One year ago today: January 4, 2015, when you are 45 . . .
Five years ago today: January 4, 2011, one bored, shrewd carpenter.
Nine years ago today: January 4, 2007, power chords = finger pains.
Random years ago today: January 4, 2008, Red Lobster pickup techniques . . .
MORNING
There, did you get enough to read y’day? It was raining off and on with the pending cold front, so I guess I got inside to type more than usual. But what is usual, yes, I finally have tendonitis, but mild enough and hopefully caught early. I calculate that I had to type 17.5 million words (avg. 5 letters each) to develop it. So today I’m going to see about building a custom splint. It lets me type without moving my big knuckles.
Here is an example of what I’m talking about. See that space with the warning? That forces the typist to hold his wrists up over the body of the laptop to reach the keys. This is unnatural and I feel the strain immediately. Mark my words, in the future somebody will do a study and announce this hazard.
Or you could take it from me. Unless you know somebody who actually does type more than me who says otherwise. If you do, they are probably lying. I type much more per day than this little blog.
My feed came in with the local meet-ups and once again what a pathetic selection. Below is a list, see if you can pick one for me. On principle alone, I will not attend.
1) Post-holiday Senior’s Dinner (leftovers, y’think?).
2) Intro to speaking Japanese (at a restaurant, duh).
3) Peace through One-ness (one person attending).
4) Mom & Tots playdate (most cerebral offering).
5) All You Can Eat Tacos (only $11.99).
It is curious to see that the on-line dating, queer, and sex groups have infiltrated MeetUp.com. Find your own link, but around a quarter of the ads are for middle-aged marrieds and cheat groups. I never heard of polyamory until it appeared in my e-mail from MeetUp. That sounds like a club that is going somewhere. Then, there’s the Nude Men’s Yoga, for those who find such concepts far less disgusting than I.
NOON
The new rear tire on zee red scooter is slowly leaking air. Face it, the rim or the sidewall seal is damaged or got old on me. Still in possession of the cash budget for the New Year’s trip that did not happen, I had breakfast at McDonald’s. Calories: 560. And started my newest book, “Devil’s Teeth”, concerning the islands off San Francisco Bay. Once again, we have a rich kid author who brags a lot but remains utterly silent on where or how she got the money. This book is about shark taggers, so far, but I’m more interested in the description s of the geography.
Poorly? Yes, the adult size tables have four chairs each, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen four adults in a group at the place. Most often, there is a 20% overweight middle-age balding jock in Bermuda shorts at hogging each entire table, and reeking of dollar store cologne or none at all. The other tables are too low to sit at comfortably, or have ice-cold metal chairs.
There is a section with comfy chairs, but they are in pairs, and have you ever tried to concentrate on a book when there is a stranger beside you squirming, mouth-breathing, and flipping through stacks of random volumes just looking at the pictures? Swallowing his own you-know-what every 30 seconds. Ah, so I’m not the only one who noticed. Libraries--private study cubes only, you numbskulls.
According to George Carlin, Don Ho can sign autographs 3.4 times faster than Efrem Zimbalist Jr. And George Washington’s brother, Lawrence, was the uncle of our country.
I also drew out and tried to make a fancy finger splint. Too complicated. My method was okay, I traced out the shadow of my sore finger on cedar, then used Forstner bits that matched my finger’s three diameters. But it broke at the last minute. So I assembled the pieces and made a simpler contrivance from solid oak. It works, once I figured out to just cut it—my finger doesn’t care about the internal shape of the splint. Only that it works. (I found the store bought models still allowed me to move my finger from the hand joint. My wooden one prevents that. Wait for pictures.)
As stated before, this [Aventura] library has a pathetic research section. Maybe 8 or 10 books and a set of home-grade encyclopedias. And I dare you to find them first try. This day, I read books on Florida’s rivers, low-maintenance lawns, quinoa recipes, fossil-hunting, and a book of lists. Many of those lists were questionable topics, like how to evade a police helicopter, or disappear by using a mail drop. Strange outdated advice, yet the book was just published last year.
And their advice of using a police scanner? Illegal. You can have one at home, but not in a moving vehicle. Instead, rig up a television and tune in to the news helicopter. They regularly broadcast all the information you’ll need to know, including your location, speed, and direction of travel. Oh, and the book also spoke of “codes” you are not supposed to know. Such as “Paging Dr. Brown” at the hospital is a call to security over a violent situation. Also, if you hear a department store do a “time check” over the speaker system, get the hell out of the place. Fast.
NIGHT
A nice chilly evening for cuddling up, except I don’t have a place yet up in the central zone with a nice fireplace. You know, one of the thoughts that regularly comes to mind is how I would survive a severe downturn in the economy. Around here, I’d do no better than the complete klutzes. You see, places like Florida have legal systems that prevent intelligent people from taking fair advantage, unless they also pay their dues. Hence, read some books on “homesteading”, not so much to learn what’s new (not much) but to see what I’d forgotten.
Ah, but can everyone tell you the reason for the Dutch door? I know, I know! It’s so blonde babes with braided tails can lean out the top and show a little Euro-cleavage peeking from a frilly lacy blouse. That’s the answer the guys want to hear. The real reason is so that you can air out the barn without the livestock getting away.
Yes folks, Dutch doors belong on the barn.
Say, there’s another picture of the Lake Placid crater field. I see one more crater that you do. A big one. In the lower right corner. It just isn’t filled with water.
I won’t be cutting anything in half with that pricey but cheap-ass band saw blade I bought at Sears. Which, you ought to know, has a lousy selection in the automotive section. No fuses, no accessories. Or AutoZone, which has piles of fuses, but none of them are the popular 30 Amp. It’s a conspiracy, AutoZone with the 30 Amp fuses and Home Depot with the 60 Watt bulbs. The only other explanation is that everybody in upper management over there wears tin-foil hats, but we just know that could not possibly in a million years be true.
ADDENDUM
I don’t know if it works, but rumor is that the latest tax dodge is that for 75,000 Euros, you can become a diplomat from certain “southern” African nations. No traffic tickets, free invitations everywhere, can’t be prosecuted for most crimes, sounds like a plan.
Last Laugh
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