MORNING
Gout. Turns out the guys eating oysters on Sunday all have gout. Isn’t that exactly the brand of rich food that contributes to the condition? And I read there is no cure for it. That’s peculiar, because a cure would be worth zillions and this is 2015. It’s not like there is a shortage of resources or facilities. Even I have a theory, that you catch gout from penguins.
I was home all morning waiting for a phone call that never arrived, so I took to reading the Craigslist musician ads from the Mississippi areas. Man, what a difference, they even talk a different language than the lame-ass guitar players of Florida. They are all working bands that state the rate of pay and where they play. They’ll send you a song list and it’s just generally a far healthier mental scene than the jackass crowd you get in Florida.
Prove it for yourself. Pull up some musician ads in, say, Nashville, or Memphis, or anywhere in Arkansas. Compare those to the ill-educated rabble in the south Florida pages. Worse, the ads and posts in Florida are the same people who have been posting year after year. You’d think after a certain time they would clue in that nobody wants anything to do with them. That reminds me, I wonder how Cowboy Mike and Zack-boy are working out? The less-than-dynamic duo, can’t even play “Margaritaville”.
Bascially, I have only two non-musical restrictions to playing in a band. One, I will not travel or do overnighters, mind you, I’ve never been offered the right price since 1994. And two, I won’t stick long with a band that does not, in the end, begin to play out a lot, which to me is at least three or four $100 gigs per month. Anything less is like the bassist trying to inform the band they are playing the wrong kind of music. They’ll friggin’ go penguin on you.
Hang on, let me see how the band I quit last August is doing. Be right back. Okay, I have news. Like I figured, they have spent more time airbrushing me out of their promo packs than learning any new music. I find evidence of only the one gig since last October, at the Heart Clinic as a warm-up band. But I cannot be certain unless I call them, which I won’t do because it would seem vindictive. It isn’t, but it might appear so.
That’s what I mean about appearances. In a band it is uber-important. I see no New Year’s gig or anything else, plus the site does not show a bass player, so at least one other guy quit already. This band goes through bassists for reasons already covered. I warned these guys if word got around they could not even keep me, they will never find another bassist in this town. This is not spite, but because I am well known as an avid player and the best way to lose me is by not playing out. (The second best way is to ignore the mammoth amount of stage experience I've under my belt.)
However, to be fair, in the fine print they did not remove me from all of their material. See below, and I still appear in 28% of their band photos. Not because they like me, remember, I quit. It’s clear that those photos are the most photogenic ever taken so it’s probably nothing more than that. Take a look, it is evident that Stephie and I are the ones who move on stage. There is no claim here to be better or worse, just photogenic. As you see, they could easily have cropped me out of the photo.
NOON
"Once the trust goes out of a relationship, it’s really no fun lying to ‘em any more.” --Norm Peterson (the drunk on “Cheers”)
The clutch cable arrived and sure enough, the factory new clamp that connects to the motor jig broke. I looked at it, what a piece of cheap aluminum scrap. Robotics to the rescue. While the mechanic was in dismay, I showed him all the necessary tools were present here to manufacture a new one. This was a fascinating transpiration. At first he kind of balked at such a thought, that this could even be attempted, much less done in-house.
He was impressed by the wooden gears, such as the pair shown here. I explained these are only prototypes to avoid the cost and machinery required for metal fabrication. But yes, larger gears like this are the same fundamental concept that would ignite the imagination once you know that it can be done. These are the spoked wheels for the wind generator, to match the 12V motor to the turbine shaft, and also to hold a flywheel in place, since I don’t want the thing to come to a stop when I hit a red light.
For a test run, I am taking the sidecar up to Harbor Freight. The new part, even if it is twice the size of the old one, still has to be thoroughly tested several times. For example, the dust cover of the original will now no longer fit. The mechanic says it makes no difference, but I have the tools to make it fit.
NIGHT
This is the clutch cable repair operation. Now you see why I had a mechanic come over and do it. Visible to the keen-eyed are the straps holding down the saddlebag as the metal clips have long since worn out and the brand new rear tire. If you recall, the Honda eats one of these not too expensive tires every 5,000 miles tops. But let me tell you I see a lot of things in that distance that most people only dream of. And that includes motorcyclists who can’t take their eyes off the road, while I can stand up on by foot pegs to see something just like you would on your bicycle pedals.
Here’s an item, you decide what the parameters of honesty are. My cell phone carrier did not bother to inform me of all the extra charges, such as 15 cents for each of their own advertising text messages they send me. Things like that. Or how in 2012 they removed Mexico, Hawaii, Canada, and Alaska from North America. Anyway, this month, when they keyed in my account payment, they put March instead of February. So I’m paid up for a free month. Now, do I say anything or simply decide what goes around comes around? It’s not like I owe them any favors.
Or how about my [late afternoon] trip to Harbor Freight? It was to field test the Goldwing, but they didn’t know that. Upon arrival I discover they are sold out of the belt sander (aforesaid), so I end of that idea until I get all the way out there again. Plus, there is a pushy broad that works there I don’t care for. The type that has notions about how customers are supposed to act. So she doesn’t like it when I insist on reading anything I have to sign for. Worse, I think she is in management.
So I stopped at the club, where the sidecar is well known from other clubs because I used to play there. The country influence on that juke box has gone from obvious to blatant. I didn’t stay long as I forgot my notebook (paper type) in the scooter, so if I’d stayed longer I might have had to talk to a few of the locals. Speaking of locals, Billy-Bill called to meet up, but so much later I had to say no. Once more, and I have not seen him since the liver transplant, he doesn’t even sound like the same dude.
Agt. M called, we cancelled the club meeting tonight, nobody is feeling well. Check back tomorrow, we usually meet up at the bakery in such circumstances. There, that’s all the excitement in South Florida this evening.
The only thing more entertaining are all the fake statistics in the Miami Herald. Remember, our bet with them commences in one week. Can the Miami Herald go an entire week without publishing an unwanted (by the majority) pro-queer article? Note, the media lumps them as one group with the less-offensive lesbians and transgender types thinking it will force people to be more tolerant. As if.
For the record, I have nothing to do with those crowds, hence I have very little against any of them personally. But they will not shut the hell up and leave everybody else alone. They are self-centered beyond belief, as if their personal situation is the most important thing in the universe. Their problem is, the universe has seen this kind of bull before. And dealt with it accordingly. One good thing about computers is when the time comes, most of these loudmouths will conveniently be on file.
And them penguins better watch out, too.
Last Laugh
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