One year ago today: December 6, 2014, the squatter.
Five years ago today: December 6, 2010, a cold spell.
Nine years ago today: December 6, 2006, ¼ of 1%.
Random years ago today: December 6, 2013, Beale Street fireplug.
MORNING
Who recalls Theresa’s recommendation to shop at the discount shoe store on Federal? Well, those deck shoes I bought there lasted one day. The “leather” flacked off the first time I work them. Clean, dry, I went for a walk and they went from casual shoes to household work slippers pretty darn fast. Kind of parallels the status of Theresa around my place when she decided she was boss. Anyway, it is the shoe getting top billing, not Theresa. Don't argue with me.
There is an incredibly good-looking lady beginning to frequent the Sunday breakfast joint. To bad, no pictures. There’s a good probability she is some sort of media figure and you know something else? She is already 1,000% aware that I am the only man in the place who doesn’t ogle her. In fact, I was the one who looked up at saw her watching me. Ah, see, when you got it . . .
I still have my feed to “Meetup”, the website that advertises clubs, such as the writer’s club I quit attending. They were, without realizing it, very anti-German and although a few were probably nice people, they were not a very educated lot. They say you only write what you know. If so, that room was scary. How did all those 50 ladies know what it was like to be a slave in the 1840s? But what got to me was the characterization of every bad man as a “Nazi”. I doubt anyone in that room knew what a Nazi was, or even that “Nazi” is not even a German word.
Well, you should see the current offerings. What’s neat is to get on the mailing list, you fill out a profile card. Their algorithm is supposed to filter the meetups to match your interests. Let’s see how that works out today. Okay, the one ad that interests me is WynCode(?), a seminar that teaches computer code with a “90% job placement rate”. Should I do it and stomp their asses? I’m thinking.
But the rest of the meetups? Garbage, really. We got the Edward Scissorhands 25th Anniversary party. Half-price at the health club. Lady Pancake and Sir French Toast. Beginner’s Vball. The Monday Night Prohibition Ride. Computer Gamer’s Society. Truth Lessons. Lingerie & Lace, hey---oops, that’s “ladies only”. Sinatra’s 100th Birthday Bash. The Jeep-Only Club. Here’s a seminar, “Thinking About Divorce”.
The one that might have interested me was a woodworking class. But they want a $150 per month commitment, so to me it is just a recruitment drive. Like those so-called churches who plant shill ads for “Christian musicians”. There is another downside to these classes. Although they are not endorsed or sponsored by the government or any civic group, the sign-up requirements go far beyond what is needed to sit in a lecture. There is something funny going on with that. You don’t need to know my social security information to teach me how to use 120 grit sandpaper.
NOON
The storm is over finding me in the yard catching up on everything. I need a weed-whacker, I’ve been using the hedge trimmer but that’s too much like work. The scooter motor has developed a small leak but it is barely worth tracing down. What I did was examine the structure for a port to install the pressure gauge. I have one from my old bicycle pump that may do the job.
Yep, my brand new Ryobi 18V drill battery is shot. That’s what, $37 down the drain because I have to replace it. To take my mind off that, I’ll tell you a little tale from the trailer court about how stupid people can even screw up equality. I’ve already told you about family equality, where a six year old got the same allowance as a sixteen year old because it was “equal”. (Please don’t bore us with your allowance story, go write your own blog.)
Anyway, I have another tale from the trailer court about how equality can be used to destroy fairness. I have an aunt who, though not very bright, married well. She was the only one in a huge family who married into money. Lord knows, she didn’t have the brains to make any on her own.
Let me describe equal when you are generous, but stoopid. She had, at the time of her death, ten brothers and sisters with children. But you are about to see how “equality” can mean some pretty messed up things to people who never had to make their own way through life.
So the aunt left $100,000 to be divided between all her nephews and nieces. Equal would mean that each of the total of 28 nephews and nieces should receive an identical $3,571. Face it, it is pretty god-damned difficult to fuck that up. You’d really have to work at that buggering things there. Enter my family.
She left each brother or sister and “equal” share of $100,000 or that is $10,000 per family. But each family did not have an equal number of children. My family had the most, at six. Meaning I got 1/6th of $10,000 while an only child, like my spoiled rotten cousin Leslie, got a full $10,000.
Cousin Leslie, one room for his bed, another room for his toys. Oh, you bet there were plenty of hard feelings and bitter recriminations over that fiasco. I put my share into silver. I absolutely guarantee you in writing cousin Leslie had his ten grand snorted up by the end of the month, regardless of which date he received it.
EVENING
This will focus on a cerebral topic, the reason old-timers come here. The Z-S Theory, which states that Lake Okeechobee and the terrain to the north-northwest is the result of a meteor strike is the subject. Most of the idea is based on the observations made last month on a drive though the area. We are not geologists and such, so our approach is, well, probably a mite unorthodox.
There is a question concerning the different heights of the lakes, but I say ignore it. Don’t matter if I shovel dirt to a level up or down, the same bulk of dirt gets moved. I also hesitate to rely on any available charts of the area if there is any chance we can derive independent estimates. You realize, all of this effort is likely to amount to nothing, so why am I bothering? Science, my friend.
Examining some photos we took, I conclude that except for volcanoes, most hills are not symmetrical. And retreating glaciers create drumlins. Any other shape, particularly a crescent, would now give us a jolt, a wake-up call. We have no idea whether anyone has pursued this concept [meteor strikes], nor do we have any idea to find out where to find out.
See this hill in western Samoa. If I knew how far away it was, I feel I could calculate the volume. This is an example, obviously volcanic, it suggests where I would place the two triangles described shortly. The ocean is a better reference point than a lake, but I have to start somewhere.
Our preliminary plan is that a rough idea of the hill volume is good enough. I can match that to the volume of the lake in each case. I’ve proposed that we take photos of the hills, presumed to be crescent-shaped, and pick three of the highest peaks. Then choose the steepest slopes, mirroring the findings left and right. Calculate the “average” volume of each triangle. My thinking is that, according to Playfair, the steepest slopes must be closest to the original shape.
By subtracting any overlap, we can estimate two dimensions of the hill. Now, we are getting somewhere. This is not some funded research project. Just two dudes who may or may not have an interest in the origin of situation.
ADDENDUM
I nailed the bass version of Buckaroo. But only the main melody, not the refrain using minor keys. Change that, five minutes later I got the minor, it is just an Em arpeggio. (Sneaky, Buck.) It is definitely a guitar tune, difficult to play on most any other instrument. I had to cut a couple of corners due to the off-set of the B-string on a guitar. Still, the bass pattern is novel. Can’t think of a single incident where that riff has ever been used on bass.
And, how I love it, the action lends itself to flourishing bass hand motions, which always deeply impresses an audience who is paying attention. Around 30% of my act involves surprising the audience and grabbing stage focus by subtly doing the unexpected. And I’m the pro at making it look like an accident.
Think of it as “chicken-picking” but on the bass. With a plectrum. Can’t be done. It kind of opens a new dimension here, since it looks, well, kind of incredible. What happened was I hit the fast-forward VLC player button instead of play, but thought what the heck. I played it along at the higher speed. Wow, my brain almost became detached watching my left hand grabbing the notes. It reminded me of the bass to “Call Me The Breeze”, but this was country pickin’.
What have I stumbled across here?
Last Laugh
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