saw me with a sandwich in the park across the way.
           JZ can have a selective memory, he’ll completely forget a great time unless I remind him of it. Like the women flashing us in Naples, the forest rangeress sidling up to him in the Everglades, and the lady trying to drag him into her hotel room in the Gables. Myself, I recall every moment of every good time in my life. That’s why we are a team and I don’t understand how he can ignore the fact that together we meet all manner of classy women and that rarely or never happens when either of us are stag.
           Then again, retirement seems to be tying him down rather than the newfound freedom I’m gaining every passing moment. I allow that he has family obligations but those can be worked around. We are opposites there, as I don’t negotiate with my family, I instantly hire a lawyer the moment they start an argument. I’m thinking that JZ is still interdependent more than he’d like. So, let’s get in the truck, tie the sidecar behind, head the hell up to Charleston, and party for a month.
           What are we waiting for?

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January 27, 2013

           Here’s the type of photo that would never have made this blog a year ago. Too much background, but today it is really a shot of a Hungarian bottle of wine. Yep, I was over at the office doing clerical work and this was my tip. I’d rather have the cash, folks, I don’t drink wine. It would at least taste better if it was chilled cold. This was from Lance, the guy setting up the wire stripping machine. That’s going to be fifty thousand eggs in one basket, if you ask me.
           Nothing. Zero. That is what I did today and I love it. I’m pretty average in that respect. When I know I can do something, I don’t do it because I’m happy I could if I wanted to. That’s me to a T after a successful bingo last night. This morning I got up, took the eBike to the kiosk, bought a stack of reading material, and stayed put right here. The bakery was closed, so it was coffee in the old arm chair. Man, it took me a lot of years to settle down.
           Unless one is a total write-off, each day does have its high points, which I’m straining my brain to find about this one. Oh, I know. Ice cream. My prescription gives me the crave but not for the everyday flavors. I spotted “carrot cake”. Wow, it is the real thing. Now I wonder if carrot cake itself will ever taste as good. Recall our chat about how there are kids today who have never anything but artificial flavors? Well, according to a post in jimmyr, the average baby born today will be alive in 2100. Let me guess, and still paying off his student loan.
           There’s some uproar over unlocking cell phones, which became illegal today. I was unaware it was even an issue. You buy the phone, it is yours. Not so. I am totally against these kind of laws because the only way to enforce them is to create an even larger network of public snooping with even more potential for abuse. I believe it should be illegal for anyone except the respective phone company to even know you have a phone unless you allow it. Unlocking a phone is not high tech, it mainly involves replacing the SIM chip with one that uses other carriers than the one specified on the phone contract. (Jailbreaking a phone is something different.)
           I watched the Crackle version of “Joe Dirt”, a comedy about a kid searching for parents who left him at the Grand Canyon. It has a few new twists on this tired theme, but great scenes, old rock music, real cars, and hot shots of Brittany Daniels back when cutoffs made up for her lack of acting talent. Not a bad low-budget movie with Christopher Walken in the lineup.
           See the trailer? I would buy this now if I had a place to store it. I sold my utility trailer for the same reason a few years ago. This is a motorcycle trailer and the incentive is to solve a problem. That is, my best friend doesn’t like to ride. To him, a sidecar is just as unsafe as a regular motorcycle (it is far safer but demands a more skilled driver). We should be out of town every other week, touring the sites, chasing women half our age, partying it up.
           This particular trailer is weightless and could be towed by the sidecar itself. What I would do is use this to tow the sidecar behind JP’s truck until we get to some destination, then I have my own transportation. On average, I go out to different places six times more than he. JP likes cable TV. That is not to be interpreted that JP stays home, it means he’s more likely to go to the same place all the time, whereas I prefer to be on the prowl.
           Is there a form of life lower than real estate agents? I’ve studied DNA and nanotech when I ask that question. I had to revamp my algorithms thanks to the sudden rise of ignorance in Boca Raton. These places for sale mention in fine print you must also purchase an “equity membership”. I know I pointed this out a few months back, but now the listings are flooded with them. If you have to pay $30,000 or you can’t move in, then it is part of the price, you peckerheads. Same to those who advertise a mobile home without listing the lot rental.

January 26, 2013

           This is what $30 worth of groceries looks like these days. I think the cheapest thing was the only junk food I like, the turkey pies. Statistically, each of these items comes from 1500 miles away. This being the top story, that tells you how exciting today was. I was going to attend an antique motorcycle show this morning out on the beach, but even getting to the beach is a hassle. Nothing worth anything is free in Hollywood, FL.
           Marion, like all of us, has a theory on the real estate fiasco. Demolish all the houses and sell the land for development. The prices would be almost the same without the houses and it would put idle construction companies to work. The now employed construction workers could afford to buy those houses. This makes as much sense as anything that’s come out of DC in years.

           Pension plans are the next big worry for those relying on them. That includes civil servants. As we know, these pensions are not funded, rather they rely on new money coming in to support the payments. There is not enough new money. Florida has proposed new hirers after 2014 get the risky 401(k) arrangement and has imposed a 3% hike in payroll deductions already. Like the mortgage gang, they thought the party would last forever. I believe the government will cut back their pensions and it will happen in this order: first rollback the pensions, then clean up the welfare, then freeze old-age security levels, and last, a means tests for disability.
           If you are disabled or on welfare and don’t know what a means test is, you had better look it up right now. During my research on potential pension defaults, I found another statistic that I found disturbing. The average pension, meaning nurses, teachers, all those who earn under $50,000 is going to be less than $15,000 per year. That is near starvation level. I don’t believe it, there’s no reputable union that would stand for that. I’ll look again.
           See this symbol? It is a badge of the mindless pursuit of wealth that characterizes the American Internet. Because I don’t accept advertising, this blog (which has thousands of monthly readers) is valued at a piddling $394.70. But, if you’ve noticed the changes in search engines over the previous year, it may remind you how I stated that in the end, content will win out. It is impossible to design a search that ignores content, though the same cannot be said of context.

           Years ago, I made the choice of having my public search for my blog name rather than a generic term, such as “news blog” or “sports blog”. (I chose to market the brand, not the product.) It was a valid decision since at the time nobody knew which would win out. Google seems to have realized at least the basics of my point. Thus, my rankings are rising because single topic repetitive blogs are falling. I’m nowhere near the top, but every search for this blog finds it.
           Here’s a more useful symbol, the now familiar QR code. This one, says the Miami Herald, is made of black and white tiles along a tourist walk in Rio. It provides tourists with info about the surroundings. Brilliant.
           While reading pensions, I did the natural thing of including inflation, where I noticed since I began university, the official dollar has dropped to 16 cents in purchasing value. The unofficial dollar is probably closer to a dime. That’s why I smile whenever some smartass points out prices were lower. Hey, five cents in my day buys what fifty cents will buy today, namely nothing.
           During WWII the US Army Air Force lost 414 of the gigantic B-29s. They cost $600,000 then, so today that is $8 million per airplane. For a total loss of only $3 billion, again today. That shows how militarized our economy has become. Nobody bats an eyelash at $3 billion any more. And I said the planes were lost, not necessarily shot down.

ADDENDUM
           Finally, at 11:56 PM last evening, I got a logic gate memory circuit to work. I don’t expect many to follow the electronics so that’s why I often explain the only the theory, at least so far as I’ve learned it. I’m still divided over whether school or independent learning is better for this kind of thing. I’m proud of this circuit because it exhibits the basic concept of computer operation.
           A light bulb and switch combination has no memory. It is either off or on. Obvious as this seems, it was under-explained in every text I read. At first glance it does seem like memory because it is remembering how you last threw the switch, right? Wrong. In an electronic sense, that is not memory. If it takes a moment to wrap your head around this concept, don’t blame yourself.

           Imagine if you could turn the switch from off to on and the bulb remained on even if you kept flipping the switch. Only then it is remembering your first action. You would need a second switch to turn it off and remember that condition as well. The two small breadboards at lower center right in this picture are my successful attempt. Time required: two months to the day. These circuits contain only switches and resistors, nothing fancy, no store-bought gadgetry.
           You may recognize the power supply with the bright red light and knife switch, but that is a standard rig I use in many circuits. Also shown is a ton of notes I needed to figure out the wiring. Most textbooks take the shortcut of using block diagrams to represent the workings, which I can’t condone unless they also supply a wiring diagram. Block diagrams are for the lazy. It took hours to figure out the design on my own.
           It still doesn’t work perfectly. The circuit keeps the last “command” in memory, but when I flip that switch back and forth to confirm operation, the intensity of the light varies. So I’m not out of the weeds yet. What’s more, this represents only one of at least four different types of memory a computer requires. This circuit has only the single function of remembering the last switch condition. It cannot remember an ongoing stream of different settings over time. But I’m getting there.

           If I did work this switch in groups of eight, I would have produced eight bits and therefore a byte of information, albeit a serial byte. This leads to my remarks last day about a register. A register is a different type of memory that takes the incoming serial bits, accumulates them eight at a time, then discharges the lot as a single parallel byte. That’s why your computer has those ribbon cables inside.
           Here is where efficiency comes into play. Do I make eight actions to create one byte, or am I smarter to build eight switches? Now that I have one working logic gate, it would be easy to design an input device where I type the letter “A” and send it as an eight bit signal from the get go. Which one works better? My thinking is that all these have been tried and the ones out there represent what is most economical to manufacture. So you’ll know, this topic tasks my brain to its utmost limit.
           Per these rating services, the fact that this blog is one of the most informative, entertaining, consistent, well-written, candid, and fact-based does not improve its value by one red cent. Not to mention the indented paragraphs. Did you notice the indented paragraphs? Once more for the record, this blog is not affiliated with anything. Everyone is welcome to read it, but nobody has been invited to include it in their ratings.


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January 25, 2013

           It’s fair enough some people ask me for specific reasons I don’t go out on a Friday. There’s habit and I don’t require much more explanation than that, but this may fill in another blank. Remember Agatha Christie, the author of quaint Brit spy novels? Up in Ft. Lauderdale, you can attend a play based on one of her books in an un-acclaimed local theater with actors you never heard of. And all for just $232.00. Or, for another $153 take the cheapest TripAdvisor fare to London and find some place offering it for free.

           There’s more. It isn’t just me, but the crowd I run with doesn’t do Friday’s much as a rule. Thus, I got Marion on the line for a Colorado update. After some gossipy good news she reports a mainly quiet or uneventful season. Xmas without a turkey for the first time in longer than I remember. She has not found an affordable doctor so is still at home quite immobile. I cannot complain, for I drove the scooter up to Radio Shack today. These are exciting times.

           There is a rumor Craigslist was finally wising up to its single largest problem by a ban on flagging, but I can’t find the source. It is known that they go well beyond flagging and will block accounts for nothing more than dissent, I know because I used to teach people how to get around that. If I knew how to program such sites, I would right now create one that looks like Craigslist and call it “Craigslist Without The Flagging”.
           I surprised myself. I don’t do slow music, but today I managed a piece that I know has never been bass-soloed before (and would be worse on a player who was schooled in the one-finger-per-fret method). It is also the trickiest bass playing yet, as the only notes within [physical left-hand] reach mean practically playing them “upside down”. This requires far more mental effort than musical talent. It came to me riding my bicycle to the bakery this morning.

           I want you to think of the guitar beat, not the chords in the old tune “Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone”. You hear that strong boom-shick between the vocals? The guitarist gets away with that because he’s always got enough higher strings to downpick a triad. I figured out a way to emulate that entire guitar lick on the bass, playing only the tonics and the single note that creates each chord variation. I have to sit down to play it, the pattern hurts my fingers, and I don’t know if it is in my voice range, but there you go.
           And a big boo on Virgin Mobile. Outside of indecipherable menus and late message notifications, I found out they charge me 15 cents per incoming text, most of it crap I did not solicit. It was costing so much I finally disabled it. What idiots, charging me for what other people do. Their service will often wait for a week before all the missed call alerts appear at once—in alphabetical order and co-mingled with all earlier calls. Virgin can’t even get basic telephone service right.

           This afternoon I took the eBike to Aventura. Good exercise. I’m still amazed by how many drivers need to turn exactly at the intersection I am crossing. You know, the ones that drive behind you for ten blocks, but as you get to those nothing roads west of Gulfstream, they have to speed up and turn in front of you. The point is, I should not be amazed but I am because there will always be somebody who says it is my imagination or it isn’t intentional. Sorry, they don’t know my family. Just because some prick does it so often it becomes an unconscious habit does not mean he isn’t still doing it on purpose.
           The robot, how’s that coming along? Well, a test of the available sensors shows that unless you conjure up the money for laser rangefinders, the best sensors I’ve got are the cheap sonar style. They work well enough, but require constant calibration for heat or humidity, and vary enough in performance to have to be teamed up and averaged. The good news is between the eBike, the scooter, and the BatBike, I may soon have plenty of power to drive a robot. I will have replaced four batteries in two months.

           The principle here is the batteries, which are sealed lead-acid, are plenty powerful enough for the workbench long after they are too weak for anything else. I’m replacing the eBike batteries myself for $76 a pair, or half price. They are BP10-12, ordinary scooter batteries. The code means 12 volts, 10 amp-hours. I’m seriously considering switching to 35 amp-hour units, but I’d have to build a new waterproof casing.
           I would not have attempted this a year ago, but I’m learning, and in particular, learning the parts not often included in the textbooks. For instance, I’ve seen people wire up different DC voltages without knowing they are wrecking their motors. Now I know that each motor has a specific design rating. Too high a voltage and it is burning out, too low and it won’t turn, which is also causing damage because these motors are self-cooling.

ADDENDUM
           Sooner or later, every influential person right or wrong has to be taken seriously. For that reason, I read and watched what I could about Kim Dotcom, the German guy who the Americans raided in New Zealand. They claimed his service was being used for copyright infringement as though it was his fault. It made America look ridiculous. That's like storming the hardware store because a knife they sold was used in a robbery.
           The Internet is piracy, but that is no reason to target any particular site. It is piracy and porn that made the Internet a success where numerous other global schemes had previously failed. MegaUpload, his business, was no more or less guilty than the next guy. It appears he was targetted because his site was the most popular. American stinks bad when they attack people with meaningless trumped-up warrants, hoping afterward to uncover something illegal. In this case, since he wasn’t breaking any laws, the Feds claimed he was “racketeering”. Talk about losing your credibility.

           The point at which I decided to take Dotcom seriously (he kind of looks like the Pillsbury Dough Boy, really, he is six-foot-seven) was when the US Attorney General, an obvious political appointee named Ortiz, was directly implicated in the suicide (some say murder) of a kid who downloaded files from a university. Sure, he did it five million times, but I hear a lot of the material was publicly funded academic research. His name was Aaron Swartz and he was really being hounded for his successful leadership of the movement against SOPA, the original US law concerning the selective shutdown of websites. The average person does not understand it is not the website that is responsible for any piracy that might go on.
           Many citizens do not view the US government as representatives of the people, rather a completely private corrupt business community above the law and isolated from the consequences of their own mistakes. Those who attack the US government are not necessarily attacking nor even endangering the US population. But when the Feds pull this kind of stunt, it sure makes it easy for reasonable people to take sides. Therefore, Mr. Dotcom gets a fair hearing here. I’ll let you know my conclusions.

           I make no pre-decisions based on Dotcom’s background, which is checkered at best. Then again, he was born into a realm where all the “legit” channels to success were already taken, which is far more true in Europe than America. But Washington, of all places, should know it is wrong to arrest people on “suspicion” hoping to stumble across some evidence later. It is not illegal to be “suspicious”, the authorities are supposed to present compelling reasons before obtaining a warrant, not afterward. There is something fundamentally outdated with the US justice system and this Internet affair is bringing it to a head.

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January 24, 2013

           Getting back on a good circadian is rough after even ten days of bad sleep, at least for me. I slept in fits because I could not roll onto my right, which is how I usually zonk. I spent the day reviewing real estate. For the umpteenth time the media is declaring the slump is over because 16 more houses sold this month. I have not achieved my target yet, but I would easily go for owner financing if I find something. The season is just a few months away. For me, a place will be one final big push. Then life gets easy as well as fun.
           There are some weird listings, like this one. This shows the interior rear area gutted by a flash fire in the family room that left the [rest of the] structure intact. I looked because this is how JP and I missed the last great deal. Well, that and the piano. The problem is the price is $90,000 which public records from 2007 show this was the same [price as] before the fire. Can’t be abiding by that nonsense.
           Life is full of mysteries and surprises, though much less so for the well-rounded I imagine. Why is my blog getting hits for “Memphis steam laundry”? And about the hot wings from Domino’s, where do they find the midget chickens? My paragraph on the Balkenkreuz was my daily double. If you got here by mistake, please stay and read enough to keep coming back. This blog contains no paid advertising, is based on actual persons and events (but salted), and as far as is known, this is the only blog that has always indented the paragraphs. Who could ask for anything more?
           Here’s a southern ad for a bass player. Or how about that guy that invented a robot to separate his Skittles and Smarties by color? Following my age-old prediction that if you drill deep enough, a new oil field that rivals the Saudi reserves has been found in another desert: Australia. And I love to hear that repair shops are charging $125 to remove Windows 8 and restore Windows 7, which itself is plugged as “at least it isn’t Vista”.
           Have you seen the new PC ad campaign? It’s all about price, as in the PC cup of coffee is $2 and the iThing coffee is $8. It will flub, because the $2 version is not worth it and the $8 one is. What I dislike most about MicroSoft is the intolerable gimp commands that cannot be disabled. If you feel sorry for other people, do it on your own time. Want me to feel sorry for welfare cases? Stop taxing me to feed them to breed. I’m with the restaurant customer who says they can “be special someplace else”.
           Trivia. Remember those radiometers in the lab? That little twirly device that spun around by itself when placed in the sunlight. The photons were supposed to be absorbed by the black side and bounce off the white. Great theory but the thing spins the wrong way. Turns out, according to Nuts & Volts, it doesn’t work in a complete vacuum, but needs some air to flow around the vanes because the dark side does get hotter. I used to keep one in my window years ago, so people who forgot my address could always find my house.

ADDENDUM
           JP forgets to pay his phone bill on the first month, that’s my buddy. Now that he has a cell, I regularly run over my monthly minutes. We had quite the discussion, I think he should quit his job and retire. He has no experience living without the extra income from working, but does not begin to realize how far he is ahead of the pack and that he doesn’t need anything extra.
           We also chatted about Estelle and why he hasn’t been over to meet her yet. Let me explain something that certain people can’t follow and I suspect there are some of those types among the thousands that read this blog every month. It starts with, “I am not Mother Theresa”. Come around here looking for compliments and handouts and I can assure you that you are lost and out of luck.
           JP understands that I am recommending Estelle, not passing her off as not good enough for me. There will always be the idiot gallery who say my standards are too high. They are nothing but miserable losers who condemn because they haven’t what it takes to qualify for any standards of their own. The point is, and drill this into the mind: I’ve met countless men with no standards who are infinitely worse at meeting women than I ever was. Let my critics explain that.
           I’ll have you know my decision not to date Estelle was not selfish, but rather a understanding of her situation. What would life be like for her sitting in the audience watching me? I’ve tried dating women who don’t sing and dance and I know that it takes three months for the infatuation to fade. The alternative is [for her] to sit at home and wait. Neither is acceptable, to me dating has never been a spectator sport. If a woman can’t get out there and have fun with me, I’d rather be alone than drag somebody along.
           I enjoy the company but I’d still rather have a girlfriend. Estelle came over late this afternoon. Hey, this is where the tea and crumpets are. We listened to classical music and she is finally starting to take more of what I say at face value. That’s a function of time but also because when here, I can reach for the photo or the guitar or provide simultaneous proof of what I say. Over the years, I learn what people tend to disbelieve. Example, okay Estelle, talk normal and actually watch me type what you say at the same speed. Stuff like that. Her new brunette hair is real, you can’t fool me in broad daylight.
           Plus, this place is always a learning experience. Nobody ever leaves without at least one brand new idea. She had never eaten grits before. No cheese soup either, she doubted it existed so I bought her a can. She will not try it, won’t even touch it. So much for insatiable curiosity. I like it because it really kills the taste of broccoli.
           Here is the soup in a busy picture. Cheddar cheese, I’ve eaten it as soup and it is not bad, but using it as a sauce or a sauce base, that is luxury. If you look, you’ll see the box of ginger snaps, a tray of wire terminals, my $1,610 Tiffany lamp, and my snoop alarm. Snoop alarm?
           Yes, at the right, hanging on a bead chain you can see a triangular [pyramid shaped] lead weight. See it? Just above the soup can. Anyone who messes with my desk electronics will set that to swinging and there is no way to stop it moving for the next five minutes. I can tell if anyone has had their mittens on my junk. One touch and you are busted!

January 23, 2013

           Here is the batbike awaiting its turn for the new tire. Can you see it? Did I mention when Lance and I got there to check progress, he and the mechanic knew each other? What did I say about quality and the old boy network? The shop has so much business I may have to wait until next week. That’s fine, I’m going to avoid driving while my arm is sore. But shortly after it is better, look out. All I can say is while I’m here doing nothing, the travel budget becomes an unspent asset. I am driving the eBike, which has some stats in today’s addendum.
           What’s this, silver hit a recent high of $32.35 per ounce? It still hasn’t gone wild and I’m not averse to buying while prices rise if only because it goes against the conventional pattern that makes other people lose their money. This time, I’m staying put if only because gold has not followed suit. The fiscal cliff was only stalled, not stopped. The government is still spending $100 billion more per month that it raises in taxes. That’s billion with a “b”.

           Last evening saw another power outage. Around an hour at prime time. The Frenchies all fired up their generators, which is a little surprising since while I would not call them cheap, they are certainly frugal. As my hurricane lanterns are stored about my workbench, I instinctively reached for the power to that battery tester I built. It lit up the whole room. Neat. For next I found I have plenty enough LEDs and battery power to illuminate my entire place (12V, 18A). In fact, with the colored LEDs used to test memory circuits, it was quite a show. I was able to easily read a full color atlas while waiting out in the Florida room. That’s colors hard to see by coal oil. How about that?
           We haven’t heard about the Arduino in a while, though I’m now the proud owner of four units. The thing for me is I enjoy seeing the Arduino projects by other people and figuring out how to build them without the Arduino. This is more challenging than most of the projects, is what I’m saying. A review of user comments shows that finally, years after I made the first lonely complaints, others are expressing discontent with Radio Shack (high prices, limited selection) and Digi-Key (horrendous web page, annoying pop-ups).

           Most user projects lack imagination which adds another disincentive to me. But really, the worst barrier remains the Arduino language, a derivative of C+. There is nothing elegant or advanced about a language that requires up to 15 command lines to save an average string of data (I’ve seen as many as 55). Those who think that is neat have rocks in their heads. They like to claim it can do things other languages cannot, which even if true loses all value in mindless over-complexity. The reality is C+ has not introduced a single command that was not present in granddaddy BASIC.
           MSN.com, where I only go because you have to when you log off hotmail, has reported New York is looking at 250 square foot “apartments”. Less than half the size of my cramped quarters (mind you, I have a yard, a large shed, a back patio, a front porch, and three parking spaces). I think the way these corrupt northeastern states will have to trim their pension plans, these shoeboxes will arrive and become normal fare. Florida won’t because of that strange influx of retirees who don’t know any better. Note that MSN sets off all my elaborate spyware and malware alarms, up to eight at a time. They are constantly trying to track my untrackable track.

           Having seen some newscasts on Desert Storm, I thought to look up the kill ratio for the M1A1 Abrams. Can’t find it. There are no readily available states on that tank, and I found several sources that said no crew member has ever been killed in one. I had wanted to compare it to the German Tiger. Be wary of raw statistics, for the German crews often carried forward their former kill counts when they were issued a new tank. Another tank that doesn’t seem to have gotten scratched in the Middle East is the British Challenger which seems to be the name of three different tanks. That is to be expected from a country that calls itself Britain, England, British Isles, Great Britain, and the United Kingdom, to name a few.
           Last, some sad news. Estelle’s cat died. Having long since guessed she doesn’t get a lot of emotional support at home, I invited her for tea and ginger snaps. We half-watched the only chick flick I’ve got, some story about a salesman. I let her talk it out, the cat had cancer and she felt it was her fault for not spotting the symptoms earlier and getting a vet. I explained animals in Nature can’t show any signs of weakness until the last moment, she didn’t know about that. She left in better spirits. Ginger snaps and I go back a long way and I don’t even like them. But you can’t argue with tradition.

ADDENDUM
           An inventory of the vehicles shows I’m in good shape for a while. Quality has become an iffy segment of transportation. I’ll explain. The eBike now has new tires, new cables, and new brakes. This type of maintenance came to nearly a third the price of a new unit, and it now requires a new battery after slightly less than 200 of the claimed life of 400 charges. Everything is well past the warrantee dates. So these things work when you have the cash to keep them working.
           Same with the scooter. The factory tires and batteries are junk, though these and the eBike batteries will still produce enough juice to run my robotics desk, where the unit of current is measured in thousandths of an amp. Almost the full price of the scooter has been plowed back into keeping it on the road for nearly 9,500 miles. Keep in mind, I got it for practically half price, but still.
           And the batbike. It was built back when empirical design still had sway at the factories. It is overbuilt tough enough to last much longer. I’ve state my intention to keep replacing and upgrading it to complete reliability and to purchase a camper unit which doubles as a small utility trailer. I’ve sunk about a grand into it so far.

memphis steam laundry; balkenkreuz german iron cross; "worm that turned"; amish honey; andrea johnson; pro surfer pictures; axis sally; christy walton; different kinds of millionaire plants; balkenkreuz german iron cross; axis sally; recognizing herbs spices; two dollar bill coloring page; brick tent; my memories of titusville trailer court; my memories of titusville trailer court on us1; the arty, 3 wheeler; timer555;

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January 22, 2013

           The fog around the copper wire machine is gone, it was our old buddy Lance up to another of his investments. He still can’t spot a Ponzi scheme without my help, but this one is something different. They already have a small machine in place. It requires an operator to feed it one wire at a time, and doesn’t work on the very small, like the 28 gauge used by the phone company. Blog rules say this totally new topic gets covered.
           Shown is a picture of baled copper wire, my guess is a thousand pounds each. If so, this is a month of output for the type of machine they are seeking. This is how I learn things, by watching others get into such deals. They may produce copper beads but also requires some type of container. And a forklift. With a driver. Yet a market niche must exist even to see such machines for sale. I take it finding the raw materials is a challenge so the big boys leave it to small operators.

           I get there to find the usual. They have a tiny machine in operation that produces a small daily profit. Therefore a bigger machine means more profit, at least on paper. They know nothing of recycling laws, industrial permits, copper remelt prices, nor the size of plant needed to house a $20,000 commercial machine. My advice was to buy five more of the small machines, which costs a fraction of the amount, and run those until the capacity for supply, storage, disposal, sale, and transportation factors play out and more investment is justified.
           These machines all work on large wire, drawing the insulation past a cutting blade. But the thin wires work on a different principle which I have not yet ascertained, but it must use some kind of abrasion. The wires have to be shredded before being fed into the hopper. Anyway, these folks are determined to go ahead without any market research, so I set up the limited liability for them. And wished them luck.

           The automated machines are huge, needing a substantial building to house the operation, particularly the ones fed from the top. They produce pellets of copper and plastic, both they claim are sellable. It is impossible to get a solid price out of Alibaba unless you practically guarantee you will purchase when they finally say it. Even if you offer cash, they insist on massive details about your background and more.
           You can examine the basics of this machine noting once again the marketing of Chinese products is monopolized by the Alibaba Group, who I [naturally] mistook for a Saudi company because our first contact (remember the doggie wigs) was an Egyptian trader. It is really mainland Chinese, and you cannot get around them. They bill themselves as a business-to-business trading platform and will not sell to individuals, only registered companies. Probably a wise move.

           I would normally give such a venture no nevermind, but they do have a small hand-cranked unit in operation. I calculated at $3.82 per pound for clean used wire, which is 95% recyclable, they need to process 1,000 pounds per day. I’m allowing for $1.55 per pound expenses and $0.41 per pound in government fees. I have no idea what type of storage is needed for a supply of this wire, but I’d keep at least two weeks on hand, or 14,000 pounds not including the insulation.
           They have not considered costs of any breakdown or the skill requirement to run the machine. Nor any stats on replacement parts, shipping time, not even an estimate of electricity usage. I advises them to buy two machines for when one breaks down. And do the job by hand until they can expand out of profits. It is foolish in the extreme to borrow money to start any business in America these days, though you should have one ready to go as a contingency. As it stands, these guys have difficulty filling out government forms.
           Now back to Estelle. I got to thinking about her new brown hair and can’t help thinking that somehow, it got longer. She did come over after dark and kept fiddling with it so 24 hours later I get to thinking. Funny she doesn’t show any such tendency for big decisions in other areas, so I’m reserving the benefit of the doubt here. I say it might have been a wig. If so, she is a good-looker, I’ve never denied that.

           That was my only outing, the wire machine affair. I made it to the bakery for closing, since they worry if I don’t show every day. I also had a lengthy chat in the car with Lance as he had to pick me up and bring me back until I can drive again. That fancy place he lives is indeed full of “millionaires”—if they could find any buyers. Good old Lance is beginning to see the wisdom of my waiting game.
           “Well, they hired the money, didn’t they?” Coolidge (allegedly), 1923. The government is only allowing them to keep the houses hoping things will turn around. That only shows the people’s representatives are as dull-witted as those who elected them. Sooner or later, they will have to face that responsibility. They can say they were only keeping up with the Joneses, but it was more like the Rockefellers. I lived through their thirty-year spending spree and saw first hand where they were headed.
           I believe the middle class is just a stupid today as before the housing bubble. If they could borrow money to buy again, they would. The brake is that nobody will lend it to them any more. Here is a picture of my old trailer court, the one that I shafted because they ripped me off for $1,250.00 It still sits vacant. I like to think I was a large part of that, though the corporation is unlikely to fail. This is how the land looks after four long years. The large palm at center was in my front yard.

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January 21, 2013

           The things you find out the hard way. Meet Advil, it says there on the box it is a pain reliever. When my others ran out it was a simple matter to talk to a druggist and ask what would work. I’ve been taking these for the weekend. Today I find out that Advil is an anti-inflammatory, which interferes with bone repair. My arm is still sore and surgery is still in the loop. For all the side effects listed, Advil did not mention the one about bones. And your druggist is not a doctor.
           Another shopping trip that didn’t fly. Estelle came over, the new improved Estelle, now a brunette with ringlets. See what effect a man has on the scenery? She wanted to go up to Oakwood, but a quick inquiry shows the bus doesn’t run that late. After last day, I check. Many of the minor routes end at 8:00 PM, now I suspect the main routes as well. So we just got off at Young Circle and did the park stroll.
           Now, what have I said about women and romantics? There we were, doing the park under the stars, the whole bit. But these things have no romantic effect when you actually do them. What does that tell you? Not that I want any romance with her, but I assure you the things women say they long for don’t extend to reality. It was too windy, too cool, too dark, too quiet.
           There was, at the west side, some kind of celebration. That amounts to a string of high-priced food trailers, as in $9 for conch fritters. Real food costs even more. And the wagons are professional franchises, in it for the cash, and rarely have anything to do with the event. In this case, MFLK Day. MFLK? That’s Martin Luther King. To you.
           So we opted for Chinatopia, the ancient Chinese restaurant on Harrison. San Francisco cuisine at its finest. Darn good even by my standards, though they have no meals suitable for a single diner except around noon. I brought home enough for two more sessions. Estelle confirms the bus hours have been jumbled recently so we split early as I don’t need another marathon walk.
           What do Estelle and I talk about? Nothing, we have no common interests. She is unversed in anything but raising children and became outwardly eccentric when that phase of life was past. It doesn’t bother me because I’ve seen it so often. But she is company and so am I. I’m the company that ordered the food in Cantonese. The new dark brown hair takes twenty years off. JP is a fool for not getting over here to meet her.
           Which reminds me he still has no cell-phone savvy and calls a lot right you can’t take the call. I’m also out of reading material again. This time I am getting rid of nearly 70 books, many so that I won’t read them another time. Those who identify with this first-world problem, you got the right blog.
           Hacktronics to the rescue again. My last order was delayed so they’ve included more free goodies. This works well for everyone but reaks havoc on any attempt at standardization. We have red, blue, and yellow displays. Since we build most everything from the ground up, no two of our circuits are the same. On the other hand, if anything goes wrong, we are quick to troubleshoot. Awfully quick.
           What’s happening with silver? I don’t know, but it appears neither does anyone else. None of my standard ratios or sources has held up in a market that has become more complicated lately than I’ve ever seen. Nor do I understand the implications of the Euro crisis or quantitative easing, upon which the experts are basing so much. Rest assured, however, that everything here is in place and there is either an accumulation of product or funds to buy product. There is never “just nothing” going on with my future.
           How tell if it is real silver? A kit where you place a medicine dropper of acid on the surface is available, but don’t ask me how that defeats silver plate. Or buy a postal scale, preferably the digital type you can set on metric. A troy ounce is 31.1 grams, not as I once reported here as 28.35 grams for a regular ounce. Keep in mind the weight is only approximate and it is a convention to ignore small variations of up to a twentieth of an ounce. Or do what I do: buy from a reputable shop and they guarantee the buyback.

ADDENDUM
           Look at this get up. It is an ice pack with a vengeance. In the top photo, I’m pointing to some of the bruising and it is just surface, nothing in itself painful. The middle photo is the beer cooler, I call it. This is where you dump water and a few pounds of ice. See the blue hose to the right? Third photo is a special shoulder pad with water channels. The pump inside the lid keeps a steady cold on the area, reducing swelling.
           The instructions say to use a towel or pad, but to feel the real cold, it goes right on your skin. Fifteen minutes with this a day and you are good. It never develops those tepid areas associated with ice packs when you don’t constantly rearrange them. This apparatus does not abate any pain, so don’t buy one for that.
           Third pose? That’s me in my natural state. The Florida room easy chair. This is where the thinking part all happens. Thinking like, you know how last week I published the song list of that band that wanted to start the “club”. Today another group began ads with much the same list. Nothing bit a bunch of old guitar players looking for people to “back them up”. The precise style of band that goes nowhere these days.
           I mean, when your list contains “Dreams I’ll Never See” (Molly Hatchet) and “Train Kept A-Rollin’ (Aerosmith), trust me, you’ve been drinking the same brand for beer twenty years too long. My advice to such guitarists is get over yourselves and dump 90% of your material. Most of it was mediocre when it began. You dictate your list, but don’t even ask the others if they have one. I just watched a movie about master-slave relationships. Guess who always loses?

January 20, 2013

           First controversy. Do you recognize this man? You do if you are rich. He is the world’s top Gigilo, Helg Sgarbi. He has stolen millions from rich women, such as Guebels and Klatten, which in itself proves both ways you don’t need good taste to have money. I completely grasp why women of a certain age might be partial to that crooked accountant look. The women, for reasons best left alone, never get suspicious when this gaunt-looking yahoo approaches them on the Riviera.
           His modus operandi is to record them having illicit sex in hotel rooms, then on to blackmail. What a sweetheart (but don’t be too harsh on the guy until AFTER you've heard my asking fee to poink Georgina Reinhart). Though not associates of Helg, my post of last December 31 remains top in the world for recent photos of all rich women in one spot. Note Chili’s Fontbona has been using a stunt double, but that didn’t fool me.
           I’m aware that these people may value their privacy. As it stands, if you ever get arrested, your name and photo is plastered all over the Internet whether you get acquitted or not. When these rich broads champion privacy for all, maybe they’ll be granted some themselves. I hear some complaining, but the people arrested have legally done nothing wrong either. Remember innocent until proven guilty? Meanwhile, no matter how smooth-talking old Helg may be, can you imagine being around when he [arrives, I believe the rich call it]. End of nauseating visual.
           It was movie day and that is all that happened. A great outing to the Aventura Mall ruined by Broward Transit, but you get used to that. I'll provide both sets of information, other than that, I did nothing all day and loved it. The movie was Django, pretty gory and DiCapprio can’t really act, but always does passable work when the role is stereotyped and stilted enough.
           It’s a tale of slavery and only makes sense if you consider the author’s intention—written to show whites in as bad a light as possible. Except for the bounty hunter, every white in the movie is portrayed as a murderer, bank robber, hired gun, slave driver, illiterate, bigoted, or just plain stupid. Except for masochistic plantation owners, all whites make their money chasing, whipping, or feeding slaves to the dogs. When they aren't spitting and scratching, that is.
           There is some great scenery, including buffalo herds and elk, but they are not part of the plot. Kind of an up-dated spaghetti western with a budget cast. All the shooting parts splatter way too much fake blood but took an amazing amount of choreography. The one white actress with any lines plays a dweeb with no breasts, which doesn't prevent her from kissing her brother half the time.
           Our bulletproof hero, Django, can read, ride horses, and gunsling although where he acquired these workaday skills in 1858 is never explained. There is plenty slaughtering of no-good whites who display utterly modern cussing talents, which they probably need considering how often they accidentally shoot each other. Lots of gunshots through flesh and I guess the body count at 30-something.
           And it is a long movie, which brings Broward Transit into the account. The 6:00 PM movie ends at 9:00 PM, just as security is pulling the mall gates shut. No, you cannot walk through the mall to the bus terminus, which is at the opposite end of the building. Now me, I know better than to travel anywhere out of walking distance by bus after dark, but they still got me.
           One has to circumnavigate around the mall, over a mile. And that’s only if you know all the exits through the parking lots. Even then, the last stretch is on an unlit side road with no sidewalks. As I got to the yard, the last Federal bus was pulling away. Sometimes there is a straggler, so I waiting until 10:30 PM. Ah, here comes one, but as he nears he slows but does not stop, instead flipping on the “Not In Service” sign and booting it.
           There could be reasons for that, so I waited, along with sixteen others, for the next scheduled half-hour. No bus came. In other words, that scumbag first driver drove off stranding those people and knowing there was not another bus on the way. Welcome to Broward. Normally, I can take any bus down Federal, but the hike to the first contact point is a third of the way to my house. I made the first stop at 11:32 PM and that is too late on weekends, so I kept walking.
           Another telltale sign is the local rip-off taxis. The least fare to go anywhere in this town, even one block, is $15. Whenever they show up in groups and start milling around, they know the bus isn’t coming, but never say a word on it. Some obscure by-law must prevent them from soliciting business, so they cluster in the parking lot off the bus lanes and wait for desperate riders to pool their cash and approach them in small groups. They then act so surprised, “Me? You mean this taxi?” And you can guess the rest.
           I walked it, four miles (not including the mall part), stop-to-stop with periodic rests. I know all the safe shortcuts and even stopped to hear the band at the jewelry store play music that’s older than me. A large coffee to go from Dunkin, and home again by just past midnight. The other people I don’t know, I know all northbound routes out of the mall would [have to] drive past me and none did before I got here. Way to go, Broward Transit, you showed ‘em tonight. You showed ‘em real good.
           Oh, and be careful not to cross Federal wherever there is a median with shrubbery. They turn the sprinklers on for two hours near midnight on purpose. Other than that, it was a great evening, even if I didn’t get in my after-movie shopping for essentials. Like painkillers (that's how they got me). One more thing, all the nearest spots at the AMC theaters are now roped off for $7 “valet” parking. For your convenience, they say.
           But "they" are not bright enough to see that, if someone else is parking your car, it could be anywhere, not where it blocks the main entrance. Valet parking is the only "invention" by Amerca's class of 85, and they believe they are saving the nation.

memphis steam laundry; sosua; women sex; christy walton; "worm that turned"
amazon; atom; longboard; dorm room big box; amish honey; andrea johnson; pro surfer pictures; bed frame plastic pipe; eagle talon claw kickstand; morse code machine pics;