Yesteryear
One year ago today: March 9, 2025, save the scraps.
Five years ago today: March 9, 2021, Charla sells the bar.
Nine years ago today: March 9, 2017, rewired and working.
years ago today: March 9, 2017, WIP
Random years ago today: March 9, 2016, I hate TV addicts.
Food. I’m awake, but is my appetite. It’s a beauty of a morning with a light fog off the Gulf. I’m feeling inert, which is better than last day. I have a medley of spuds, sausage, onions, and gravy on the burner and have used up only half my coffee supply. What will become of today? Go get yourself and extra coffee and meet me back here in a few hours.
Meanwhile, let’s check the news feeds for the first time since January. Aha, sure enough the “age verification” Internet crap is nothing more that more surveillance of adults. Some sites want copies of government ID and demanding a matching live image. If you are just now noticing, you are 30 years too late. The true age enforcement is the responsibility of parents, not the government. Welcome to Canada-think, “How can we protect your privacy if you won’t show us any ID?”
Here’s a picture that may show a soon-to-be outlawed activity. Called “balcony power”, it is what it looks like. Folks are rigging them up to ward off the outrageous (and predicted) price increases for electricity. (For an explanation why I did not do this long ago, see addendum.) The contention is these kits are fastened with zip ties and such. The power companies have town councils saying that makes them unsafe in bad weather—but not the flower boxes.
How about those smart glasses JZ and I looked at in the Dadeland Mall last month? Swedish researchers reveal that data sharing is enable by default, and once activated does not turn off once you take off the glasses. Outfits like FaceBookX have demonstrated they accept lawsuits over privacy to be just another business expense, and in any case, just move the snooping overseas. As one of my major suppliers (Adafruit) puts it, the Kenyans are watching you poop.
And what about the rumor that it is possible to see laser disk images under a microscope. That would be a major security flaw, just when I don’t have the energy or equipment to test it. I read some social media, but it’s mostly already-outdated war news. But I agree with the theory that after 3,000 years of data, there is something behind most racial stereotypes.
Six hours later, I’m still feeling inert, neither good or bad, but it’s overall a negative since only improvement will do me any good. The reasoning is simple. I cannot stay this way, period. I undertook to study the claim that cannons defeated castles. But pictures, such as exist, show no walls with holes punched in them, like cannonballs do to armor. This is what I wanted to know more about.
The accounts also talk of days of bombardment to bring down a wall. Looking at diagrams, the thick castle walls were really two outer walls filled with rubble between. Makes sense as this material would absorb the shock. That explains the days it would take to shatter the walls, but that would just create a pile of rubble forming its own obstacles. Accounts of that fighting are harder to find, so I arbitrarily chose a battle to look closer. Malta.
I got few answers except the battle was not decided by cannons. The head Knight did not care about the forts in ruin and ordered a defense of the rubble. The Ottomans seem to have shot down a fortress wall by making a small breach, then firing cannons at an angle into the aggregate behind the breach.
Picture of the day.
India’s “peacock-theme” parliament.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.
Not moving a muscle today, at least kept me stable enough to tinker and putter. I see the dying Democrat bunch in Virginia are attempting to pass a law that guarantees them a massive majority. Some homeless type cut off his own member and committed suicide. There was a time when America would have cared. Only being confined has me bothering with such news stories, but I also got to learn from other documentaries as they came up. I sat still mostly for nine hours, mostly moving only the mouse. Easy, but for me, a dead end. I cannot live like that.
What did I watch? Lots, including a tractor documentary. All the models my neighbor collects were there and during the late 1960s and early 1970s, there were still a lot of these tractors in full operation. I remember seeing them, but never found them anything special, certainly not anything fascinating. It was already well-known by then that only long-established (inherited) farms could be operated at a profit. The rest were really bank-owned.
You have to go to the exhibition to see these tractors, ha-ha, I just have to walk next door. This Farmall is a classic and Howie’s current masterpiece. I learned that most tractors of the day had two pistons. Possibly that was an original design feature that later became limited by war production. I read how John Deere knew this would one day change and had a “secret” department dedicated to more pistons.
The tractor story was indeed interesting from the nearly insane numbers of competitors and how simply from steel to rubber tires changed the industry. (Seems the tires required less fuel to pull a plow.) I learned Allis-Chalmers decided to paint his tractors “Persian orange” after seeing a field of poppies. If I need to check any of this, I just walk out my door fifty steps. One big name was International Harvester and most iconic paint colors stemmed from the 1930s.
The videos also reminded me what I have against farm life, that is, anybody who thinks it is wholesome has never been forced to muck out a barn. Most kids I knew who stayed on the farm would never have made it in the real world anyway. That was the summer I was 18, working on a forestry crew. Let me tell a little more about that. You worked three weeks in and then off for a week.
The rest of the crew were jackpine savages, disgusting people who liked the bush. You already know how the forestry truck dropped us off at a compound seven miles from town. All the rest of the crew got in their cars and drove to the city 50 miles away where they had arrangements, as in apartments, and family.. I had nothing and could not even catch a ride, as the nearest town was the opposite direction. I walked the seven miles and got there after the banks had closed and no place to stay. The cheapest place to stay was just under half my paycheck. It would be nearly another four years before I got a car.
It got cold early that year, and I quit the crew because I did not like living and working with jackpine savages. I had no car, no place to stay, but the government wanted me to cheer that my tax money was supporting the national yacht-racing team.
Some years ago I read, “The Way Back” condensed book about the escapees from Siberia, the ones that walked 600 miles, I forget. Today I found the movie and it is fairly accurate as far as the walking goes. The actors all look alike. And it took no time to find videos of hobbyists with toy airplanes able to deliver flour bombs repeatedly on highly maneuvering ground targets. (The bombs work on a spring and are 3D printed. Folks, these robotics spell the end of the US concept of shock and awe. I watched as rookies using joysticks knocked out tanks and bunkers. True, these were mockups and toys, but I know what I was looking at.
I cannot find my thermometer, but I’m not running a fever. My pulse is a steady 64 bpm for a week now.
ADDENDUM
The savings from solar is a complicated calculation based on estimates different for each household. Your electric bill is part fixed and part variable. If you want service, you cannot avoid the fixed charge. My fixed portion has more than doubled (from $41 to $86) since I got here. That’s how my power was cut off last week—I ran up almost $200 in usage while in the hospital—with only my fridge running.
It is the variable portion that gets most people. That is the only amount you can lower by curbing usage. And my variable is as low as $30 per month. That means no matter how much I might spend on alternatives, I would not save all that much. With
installations costing in the thousands, there is no breakeven point in my lifetime. However, on principle alone, I may look at some of my existing equipment once I feel better. Maybe some yard lighting. Nor can you count on sunlight. SpaceX wants to launch a million satellites, each a mini-data center. It won’t blot out the Sun, but plants the concept.
Today’s trivia. SpaceX already owns about half the nearly 16,400 satellites in orbit. Most, as in 88%) of the satellites are working, the rest are dead and will eventually “de-orbit”. More trivia, FireFox records almost a half-million crash reports per month. While maybe 20% can be written off to cheap Chinese chips, the rest are a subject I know something about—how the chip registers change data. This is called “bit-flipping” or similar by techs who use but don’t understand the process. Looking at the patterns I have a prediction. That almost all the users who experience a bit-flip crash have one thing in common. Single, unattached, geeky males with Ctrl-C Ctrl-V type personalities. You know who you are.
Last Laugh