February 28, 2007

           My car does not have a disk player. You could conclude that I am just not with it, or figure out that I use my Belkin transmitter to play my MP3s through the stereo. I find CDs too bulky for music. I do listen to tapes in heavy traffic, meaning I’ve listened to all my good ones by now. So today I put on two of the most boring tapes in existence.
           One is called “Songs of Whales & Dophins”. In a way, it is entertaining because you can wander away without missing anything. It sounds like a combination of electronic blips, squeaky door hinges, and little dogs barking. Who records this stuff, anyway? Anyway, it was by far the better of the two tapes, both in content and originality.


           A couple of lessons today made me enough cash to take it easy. I was in the shop or riding around most of the time. One of the problems solved was a wireless mouse battery gone dead. Sorry, that is still a $40 service call, folks. Quit buying equipment you don’t understand.
           Just let me glance around here to make sure I’m not being unintentionally hypocritical about that. Is there anything in my place that I don’t know how it works or could not attempt a basic repair? Nope, I can honestly say I can do minor fixes on everything around here, including computers, electronics, musical instruments, vehicles, fixtures and furniture. I could even fix the walls if they fell down. The trick is getting me to do it.
          I also took it easy because I had a restless night. The weather has been extra muggy and I woke up several times last night to increase the A/C. Wallace called to say his daughter in Ft. Lauderdale, recently divorced, has invited him to stay there. If I recall, it is not that far away. I emailed him to send me the address since I live 22 miles closer to Ft. Lauderdale than the last time he visited. It may too far away to commute.

           He is still trying to farm out that dog, Milli, that has cost him a fortune in vet bills. At least he has canceled the $4,000 cruise. Hell, for that kind of money, we should get in the car and drive to Panama first class. There is only a few circumstances where cruise would interest me, such as the $45,000 cruise to the South Pole (Antarctica, actually) or one that I was payed to perform on. Not that I need to be paid to travel, but that I don’t fall for the cruise line mystique since reading the book. That reminds me, didn’t Marion say she wanted to see Orlando around this time? She has been strangely quiet for the past few weeks.
           One of the guitar players who responded late in the game gets good marks for persistence. His name is Jeff, and he is late forties at least. A vocalist who strums, I have already lost track of whether he sent me a list. Is that the guy who does the material that is too new? Anyway, he has taken the time to write so he is now number two if Jane does not get in touch shortly. She’s been out of town a week, so I’m reserving judgment over a few details. Like why did she wait ten days, then show up for an audition pressed for time and the day before leaving town?

           Brian is updated with all this information, except the guitar player because nothing has happened yet. We talked about him continuing to practice. I base this on my experiences that the person in it for the long run has better chances. That is, we cannot wait while he learns two songs a week, but considering the time wasted with false starts, he will eventually be ready. He reports no improvement with his hand.
           We’ve scheduled for next Wednesday, I did not feel up to the trip out there. I told him about the chorus pedal, it is already working fine when played sparingly. It also brightens up bass riffs played above the seventh fret. That is as electronic as I want to go for now. Anna O called to cancel this week’s lesson but extended an invitation to the church event north of Young Circle.

           Anything new today? Yes, I learned that the major cause of bad breath is that a layer of sulphur forms in your mouth. Yeah, that kind of makes sense to me now. I went looking for products that could prevent this, with no luck. Still, sulphur is a chemical and therefore must have some other chemical that neutralizes it. Odd, MS does not like that proper spelling of sulphur, a Latin word. If MS were not so you-know about this type of error, that might have made two new things today.
I made it all the way up by bicycle to Home Depot at Oakwood to discover they do not have any reasonably prices hubs. They have an oddball five port model for sixty bucks, so it looks like I’m heading back to Radio Shack. Later, I went to Home Depot and got a Dynex for $25. Works fine.
           Oh, the other tape. I admit to being musically spoiled, that is, I know original when I hear it. Remember, I lived through Rock and Roll. I don’t care for any music, no matter how technically perfect, if it lacks originality. Think of it like watching a juggler. No matter how talented, the fact is jugglers have been around for too many thousands of years to impress me. Likewise, drippy sweet studio productions don’t make it; give me the whale farts any day. So it was with Gloria Estefan’s “Cuts Both Ways”. I wish she would.

           [Author's note 2016-02-28: I'm saying I do not like Estefan's music.]

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 27, 2007

           Today’s picture was inserted days later. Blogs without pictures are kind of like dodos; even when you’ve never seen one, you’ve seen them all. This is a rack of guitar pedals available. In case your guitar playing kind of sucks, there are thousands of dollars worth of pedals to help you along. I forgot I took this picture because just one such guitar player was about that day.
           Have you ever noticed, there is always one guitar player hanging around the music store pretending he is checking out a guitar? And, I mean he can’t help it, but is impressing all of us in the process? This particular jerk, long grey hair and a sports jacket, waited until somebody else began to play anything, then launched into some obscure blues riff. He did it each time I went to tune a guitar before I bought my Fender, but was disappointed because I had a chromatic tuner.

           The world is divided into two camps, both heavily armed. One has brains, the Mensheviks, and the other has brawn, the Bolsheviks. The lessons of history do not go far enough to explain the difference. You see, brawn is synonymous with stupid. Any departure form this fact is rare and front-page news. Left alone, is there any argument about which is preferable? The stupid, however, have no incentive to leave it alone.
           The stupid possess the gravity of numbers. Look at the Olympics. Is there a category for smart? Look at market surveys. Are any questions weighted by IQ? America has lost the lead permanently by downplaying the seriousness of stupidity. The boomers thought it would last forever; that it would never hit them in their own lifetimes. As long as they bought their offspring college degrees that worked in the past and they could import enough cheap labor to make up the difference, so what?

           The boomers that possess only the mentality to be garbage collectors now have degrees in everything from Engineering to Medicine. Owe this to that peculiar American attitude that lawyers and doctors should be paid a lot of money. Thank Perry Mason and Dr. Kildare, although they could hardly have foreseen their roles combined as a forge for such idiocy. There, I feel much better now.
           Next, I went to the doggie place and ran in cables and cords for the new cubicle. It is around 16 square feet total, but everything is shoe-horned into place, including a small storage shelf. There is just no place left to expand. The shop was full years ago, I must have mentioned this by now.

           Everyone here is still waiting for the first big shipment from the Orient. There is not much else to do, and you know I hesitate to stick around for the less-challenging non-computer parts of the work. The staff certainly likes me, and I made brownie points drilling a couple of holes for power cords in the sewing room.
           I don’t usually take breaks but today I walked west on Kane [Concourse]. There was a coffee shop, I ordered one and got stung for $2.75. Ouch. This would be acceptable if the area was upscale and modern, but it does not even have the mediocrity of Las Olas [Boulevard, in Ft. Lauderdale]. A couple of banks, a few law offices and a few medical offices. No department stores, no entertainment, no fashions. It is unremarkable – and I will now ask for coffee prices before I make that error again.

           By late afternoon, I was tired and went to the library at Hollywood Circle. They have two main sections, Fiction and Non-fiction. The religious material is situated exactly between the two. I needed to relax so I read history books until dark.
           Then over to a service call. Gad, both computers were completely choked up with AOL. They were set to autorun AOL on startup, with all those “apps for retards”. Thus, I could not uninstall AOL, or kill the incessant pop-ups and behind the scenes activities. Even running the computers in safe mode didn’t work. I was there two hours and had to give up due to time. I am not a fan of using msconfig to uncheck the startup menus. One of the more annoying features is that “buddy list”. Like real buddies you grow tired of, once set up you cannot always make them go away.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 26, 2007

           This morning I picked up the new computer at Fred’s and went over to install it at the wig shop. Minor problems with the network, for example the new equipment is USB, the old equipment used RJ-45s. I was an hour late all day, but wait, I can explain.
           The door on the dryer fell open. I put my wet clothes in the dryer and came back here for coffee. When I went back, my clothes were still wet. The door latch popped open just enough to trip the safety mech. Thus, I plugged in more quarters, shoved a heavy chair against that door and went over to the Argentina place for an extra coffee.

           I checked out an “octaver”, a device which drops the bass octave into the deep mud range. It does not seem to have the same guts as a similar model I used twenty years ago. I’m seeking to solve the problem of a distinct increase in treble once I move above the G octave. For clarity, I mean that above that note, my bass becomes inconsistent in the way it handles the wave form. Equalizing does not work well enough, nor does the single preset knob in this foot pedal.

           I also checked out a five string bass, where the extra string in a B below the E, the only arrangement that makes sense to me. These expensive instruments are all full size and also full weight. Part of the reason I got rid of my excellent Peavy bass was the over-balancing of the neck. You had to literally hold the neck up for the entire gig. The only way to counterbalance it was making the body heavier, an even worse option. Oddly, weight is not an issue on bass sounds (I’ll pit my custom Danelectro against almost anything) so you cannot explain to me why they make basses that heavy.

           Find another picture of my Fender Squire here. I’ve been sorting through a steady array of PA systems, and it seems hard to find one that just does the basics. Three equalizers and a volume knob per channel, maybe some reverb. I admit, I have no idea what an effect loop in/out jack is for, but neither does anyone else I’ve ever met. Some units have a combined channel, which must be nothing more than stereo inputs.
           I’m still doing Su Doku puzzles. I’m up to the stage rated “diabolical” in the booklet I bought around six months ago. I rate the book as “non-proofread” because some of the puzzles near the end are un-doable. Although paired triplets still slow me down, I know how to investigate every possibility. The puzzles are wrong and they plainly did not expect many people to get that far. It is still very challenging to take them to that stage, so I’m solving them anyway.

           My research on cholesterol (no, I do not have a cholesterol problem) indicates that brown rice can lower risk. I’m leery of such claims, but I feel non-meat foods at least are not contributors to heart problems. So I buy a big bag without reading the label. What difference does color make? Now I know. It takes 45 minutes just to steam brown rice. It should carry a warning sticker! I’m making up for it by cooking larger quantities at once.
           The extra time waiting for the water to boil let me tackle Lodi, by CC Revival. I never cared for the song, to me it is another ballad of the tough music business. What would television be like, if say, diesel mechanics sang about their tribulations? Or dentists – what if they sang about impacted molars? I was once actually in Lodi to see what was there (see earlier posts). I can understand that nobody wants to be stranded in such a place.

           Taking the song apart to find the dance-beat on the bass, I hear definite guitar riffs. Most people don’t notice them until someone [like me] points them out. It took close to two hours to get a pattern that fits without any clashing root-fifth combinations. I’ve got it all down pat and memorized, and I still don’t like the song. The other tune I’m working with is that “Drift Away”. You want to hear guitar riffs on the bass – listen to the chorus on that. The tune also typifies the major differences between “dancing” music and “listening” music. But for Jane, I would reject this song for dragging on and too slow to keep sober people interested.
           That is it for today. Let’s see if I can liven up the party. Rice is ready! Brown rice is out. It has a more “wheat-like” flavor. No? Okay, let me read your blog so I can compare. Meanwhile, it is already 7:00 PM, dark outside, and no sign of JZ showing up for band practice. It is also unusually hot and humid weather. Plus, remember that nail that was in his front tire two months ago? It still is. I would generally say he is not going to arrive. I may even look to see what is on TV.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 25, 2007

           Dickens called early, he wants to stay closed today for inventory. What did I say months ago? Sure enough, there are some discrepancies as to what was on the shelves and when. I wanted to bar code everything. But that is so much work, I'd want a cut of the action. (An unexpected day off.)

           This means I had time to go get the trailer from behind Fred’s shop and park it outside my door, where I can keep an eye on it. I got several offers on it the first day, but I don’t sell brand new trailers for half-price. This got me off my backside to hook up the security camera and motion detector. On maximum, it just manages to catch anyone who goes past (it is actually parked across the narrow street).

           The unexpected day off found me over at JZ’s. For some reason they wanted him to work today, so he missed practice. I showed up with the guitar and amp, ready to go, but he had to head out the door. None of this would have happened if he had answered his phone. So I turned around and drove back. He volunteered to head out here tomorrow for a practice, but only one in about thirty such promises are for real.

           I suppose I should have practiced all day long, but the French guy across the alley dropped by and we wound up jamming for a couple of hours. Incredible as it seems, he has fallen into the habit of dropping almost every chord that has no singing behind it. When I first met him, he had bought a drum machine and was totally mixing up the beats. I thought it was lack of familiarity with the new machine, but in reality, he has no concept of counting out the beats.
           He knows the French version of a few dozen country songs yet could not tell you who sang the originals or even what the title would be in English. Most of the time I can get it from the melody, but he’s got a collection of tunes that have no counterparts although they follow standard country patterns. The sad part is that we cannot play them because he cannot break the habit of changing chords whenever the vocals change. I showed him the 12-bar blues, something he had never even suspected existed before.
           He’s got enough equipment to play a small gig, but unless he can get over that habit of not playing each measure out, he will never make it. Worse, we lack enough of a common vocabulary to work on a solution. He gets it subconsciously when just playing, but as soon as he begins to sing, dropped chords. This is usually because he starts singing at the wrong place (before the chord plays out the measure). He does not understand how it could be wrong if it fits the guitar part.

           We got through six songs; it was supposed to be eight. It seems he also forgot to write them down. Isn’t it strange how somebody who could not form a band if his life depended on it can naturally sing and play guitar better than I can after a half-lifetime of trying. I hear some dork in the audience asking why, if I’m so bad at it, why don’t I quit trying. Well, sir, do I ask why you don’t give up sex when you are so lousy at it? Gotcha!
           There are a few local clubs I should have checked out since I don’t mind Sunday gigs, but I decided to stay in and make chicken stew. Does anyone remember Paulina? She called again, and the conversation was exasperating again. She denies it, but she intentionally misinterprets everything I say, sentence by sentence. Does the thrift sell mirrors? We don’t sell furniture. Does the thrift sell bookshelves? We don’t sell furniture. Does the thrift sell futons? We don’t sell furniture. Believe me, she can keep this up indefinitely.

           This behavior is not uncommon in divorced women. They view all conversations as entertainment rather than an exchange of information. Thus, they are not assimilating a word you say. Who remembers Sharon Buckner? She’s a gal I tried to date for a few months back in the 90s. Paulina reminds me of Sharon. I’ll describe the single tactic they both use, and you decide what to call it.

           No matter what you say to them, they always repeat it back to you in slightly altered form. At first you think they are doing this to better understand what you just said. Wrong, if you listen closely, they are re-wording what you said in a carefully angled ego-centric fashion.
           It is most similar to those police interrogators in the movies who are constantly trying to trick the suspect into saying the wrong thing. You know, the ones who just don’t realize you are on to them. Or those jerk salesmen who keep saying you agreed to something earlier when you did not. They are constantly trying to trap you into saying something they can take out of context down the line.

           Such people will always find me hard to get along with. I will stop them and go back to what it was I really did say and terminate the conversation if they persist in their little game. With Paulina, this means every second sentence means backing up and repeating the first until she gets it word for word. Without any changes. She could put a stop to this nonsense by not re-wording everything I say, but she appears incapable of any other type of interaction.
           The baloney today was she had asked me if I converted VHS tapes to DVD. Yes, but not right now because my tape decks are worn out. Everything will have to wait until I get new ones. What, I ask you, is so difficult to understand about that? No, I am not “letting down” an innocent customer-victim to whom I have an obligation to perform. No, I will not commit to “a specific time” when I will buy these tape decks. No, I did not say I would “call back when I get them”. No, I didn’t say I “would not do any work until I felt like it”. No, I did not say any given tape was “not important to me”. No, I am not going to have a discussion about how I “expect to run a successful business” if I don’t own the right equipment. This actually went on for at least five minutes over this single topic – 99% of it after I told her “not right now”.
           She also repeats things back in a leading fashion, where you often have to correct several things to her one. You can’t just cut off the conversation because at any given moment she is harboring a half-dozen idiotic misconceptions that you ignore at your own peril. The sad part is, people like her live in a cocoon whereby they surround themselves with a group that is equally neurotic, so none of them mention when she gets out of line. Then they start thinking the world is out of touch. If I thought they wouldn’t go berserk, I’d introduce her to some guitarists and let them feed off each other.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 24, 2007

           It was a glorious day even by Florida standards. I stopped in for a Latino breakfast on Federal Highway and actually put up with the noisy clientele. I biked all the way downtown and then over to Fred’s.
           I can’t say more, it was just one of those mornings that even the tax man can’t take away from you. So that you know, not everything was perfect all round. Let me tell you about the air conditioner at Fred’s, and the system arranged for Florida music. The air conditioner was replaced a couple of days ago. Fred open’s the door this morning to discover the brand new air conditioner is missing, and the old unit was set back in its place. Right there, it was an inside job.
           This is a tale from the trailer court. The landlady, who paid for the new unit, reported the theft to the police. The police wanted the serial number, so she called the installer for said information. The installer says it is not stolen. It was repossessed. Are you with me here? It goes like this.

           The installer puts in the unit, then goes to the landlady’s office for payment later same day. The payment clerk is on holidays. The installer cannot wait until even Monday to be paid – he does not have enough of a margin to allow for that. Welcome to Florida, where a contractor likely does not have the cash float to last through a single weekend. There was no question of credit or ability to pay, only that the bastard could not make it to Monday.
           I am most amused by the hours of work required to swap the two units. It so typifies the situation in Florida. Personal time and effort is not as important as immediate hard cash. It likely cost him more to pull this stunt than to trust an established business for a couple of days.

           A couple came in today for repairs and were quite taken by the toothpick display. It turns out they are members of some committee that is seeking a project “that produces definable results for the community”. I was quick to point out that I was already teaching music to teenagers and that I could handle group classes. The plan now seems to be that they get funding and set up the deal, I will teach the kids to play in a band
.
           To the library, or the Florida version of it. Libraries here are another “community” thing – they discourage you from reading unless you live nearby. I’ve never heard of such a ridiculous attitude until I arrived in Florida. Sure, other places may have the rule, but it is not in the forefront like it is here. You are not allowed to use the index unless you become a member.
           They enforce this rule by making sure you can’t get the information any other way. You must stand in line and get the lazy clerk at the counter to look it up for you. There was an argument going on, some dude had ordered a book a week ago on some lending program. They could not find any record of the book, but they sure found the record that he owed them $8.00 in late fees. That record they had instantly. Now even library fees, once a deterrent, are now a source of revenue.
           I finally said to hell with it and rode over to Guitar Center. They sold me a $100 guitar. A Chinese-made flat-top Squire. The proof is right there that high-quality is now being produced nearly everywhere except the US of A. My estimate that this guitar built in an American factory with maternity leave and safety posters would cost four times as much.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 23, 2007

           I focus on mainly one thing only today, and that is Jane. She showed and had the added bonus of already knowing disappointment from other bands. Good, that means she has no plans to waste time. I get the impression she is going through law school to please somebody else. (Her parents?) Even if so, that is not any of my business,
           She is strong-willed but lacks confidence. This is attributable to youth and I assure you, once she gets the measure of anything, she will be either a leader or a bitch. What’s more, in me she has stumbled across one who puts up with that behavior as long as there is progress. She is a remarkable singer and her guitar needs work. Perfect. It is work I can easily supply.
           Another thing is that she learned a few of the tunes I specified. This makes sense, and I truly appreciate that she bothered, but let me go into it. Even sub-consciously, she wanted to check out anything I could do that might be okay for a single. Sorry, I know better than to do that. – don’t even think I’ll consider a tune you could do better on yourself. Jane is the twelfth musician I’ve contacted since my search began. This is about par, the other eleven were jackasses by and large.

           She strums but requires some basics, which I can teach but a lot will depend on the attitude with which she receives it. Yeah, I know all you guys want to know what she looks like. First, no picture and don’t ask for one yet. She is 5’4” and thirty-ish. She has bright eyes, in fact very bright eyes. A brunette, she tends to be overly-specific about what she wants. She is shy, like I said, and I don’t want any of you tearing this into slivers. She appears unaware of what she has chanced upon here – but nor did I know when I had peaked.
           My bass playing makes guitar players sound good, even lousy guitar players. My ad says so, and Jane stated that had a lot to do with her responding. She has to leave town for a week but I do believe she’ll be back in touch. Why? For openers, you should have seen her face light up like a schoolgirl when we began playing. I watch for that look of disbelief that it is really just the two of us playing. She herself began getting into the (suddenly) catchy beats. Of course, I was quick to point this out.

           [Author's note 2016-01-23: I'll have to read these posts myself, because I have no recollection of Jane. That's a sure sign things went nowhere, but I don't usually outright forget a lady.]

           A new student came in and I have enough extra cash to do something this weekend. The movies, maybe a car trip. I should buy a good used guitar. The landlord at the shop has posted a notice that I have to move the trailer by this weekend. There has got to be room for it around here, so I’ll start looking. I stopped in at Club M and they are still hiring local bands. The G and Club M do not get along, but I feel enough time has passed on that one. Besides, the staff is all new and nobody remembers me. I could not get the price they pay.
           To inject a theme of mystery into my writing, let me tell you about yesterday. I came home and made a pot of coffee. I spent the evening reading the worst book I’ve found in years. “The Redneck Way of Knowledge” by Blanche Boyd. Shows you what happens when boring people get educated. Her family is rich enough that she can still sit around all day smoking dope, which she mentions in every chapter along with drinking. Of course, she absolutely has to keep mentioning that she is a lesbian. No wonder the book only cost 40 cents. And it is self-published.

           The mystery is not the book. It is that I took off my socks and propped my feet up. When I got up this morning, my socks had disappeared. Not anywhere around here. I’ll make it a point to keep you posted on this exciting development. They were black socks, with small deep blue diamond patterns on the legging. I admit, my brother’s socks could crawl away on their own but that is not what happened here. The only clue is that I know exactly where I put them, right beside the step-stool in the Florida room.
           I’ll put in some practice time later today. Does anybody have a Choruser I can borrow? Remind me to ask Fred if he is a member of that wholesale club, since I’ll now likely need a PA in less than two weeks. Some of the tunes on my list do have parts that need at least a resemblance of lead guitar, but for now we’ll just chord over them with the Chorus. Think of it this way, Jane, if it turns out we need a guitarist, I know of at least eleven who are unemployed.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 22, 2007

           [Author's note 2016-02-16: this post seems to be from several sources strung together. The photos are missing, yet I remember posting these photos. Probably, they'll appear on some other day, if I find them, I'll put copies in here. Still, this post seems to have been written in disjointed segments. Since I don't recall the day otherwise, I won't change what's in the post. My suspicion is that I tried to write out this post from a pile of notes I'd jotted during an overly busy day. If so, usually I do a better job.]

           [Author's note 2016-02-22: one of those sources (mentioned above) seems to be this date in 2004. A virtually identical post. Thus, both posts remain until I find the source of the problem. This 2007 post is from a hand-written source, so there is no way it was hand-written twice. And after each key-entry, the original is marked in three ways. A rubber stamp, a set of initials or a date, and a unique colored marker across the contents of the page. You can't copy and paste that, much less the photo links. I hope the original 2007 did not get over-written.]

           Since I mention the guy in this post, here’s a picture of him. Horst Burkhardt Minkofski. “That’s Burkhardt as in Work Hard and I work hard every day”. Now, if by chance you find this, Mr. Minkofski, that does not mean I want you to respond or get in touch. Refer to Carlin, the comedian who hates those high-school lookups on the Internet. Like him, these people should figure out there is a reason you haven't spoken to them in twenty years. That includes you. Don’t call, don’t write, stay out of my life. Mind you, there is a bozo as equally crazy as you around here called the Hippie. Both of you only get educated enough to interpret plain facts the exact opposite of the rest of the world and then wonder why you aren’t in charge.
           This picture was in the mountains just north of the Idaho border. Horst kept trying to find that $200 car he’d get 100,000 miles out of. Consequently his back yard was full of wrecks. You can’t see it, but this car had no hood. We were driving out to visit a gal I’d gone to school with. He bombed out with her. She lived in a trailer with about twenty pet dogs. Her front yard was like minefield.

           Tackling the taxes again. At least I have little to fear from the Alternative Minimum Tax. It would be so easy to cheat, like everybody else, but I can’t see me doing it for such small stakes. My biggest reward this year is another round of what I call tax coincidences. They are certain numbers and conditions that pop up as a result of good planning. Alas, I am not that much further ahead than two years ago, and I am lacking the base of sure thing investments, such as bonds, to assure success. Does anyone remember Horst Minkofski? He used to make the quote that when you have enough money, one percent is a good investment.
           For the newcomers here, I am referring specifically to P81, the investments made since I arrived in Florida in April, 2000. This has come entirely out of my earned income at an hourly rate, supplemented by any “free money” that comes along, such as tax returns. There is a little over $12,000.00 in there, and the total return in three years is $624.26. That’s illusory, because much of it was set up costs and commissions that took a year to breakeven. So my average is still a lousy $300 a month. Mind you, it is better than I was ever able to do elsewhere in higher tax jurisdictions.

           Sure thing investments are what I call bonds. Yes, I’ve heard how the return of inflation will wipe out the middle class and so on, but it does not make immediate sense to me. The investment will always bring in some kind of return, and I don’t see how the logic stands that you would be better off living in debt and having no return at all. Besides, very few are likely to leave their money in bonds if inflation did surpass the bond rate. So don’t be surprised if this year I do what I can to improve the Denny’s fund, the goal of earning $2.00 per day off interest to pay for my coffee every day. For that, I need $12,000 in municipal tax-free bonds, and have only $3,290 in there so far. About enough for the tip.
           My long-term average with tax-free bonds in 5.41% annually, which I figure is pretty damn good. For those who think otherwise, remember, it was me that first called the Beardstown Ladie’s Club a bunch of liars at least six years before they got caught with their phony “we do our homework” crap.
           (Refers to an investment club of housewives in Illinois who claimed to have averaged 23% annual returns over a decade. It turns out it may have been an innocent bookkeeping error, but the point is I rejected the whole thing from the onset. Turned out it was fake, but not before they were on national television.)

           [Author’s note: the Beardstown Ladie’s Club was an investment group that purported to regularly outdo the NYSE for returns. I know they were fudging. In the end it turned out to be an error in the way they were keeping their books. I smelled a rat off the bat where nobody else suspected anything for years. Goes to show you.]

ADDENDUM
           We stand informed that Anna N. Smith’s corpse is beginning to decompose (rot) before the media is finished scraping the bones clean. Tell me, exactly what’s a half-Cuban pseudo-blonde news or weather reporter with silicon tits since last July supposed to do in such a situation? Like, anyway.
           Enough happened today to write out a dozen articles like this (I won’t say blogs). I mean, has anyone but me noticed that when you empty a can of chicken noodle, you always have to scrape more chicken than noodle out of the shell? It is probably pure coincidence, at least between those who don’t believe in specific gravity. Like, anyway.
           I had a minor squawk with the doggie place, to the effect that I do not normally do work where my performance may be questioned moment to moment. I'm not into micro-management. I’m serious about this, for I price my work to take the place of four or five clerical workers. After that, you need to hire someone to keep tabs on them. The fact that I can do all of the work myself comes with the codicil that I like to have a free hand to do it.
           Thanks to Limewire I have a collection of the music I didn’t really care for when it first arrived. For example, “Drift Away” by Dobie Gray. That’s a tune I always thought was called “Gimme The Beat Boys”. Listening to it now I hear a great bass line, very expressive. Its nice, but it ain’t rock and roll.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 21, 2007

           This is an unauthorized photo of the local BK. By that I mean, they frown on pictures in there. A lady walking past noticed my camera and asked if I was a photographer. With some truth I said yes. She was looking to sell some old 35mm cameras. That I could not help with, but she was amazed by the operation of the famous Argus. In the process of showing her the features, this picture turned out.

           The day was not that fast-paced. It was cool for bike riding, and lucky too because the A/C was malfunctioning at the shop. Fred has some new system that translated Euro tapes to a compatible format, I think it is called “DVD Santa”. I’ll have to take a look. A new student signed up today and I had a few inquiries. I get flurries of bad inquiries and this week was usual on that count.
           By bad inquiries, I mean people who have a computer, have been using it the wrong way, but now want a crash course of some feature or software nobody else understands. They lack the skill set to follow computer directions, yet they don’t want to start with basics. They don’t know how to enter information into a required field or download a required file. They just want you to show them what button to push, but don’t have anything like the photographic memories to follow you, nor the vocabulary to write it down.

           The one guy in today had some strange European phone system called Abbey but did not know how to use it. For some reason he could not grasp that wireless only works when you are in range of a transmitter. This is not my clientele, but the ones who want to shortcut to everything they think is neat to do with a computer. They often spend $2,000 on a laptop but don’t want to spend more than $20 for advice. He probably figured I was pretty dumb because I’d never heard of Abbeyphone and I did not know if it “would work in South America”. When I suggested he check their website, I secretly meant maybe he should have done that before buying all that expensive equipment.
           I got a call from Jane, the lady guitar player who disappeared for a few days. I scolded her for that, because I continue to audition when somebody does not follow up. She is a law student, sounds awfully young and was once a piano player. This is the correct background for my needs. Jane is learning guitar because pianos are hard to lug around and she mentioned she has had classical singing lessons. We are scheduled to meet just before noon on Friday.

           Then over to Brian’s. He is just at the stage where our ten earlier sessions are beginning to pay off. More time is always recommended on all the phases, such as the magic beat, the vocal intonations, the essence of each song – things we’ve covered besides just learning the music. From the choppy, irregular vocals of somebody concentrating on fifty things, he has moved to fairly smooth and distinctive presentation of the major songs on our list.
           It is too little too late, however. It is too bad because this is usually the start of the dynamic stage. His hand is healing but not being able to practice guitar means that even if there is 100% recovery now, it would be back to the drawing board to relearn the parts with guitar. He understands I cannot either wait or take a chance on that. He needs around another 150 hours put in on his own, where as I can put a working band together in less than 25 hours.

           I follow the old musicians rule of “practice alone, rehearse with the band”. We know we’ve got a great collection of nearly perfect material for a duo of our caliber. In many ways Brian is now considerably better than the G at certain aspects of playing in a band, that is to say, he is far more employable in a new band because far less of his approach involves being a superb musician. The G hesitates to do anything unfamiliar.
           Speaking of that, the G called while we were practicing. Maybe it gets clearer if I give you an example. He hears Brian and me playing in the background, and asks what that neat song is. Aha! It is actually a song that I spent years trying to get him to at least consider, to no avail. It was always too slow, or too old, or too something, but mainly it was a song somebody else was proposing. Yet, when a far less talented singer begins, it is suddenly a candidate.

           The G is not wrong, but this behavior reveals his viewpoint [and delusion] that the guitarist is the central pivot of a band. (Don't get me wrong, in many bands it is, but never when I am on stage.) He may have lost any compatibility with a situation where this is not the case anymore. There is only one song on my new list that was on the G’s list, and by coincidence it was the only song I wanted that I ever got him learn. “Hey Good Lookin’” by Hank Williams.

           The G could, and often did, claim there are others (songs he learned at my behest) but these empty claims were individually uncovered. In reality, they were tunes that he had previously learned in his career but never got around to playing. Far different that is than true sharing. (I spotted later even that particular new song was not learned, he intentionally held back to claim it as an example of his cooperativeness. But if you play a song you say you have just learned exactly same way twice in a row, you are lying to me. There are people that good, but not around here.)
           We talked about playing together again, something he usually suggests when times are slow. I did not outright say so, but only if he agrees to learn music that downplays the guitar parts, to do away with two-thirds of his lead breaks, and to learn music that sounds better in a duo. Otherwise, as long as he preserves his disruptive "accompanied soloist" mindset, I won’t even let him know which clubs I’ve reached an agreement with. I ain’t that dumb.
           That’s my lecture to any newbies out there who think all you have to do to form a band is buy a guitar and find a few like-minded individuals. The guitar part is easy.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 20, 2007

           I did laboring today, that’s a change. The downside is that it is not the type of labor I like, and yes, I do like some of it. I like the one where you give me a task and go away, not the kind where you stand there, urging me on to work ever faster. It was not like that, but the point is that some people need everything done with a sense of urgency, which can be much the same thing. What makes it interesting enough to mention is that I was moving wigs, around 200 of them.
           The wigs of ages. I mean, that is my guess from the style of printing on the boxes. A month ago I did not know you could bring your wig in for a haircut and shampoo. The plan for today was to make room for other things, which is not easy because the shop is already filled up. While another nook can be found for anything, it is worse than treading water because each move makes something else less accessible.
           I did a couple of minor people-finder moves on the Internet, checking my own files for verification. Sure enough, every place I have ever had a telephone is listed on the Internet, mind you with the fake information I was wise enough to provide at that time. You are dumb if you think it is okay to spread such information around any more, so I won’t waste my time giving you examples to the otherwise. My point is that at no time did the phone company clearly state they would give out this information, I believed it was only to be used to hook up a phone.

           There is group that does covers in Ft. Lauderdale advertising for a bassist. I sent for their song list, but I can already tell they play a whole lot of 1980s and 1990s techno-rock ballads and such. Nothing I would enjoy or recognize. Still, they are a working band according to the ad. If the list is tolerable, I’ll take my chances because I know how little really gets done with “originals”. I can’t even recall the name of the last band I played in that did those.
           Later in the day, I had my first real brush with iPod. Don’t misunderstand, I’ve been using MP3s since day one (I never could figure out why they designed a CD that would hold only the same amount of music as an old LP). Nor is it physically possible to listen to 15,000 songs in a lifetime. I was also reminded why it is practically impossible for most adults to learn anything from a teenager, but that is another story.

           iPod has attempted to automate the process so that even a dummy can operate the system. While this is going on, the user loses the ability to understand what is happening or communicate it in words. iPod has that ridiculous “playlist” feature, but it seems a lot easier to use than the MS counterpart. There is a library, which is a master list of all the tunes, from which each user creates their own individual playlist.
           Myself, I care not for that system. Each user should be in their own file or folder and not even have access or knowledge of the complete library unless designated to do so. Also, playlists allow changes to be made to the titling and other data fields, and in fact they encourage these changes. Anybody who has had to go looking for a file with two names can appreciate my reluctance to use playlists even when they are present.

           This was a typical computer lesson, in that each part often surprises adults who tend to blend activities together in streams toward a goal. The intention was to show an adult how to use Limewire. In no time at all, it was discovered the adult did not know how to search, download, install, locate, move, modify, copy or burn files. If this had not been a regular client, all of those aspects would represent a different and expensive lesson. In some cases, they are unsure of what a file is or how files relate to music on a computer. Most of them do not even know to ask because they have no idea about the different steps involved. They are not a stream of events, they are individual tasks that must be individually mastered.
           Wallace emailed to say he scotched the idea of taking a $4,000 cruise through Panama. He has asked about the distances to Ft. Lauderdale (14 miles to downtown from here) but I’m certain he’ll quickly get over wanting to go there. Except for the beach, there is nothing to do in that town. Same as here, but why pay the higher prices. It’s not like anything is classy up there, unless you consider eating overpriced food to be some kind of worthwhile experience.

           The city council up there is having a big discussion about putting parking meters along the last stretch of beach with free parking. It is so boringly average, the arguments that support the meters. The usual tired ignorance that all other places charge, that the city needs the revenue, that the locals don’t use it. Dumb beyond belief, are they too dense to figure out that they will be chasing away people who would otherwise never go there?
           Worse in my eyes is the fact that only an Englishman cannot stand to leave something alone, constantly seeking ways to gouge others for money to put in a pool. Englishmen love placing money into collective pools, where it becomes up for grabs for those with the biggest sob stories, who invariably are other Englishmen. Pretty soon their entire economy is based on people keeping tabs on each other’s “ability to pay” and the days of Empire are over.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 19, 2007

           Get a load of this handsome model. That is the real thing, a bomber jacket from the last century. It weighs close to ten pounds. They really don’t or can’t make those any more. The hat I think is some London bus driver’s gear. Damian, for some reason, wanted that loud background. This is the type of shot I want for the catablog. On the rack, that jacket brings $40, on the Internet, it brings $60. My cut is $5 but we have this material in tons, not pounds.
           Before another shot, let me tell you about a nasty today. It was undoubtedly an inside job, but some miserable person got hold of one of my client’s web page administrative password. They had help, since nobody who has been around has anything like the skill-set to put this off on their own. They logged onto the web server and deleted the web page. Then, they proceeded to replace it with a message that the page had been shut down for non-payment.

           I’ve never seen this before, but it made sense once it became clear that the web host had not done anything wrong. I was even unaware how to find out which server is hosting your page, but I know all of it can be done with a little practice. For the record, I do not do web pages, that is, I can program the pages and the style sheets, but I have no real idea what is involved in setting up and running a web server. I also know that whoever did that little bit of sabotage could undoubtedly have done a lot worse. It had to be an ex-employee.
           Fixing the propane line spilled over into today and got half the neighbors involved, if only over for a look-see. My propane tank is twice the size of anyone else’s and it is well-known there is usually something interesting (by comparison) going on around my place. Adam’s car got sideswiped. He did not notice it until today. It was red paint which brought a dozen nearby vehicles under suspicion. Until I showed him how to measure the height of the top scar (23 inches) and how this was at least 4 inches over anything that could be made by any of the locals. No, it was a high-axle truck that got him.

           This gave me a chance to point out how between all of us, we’ve lost more than the cost of a good 24 hour security system. I lost my $200 bicycle, for those who may have forgotten about that. The cable TV man threw it in his truck and drove off before I could react. When I called the cable company (Comcast) to complain, they told go to hell. You know all those Internet posts that appeared shortly thereafter explaining to people the real way to steal cable TV and get away with it? Well, I don’t know nothing about that.
           My municipal bond company sent me a tax statement with 100 times the earning stated. This is so typical of the rotten foundation that remains of most American businesses since computerization. Nobody still on staff except the boss has the intellect to check for reasonableness. However, the tendency to operate like banks, with one over-paid manager and everyone else a minimum wage clerk, encourages this brand of error. The boss was out for his three-hour lunch break.
           I really should be reading and studying tonight, but I’m instead getting the popcorn and a good DVD. I think for the heck of it, I’ll go look at time-lapse video recording machines tomorrow, for an excuse to look around BrandsTupid. I really hate that place but they do have great prices and for the most part leave you alone. The G called to tell that the gig for next Saturday is canceled. This was unexpected, usually he does not call with bad news under any circumstances, but he had invited Brian and me over there so it was nice to let us know. This also means that Brian does not get to debut under familiar conditions. The G went to some kind of music festival at the beach, I declined to attend. I’ve never been one who could be entertained by watching other people play music.

           Here’s the second picture promised, look nearby. It is made of Budweiser beer labels. I mean, cloth that has the beer labels printed on it. The matching cap is pure coincidence, it was left at the store by an unrelated party. If you have trouble getting noticed, this should work. The ad copy I’ve written states about this jacket that “no high-school reunion should be without one”.
           Damian reports that some 25 years ago there was a guy who did ads for his shop wearing a bunch of jackets, which he proceeded to take off one-by-one as he plugged his wares. I certainly have no objection to redoing the act. It is kind of funny that Damian cannot grasp that I have never watched TV and may think I’m fooling when I have no idea what he is talking about sometimes.

           The catablog will have around seven simple categories, right there I’ve got eBay beat. At least I understand that “collectables” means a subset of something else. These jpegs are representative of what I’d like to put across. I need a less distracting backdrop. That should be no challenge with the amount of gear around the store. Okay, you talked me into a third photo. This one shows a pair of sunglasses shaped like tiny guitars with the necks crossed. It comes across as wicked eyebrows.
           The jacket has the word “Love” written into the design, white lettering on a blue background. The hat was from the consignment rack. It was a windy day but we had to take the pictures outdoors. Can you see the little guitars in the glasses? Not quite Elton John grade, but so what. This stuff will sell easy in Ft. Lauderdale.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 18, 2007

           With a little help from my neighbor, Adam, I repaired the car. It was a leaking hose, in this case a heater hose. The broken piece was held firmly in place by one of those Ford special spring clamps that require three hands to remove. The repair is temporary, since the hose is also one of those manufactured assemblies that is part rubber and part metal – another brilliant engineering feat.
           This gave me a chance to look over the other parts of the engine. I’m going to have to get my Cadillac back on the road. Driving this Ford is using up borrowed time, although I absolutely love having a station wagon. It is by far the most practical car I’ve ever owned. This is the unit picked up in Tampa on the way to San Diego back in ’03. When my pickup truck blew the head gasket while I was carrying six hundred pounds of toothpicks, but that is another story.

           Here’s another picture of the offending hose part. You can see that the hose had to be cut when nobody could get the spring clamp off. In the end, it was replaced by a proper worm clamp. I accept the malfunction graciously because it is probably more than coincidence that it was a heater hose the once or twice a year that I use the heater. It was a cold and blustery morning, which is why I’m sitting here with a mug of beef stew and typing.
           I bundled up at noon and rode my bike into the Thrift. The day is developing into a wind storm. I also got to model for a series of clothes for sale. Damian was in today and there was a rapid exchange of ideas. One of which was the series of photographs I feel are the correct “catalog/catablog” approach to exactly what we have for sale.

           My ideas involve an entire series of new changes here, but I can back off until they get accepted. For example, not everyone is as convinced as me that catalog sales are larger on average than any other advertising method. I’ve heard two opposing theories, that Dickens likes the store when it is not busy and that he does not care to have the people hanging around. The way I see it, sharing his Internet DSL connection with some rental units would solve the situation. Damian feels the opposite.

           I dropped into a typical chain of bars after work to see what they have for entertainment. Mostly along Dixie Highway, where I made contact with the bar owners along the way and people who keep the gate. Most of the taverns already have a steady group on Fridays. I’m lining up the work in anticipation of a band in the near future. Part of the approach is to make sure anyone I team up with cannot return as a single.
           Let me expand just a tad on that last statement. What I'm saying is I got sick and tired of knocking myself out to get gigs as a duo, then having the guitar player scoop the gig as a solo. This happened three consecutive gigs in a row and to prevent it, the only option I have is to insist the guitar player learn my music. It works because no guitarist sounds as good alone as when I'm on the bass, and it is that total sound I make sure the club owner realizes he won't get with a solo guitarist. It works reasonably well.
           The photos I mentioned with the vintage clothing are hilarious, but you’ll have to return tomorrow to view them. I’m busy and the neighbor is coming over to help me run a new gas line to the propane tank. It is one of those things I prefer to get done before the sun goes down. I’ve decided to go with the propane to be independent of outside sources, I’m sure I’ve said something about this by now. Every time I do this kind of work, I wish I had thrown it all in when I was younger and become an interior house painter. To hell with law and medicine, just be happy.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 17, 2007

         Brrr, cold. As I plied my way downtown wearing a sweater and jacket, I got sidetracked by the annual BTSRP festival. That’s the “Block the Street and Raise Prices” event of downtown Hollywood. Same tired displays, same expensive food, same third-rate entertainment which have one thing in common – they are all from out of town. I’m still trying to figure out what relevance these affairs have any more.
         My mission for the day was to get over to the library and find out what I could about catalog publishing. I got some interesting stats, mainly along the line that they are still one of the best advertising vehicles, and that people tend to place larger orders through a catalog. The book was recent, and indicates that it is possible, by farming the publication over to Asia, to produce excellent issues for as little as fifty cents each.

          That means there is more of a cost incurred in mailing the things than printing them up. A word of caution is that the business amounts to mail-order, and is heavily government regulated. I could not discover if that applied to on-line catalogs, but the point is that I would still have to “mail” whatever was purchased. Unless, as planned, the purpose of the catalog was to draw customers into the store.
          I checked my email to find there is a letter from the G, somewhat apologizing for his comments about my empathy for others. Hey, I’ve always maintained a thick barrier between people suffering and people getting what they deserve, two different animals in my book. He said that Cort’s, the coffee place, is shutting down his open mic. What did I tell you six months ago? The new owners are running the place into the ground. I swear they opened that shop because nobody would hire them.
          Immediately, I contacted Brian, and we’ve agreed to meet up there around 8:30 this evening. Thus, you may get a later entry. The plan is that we are going to try “Act Naturally” even if we wreck the tune and our chances of any employment thereby. I let the G know I’ll show up, but used the opportunity to inform him that if he wants steadier gigs, he might want to team up with somebody who has them. This means changing what he plays. Who knows, losing yet another gig might bring him to that conclusion.

          This is not saying he is not a musician, for he is. The problem is that he is still playing the same note-for-note heavy rock and blue guitar compositions that every other soloist in town has already flogged to death. All of it has grown old. The age of five piece bands is over. My plan is to play the less guitar-based tunes, but still from that era.
          Later. I was there, but the keyboard player and drummer he was expecting did not show. The G has a hard time with the concept that music is something you have to pay people for, even those that do it as a hobby. Danny, the all-originals guy was there but he plays a strange semi-jazz format I cannot follow. I’ve got a half-hour video of him, the G and me playing some great progressions. Beyond that, the evening was dead with very few customers.
         In the unusual department, there was one man who sang real songs, accompanying himself on a “baritone” ukulele that was not tuned. That’s correct. Although he appeared to fret consistent patterns, he did not understand that the instrument could be tuned. He seemed astonished when this was pointed out to him. He may not have been a bad singer, but you couldn’t tell.

          Brian came down with the wife and kid but declined to sing anything at the last moment. He knows he’s got a lot of work to do to get comfortable with our music on stage, but he has come a long way in the past few months. But I can tell he has not been putting in the time. We scheduled another practice for this upcoming Wednesday. There was a decent looking woman there but she left just before we took a break, so no hit.
          My guess is this makes the twentieth time in a row that people did not show up as promised. For clarity, I don’t mean the promises of the musicians, but that the G said it would be a full band. I was the only one, the other few people there were regulars. I used my little DXG to capture some video but without adequate lighting, it is not the greatest unit.
         To put things in perspective, here is a photo of the books that I read through quickly at the library today. I think there are sixteen in this picture. Of course, some bozo will say that I did not really read them all. Care to have a dollar a point challenge on that? You read the same books for the same amount of time, and we ask each other questions about the content. Whenever you are ready.

          I noticed my radiator was low on water. Dang! It was too dark and cold to fix anything, so I made it home on steam. Fords have a very annoying feature where the engine temperature measures the coolant, not the engine. So, if you are out of coolant, the engine can bake while your gauge reads cold. You thought only MS hired magnificent idiots. I’ll check the hoses in the light tomorrow, but does it not seem odd that over the last hundred years that automobile hoses have been exceptionally resistant to any improvements?
          Of course, the Challenger disaster shows that even in the space age, some people persist in making fluid hoses out of material that can crack in the first place. These are the same people who put shoe-polishing machines in the executive washrooms and update public databases.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 16, 2007

           Here’s a good one. When I paid my electric bill today, it came back with a notice that FPL (Florida Power and Light) could now disconnect me for 24 hours minimum if I didn’t pay up. Wow, 24 hours! Does this mean they will rebate me for the three months [2,160 hours] I went without them after the last hurricane, or was that stretch just them softening me up for this newest corporate rip-off tactic? I've never been late on my payment, so this was a needless warning.
           Notice that they will reconnect your power within 24 hours of payment posting. Not 24 hours of when you paid. Clever. That means 24 hours after they get around to posting it. Sounds entirely like something they would do, you know, “We sent it to Postings last week.”
           Cancel today otherwise. I seem to have caught whatever flu Anna O had y’day, except she had it really bad where I got off lucky. (Sore throat, aching head, sour cough.) It brought me to a standstill but only until late afternoon. It is a lost day I can ill-afford but I was able to get downtown.

           Fred closed before I could even hop on my bike, so I went to that Internet place on Young. They soaked me $9.00 for an hour. I made friends with the clerk, hoping he can send me the other people that balk at those rates. It was dark when I headed back. I could not find or think of any place around here to stop for a coffee and that would leave you alone, so I came home. It was quite cold, but nothing compared to standing at a bus stop on 41st and Kingsway.
           Mind you, that is not to say when I am ill, I get as little done as the next guy. Lots happened, I just am not in the mood to tell you. I biked around the late afternoon in the cold wind and did some serious thinking about music. I must stick to an amateur [musical] group despite what I may want professionally. Predictably, I’ve run into many [11] guitar players who seem to assume that makes them both Pharaoh and leader of my band.

           That has not changed in twenty years, which I feel is a holdover from the days when the person who did the [heavily electronic] lead break was second only to the vocalist (at least in their minds). Hence, you had people like Clapton and Hendrix becoming “rock stars” where, in reality, then or now they could not have successfully played the local saloon. [They required full backup bands or intensive studio effects which would bankrupt you [in] today’s small clubs.]
           Bands are like marriage, there is no happy medium. You settle for what you settle for. I’m in trouble because I’m seeking a gifted amateur. In related news, the G sent me a note saying that the gay bar thing in Ft. Lauderdale was a “ruse” to get me to show up at Cort’s. Which is bull, because he did not know that I knew he was back playing there, duh.

           The G insinuated since I did not drive out ten miles to jam for free at a gig that he never told me about, that I had “no heart”. Interestingly, this is the same guy that promised me steady work seven years ago, but never got around to it. (I went out and spent some of my last dollars on the strength of his statement back then.) I informed him that if keeping promises was having a heart, I was light years ahead of him. Pointing out such things [as facts] will not win you the congeniality prize in Florida, where being popular and being right rarely coexist in nature. Although, if I were the G, I would not start any contests on either of those counts.

           I’ve taken a closer look at the cata-blog. (I may call it that because “catalog blog” is hard to say.) I’ll use Saturday morning to investigate what others are doing. The best approach may be to find out if I can arrange a series of blog posts that are linked to their own index, similar to a regular printed catalog. Since I’ve learned to display the blogs in any order, I could have a section of “Past Bargains” that sold. eBay has moved the goalposts. It is a buyers market and things over here have to change. At least I’m thinking in the right direction. Ha, in Florida, at least I’m thinking period!
           Here is a picture of what are often referred to as “family businesses” in Miami. There is a cruel joke going around that they steal the flowers off the graves and sell them in traffic at stop-lights, but I won’t mention anything about it. This enterprising fellow is advertising a clean bathroom, which you can use for $1.00. This picture was taken at “Calle Ocho” last year, a big Latino celebration that blocks off the street with that name for around forty blocks.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

February 15, 2007

           The event wasWiggles. This is the new little dog about to model for the wigs and hairpieces. On the morning, I walked out the back and there was this French-Canadien guy playing and singing Jambalaya. My Francois is more than rusty, but I hauled out the bass and played with him for an hour. Made me late for work.
          He can’t sing a thing in English. He drops a ton of chords. But he is on key and asked if there were any country bars in the vicinity.
           Of all the things, there has never been any exact accounting for the different sizes of doggie wigs, and the consensus is that it was nigh time to go over this. Outwardly it seems dumb that the sizes were ignored, I assure you I did everything within parameters to keep the hairpieces straight. This is not as stupid an oversight as appears, but rather the addressing of a known problem that nobody wanted to solve earlier.

           This is precisely the type of thing that can happen with new products and territories. The original hairpiece orders spelled out the quantities and prices only, and there was only one size of each. Even the pricing structure from the factory reflects this. For some reason, a man [named Dave] has arrived and wants a complete accounting of expenses to date. Why, if only I’d been in charge of that department, I could have made his life far easier.
           What he is asking for could get expensive, since the part I’ve done was never compatible with such reports. I suspect this may be a case of him waiting until all the costs were incurred before deciding to come up with a pro forma [budget]. If so, that is the oldest trick in the book. “You show me which button to push, and I’ll push it for you.”
           A custom made doggie mannequin has arrived, making displays more consistent. This is the item pursued through channels to avoid having to do any business with that pervasive Ali-baba outfit. They may be okay, but I whereas I don’t mind competition, I don’t like places that go out of their way to make it difficult to find the competition. Nor do I like people who incessantly barrage you with advertising because you made one initial inquiry. Good thing I gave them fake information.

           Don’t you love people who use public records for private gain? There was call from Esperian, the credit people. They were demanding, not asking, for information to “update their database which they maintain on all businesses in America”. (Whether you like it or not.) I informed them that I did not want to be on their database. She was non-plussed. The lady, a seasoned liar, tried to redirect the conversation into me revealing my identity.
           No lady, let’s finish what you started about your command that I tell you information about my business. She tried to blur the issue by stating that all the information she was trying to confirm was already available on public records. (Well, lady, use that then and quit bothering people with your phone.) I asked her who had appointed Esperian the custodian of public records. Instead of answer that, she tried to convince me that "her customers", and therefore she, had a “right to know” who I was. Really? A right, you say. I then informed her that anyone requiring “confirmation of such public information” should be asking me, not Esperian. She hung up. I have immense fun doing that to busybodies. I'll have you know.

           Now don’t you try to do the same when they call. You don’t have the experience to defend yourself against such people. They will make out that you are hiding, or paranoid, anything to pry personal profiling information about you, which they resell at a profit without your knowledge or permission. Most everyone is aware of what happens to credit reports and that any mistakes on those reports are nearly impossible to correct. Public information my eye, Esperian is a credit reporting agency. They are slimey. Like Ali-baba.
           Good thing I capped the day with some excellent music lessons. My two students don’t know it yet, but they have nearly ideal complementary skills. Progress will be rapid because they have been shown (not told, as in regular lessons) from the beginning about the advantages of working with other musical people. It is too early to channelize, but I believe that Loran would make the better bass player and Becky the better lead player. However, for now, both learn rhythm.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++