November 30, 2014

MORNING
           A picture of money? And not that much money, either. This isn’t what you think, it is actually a practical condition for a lot of entertainers. The money in the tip jar can get damp or soggy from the bar tables. In a semi-tropical climate like Florida, you get a lot of condensation on the outside of glass bottles. So this is money being dried out. Careful, I did not say it was tip money, or my money, so don’t overthink the situation.

           No club meeting this morning. I was up too early and too hungry, so I went alone and got in some excellent reading time. Here are the random topics of the day so far. I cannot tell a Goya from a Renoire, I’m useless at art galleries. I have a booklet and the best I could identify were some Gainesboros, by the eyes and background trees. But Monet or Manet, don’t ask me. And fish-farm salmon, did you see that experiment in Canada where they tried to genetically modify them to eat less food?
           They were larger, but also more aggressive and they turned into cannibals. So the lab flushed the eggs down the toilet. I found out what one of the more memorable aspects of my bingo show used to be. The older crowd was often hard of hearing so I often had to repeat “sixty” and “sixteen”, for example. I developed a habit of stressing the “teen” syllable, as in “six-TEEEEEEeeeeeeeeen”.
           Now, imagine this, all my life I’ve been able to hold my breath two-and-a-half times as long as average. This comes in handy singing some songs and I won’t say how long I can hold that bingo sound. But it is way longer than most people would think possible. Try it yourself for just 30 seconds, because that is nothing for me. And I heard a new term: “Walmartization”. It means both the way Walmart does business and the effect this has on the surrounding communities.
           Cancel rehearsal, Trent is in Texas, and I have to tear down the PA system. It’s been there [at the club] for six or seven years now and I don’t have room for it. If Trent gets back early enough, the gear gets a ride in a fancy hybrid SUV. And I’m failing my own welding course. The rule book did not say a major safety step was to always have a second person present. Unless it is Agt. M, who wants to watch me weld? And even then, you have to give him something to do as he cannot sit still any better than me without a good book.

NOON
           Today’s ass-clown award goes to Adobe Flash Player. We all know they constantly issue updates because they are planting spyware on your computer. That’s fine, but if you click on the “install later” option, it now disables your existing version. There is no such thing as ethics in the programming trade.

           No beach. As with welding, my next expedition to the beach is a two-man operation so that did not happen today. Face it, I don’t know any idle people who can drop everything and head to the Atlantic just because it is a sunny day. This is the trek I’m planning to find my own personal terrestrial artificial horizon. It is not busy just now so I’ll give a quick once-over for the intellectually inclined.
           My theory is based on the curved horizon seen as a straight line by most people. I figured out at the age of eight it is not a straight line because it appears to be the same distance away no matter which direction you look. But it also appears to be a consistent height off the ground. Are we agreed on that? We look "down" at the ground and "up" to the sky. I choose to investigate if I perceive to see the horizon at a fixed height of eye. I do not know if this is so nor am I aware of the results of any study of this topic.
           To help out here, imagine you are helping me by holding up a surveyor’s pole. If that pole was a known distance from my eye, say 30 feet chosen arbitrarily because that's the longest tape measure I've got. If the two points, my eye and the pole were on a flat surface, the horizon should appear a fixed height up the pole. So when I wave like crazy, you mark that spot with this Jiffy. The flat seashore is the logical spot to test this theory. The plan is to mark the pole and then test it on some reasonably flat pieces of land, to compare the this observation to known results.
           If anyone has not noticed by now, my fascination is with the theory and calculations end of navigation. I own four expensive books on the discipline which I’ve read an average of twelve times each, but not yet invested a penny to take the sextant to the beach and practice the real deal. The propensity for detailed “inside” work was what made the circuits I worked on at the phone company some of the best they had ever seen. Let the pole jockeys risk like and limb in the bush at twenty below.
           Some of the worst workers I had ever seen were jock monkeys who would rather be outside forced into the office for a year. Forced? Yes, that was the company policy on the ones who got their driver’s license suspended. These days they fire them, but this was 1985.

NIGHT
           I’ve got my PA head and expensive cables back here. As before, this means I have some serious home theater if I want. The speakers are still up at the club. Trent is back from Texas and volunteered to help but I insist to first check if somebody from the club will help on that one. It’s one quick trip and the landlord over there has allowed the place a week to clear out the premises.
           No pictures yet, but it is weird to see a familiar old place being gutted. The coolers are gone, so you can see the original color of the linoleum floor. That fold-up chair I thought somebody lifted years ago was found when they moved the dart machines. Good, because I find sitting down radically improves my guitar strumming. When I think about it, I’ve been the entertainer there since 2007, so that’s long than I’ve lived in any one place since I’ve been in Florida.
           And although it is speculation at this point, another round of planning is underway to commercialize the cPod design. A thorough search of the Internet shows there are only two or three serious contenders for a towed motorcycle camper. This is an inherently dangerous activity, so my design would be for a three-wheeler only. What’s available are small cargo wagons and the sleepers are half the size of my camper. My unit was always big enough to sleep very comfortably, the other units don’t let you curl up or roll over. Plus none of them address the problem of poor motorcycle electrical design.

           My unit is not a pop-up tent camper. Those are not comfortable and the best one-person setup designs take close to ten minutes to set up, well in excess of the claims. And that is in calm weather. Nor are these secure unless you pay for a camping spot, the very antithesis of boondocking. My unit is ready in thirty seconds, has rigid walls, good insulating properties, and far more secure. Also, a small white noise generator works surprisingly well inside my design.
           It is also difficult to tell from the outside that my design is a camper or if it is occupied. The prices of these tow-behind tents, even the used units, is measured in the thousands of dollars, where mine is in the hundreds. It doesn’t make sense to spend $4,000 - $5,000 on something that gets used twice a year. The closest prototype to what I have is the Idaho Bedroll, I don't dare ask the price.

          If you watch this video closely, you will see that when unzipped, there is a canvas wall and no apparent overhead cover. Some say there is a rain fly or tarp--NOT good enough. Beware the videos that show any campers in perfect weather and in unrealistic settings. Like the guy kicking back beside the lake. No such thing left in America for free.
           I see the builder of the Idaho Bedroll had to address many of the same challenges I did, which is why I’m surprised he opted for a curved canopy. That only cuts down your interior space for the same footprint. Also, he seems focused on gadgetry, like the stove and TV, while I want to know what it is like to sleep in the thing and how it keeps out the bugs, both insect and human. Was it ever road-tested? Latest word on this camper is he gave up and sold the concept to CozyCruiser in 2012 and nothing has been heard of it since.
           Compare to the 8,088 mile trip on my rig a year ago.

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Today’s Togla Treat
No comment.

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November 29, 2014

MORNING
           The malls are reporting a disappointing Black Friday. And up in Ferguson, MO, they really know how to have a "Black Friday". Did you see the mall protests? Insert joke here about how since they were all lying down, nobody could tell the difference. The south is always amused to see the type of events that northerners consider newsworthy. Like this announcement [in the Miami Herald], of a couple who “met and fell in love” in Chicago. Can you just hear all the “oohs” and “aahs” from working-class Florida as they get all congratulatory over this? What? Well okay, maybe that’s over the weather.

           Anyway, cheer up guys. The dude in the photo is CEO of a Fortune 150 company and still the best he could do was some broad with “two beautiful kids”. The ad does not specify if there were any ugly ones. He’ll have to be content with never being number one on the job or at home. Neener!

           What’s this, oil prices are dropping? Let's see if that's true at the pumps. Sounds like a CIA conspiracy to bankrupt Venezuela, so what if it does the same to Canada in the process. They've been getting a little to comfortable up there anyway. We need the world dependent on America again, we like playing “Masters of the Universe” for those forty years after WWII. It was fun while it lasted.
           Music. After going over the alternatives for an hour, I arrived full circle to custom learning each tune I intend to play. (Hey, that’s an hour longer than most guitarists.) Since I have no guitar background, my question is what could I do in the short term to compensate for that? I can tell you these things take time for talentless Joes like me. The path of least resistance says I apply my old bass technique of “capturing” the essence of each tune.
           This involves paying just a tad more attention than just listening to the music and emulating the guitarist. I have found in every tune (no embellishment there, really, 100% of the time) there is always something that strictly copying the instrument leaves out, even if it is only the implication of a missing beat or note. Classic example, “These Boots” (Sinatra). No instrument in that song, in isolation, plays the beat everyone hears. What’s more, I have noticed this is a factor in every major hit and, get this, to a lesser degree in the minor hits, and it is never there in the flops. The human ear tends to fit something in that isn’t really there--the golden bullet of hit music.
           Since I don’t have the window needed to learn fancy guitar strumming, I think my best move will be to do what it takes to play each tune with a strum that emulates this feature—and it makes the vocals significantly trickier. A couple things to note before making any conclusions at this point. One, I would not try this if I did not have some idea what I’m up against. I did it with the bass (sing and play) and that is known to be far tougher than guitar. Two, it is more demanding to play what the audience hears than what the musician hears. And yes, there is a hefty difference.
           My years of playing with “Not Half Bad” taught me the value of playing what the audience expects to hear. Oh, it works, alright. That’s why I’ve had ovations, Glen, and $100 bills in my tip jar—as a bassist. (Three in my life, pal, 3x$100 bills, read and weep.) Can I cash in on this with the guitar? Am I loony to try learning something like this at my age? I’ve decided that even if that slows down what Trent and I are doing, I have to give it the college try. As ever, I will report the wins and losses, and you can decide if it’s worth anything. Just hold off deciding until later.

NOON
           This is it, you get one tiny section on genetic food modification. There is a ton of material on the Internet which you should be reading, so this is not the forum for the dangers of gene splicing. It is wrong, period and you should be very afraid. This blog is mentions diet, not the evils of genetic cross-contamination. And to me, diet is real food, which is getting harder to find all the time.
           For example, Kellogg’s spends about a million dollars a year just in California to fight GMO labeling. These companies argue that if people saw GMO labels, they would not buy the food. Duh. And Monsanto is the company that assured you DDT, PVCs, and Agent Orange were perfectly safe. You should read food labels anyway, particularly Kraft, Dole, and every cereal box before you buy it. There is mounting evidence that allergies and side effects do not emerge until three months after you eat GMO food, and that is long enough for most people to forget there may be a link.
           A while back I mentioned the number of suicides in India over genetically modified crops. There was some mistaken reaction about food, so let me point out it was not. It was cotton, which raises the question of how do people die from planting cotton? It works like this. The small farmer in India buy their seeds each year. Monsanto moved in and bought all those traditional seed plants, leaving only Monsanto seed for sale, I believe it is called BT cotton.
           BT seed costs three times what the Indian farmers could pay, forcing them to the money lenders. To make matters worse, genetically modified crops require fertilizer and pesticides that traditional plants do not. Basically, one bad crop year and the farmers could not pay back the loans. Preferred method of suicide? Drinking one liter of Monsanto’s “biodegradable” RoundUp herbicide.

           I stress that I am not anti-Monsanto, although I would be very much against private corporations using illicit methods to influence politics and the greedy politicians that allow it. It is a matter of personal preference that I strive to eliminate GMOs from my diet. It would be impossible to eliminate pesticide residue. My research was for my own purposes, to find out how much GMO there is in my regular diet that I was unaware of. You can eliminate the largest source by cutting corn products and bi-products. Like dextrose and maltodextrin.
           Recently I became aware that most sugar is no longer from cane, but from modified sugar beets. I’m not a big buyer, but I will now look into secondary sources like bread, cookies, and fruit drink mixes. Those mixes were part of my disaster food because they keep. The labels don’t generally specify the source of what sugar is in there. I am further curious about reports of transgeneric contamination. In Mexico, ancient crops have been found cross-pollinated with American GMO strains.
           The sum total here is: Do your own research.

NIGHT

           The last bingo show. And the crowd had, as happens to a freakish degree, some new and available women showing up on the last show so you never see them again. They left just before I could get off stage and chat them up. Now the poor things will never know how close they came. The tall good-looking one said to me that I had it all. The show, the music, the singing, the crowd. Yeah, but that’s in the middle of a game and she was gone by the time somebody said "Bingo!" Sigh.
           On the back wall I found many of the postcards sent to the club over the years. You know, I was entertainer at that place half as long as I was at the phone company? Normally a night club would not be on my mailing list, but it’s different if I work there, although that’s a loose definition of work. Plus, there are always the naysayers that you didn’t really go on these trips unless you prove it. And handwriting is fairly distinct.

           Here’s a spread of the cards from Colorado and one from Savannah, it says a lot that the club saved these items. It’s been a lot of years in some cases, these cards are fairly recent by comparison. I recall the one that slayed them was “Nederland”, they said, I’ve been to the Nederlands. This, if I recall, was on my trip through a place called Neversummer, yeah, yeah, it’s coming back to me.
           Now before I say completely goodbye to bingo, there is already talk about another place up on 441 that is starting up on Mondays and Thursdays. And while I’m paying attention to rumor, apparently the caller is some guy who works there. I shall wait and see. If it’s who I think it is, how should I word this?
           Um, okay, I’ll make it a double-whammy. In the first place 80% - 85% of the clientele at that bingo will have seen my show. In the second place, I’ve been there and nobody in that joint can begin to hold a candle to my show. And if the caller they intend to have is who I think it is, my prices just went up. There, see, I can be nice about such things. Yes, that is me being nice about such things, okay?
           Same to you, Hector.

ADDENDUM
           So, some don’t believe me about censorship. Have you found any videos yet of Beiber being booed at the hockey game? Got to this website and see if you can view any of the anti-Monsanto videos. (To find them, you must scroll to the bottom of the page.)
           However, I view on-line censorship as a problem of the Internet, not disrespect of rights. I have a right to learn anything I would like to learn and any impediment on that is censorship. There is no such thing as forbidden knowledge, but there is personal privacy. The problem is the Internet was better when it was a free-for-all. Now, censorship by and large is only possible when the Internet is controlled by a few large companies. In this case, the search engines. If Google doesn’t want it found, well, go figure. I know hoards of people who think Google is a browser.

           If you are using Google, either the browser or the mail service, you are not as smart as you are supposed to be. Your browser should be ixquick, and your e-mail anything but g-mail, or Hotmail, or the dreaded Outlook. Especially if you think you are the only one reading your mail. And when you delete your inbox, which you should do weekly, remember you have to clear the “deleted” file as well, and also get rid of your “sent” folder contents.
           If you send or receive e-mail with information you want to keep, cut and paste it to a word-processed document and delete the e-mail. As usual, 99% of you won’t do this until it is too late. Trust me, all your e-mail is combed for keywords. This is the reason there are codes and ciphers. Think these things through.

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Today’s Togla Treat
This is gross, but you gotta see it. The picture, I mean.

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November 28, 2014

MORNING
           Here’s part results of my sit-down-and-think time y’day. I know the picture is lousy and a new camera is in the budget for December. Many people might see me pointing at an old computer cooling fin, even if you can’t see the fins so well. But I see a potential variable capacitor. I’m not forgetting the trouble I had cutting fins much smaller than this. That’s why also in the budget is a scroll saw. (Now that’s a contorted sentence.) It’s a glass of cranberry juice, by the way. I dislike wine. But see how evenly spaced those cooling fins are and that trough already down the middle?

          Otherwise it is a slow morning, so let’s look at some statistics and trivia from the Internet. Hmmm, Isvestia reports 76% of Russians disapprove of the American president. For the first time, none of this year’s Miss World contestants are natural blondes. The New York Times published the home address of the policeman who fired the Ferguson shots, showing that newspaper is liberal when they want to be. Lost your remote, there is a 4% chance it is in your fridge.
           Get this, according to Guardian, the USB cable used to recharge e-Cigarettes has been found downloading malware onto the host computers. This could give smoking a bad name. Those people who are shocked that Nobel prizes can be bought at auction sales plainly do not understand that is not so much different than the real deal. There are 600,000 bridges in the USA. Cheerios was originally spelled “Cheerioats”. And typing “illuminati” backward plus the dot com will take you to the NSA website.

NOON
           It’s still chilly out there. I’m no fan of the cold. This gave me time to review whatever happened to Mars Direct. This is the concept of sending a power plant to Mars in advance of a manned mission. The plant produces the fuel needed for the return leg from materials on the planet. I predicted the entrenched bureaucracy at NASA, the ass-clowns responsible for the disastrous Shuttle fiasco would fight back. They like their nice fancy jobs. I was right, but the need for a Mars mission remains.
           Why the re-examination? Because Mars Direct was designed before the advent of 3D printers, and I mean good ones like shown in this photo. This unit is designed to print duplicates of human hearts imaged by sonograms so the surgeon can practice on a model before making any incision. Such printers could be adapted for interplanetary travel, and this represents major progress that has not yet been incorporated. (The idea is to take a printer along and print what you need once you arrive on Mars, instead of taking everything up there with you.)

           Author's note: I know somebody out there must be working on this concept, but where are you? Whoever you are, please publish. Or hire me, I'll do the writing for you.

           It seems the concept of Mars Direct has been splintered but still exists. A couple of our plastic pseudo-presidents have given it lip service, but final progress continues to be dependent on acceptance by NASA, a total conflict of interest.
           That’s the crowd loudest to scream that people would lose their jobs and how would you like it if that happened to you? That’s bull. It has happened to me, several times. That’s why I regard having a job also creates a self-responsibility to have employable skills in case. If I always had to live and deal with that situation, so can the rest of them.
           I know that means continual adaptation, but that is what progress is all about. When I got my swank job at the phone company, my first priority was to use their reimbursement program to attend evening school. And I didn’t see even one of my workmates in those lecture halls, I tell you that. Seven years, I went to school up to four evenings a week. And when the hammer fell, I just moved on to my next position while the rest went on to unemployment insurance.
           And yes, I’ve often wondered what good I could have done the world if I’d gotten the education I wanted instead of the education I could afford. I know that exploration counts perseverance just as important as being smart. I think it safe to say as the mission historian, I could guarantee good daily reports. What would you say? Mars is only three years away and I can write in zero gravity just fine. Maybe help oil the robot or a few mid-course navigational calculations, type of thing.
           I sure would go if the opportunity arose. The possibility of death doesn’t phase me. If the worst happens, I’d rather be out there than watching it on cable TV. We’ll get nowhere until the rot is scooped out to the core. As it stands, the only way out is to fire NASA and hire back one-by-one, on an as-needed basis. Some say such drastic action will lose all the accumulated intellectual assets and I say to them, “You’ve got to be joking.”
           It trims the fat, that's what it does. The fat that eventually made Shuttle missions more costly than expendables. It takes oodles of lazy and unimaginative people to accomplish that. NASA lost its way and can never find it back. I say, “No more compromises.” Fire the lot. They've had their chance.

AFTERNOON
           I went downtown. I don’t like winter, but I remain adapted to it. I had to take some cash out of the bank and thought to stop at the Starbucks. That’s always a mistake in Hollywood, that particular location is kind of slobby. It’s little things that add up, like despite special tables there is always somebody in a wheelchair blocking the door, or a couple of hand-talkers waving their arms, and all the women have had liposuction. Gum on the sidewalk and working-class overhead music.

           I tried to read a bit but finally bought some canned cabbage rolls and went home. Hollywood, Florida, cannot compete with canned cabbage. Be advised, I know where to get the very best Polish brand, but they cost a fortune, almost three dollars each. Hey, I'm worth it.
           I’ve been reading articles on the amplification role of transistors to find there is another field of skimpy information. They over-explain how the things work and how to build them, but not way to bias the input signal to make them work. This relates back to the antennas we built that didn’t work. I intend to connect them [the antennas] to an amplifier and see if maybe they do and we didn't know. Sure, I’d rather be out playing music at a lounge, but until that happy day, Fridays are not the time to come around here expecting a circus. A zoo maybe, but not a circus.
           You find countless diagrams like the one nearby showing amplifier circuits, this one I chose to examine because it uses a 2N3904 transistor, and I have a box full. What I’m doing is poring over a few dozen of these to pick out the common areas. I’m going to spend a paragraph to say how I think this thing works for my own files, but follow along if you’ve ever been curious about transistors.
           That capacitor called C1 is tiny, 0.1uF. That means speaking into the microphone rapidly (but very weakly) charges and discharges the plate. In turn, this causes a sympathetic signal on the other plate, which is connected to the base of Q1, the transistor. This base signal acts like a valve, controlling the much larger current (3 to 9 Volts) that flows through the transistor. That stronger voltage charges and discharges C2, hence you get amplification of the input signal. I am building this circuit as we speak. It’s amazing what you can get done when you don’t watch TV. What’s on tonight? I dunno, Family Feud?
           Now some trivia, I’ve been listening to Mars-casts in the background. Did you know there are 58 landforms on that planet, which precisely matches the dry land on Earth. In other words, there are no surprises over there on a planet-wide scale. Nothing new and nothing left out. The hoopla is centered on the fact that some of those landforms can only be created, as far as we know, by flowing liquid. Mars is (. . . something, I dunno, this part got clipped off. Mars is cool. A hundred below zero. Fahrenheit.)
           For the record, although I have only criticized NASA infrequently here, I was a total opponent of the the Shuttle program from the day it was announced back in the 70s. I instantly saw it for what it was, a cop-out. The NASA brass saw that a Mars mission could not be accomplished in the term of one president and chose something that could—thus abandoning their mandate. I go on record that I have always been an opponent of the Shuttle and its equally useless cousin, the Space Station. Gigantic wastes of money.

NIGHT
           It’s hard to believe the degree to which censorship still exists in this world. Although I do believe there are times when censorship serves a purpose, such as not publishing the names of accused people unless they are convicted. But pictures in Playboy magazine? Here is a photo of Gabriella Brum as she appeared on a Playboy magazine cover in 1981 on the left, and as she appears that same photo appears today on FamousFix. That swimsuit is just too revealing for the current crop of voyeuristic little boys to handle, I guess.

           In case you are wondering, she was famous for 18 hours in 1980 when she resigned from being Miss World because, she claimed, her boyfriend didn’t like it. It was later circulated she resigned because it was discovered she had posed nude. Hey, gals, Miss World is supposed to be a role model for younger girls. You want to sleaze out and still be famous, go become Madonna, not a beauty queen.
           There appear to be no current photos of Gabriella, now aged 52, available on the Internet. Only one other Miss World resigned, some Welsh lady, when it was found out she had concealed having an 18-month-old child. Again, I agree, because I remember when beauty contests were for virgins only. There is a lot to be said for that, though it won’t be me saying it.

ADDENDUM
          Here is the answer to last evening's money question. Time's up. This is grade school arithmetic, gang. By grade school, I mean only arithmetic: add, subtract, multiply, divide. No higher math involved. If grade school material gives anyone a hard time, I've got bad news for them about the rest of life.

Here's the solution: The dealership wants 10% down, therefore adding that to the remaining principle must be the purchase price. This remaining principle is the true amount borrowed on which you pay interest at 4.99% APR. But the payments are monthly, not annually. For simplicity's sake, we'll make the monthly interest 4.99%/12, which is not precise, but the batteries on my financial calculator are dead. It works out to around .4158% per month.

It follows that if you make 60 payments of $233, you have paid back $13,980.00. Some of that is interest, the rest is principle. First, calculate the interest. Ah, that's where education comes into play. You can't just calculate 4.99% annually of $13,980 and divide by 60 payments. Because after you make the first payment, you no longer owe the full amount, and to complicate matters, that amount (the outstanding balance or "principle) changes by a different figure every month until you owe $0.

Here's the figures. The interest paid is $1,630.17. Subtract $13,980.00 - $1,630.17 = $12,389.43. The amount you borrowed as $12,389.43,call it $12,390.00. That amount is 90% of $13,722.00, which is therefore the amount you paid for the motorcycle. And if you look closely, that must be the absolute cheapest model on the lot and they are using it for advertising bait. QED.

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Today’s Togla Treat
When you see it.

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November 27, 2014

MORNING
           I love a day off. To study, that is. And I’ve arrived at the conclusion I cannot come up with an Arduino project that is worth the effort. I hinted this before about the $35 price tag, and what I meant was I’d like the project to do something more than blink lights and run motors. I had done all of that by early 2011. Here is a picture of part of our Arduino inventory, at least four microcontrollers are visible here. Let me put this into perspective.

           This is more than enough to build a working robot. One would do the job. If you read the available material, including the now aging Arduino sites, you’ll find a plateau in the offerings. Except for the odd application I can use, most of the projects shown are the same old. So I knuckled down and brainstormed. What could I program that would make the game worth the candle? To what practical purpose could I apply the Arduino?
           Nothing. That’s what I’ve come up with. I even considered the new camper pod with an Arduino working the lights, but I’ve accomplished that long ago with four dumb automotive relays. Nor can I come up with a game, though I’m still time to time thinking on that one. As for robotics, we have not yet built a chassis or an arm because we lack the mechanical skills and equipment. However, we could slap together a kit for appearances sake and make it work right.

           As it stands, I’ll keep an eye out for something the Arduino can do that’s worth more than the $35, but only because that amount of money is wasted with these things sitting around not used at all. I’m investigating a way to log the amount of electricity that is really produced by the cPod solar panels. Don’t go thinking I said the Arduinos were a waste, no sir, just that we are already far beyond anything we set out to do in the strategic sense, and lack the cash to do the tactical. Unless you can lend us a gear-maker.
           The value of the whole microcontroller project is better measured in what we’ve learned, the experience, and the spin-offs. We’ve learned not to waste time at Nova, that people in the coffee shop never call back, that we could take a house off the grid, and we’ve finally got enough tools to do it all. And the experience. We’ve shown proven time and again that we learn more from a given quota of experience than the experts.
           Example, because sharp people like an example. The experts show you a pretty chart and tell you where to point your solar panel to get the most electricity. Boo. We'll advise you to point it at the brightest part of the sky at the time of day you, not the damn panel, need the most power. Real experts don't work on commission, Ken.

NOON
           Why look there’s two things you don’t see every day. A Chinese scooter with nearly 14,000 miles on it and a cloudless day in Florida. We need it after the last week. Reparations. And the weather is too cold, I actually had to wear a jacket driving to Starbucks. Where this photo was taken. I admit to going there now that they have put in that big study table. (They call it a conference table but you can’t fool me.)

           Besides there were people actually reading when I sat down to plan out the test panel for the new cPod wiring system. This is actually a complete re-do of the previous to include a set of switches to test all the LEDs by one person. And the removal of all control circuits to the motorcycle saddlebag, including the solar recharger.
           It is not lost to us the rewiring took a lot of planning and hours to install. So many hours, in fact, that it would not be worth it for the regular Joe to do it himself, not to mention that he likely does not have the tools to do it right. Like 135° drill bits. Nor are there any standard wagons this size that are road-legal for sale in this area. Just those tinny off-road and garden wagons with tiny wheels. We may, I said may, build another one to see if it sells.

           Which reminds me, I’m not getting in the required hours on the welder. It is not so much because it is a half-mile away, but because I accept the warnings that say not to weld alone, to always have someone else in the room. Makes sense. Nor can I find a source of scrap iron to practice on. Which further reminds me, the new clutch cable isn’t here yet so I can’t go get supplies anyway. And that’s how I wound up at Starbucks, that, and Panera was closed.
           I was there nearly two hours, during which time I planned out four experiments and a possible wind powered radio. These are small items I’ve been waiting for a slow time to wire up, such as pilot lights and to solve the voltage divider or path of least resistance question once and for all. That last one is due to a contradiction in definitions. The book says electricity takes the path of least resistance, therefore, all the juice should go into the circuit instead of half of it as with a voltage divider. You can look that up yourself.

AFTERNOON
           To America it’s Thanksgiving. To me it’s Thursday. Let’s talk about something important, like bingo. Blog rules say I tell you of anything unusual. Last evening, I was out on the town. Oddly, so were a lot of married couples. We all love the type of twerp who plays his crappy music on the juke box, but I’m the opposite. I’ll play what the crowd wants. Can I read ‘em or what? I got applause for my selections. Now come on, be fair—how many guys could get applause out of a crowd by playing the juke box. Thank you, thank you. (I take a bow.)
           Music and entertainment stats. Next Saturday is the end of the bingo epoch, and not a bad one considering how it emerged from nothing. I had gone in one evening to get a microphone and the barmaid was trying something new, a bingo, and some noisy drunks were drowning her out. The Saturday final will be game number 281. This established gambling as the dominant moneymaker. I never missed or canceled a show while I was in town. Since August 22, 2009 it was a good run. The only stat of note is during that time, according to my records, $811.50 “went missing”. That’s petty considering the game is in a drinking establishment.

           Other stats? The house gave me 677 bottles of Budweiser, nowhere near the regular staff allowance of 3 per shift. Bingo expenses were 1.1% compared to a whopping 52.4% for my music show. I spent more on batteries than bingo and that includes the gas to get there. The show, alas, was totally dependent on location so there will never be another Jimbos. Five years and four months and the free ride is over. There isn’t even another place within easy driving distance.
           Well, now, not so fast. There is a small pub up near Wiley where the server lady, Barb, I think, will give you a quick barber trim for two bucks when business is slow. She’s not a barber, but the price is right. Just a touchup on the nape and crisp up the sideburns, one minute is all it takes. I’ll wager it pays her rent. The place lacks atmosphere, but so did Jimbos when I first arrived.

NIGHT
           Okay, the guy wrote back about the sidecar. His English is awful twitchy but he correctly surmised my rig is not for sale. He wanted advice so I gave him my mechanics number. And gave him the usual warnings born of experience: special license required, poor gas mileage, hard to find parts, weak top end, cheap upholstery, weak electronics. See what a nice guy I am? Then I sent him 8 pictures of classy babes in the sidecar that even you have not seen. For reasons.

           During this process, I found this photo of an old Ural and thought, doesn’t that look familiar. Not the vehicle, but who remembers that canopy I got under the rainstorm back in 2012? I had to do a double-take and go back to make sure it was not that same canopy. That would have been just a little too much coincidence. Had me going, though, because I could see this was still in Florida.
           It was Florida, it turns out. This gets both better and worse. On my return trip from the aborted satellite launch on July 23 this year, I drove through St. Cloud on my way to Winter Haven. Are you with me so far? Good, because I really need a new tonneau cover for my sidecar. Now, St. Cloud is like, next to the ghost town of Holopaw. There is not much there, but they have an Ural dealership. Da-yum! That means I likely drove right past the place without seeing it. Now it is a 400 mile round trip even if I don’t carry on the extra 49 miles to Winter Haven.

           This prompted me to look at the 2015 Ural prices. They won’t say until you give them your name, so I’ll calculate it from their credit offer of “10% down plus 60 pmts of $233 at 4.99% APR”. Tell you what, Ken, Patsie, Glen, and Hector. Since each of you are smarter than me and math is my worst subject, let’s have a race to see who comes up with the asking price first. I’ll even give you a hint so you don’t get mislead by a recursive. The payments less the interest component must equal 90% of the price. This should take about five minutes, I’ll give you until tomorrow. Go!
           I don’t usually answer user questions (get your own blog) but somebody actually wanted to know what the guy was reading. The stinky guy from last day, the one who sits at your table in an otherwise empty library. That I will answer. He doesn’t read anything. He kind of just sits there, cracking his knuckles and watching you read.

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Today’s Togla Treat
I just know this reminds you of Togla.

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November 26, 2014

MORNING
           There is a huge addendum today, as I synopsize my findings about retirement—and I’m not even due to retire until I’m 66, if I live that long. I also discuss that. Read the addendum like it was a separate essay full of information you don’t get in the mutual fund brochures. Now back to this blog.
           I curled up under the air conditioner last evening and read up on plasma engines. You like those? They are another great idea buffaloed aside by the Space Shuttle. They are the antithesis of rockets because plasma exerts a small pressure over a long period of time. It basically works by stripping away electrons from matter until it is plasma, not to be confused with blood plasma. This material is superheated to provide propulsion.

           The engines are small, about the size of a large loaf of bread, but they can be scaled up or bundled. I watched some dough-heads talk about moon trips. Duh, if you got something that speeds up slowly, you don’t use it to cross the street. Mars, now that makes sense. You’d be moving along most of the time at a far greater speed than could be attained between here and the moon.

           Cracker Barrel, the made-for-seniors restaurant. I researched some of their history, but from the senior’s point of view. By that, I mean the one time I was in Cracker Barrel, years ago, I found the décor nice, but the theme a little tacky. I can’t remember where this was, but it was one of the early Cracker Barrels that sold Shell gasoline. I found them pricey, but totally agreed with the business model. Appeal to seniors with that old-timey image. This did not appeal to me and I’ve never been back, no dislike, I just never went back.
           The problem is the store’s aim is a little off. While I like southern food and traditional brands, I also see two problems. One, those products are for really, really old people, not me. People in their 80s and 90s. I fit squarely in the “Ageless Explorer” category of boomer, the 28% who do not yet perceive themselves as old. Two, I know for a fact that very few people my age ever grew up anywhere near store with porches and rocking chairs, so to me Cracker Barrel lacks authenticity.

           I have a potential explanation for why that is. In the boomer era, advertising was not a real career. It was annoying ads, mostly on TV and unsightly billboards. It was the little brother of marketing and did not attract top people. And mostly, you could turn it off.
           Advertising was just not a field that attracted intelligent, resourceful people. By the year 2000, the industry had been dominated by young people, who I suspect could not get real jobs, and the campaigns showed it. All advertising was glorifying youth and youth culture. Nobody wanted to be old—because that is the message now arriving from every angle. And you could not turn it off.
           That’s my theory. Advertising is an industry where the worst rise to the top. Thus, when they advertise to an older crowd, they do so with preconceived notions. The average advertising employee was raised on cable TV and Google, they don’t actually know any old people. Hence, when they see a rocking chair on the Disney channel, that becomes their association with old. It’s just somehow weird, you know. But I remember the food was tasty.
           This morning’s advice column was about a man who found out his daughter is poinking her older sister’s husband. Remember since age sixteen (yes, I have it written down), I warned never to marry a girl unless she was the youngest daughter in the family. Now, at least one family knows what the hell I was talking about. The last thing I’d ever consider is the older sisters of any gal I ever went out with. Few things are as maladjusted as a woman with a cuter kid sister.

NOON
           I went over guitar strumming patterns. Kind of to see what I’m up against. I had trouble keeping a unique strum to each tune [during last rehearsal], something I consider essential in a duo. One thing I found was that I had correctly worked out a lot of the bass licks that fit (to the guitar) only to realize that on guitar, the patterns are often so simple they nearly suggest themselves. So much for the mystery of guitar playing. I can now see [in it] why a lot of guitar players can’t play bass so well. The patterns are not directly transposable, guys.

           Nor can I find any real instructions on my “unique strum” theory. Is that another one of those things we are “supposed to know”? I can strum the eight or ten guitar songs I know, but the others I mainly coached others how to do it. As for learning it myself, you could say I’m having difficulty singing and playing guitar at the same time. Have a good laugh, because after learning it on the bass, guitar is like playschool. I know I’ll get it in no time at all. It’s keeping each tune sounding different from start to finish is the challenge.

           The town already is closing down for Thanksgiving, even the library is shuttering up early. So no scriptwriters meeting. And Thanksgiving is now a two-day festival. Trivia, the Broward library system is one of the biggest and best in the USA. There are around 40 branches, but remember, not all of these are up to standard and their hours can be spotty. Same with parking and closed days. At any given time, a few of them are closed for renovations.
           I know, I know, who renovates a goddam library? “Elwood, let’s get with the times and move anthropology to the ninth floor! Hurry, times a-wastin’.”
           Nor, except for the really big branches which charge for parking, there is no system to their research department. This time last year in Yakima, I found the city archives in a wink. All in one section. Try that in Ft. Lauderdale sometime. That’s the reason behind this segment’s otherwise nonsensical photo--beer is importanter. I may say retirement can get lonely at times, but then I remember the library research section in this town. Now that's lonely. Those long, empty aisleways. And the tables, yes, the tables. Of all those tables, count ‘em, if one other patron shows up, he will be a noisy stinker and sit at the once next to you.
           For the heck of it, I think I’ll go out for a Budweiser. It’s a holiday eve and you never know. Besides, a couple of people have now told me I’m a better guitar strummer than I seem to realize. If anything, that means I certainly don’t have guitaritis and that calls for a celebration. If you want to come along, I’m buyin’.

NIGHT
           Another thing I'm finding is that a lot of the "fancy" guitar chords that some people take such pride in are, in fact, ordinary guitar chords where the bassist has played a "wrong" note. See the connection I'm getting at? I'm discovering plenty of situations, where I, as a bassist, know a certain note. And as I'm learning to strum, I'll read a chart that says a jazzy Em+9dim. But I clearly hear it as an Em where the guitarist-turned-bassist did one of his old patterns and made the chord sound funny. This is not an earthshaking revelation, but I'm just sayin'.
           This gets me to wondering why I'm constantly discovering such things. When do I reach that age where I know it all? At my age, am I not supposed to know it all like surrounding population? Instead I keep stumbling across new evidence, new ideas, things that make me rethink the situation. Have I missed the boat?
           Without exaggeration, this is the quietest night I’ve ever seen in this area. Maybe the odd car on the street, otherwise a ghost town. The shops are open, but nobody there. This is prime tourist season. Yes, it is cold but that just means everywhere else it is even colder. Say, does anyone remember that note that was left on my sidecar last month, saying please call? I sent them an e-mail finally. I asked if they had left the note. They responded saying, “Yes.” (There's a winner for you.)

           I’ve got a friend finding out about insurance the hard way. No names, but consider this scenario. Two guys buy wage loss insurance paying the same premiums. One guy meticulously saves and invests over the years, the other guy blows his paychecks and has nothing. At age 55, both become disabled, but hey, they have 80% wage loss insurance. Or do they now?
           The bad guy gets a monthly check for $2760, the good guy gets $219 $217.02. The fine print says the insurance need only ensure his total income—not his lost wages. They deduct all his other income first and he gets a piddling "top up" check. My beef? The insurance company charged both dudes the same premiums over the years. I remember, it was $7 per month when I left the company. But still.
           This tale hurts because the victim was a friend of mine whom I specifically warned about certain activities that do nothing but disqualify oneself down the line. That got me called paranoid when all I did was realize there was a hidden agenda. I’ve lived to see all my critics eat crow on that count, but this was a friend. What’s worse is assets cannot be liquidated so as to qualify because they watch for that. The system helps only those who are destitute—even if they got there by their own hand.
           And this is not the type of friend I could have advised to buy a motorcycle and go live in a trailer court. Maybe learn to play a little guitar. He would have called me crazy. Instead, he called me and asked if I had a room he could stay in to get back on his feet. Nope. I know, it’s pretty sad. That I don’t have a room, I mean. I told him to call back next year. He could, by then, have learnt to play guitar?
           Not that I’m so smart either, leaving the porch light on when I got back home. People drop by. Now I’m out a set of spark plug wires, two guitar strings, two postage stamps, twelve dollars, a power cable, and one of those super expensive coils of Radio Shack solder (still in the package). I should take that porch light down.

ADDENDUM
           My accounts of these mini-adventures are glossing over an emerging factor in my retirement. And I’m nowhere near official retirement age yet, so things won't get any better down the line. Over the previous months, I’ve noted how others around me don’t seem to have any provisions for their own entertainment. In a way, these people are worse off than I thought. They seem to have opted for false security instead of enjoying the rest of their lives.
           If so, that was a boo-boo for me. Follow my logic here. I’m the poor guy in the crowd, having been forced into early retirement. That makes me one of the few in my crowd that doesn’t own his own house (I’m working on that). Thus, everyone around me should be financially better off. Not so. It’s becoming clearer that their “security” is bleeding them for their life’s savings and a healthy chunk of their retirement.
           Have they not learned you can’t spend your way to security? That you can never save up enough to retire. At some point you have to balance a few things out and learn that a big fancy house ties you down—and it can lose its value in a wink of the market eye. I’d rather have $10,000 in cash than $200,000 in a house if anything major goes wrong, as is bound to happen.
           If what I’m experiencing here is the way it is going to be, I need to find a rich gal to hang with. Not to touch her money, but just to have somebody around who do things without bleeding me dry. You know, when I think back on my life, the women I’ve known and like the best were the ones who realized how much we fun could have together if we pooled our resources. I need to find such a gal again. Meanwhile, I getting sick and tired of broke people.

           Author's note: another thing I discourage is gift-giving on specific dated occasions. Get me a gift on Tuesday, but not because it is Xmas or my birthday. It should not be up to a calendar or some advertising agency to dictate when to give gifts. Worse, that contributes to reciprocal expectations. I didn’t say forbid, I said I discourage it. But if you must get me something, I prefer it to be something we do only one time together. Guys, that means tickets to the ball game. Gals, that means tickets to the opera. That kind of thing.

           Anyway, back to retirement, I am concluding a two-week-long study of how I miscalculated the abilities of others and now have to go places by myself or pay somebody else’s way. I was definitely not expecting that to happen and I am plunk in the middle of it now. Since I tend to describe my progress, not merely the results, you generally have to read every recent blog here to get the big picture. That’s the preamble, now here are my findings and thoughts.

           All through my working life, there was information available about retirement planning. But it was mainly from fund managers (think “ulterior motive”) and sources with those compound interest charts. Don’t we love those testimonials from retired civil servants whose circumstances are far too one-off for any of us to identify with? Then the tale of that couple who sold their house, got a post box address in Texas, and now live in their mobile home seeing the country.
           The major problem with all that information is two-fold. It is outdated and it is inaccurate. The interest charts make wild presumptions like putting away $100 per week at age 25 and the stock market showing a 12% annual return. In who’s dreams? Have you ever tried putting money away? At age 25? Yeah, me too. The civil servants may have a boat at the marina, but for the most part, most retirees aren’t even couples any more. And most states have enacted laws to prevent non-resident addressees.
           Be especially leery of those interest charts. Have you seen that bozo on TV who starts tipping over the blocks? These charts ignore the horrific dual impediments of taxation and inflation. It is impossible to “plan” enough money to retire. Happiness is not a pile of money or a big house, it is knowing you planned ahead enough to be flexible in the face of change. I’ve said it another way, that I’m not rich, but if anything goes wrong, others will be in dire straits long before I even feel it—because I planned it that way.
           I have no fear of tomorrow and those who do are not going to like retirement. For the record, if I retire at age 66, I will have planned ahead by 37 years. That’s a hard act to follow. At the other extreme, I know those who fear retirement or who actually plan to die shortly after spending their very last dollar. These folks need reality lessons. My own advice, I followed, which is to get rid of all encumbrances, like credit cards and mortgages, buy the cheapest place you can feel happy, comfortable and safe, and spend your retirement funds doing what you enjoy.
           That seems so common sense, I never doubted those better off than myself (financially) didn’t map out the same path for themselves. Instead, I live in a world where millions of my generation are turning sixty still up to their necks in debt. Yet, I cannot point to one of them and say that person had a better life than me. Thirty-year mortgages are nobody’s idea of a great life, except the banksters. However, since what planning information was available came from the establishment, it seems what’s changed is not the rules, but the way people are hitting retirement so totally unprepared. What’s gone wrong?

           I found several things. One was that before I was born, people worked until they dropped. Seriously, it was an established fact. Even though social security was available, most people worked until past 65—and back then life expectancy was only 62.5 years. There was no large class of citizenry expecting years of idleness and it should not be expected they would plan for it. Few ever did, and as I found out, nor did they plan any productive use of those years.
           What has happened? Why are so many people retired and too broke to go to the movies? Expecting somebody else to pay your way is like begging, really. I’m operating at a surplus, that is, I have cash left over at month’s end--so why cannot those who had more money to start with? (Aside: that alone represents a complete turnaround from my situation 2008-2011, which by the way, was an unprovoked disaster, not a consequence of bad planning, guys.) While I like my quiet, my private reading time, my hobbies, and my freedom to take off any time, if I want companionship in the upcoming years, I will have to adjust my priorities. If I can’t find a woman with personality, how will I ever find one with her own spending money? I swear, this generation is full of people who could not come up with a grand in cash today.
           Yet, I don’t accept that an entire generation got it wrong. I’m more prone to think the system has been manipulated to gouge the life’s earnings out of anyone who obeyed every rule in the book. And you never win a game where the other team makes the rules. The American dream of a retirement home as security and a store of value has been compromised. When I look at those who don’t have the ten bucks for Sunday brunch, I keep finding a person who plowed their life into a house. And in the end, they remain tethered to the property. That's hardly the definition of freedom.

           What about my life expectancy? I doubt I’ll make 72, the average. I only hope I live long enough for the Mars mission and it would be nice to be here when MicroSoft files their Chapter 11. I do plan on a 15 year retirement, with a difference. Each November is adjusted to be the beginning of a new period. That alone keeps the wolf away. If I make 66, that will drop to a five year window. But that still beats the averages. And as far as having nothing to do—what’s that? Nothing to do never happens around here.
           Another unintended factor was learning self-sufficiency, though not the darn-your-socks brand. When you retire, you get efficient or else, and start with buying less. You learn it is possible to climb down off the consumer bandwagon and not buy into the newest and latest gadgets. This helps to see things for what they are. You don’t need a new car, ever. Or a six foot TV. Or a $500 telephone. I defy anyone to show how I’m missing out on one meaningful aspect of life by not having those possessions.
           So, I’m at a juncture where I seem to have done okay with my plans, but have overestimated the abilities of others in the same territory. I knew early along one could never reach a monetary point whereafter you sat down and lived off a diminishing pile of assets. Those who do so live fitfully watching the market reports and fretting over daily expenses. Go figure, most people made more money in this life than I did—and now all they can afford is one trip a day to the donut shop. That’s a failing grade.

                      Conclusion A: I had better get used to the idea of active retirement as a solo gig. Because I planned ahead, I now realize I never saw retirement as the end of a career or really the end of anything, but as a new beginning.
                      Conclusion B: Retirement has been more like a reshuffling the deck. In many ways the past eleven years, despite losing my entire savings and having to start over, has become one of the most productive eras of my life.

          All I can say to my detractors is, you know, without having planned it I’m actually getting ahead again. And you can’t beat that for retirement.

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Today’s Togla Treat
Dat da way ting go.

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November 25, 2014

MORNING
           Here’s something few of us will ever see again. No, not the gas pump, but a dial that only goes up to $9.99. I could fill my scooter on that. See last day for my report on one first-rate museum. I saw an old 12-selection juke box. A radio antenna that was part of the hood ornament. Russian magazine ads which plainly copied the Packard cars. And a car interior decked out with French brocade. You should check this out, this museum.

           I am concerned about the Oz. He has not been in touch in two months, where he usually sends a contact e-mail. A slight change in my driving patterns over the years means I don’t usually drive through his neighborhood any more. So I went past today to see the yard cleaned up, the house painted, and a for sale sign on the lawn.
           Also, his profile on Wiki no longer shows from a search. I don’t know anybody he knows, but I know where he hangs out. I’ll check that very soon. This does not look good at all.
           Rain or unseasonably hot weather, that’s what’s going on in Florida. The equivalent of six feet of sunshine. Did you see that article that the US condemned Gambia for anti-queer laws? I mean, where in blazes in Gambia and what kind of jerk over here is criticizing them? The article says it was a statement by the State Department. Relax, even the Gambians would know the State Department does not represent the will of the average American citizen except on broad Constitutional issues of internal concern. Why is DC picking a fight with Gambia? Is there oil there?
           Or the CIA employee who spend twenty years in Chinese prison. I think I’m missing the point on that one. Or am I? Really? Am I? For all I know, there could be another war going on right now. It says here Honda lied about accident statistics, but there is a reason that isn’t front page news—they’ve learned to do things American style. Or the “Regin” spyware that collects deleted files and passwords, said to be government-backed. This surprises anyone? I have never put any sensitive information on a networked computer since day one. And I think blaming the Russians and Chinese is blaming the wrong government.
           Last, DNA has released another man after 34 years when it was proven prosecution withheld evidence. The media reported the man’s name (M. Hanline), but failed, as usual, to report the names of the prosecution. Or their home addresses or anything. Interesting, that. Well, more like disgusting. The American media industry is disgusting. But I need my daily crossword, which is about all they are good for. And the word “anal” was 60 Across in the New York Times crossword today. To those who know crosswords, a line has just been crossed.

NOON
           From last day, here is a photo of the deck chairs as suggested by Agt. M. These are a budget model, I can go a little higher end, but they don’t seem to come with armrests. They are comfortable and all-weather, which is more than can be said for the Soviet originals. And they measure nicely into the sidecar cavity with an inch to spare on either side. Agt. M gets a fat commission for this, since these chairs cost $54, at least $250 less than the true landed cost of shipping one from the Ukraine.

           Coffee is a tradition at the Pro Bass Shop and one of the gals there knows a ton of musicians. I got her my contact info instantly. Yes, Trent and I are rehearsing and jamming, but we’re wise enough to know backup plans are such precious things. Anyway, back to the chair, these have excellent mounting systems meant for a heaving boat deck, so the plate can easily be adapted to the sidecar. That’s because we have welders and drill presses, Nova.
           Wait until later today for a report on rehearsal. Yes, I am quite aware my reports appear to be the only “inside” descriptions of forming a band on the Internet that smacks of any truth. And yes, that startled me, that and how many people wanted to know this stuff. And this new band isn’t even challenging because, stay with me here, because we can’t argue over music because we are already limited by circumstances. Like we can only play what we can instead of what we’d like to. Be patient, I'll give you more on this later today, or so.
           Raw fish. I eat it several times per week, most people don’t and thus have no natural source of iodine. Did you know wild fish are 100% infected by parasites. However, the parasites die as soon as the fish. It’s the land-based species you have to worry about. Anyway, I heard that as an objection to raw fish and I’m letting you know. I do not eat tuna. Mostly herring and cod, which at least tastes like fish. But tuna? Cooking fish destroys the natural source of iodine.
           In other news, I’ve done away with three members of the mouse family in my place. The survivors are completely leery of kill-traps and bait. Never seen such smart ones. So I am building a live trap. What, you want pictures of that? Okay. Maybe tomorrow. Traps are easy to build. Who’s smarter? Me or those mice? One thing, mice are way smarter than to ask a question like that on the Internet.

AFTERNOON
           See this? It is a clip-on mirror on a Packard. It wraps around the spare tire, if you look close. My Jazz camera takes these badly focused shots when the battery is low, which is always with those things, but you can just see the clip on the right of the base. Where the strap meets the baseplate. I saw other models that had a little padlock for these mirrors, indicating they were collector’s items before 1920. But I sure like this idea for my sidecar. And I didn't mean it that way, Ken.

           Craigslist is, for all its shortcomings, a successful design. Would you like to see a brazen rip-off copy website? Take a look at My City Newspaper, here’s the Chicago West Palm edition. For reasons unknown, I got 638 rapid hits from Chicago. No explanation forthcoming. I did a quick review of some celestial navigation points I’m still weak on. I’ve never yet done a real fix, much less from the deck of a boat. I’ve noticed a pattern to the “experts” who post videos on the topic. They like to show off. Like being seen with a sextant in hand will get the babes. Ah well, you know sailors.
           I reviewed Arduino sites in the hope of finding something new to program. Nope, in fact, it is hard to even find a project that justifies the $35 cost of the Arduino. One justifies the cost while learning, but once you’ve gone over what’s out there, the supply of new ideas dries up. And it isn’t easy to figure such things out on your own. I could design a display screen so you don’t have to connect a computer to find out what’s on the chip, but that is a major design for such a simple end. I’m happier to keep on studying.
           So there I was, reading sketches and listening to NPR, the callers are far funnier than they realize. But I kept hearing about “anti-LGB” words in high schools. I’m like, what’s that? Then I get it, lesbian-gay-bisexual. School has changed since my day. You did not parade around the hallways announcing your preferences, since students were in school to graduate, not promote their sexual agendas.
           Gay? Schools are afraid to call them by the proper term? Now we have to pay taxes to defend people without the brains to keep their mouths shut about being queer. And since when did school become a forum for non-mainstream types? That kind of thing belongs elsewhere and after hours. Well, except for me of course, since I’m perfectly normal in that department and grades ten through twelve were my hunting grounds. And college was a turkey shoot. But like I said, I’m normal, so I have a question.
           It seems to me the entire claims of these LBG types centers on them not being allowed "full expression of their sexuality". And undoubtedly that means expression toward others whether others welcome the attention or not. It that is so, that leaves the others, the majority of students--the nerds--without any advocates. They can’t even get a date for Saturday night. Who’s looking out for them? If they try to express themselves, they get arrested. Who’s championing the nerds? That's my question, who's championing the nerds? Certainly not me, Togla.

EVENING
           The photo? It’s one of those perpetual inventions that occurs to everyone. Using a cartridge to fizz up tap water into a soft drink. Every dude who has ever had a bottle of soda go flat on him comes up with this idea. This one is sparing little expense in an advertising blitz and it is here because a buddy of mine said it would never happen. In a way, he might be right, as it has not happened yet. There are reviews saying people have gotten as little as 29 cups of soda out of a $16 cartridge even if he probably installed it funny. Only MicroSoft has the right to sell things they know can go wrong.

           So, how is music rehearsal managing along? Fine, considering the two of us are learning new instruments as well as putting an act together. The progress is commensurate with the time and I’ve alerted the critics before: this will not be a low steady learning curve. One day, if we keep at it, we will quantum leap into an available slot. Or maybe I slot we’ll go out and conjure up. There is need, after all, for another Jimbos. Who’s the lucky club?
           So here’s a description of the music, one of the reasons is you like the semi-documentary nature of this blog. Gain without the pain. Musically, I’ve played more guitar this month than in any year I can remember. For me, rhythm guitar is all about accurate picking, which I can fake at best. I could try my old standby—don’t even pretend to be good. I’ve played that card successfully in years gone by. But not as often as I could have, Glen.
           Trent is gaining from repetition, which takes time, and I have not forgotten how little time you have when you got a day job. Great grammar, there, but it puts the message across. The guitar remains a simple rhythm instrument to me, but simple in the same way as the bass seems to a guitarist. I’m having trouble keeping a consistent strum through the entire song, tending to revert to a comp beat. I instantly recognize this as laziness and know a few guitarists who could stand to realize same.
           What else? Okay, I’m finding I’m beginning to listen to guitar parts the way I learned to have a keen ear for bass bits. These are the eentsy notes and nuances most players are going to leave out in the head-long rush to learn the song and get that over with. It must appear funny how I’ll put on a piece of music for the fiftieth time and ask, “Did you hear that?” Hey, Trent isn’t complaining.
           I’m additionally finding I have to relearn what little I know about guitar to play a consistent chop. That means all the way through the song. It took mind-boggling effort to learn to sing the proper melody without butchering the bass line and now I am definitely facing same thing with guitar. Is this the reason guitar players don’t do it and am I making unnecessary work for myself? Is the easy way out the right way because that’s what the audience hears after years of conditioning? How long will it take to play these songs if I try to learn them right?
           Sorry, they don’t cover these useful topics in Music 101. Or 201, 301, 401, or not ever. There are, I point out, quite a number of ways to learn useful things without the drudgery of taking lessons. But doing so is not a prerequisite for learning how to play in a band.

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Today’s Togla Treat
Don't call this woman unless you just won the lottery.

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