January 31, 2008

           Radio Shack does not sell the correct cantenna parts any more. Looks like I’ll have to find a real electronics store. I need an N Female Chassis adapter. Radio Shack wants to sell me the whole receiver, not just the antenna. eBay wants to sell me a package of six for $20. Time for Radio Shack to change their name to “Overpriced Fad Trash” or something resembling the facts. As for speaker crossovers, they “don’t carry stuff like that any more”. This is a picture of the part I finally located. Made in China. $2.50. Now I can’t find the pigtail.
           The Hot Job board over at the employment place is proving a better source than on-line. They list the same jobs without the standard dodges. For instance, before they post them on the board, the job description has to be complete—not some third party link to an agency. The board also tends to have the rates of pay listed, which is a far better determinant of what the job is worth than you’ll ever get over the Internet. Would you apply for a job where the pay was “To be determined” or “Depending on experience”? I would, but only after all the others didn’t pan out.

           Several of the jobs looked promising, so I picked up the brochure about tips for interviews. Just disgusting. The same stupid advice as ever. Make sure your tie is the “correct width” and men should not wear earrings until “after hired”. The truly sad part is that this information came from Human Resources. Pardon me, but was not the original purpose of Human Resources departments to prevent hiring decisions based on such groundless idiotic criteria as tie width. Hello?
           I ran into my buddy Arnold over there. He usually makes time to see me and we talked for over an hour. Remember y’day I was miffed at the people who wanted all my residency info and such? It turns out they can only ask for the information and cannot refuse service if it is not forthcoming. More Americans should be aware of this. Most federal agencies cannot demand much more than your identification. This ain’t Canada. They’ve agreed to see me on my terms.

           Aha, I finally narrowed down the lady that was causing all the viruses in my shop computers. She, of course, had no clue that she was infecting my machines and they all say the same thing: that they’ve been doing it this way for years so you don’t know what you are talking about. Everything was fine until you came along and nobody had any problem until you touched it. Hmmm, maybe this is Canada.
           On a wild rumor, I met up with Will and we rode over to a pub in Dania, I’ll get the name later. They had a Saturday band that quit to go play elsewhere for more money. Funny how that happens. So there we are sitting in this joint. I order a soda while he can’t drink after chemotherapy. All this is fine except that they the most gorgeous barmaid I’ve ever seen in this part of the planet. Somehow she gathered we were not the biggest tippers. I dropped in later at Jimbo’s to see how the Karaoke people set up now that the big screen TV is in place (for Stupid Bowl). Will got up and sang a tune.

           The trailer box. During my investigations for how to build a box, I came across some South African ideas. My thinking has changed toward building a removable box instead of anything permanent. The plans I looked at show a tent pitched on top of this box, making it high up off the wet and dirty ground. Your gear is kept in a jockey box build over the trailer tongue. Remind me to price out “marine grade plywood”.

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January 30, 2008

           The cantenna. This busy photo shows a number of the steps involved. You can see the antenna hole in the coffee can, a very careful measurement indeed. I have Net Stumbler, software that configures your antenna into a scanner to detect hot spots. Well, it turns out it only works on laptops adapters, such as the card shaped device you see in the center. I’ve removed one antenna from my router to show the plug which I will use a pigtail to fit into the coffee can.
           The French Canadiens are in wonderment at this technology. I’ve explained to them best I’m able that this does not guarantee results. There are too many factors involved to state it will work. The coffee can is painted black. The ridges inside the can distort the signal, but it is hard to find a ridge-less can of the correct dimensions.

           Another great disappointment in the American system. Today I looked into a government program for work assistance. I’ve noticed their ads to help anyone over 30 get a job, so what the heck? Wrong. (Remember, I am a libertarian.) I was utterly shocked by the procedures involved. Their entire gimmick is to get all files updated on any person who has been out of the workforce for even a few years. Then, once your personal details are safely in DC, they get you a minimum wage position (now $6.79 in Florida) hoping somebody will offer you a real job. Before you starve.
           Some examples are the question of every address you have ever lived in Florida, “including any temporary accommodations such as a hotel or motel” and “if your utilities are not included in your rent, what is the name and address of the person to whom the bills are sent”. I don’t know about you, folks, but I don’t get into that level of personal information over a minimum wage job. They do go on about how “one lady got a job that paid $24 an hour”.

           Cowboy Mike called. He’s got a buddy to duplicate his music, but the buddy does not know how to convert MP3s to CD Audio. Don’t laugh, this is quite common. Blame the manufacturers. Most people associate the CD with music, and Mike has a big new truck with a CD player which, you guessed it, plays MP3s. I remastered the CD to contain CDA (CD Audio). I can’t do all the text info such as titles in that format. CD technology is just too old and I never used it that much.

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January 29, 2008

           Curious what this is? Good, because I’ll tell you. It made me a year older but I think I’ve got something barely in any textbook or instruction manual I’ve ever seen. Otherwise I would not have spent six hours running test cables back and forth through this trailer. This appears to be your standard wireless network service scan.
           Look closely, notice the two related networks, Palmetto 10 and Palmetto 15. That’s me. The third network is the mysterious West9037 who nobody around here knows.
           What you cannot see is the half-day required to link up this configuration. This should prove interesting reading even if you hate electronics. My plan is to set up a relay of two antennas to extend the range of the French guy’s wireless service, called “bridged mode”. It should be simple, except there are absolutely no instructions anywhere as to how this is done. So, I’ll tell you how I intend to proceed. Be aware that I have only enabled the wired connection, I have not yet been able to transmit any data.

           My thinking is an amalgamation of sorts. Anyone who has worked with a wireless router has noticed you can pick up the wireless signal from a hardwired computer. I know you can extend wireless coverage by connecting several AP (access points) along an Ethernet cable, I should be able to do the same with two routers. Except, I cannot find any directions to help me out.
           The router companies say the range is 150 feet under ideal conditions. Well, I’ve got some ideal conditions. Line of sight, 62 paces between two unused television antennas. The surplus routers are housed inside empty plastic gallon jugs and the plan is to run them up the poles the instant I establish contact here. I can stare from one IP to the other through the Ethernet but can’t log onto the routers as soon as I go wireless. But I’m close.
           That’s why I was all day running the cables. My question is, if I can 192 it with an Ethernet, why can’t I 192 wirelessly? Okay, just moments later, I got a connection. Was this luck? My entire theory is based on a single phrase found on page 107 of a beginner’s book, stating “Your router can be used as a router within a more complex network of other routers”.

           I got it, I got it, I got it. I am right now looking off-line at the router sitting on the work bench out in the Florida room. The signal decay through the metal walls is already apparent but I know where I can get some used satellite dishes. Now let’s see if I can peer through it backwards. One of the confusing aspects is that the wireless connection automatically tries to log onto the Internet using the default settings.
           So, if I connect either router to an Internet modem, I should have service. That is enough for one day. I am not pleased that, in the end, each step had to be accomplished by trial and error. Not one feature worked as the manufacturer said it would. I am unclear how transmitting two SSIDs will affect anything. Security is another matter, although my computer will be hard-wired so I’ll just disconnect the Ethernet when not in use.

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January 28, 2008

           This is a common sight in South Florida these days. A row of Quebec license plates in the parking lot. These are part of the hundred thousand plus that arrive each year and they are vital to the local economy. It is sometimes neat to watch them struggle with the locals because these Quebecois don’t speak any Spanish, either. One thing, the French women are not predisposed to fatness, like the Spaniards. (The more underdeveloped the country, the more overdeveloped the women.)
           I’ve stumbled across a little company that is growing at 90% per year. They need somebody to break down complicated laboratory and management activities into billable formats. This could be a golden opportunity for me, or if it does not work out, one of those jobs that looks great on a resume. “Increased departmental flowthrough 300%”.

           I’ve run the spreadsheets and much as I need the job, folks, I will not be able to do anything but that job until the end of this November, when it will be five years since I’ve seen home. For the record, an inventory of my postings to this blog shows I’ve got a ways to go. Can you guess the percentage of material I have right here that is not posted? 81%. That is correct, less than 20% of what I have is on the Internet. When I say I have it, that means it is already written, ready to go, but in the wrong format. I just don’t have the time to reformat.
           The bottom line, is to get this amount of material off my optical disks and on to the computer, I will have to publish without the photographs. It is not all fun and games over here. I still can’t find a place for after May. I will likely never be satisfied renting in Florida again but face it, the cities here are on a deliberate campaign to replace trailer parts with more permanent sources of tax revenue.

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January 27, 2008

           Now that the last used book store has disappeared, I’m seen back in Borders and the Barn a lot more often. Even the library with their unfriendly hours can get me some weekdays. Does anyone really know why libraries open at 9:30 in the morning?
           Sadly, no bike trip to report. I’m not well enough and I see we’ve gotten another cold spell. Cowboy Mike was over for a few hours to finish the project of transcribing his original music onto paper. He’s wise enough to know recording it may be good enough for copyright, but not for posterity. If it isn’t written down, it has to be a hit first. We all know what the chances of that are. (If that is hard to follow, think of this. If you sent me an MP3 and a score sheet of your music, guess which one I’d go over.)
           For example, mySpace. It is one of the larger web bandwagons doing the rounds millions of people publishing their profiles and music videos. Some of it is okay but not the music posts. I suppose there is some quality in there if one has a lifetime to start sifting through for it. The majority is very well-made (on computers, that is) and very bad.

           So then I put the telly on for Pudding-Tat and heard some politician. Not Ron Paul, but another one addressing the tax issue. It was scary. Where Ron Paul wants to abolish taxes, this yahoo wants to replace income tax with a 23% “comsumption” tax. Trade one evil for another. In a rare political mood, I’m going to go over a few of my thoughts on that in a moment.
           First, I spent the afternoon doing something I always wanted. I completely customized a bass line to the old Stones tune “This Could Be The Last Time”. Face it, the Stones bass player sucked. I report complete success. The stage presentation no longer requires a guitar, as I can play the lick on bass and capture the entire rhythm chop with just eight notes, including some parts I play “backwards”.
           I’ve often maintained every hit has an essence you can capture on bass, or another instrument. Do that, and the audience knows exactly what you are up to. Where some musicians can only compete by developing a strange fixation on note for note perfection, my method means you don’t even have to pretend to play like the original. Then they want to play the “Zydeco version” but anything except the clone bass line sounds bad to their ears. Want to hear a master get away what I’m describing? Listen to any old Weird Al where he plays accordion.

           The consumption tax. The very concept reflects the deadbeat politician’s viewpoint that taxes are even needed. This tax would sting, because under the present system, most people do not pay 23% of their income in taxes. I know my blended rate is around 17% and I could do even better if I claimed the EIC credit. I consume practically nothing except food and gasoline.
           Furthermore, a federal consumption tax would not replace other non-income taxes already in the system, so get ready for the $4.00 gallon of gas. Furthermore, consumption taxes must necessarily revert back to the old favoritism and tax breaks, which is precisely what is wrong with the old system. The elderly who have no income would have to be exempted or starve. Soon we’d have underage children buying certain things for adults instead of the other way around.
           However, take a closer look at a consumption tax. We’ll soon have another 60,000 pages of tax law. Consumption tax also strongly favors the barter system. This works well for me, but not for most people who, please realize, have nothing whatsoever of value to barter for or with. They would have to relearn their entire way of spending or get soaked through the teeth every place they whip out a credit card.
           Like all such taxes, the government will make an estimate of how much they will collect and quickly find out they are getting many times that amount. This is from their underestimating the size of the underground economy. Do you foolishly think will they lower the 23% to get back to their expectations? Do you think all those trained tax agents are going to give up without a fight?
           Conclusion. All flat taxes, like a consumption tax, cannot be made to work fairly. A tax should be based on some fair distribution or seek to balance where there is an unfair distribution. Flat taxes hurt people with low incomes and favor those with high incomes. The only tax that will work is a 1% annual tax on transfers of wealth above some very high minimum, like $100,000 per year. You give your son a $500,000 house or inheritance, you pay $5,000 in tax.
           Read carefully, I am not proposing to tax wealth, only the transfers of wealth. This means nobody, anywhere, lives well except through his own hard work and entrepreneurial genius in his own lifetime. Of course, this will never happen because the true value of this tax is very hard to understand; you really have to think it through. If you get it in less than a month, you’ve missed the point.

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January 26, 2008

           Yeow, the profits this week just got eaten up by a toner cartridge. Cancel the Sunday bike tour. I would charge people by the page for printing if I had any mechanism to keep track of usage. There are a few customer ones who bring their own paper and think they are saving me money. I had to explain to them the cost associated with that, and further, that my hourly fee is for using the computer. It does not even matter whether you log onto the Internet, my cost is the same.
           I wouldn’t call the day exciting, but I wouldn’t call this whole area that either. It is dead everywhere, so I snapped this picture of a retail store, in this case Office Bunker. The aisles should be full, this is a big shopping day.

           By mid-afternoon I was working on the finest Apple computer I’ve ever used. This skinny dude needed a few hours of fast lessons. As noted at the Apple store a month or so back, it is clear Apple has adopted a lot of the worst aspects of marketing from IBM and Microsoft. Don’t we all just love those IBM ads with the shaved bald half-naked man doing a hand-stand. I mean, just who is the target market for that kind of appeal?
           I know a lot more about Apple than I did. Those units just never make it in for repairs so I haven’t used one in years. I did not even know the browser was called “Safari”. The regular office programs don’t seem as “industrial strength” as the Microsoft counterparts. The keyboard has a toy feel to it. I definitely want one some after I score a job. I also looked into a cantenna since I cannot pick up any useful wireless signals from a hundred feet away. I also need to know if one wireless router can transmit to another or act as a relay station. This is the type of information that is very hard to find on the Internet. The Internet is like 10 million classrooms, all of them teaching only Grade One.

           Other than work, the day kind of got away on me. Nothing to show for all morning, although Cowboy Mike did call and we’ll be finishing up his music transcripts very shortly. The worst part of this flu is I still cannot taste anything. I was at the library for an hour and the place is surrounded by people waving signs. My stance is that politics should be outlawed in modern society. They had banks of pre-teens, far too young to comprehend anything, chanting slogans. Sick, just sick.
           Here’s a gem. A lot of people ask the fair question concerning what it is I have against AT&T. That’s easy. When I first needed a phone, AT&T was the only game in town. I had to fill out a credit application, and it was evident I was not going to get a phone without a two year work history. I made stuff up. AT&T said they had a privacy policy, so no big deal. That history has since been published on the Internet. (No, not just my name, address and phone number.) Now every job interview I go to, I have to explain away that false information. Up yours, AT&T.

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January 25, 2008

           That’s Wallace again, up near Lake Worth. We are heading back from the beach along a path through the dunes. This is typical of the beaches up further north that are not overrun by tourists and sightseers. If I recall, we were the only people on that beach that resembled outsiders. It wasn’t hard to tell as there were fewer than five persons out there that day.
           It’s called learning French the hard way. I notice people with $2500 Toshiba laptops in the laundry room having on-line connection troubles. What I thought would be ten minutes became one of the more intense four hours of computer troubleshooting in my life. It was one of those onion problems, each layer revealing another.
           These are French Canadiens who do not speak one word of English. They even have the French version of Windows. If the following description makes sense, the Geek Squad needs you. One user has a DSL hookup to a Belkin wireless router, which he lets others share. These Belkins are cheap but can be hard to configure. Most people just plug them in and usually they work right out of the box. (Belkins are 192.168.2.1)
           However, they are short range, so everyone had to congregate in the laundry room to get service. They would connect to the SSID (the signal broadcast name) of Belkin. The problem began when somebody else nearby bought the same model of router. Now there were two Belkins with the same SSID on the same channel. Try to imagine a room full of no-techs babbling in mass confusion and hopelessly getting nowhere. You are in Ottawa.
           The first thing I do is change the SSID to “soleil2008”, meaning “sunshine2008”. Most of the users had to be re-taught how to connect, only to learn they had, over time, configured things wrongly using the other Belkin. Also, Belkin, I don’t appreciate your routers developing connectivity problems when I do something simple like make that change. What’s more, the Belkin cannot open web pages if you enable WEP. The good news is I have some new allies in the French community.

           Note: for techs only. When you connect DSL modem to a router, the modem “Internet” LED may stop working. This is not line problem, but because the modem must generally be placed in bridge mode to transmit through to the router. If the router is getting traffic, you are okay. Remember for all PPPoE service, it is the router that must contain your phone company account name and password—and you must remove that information from your (Westel) modem by resetting it. Got that?

           It was over to the dollar store to stock up on supplies for Pudding-Tat. I found out the other day this park does not allow pets. I assumed that meant everyone else except me. The nickname for this trailer is “The Fortress of Solitude”. That distant rumble of the bulldozer is getting a little louder each day. That babe that likes me was working, what a total hottie. She’s around five-nine and weighs maybe 104. She has a boyfriend. It is agony, because she likes me so well that she doesn’t have her guard up around me like with the others who stare at her.
           This flu has shown that it is going to persist but I threw the party at Jimbo’s again. All should keep in mind that is not a steady Friday thing, just an alternative to doing anything else in this town. Trust me, the crowds are no better or well-behaved anywhere else. I’m up $55 for the evening and another weekend trip is sounding great.

           [Author's note 2016-01-28: Here is the same picture as above, now benefiting from better photo correction software.]

           Guitar Tony showed up and I take the opportunity to record an indirect compliment. As he entered the door, the whole place saw it. He looked at me, then over to the front. It was clear from the music heard outside, he was expecting to see a whole band and was shocked it was all just me by myself. End of compliment.
           Little Jo and Harpman Garry were in and we did an excellent four piece blues solo, “The World According to Jimbo’s”. Tony caught on that you can’t do a standard blues number at Jimbo’s or you wind up being a conductor. You have to let the harmonica player go steady until he’s tired, then let the next instrument take over, bearing in mind as a guitarist, you may never get a turn. He also expressed surprise that all of us knew the original keys (for old blues is piano music and predominantly in the key of C).

           The good news is that while he’s never seen a show like mine, he’s figured out it is perfectly good entertainment for most people I said “most”. He also knows he could never pull it off using just a guitar, so that issue is resolved. When he saw the essence of my showmanship was to make the recordings sound as live as possible, he began to noodle along. By the end of the hour, he was sold on this presentation, that is, he likes to play along in this manner. (His country riffs sound awful bluesy.) He knows people on the beach and says he can get gigs over there. We shall see.
           For the record, I have limited experience (eight months) as a solo performer. Tonight taught me not to play having any type of illness. It is busy up there, running three foot pedals, four microphones, a PA system, playing bass plus operating the lo-hat, fielding the crowd and now trying to remember song words. Yeah, a little busy. I went in tonight so as to meet up with this Tony dude. If you think I’m a wimp, why not audition for my part? First you stand on one foot for eight minutes with a ten pound weight around your neck. Then I’ll give you something to cry about.

ADDENDUM
           A few months ago this destitute guy came in and needed something on the computer, so I helped him out, no charge. I forget what it even was, but it was trouble with the authorities. Anyway, he’s back on his feet, running a construction crew and he came in and gave me $100. Karma?

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January 24, 2008

           This is Wallace at Hooters around a year ago. When something happens in this nothing town, I’ll get a newer picture. Meanwhile, Wallace is outside the Hooters at the gambling casino. We didn’t go it in. We were on a tour of the place only.
           It would be safe to say Jimbo’s is on the music map of this town. A group I’ve heard about, “Fired Up” came in and did a great show last evening. I got the call and went to hear them. Pretty tight. They gave no notice and didn’t advertise so all they got was the regulars. They were the right volume and show for the club, however. That makes Jimbo’s, as far as I know, the only local club with entertainment three nights per week.

           Besides, I had to get out of the house. Mike at the shop also got the bug, so he was out sick today. Sure enough, I will have to hook up a third computer, I had to wait around myself for a turn today. I’ve got around five steady customers, which makes me the most popular Internet café in town except for out on the beach. Those five are enough to make me a profit.
           One day this town will get into the computer era. They still have not learned that the telephone is not a good way to give out an email addy. It took three tries to send an attachment because the people in Ft. Lauderdale gave me “tiral”, then “tirazo” and finally “tirado”. When I tried to spell it phonetically, it threw them off base so badly I had to quit that. Literally, when I began, “T as in Tango” those people had no idea what I meant, they could not follow. Unbelievably stupid people who cannot understand why you don’t respect them. They originally wanted a fax. Primitive savages.

           To unwind, it was over to Borders until past 8:00 p.m. They have completed the new coffee area but strangely, they’ve made it worse. Fewer larger tables and no counter. It’s like the Denny’s Diner of bookstores. Each large table taken up by one person and no place for others to sit unless they share. I know I don’t like to share a table when I’m reading, mainly because too many others have annoying and distracting habits, like eating potato chips or constantly scratching. Luckily, I got a chair right away.
           Nano-technology. They’ve built a $7,000 bike frame that is ten times stronger than steel. The weight was not mentioned. It is a nearly see-through set of pipes, confirming my guess that my space elevator does not have to be a solid building. A critical point was a single phrase indicating that when there is a stress or crack, this new material does not begin to transfer the weakness to adjacent cells like metal will. That also means it has no “give”.

           I found an article on KIVA. This is the place that lets you be the banker on your computer. It is based on the fact that in most of the world, $25 is a lot of money. You actually lend out these small amounts in the Third World. I’m interested because I believe that market is huge. I first heard about it in India around ten years ago. Today’s report said there was a 99.7% repayment rate, but gave no information on how to go about things. Maybe I’ll just google it tomorrow, much as I’ve come to despise Internet search engines.
           It is unconfirmed, but I may have received a request from Brother corporation to remove the stinging review I gave them over their “tech support” fiasco. Even if the email is authenticated tomorrow, forget it. My readership is now in the thousands and the Internet has long needed a truthful and trusted reporter of these matters. (When I meet him, I’ll get his autograph.) I see a day in the near future where I can cost these corporations big for the slightest attempt to pull a stunt like that.

           That’s all for now, except there is some flurry of activity at the coast. Possibly those long awaited pension documents or more lost transcripts. Both or either will make my day. I’ve decided to get a steady job again before making the slightest decisions about that pension money. I’ve had trouble re-adapting to work hours after long breaks before. Say, let me figure for a moment. Yes, this is the second longest work break I’ve ever taken. Over three years now.
           I am informed my report on that pension has some people thinking I’m almost retired. Not at all, it is just that I started planning for my retirement when I was 26, so I am well-versed in the things most people associate with later in life. I plan so far ahead that it just seems odd sometimes. But when I eventually turn 60, I’ll be sure to let you know.

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January 23, 2008

           Pardon if you’ve seen this photo already. Jpegs are not tracked by my filing system, and this is just a filler picture for the day. This is the Young Hotel downtown. some people want it preserved as a landmark. Others want it torn down as an immigrant labor sweatshop and eyesore. The fanciful wall paintings of what went on in hotel rooms caught my photographer’s eye.
           I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that I can get my full pension at 60 regardless of years of service. That’s a long time from now so I have to decide whether or not to wait. The bad news is the individual payments may have been reduced. I think I will wait, based on some hard numbers that finally became available today.

           When you read your company pension or Social Security, make sure you understand that the amount they project you will get is “based on continued earnings at the same rate of pay until your normal retirement age”. It is not the amount you get if you quit working today. I spotted that in my early twenties and calculated it through. But I also calculated that it was the money you put in first that paid off, and was thus able to find the date on which I could quit work and still get most of my pension. That date was just 15.1 years into the future at that time.
           So yes, folks, I’ve only worked 14 years in my life at what you’d call a job. My thinking at the time was let the others slave away their lives in that office. I had also shown that I would get almost as much as people who worked at the company 44 years. They scoffed, but it looks like I was right. What they spent on their houses, I spent seeing the world. I’m not going to state what I’ll be making, but I can now buy a house any time I want. I wonder if the others can still see the world?

           One interesting figure is the difference between what I will get and what I would have got if I worked through to this day. A lousy $154 per month. For that some people will listen to an alarm clock ring five days a week? Don’t get me wrong, I’m no millionaire. But Colorado is beginning to sound pretty nice. You see, I don’t have to save up for the future any more. And, that pension cannot be touched by any American agency.
           Wait, there’s more. It turns out there are 28 different ways to arrange for this pension and I believe it is wise to decide now. Put another way, I believe it foolish to leave the decision until the last minute like some people do. Rather than try to sort it out over the phone, I’ve asked them to send the formulas to Everett so Marion and I can figure things out from there, years in advance.

           Wait, there’s even more. Since Robyn and I were together more than six months, we became legally married in the USA. That’s the law in Washington State. Even though we never registered [as a dependent], she was listed as a dependent on my medical insurance. Nobody in Olympia would buy the story that she was my daughter, born when I was twelve—but it was worth a try. (If she was my daughter, I would not have to spend a thousand bucks to get her off my medical. It's the rules they have.) I’ll be filing for divorce later this afternoon. Do you have any idea what she would have got if I had croaked?


          [Author's note 2016: in the end we did not divorce until much later. I simply changed my beneficiary. I would not mind her having the money if she stayed single, but I do not subsidize other men any more than they subsidize me.]

           Later. I ran more numbers forward and backward. Here’s a peek at my original perspective. In my twenties, I noticed people were not really buying houses as much as they were buying what they believed to be security for their old age. Rusty and I bought our first house when I was 21, but it was an investment. That investment eventually bought this trailer. That, peeps, is planning ahead.

           I also noticed that owning a house ties you down. Badly. I began to think of real estate as one massive con job. It seems the two million people whose property was foreclosed in the past year may suddenly agree with me. And you ain’t seen nothing yet. I listened to so many years of bragging about houses “going up” that I can’t hear the complaining as prices fall.
           Much later. I will be getting almost everything I calculated. You don't know this, but at the time I did the original calculations, I was the ONLY person in the phone company who knew how to work a spreadsheet. I had calculated that under their existing rules, I would have almost as much pension if I quit after 15 years than if I stayed there the full 44 years and became one of their asswipe monkeys. (They've since changed the rules, but I was right.) I will be getting just $154 less per month than the top paid workers who wasted a lifetime over there. I lost a few battles, but I think I won the war.

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January 22, 2008

           This is a photo for the guitar player who just cannot make up his mind. I believe this shows just about everything you can do to make a guitar sound like something it is not. Eventually they should come out with a distortion sound for every rock band. Then you would just buy a pedal called what ever snappy name is on the charts this week. There is one pedal that is worthwhile, called the Choruser. Because I use it.
           I was home all day, but not all evening. Yes, my Brother printer crapped out and I got into a woeful argument with them when they tried to get my private unpublished no-call-listed phone number before they’d give me any tech support. My column will cost them dearly – did I mention that some of the upper management of epinions are started to classify my work as “most helpful”, the second highest rating. Almost impossible for a newcomer to achieve.

           Today’s no-brainer award goes to the Vick’s Formula 44 people. The recommended dosage is one tablespoon. But you know that little plastic cuplet they give you? It is marked in milliliters. Yes, I know I said cough medicine does not work on me, but I mean because it does not stop me from coughing. I don’t know that it would not be worse if I didn’t take any. I’ve lost all sense of taste. I doubt there will be a gig this Friday (remind me to call the Gibson guy).
           This medicine was important, because I got out to see “Untraceable”, a guest movie at the Aventura Mall. A little sweet-talk got me into the press section even though the place was full. Sweet talk, you, like want a sample? How about this, “No, little lady, but I’ve got one hell of a blog.”

           The movie has a novel theme, a psycho rigs people up to die on-line based on how many people log onto the web page. He first kills a cat by luring it with some milk onto a hotplate covered with sticky paper. As more people log on, the plate gets hotter. However, the movie is basically ho-hum and predictable after the first half-hour. There are no big stars or good-looking actors, and somebody should give Hollywood the heads-up that the middle-aged lady detective with a kid angle is sorely overworked.
           Once it hits TV, it is worth your time. The movie tends to prey on what adults don’t know about the Internet, which has the opposite effect on those that do. One thing, I recognized plenty of scenes from Portland. If you see it, yes, Portland really does have that many bridges across the Columbia. Every mile.

           In a turn of events, you’ve heard me mention the petition business Fred runs? It is pretty flakey because sometimes there are no causes and the work dries up. This lady came in and has negotiated the right to conduct the petitions inside the courthouses. I immediately grabbed first dibs, if more petitions arrive, I get that prime location exclusively. Trust me, when I wear a suit and tie, people will sign anything I hand them. More information: the lady is a senior petition worker who makes up to two grand a week at it. I’d be satisfied with half that.
           Speaking of court, I’ve finished the basic research on Small Claims. No doubt that system is as corrupt as the rest of Florida, plus they have raised the filing fee to $256. That is deliberately unreasonable. Edna still wants to fight the zoning and such, I have no such intention. What I’d like is several people to pitch in and have Adam go to court with us as his witnesses. I will show them how to rehearse the procedure.
           It should take just three people to testify that none of us got a fair settlement. If the court is generous and pays that one, it is a signal for all the rest of use to invest the $256 and sue as well. SunVest is probably smart enough to cave. I believe the contract everybody signed can be voided using the defense of economic duress. Nothing was negotiated, most people arrived home to find a “take it or leave it” notice pinned to their door.

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January 21, 2008

           Here’s a photo of where JZ grew up. This is the house that took us three months to paint back in 2004. Mind you, we only worked on weekends. This is looking west from the ocean and I should point out this is only ¼ the size of the really big mansions in the same area. The place requires gardener to drop by weekly. This is a satellite photo called “birdseye” taken from a web page that lists the locations of radar speed traps via the Internet and GPS. Hey, JZ, I can see that spot you missed.

           Legal matters took the day, things are moving slowly. I am considering filing in Small Claims Court for an extra $5,000 relocation costs. This is after I found out that the city has a zoning law that says it is a minimum of $10,000. The trailer has been rezoned, so that clause would apply. Depending on how it is worded, is it a payment or a reimbursement? Florida can be bad for laws that “exempt” parties with material interests.

           I have to stay below the limit of $5,000 but I’ve also heard it can cost up to $250 to file the action. I’ll have to look that up. Edna, head of the tenants committee, dropped by, but she is giving herself high blood pressure from taking on City Hall. No, no, this is the time for discreet tactics. My guess is they will bulldoze the place rapidly after the deadline to both lower their taxes and scatter the tenants from forming any united front. That’s what I would do, but I would also have paid a fair price.
           Edna is okay, but she is easy to throw off course. Plainly that is what all the lawyers and city people have spotted and they do it to her all the time. She’s convinced every issue is big and complicated. They may get their chance to try that with me, because I am now acting only as a tenant, not as an owner.

           Wouldn’t you know it? Just weeks after I retired one computer at the shop, I start getting the extra clientele. I’ll rig up the old $150 unit from the Thrift, since the majority of my customers just want to surf and check email. Dickens was going to drop in, but I’ll wager things got too busy. That’s the thing about being married—the tiniest task becomes a major operation.
           This flu is unmerciful but I did get out of the house and into the shop all afternoon. Face it, no known brand of cough medicine works on me. I’m one of those recalcitrant types that keeps bucking the pharmaceutical system. That is correct, no cough syrup has any effect on me whatsoever.

           I will never own another Brother printer, they have become as bad as HPs. Hundreds of files installed instead of one simple file that operates the printer. This time, I uninstalled an unused program (Nitro) that had nothing to do with my printer, and now the scanner won’t work. “Cannot communicate with TWAIN device”. Even a complete uninstall and reinstall does not get it back. It is strange they still build a printer that can even have this problem. It’s software because the mechanical scan button still creates those useless bitmaps. I’ve always maintained the drivers should be built into the printer, not installed on your computer.
           Another bad investment is those IBM Thinkpad notebooks if you are trying to get any serious work done. Mike lent me one and I was ready to throw it in the trash. Those touchpads have never worked right. Double-clicking can easily move the cursor to the wrong command between clicks. Hovering over anything is the same as activating it. I lost my work twice just by moving the cursor out of my way and accidentally parking it on some command. It is hard to select or drag and drop. The worst aspect of all these features, plainly designed for no-minds, is that you cannot easily disable them. Yes, there are ways around all of it, but I said “serious work”.

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January 20, 2008

           This is JZ at a sushi bar. Except for taking the picture, you don’t see me near those things. Let’s see, we got raw squid with seaweed, deadly pufferfish with shark belly, and for desert poison sea cucumber. I will admit to eating sushi once in Tarzana, California in 1991. See it dint bodther me nun. They say this sushi tradition dates back to 660 B.C. (I personally attest that most of the food tastes like it.) It’s enough to make you want to bomb Pearl Harbor.
           Cancel Boynton Beach. I’m down with the flu and it is raining hard. Deep chest congestion, I even stood on my head for 4 minutes at a time to clear the tubes. I could not sleep well so I used the time to transcribe my hand-written adventures from Thailand during late 1984. Will I even be able to post some of those early dates? I’ll figure something out. I like that saying, “Treason is a question of dates.”

           Pictures of that era will be rare until I get enough cash to have a ton of personal effects taken out of storage back home. The “guitar” referred to many times was a small size bass, sometimes called a “kiddie bass” I took with me overseas. Take about an icebreaker, I quickly met every guitarist in every town. I used to get a few jokes about it [being so small] until people heard the sound. It was these trips overseas that convinced me most guitarists cannot play anything except the blues and that they cannot do anything the same way twice, a highly suspect situation.
           I learned the few covers that Guitar Johnny does. He is so totally left coast, did I mention last Friday he almost didn’t think we could jam because “nobody brought a drum machine”? And I spent five minutes learning “Red House”, which is what it’s worth. I looked at one of those Hohner basses, with the strings on backwards and almost no body. It the thing played upright? Considering what they cost, it may be while before I find out.

           Later, I did a run for medicine and found the whole area crowded with people. What is going on? Hundreds of people in the stores. Pharmacy sections are an excellent determinant of supply and demand. I bought cough medicine, but far more people around me must have winter itch, sore feet, acid reflux, lower back pain and bloodshot eyes. Statistically, one in six has some condition they are unaware of in type and seriousness. Just how much medicine do some people have to take before they realize God is telling them something?
           Anything else important this week? Yes, I did get a call back from the Accountemps people, who are very interested in the fact that I teach accounting and computers. The questions were positive. They understand I do not do clerical work, something I’ve got a thousand excuses about. How about this one? When you do can do something in five minutes that takes them an hour, they only want to pay you for the five minutes.

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January 19, 2008

           Something new has grabbed my interest, but I cannot find any really detailed information about the subject. Nano-technology. I’ve mentioned it but I’d like to know more about the process, or to acquire a piece of this as raw material. Most intriguing is the TV reports of a “space elevator” that is now feasible because they say this carbon material is 100 times stronger than steel and one-sixth the weight. Does that translate into a tower 600 times higher? If the Eiffel Tower is 1,000 feet high, for 600,000 feet, that means over 113 miles.
           There is an adage that outer space is only an hour away if you could drive straight up. I hope I live to see it. They say what makes the shuttle exhaust so hot is that it is really burning bales of $1,000-dollar bills. Trust me, they are not going to be allowing any college dropouts and welfare cases to immigrate to Mars in case some refuse to see that coming. The people preparing to leave know that Earth can’t be fixed.

           Here’s speculation. My guess is this elevator will have three towers (triangular), to continually work the counter-weight system, two at a time while the spare undergoes maintenance. I say the "single thread" projects are wrong because of the danger of collateral damage. The tower base has to be capable of retracting the cable from it's theoretical center of gravity. The base of something that tall has to be large, like a pyramid, but a full size pyramid is not needed. First, there will be a large triangular pyramid base 8 miles high. On top of that to another 28 miles, a series of geodesic dome-like frameworks. Then, the next 15 miles, the towers will be stayed with nano-cables, thereafter above most of the atmosphere, free standing but rigid because they are interlocked with a lattice, not shown.
           Whatever is atop these towers gains orbital velocity from the Earth’s momentum on the journey up, eliminating the first two rocket stages. Working continually like a pump, the prototype will raise 1.4 million tons per cycle from the base in Texas. Later technology will slingshot payloads to escape velocity, but initially the job will still involve chemical rockets, which will become very cheap once they use ordinary kerosene and compressed air. I’m no engineer, but the rules must still be obeyed. Bear in mind, my diagram is two-dimensional for I’m no artist either.

           The tour tomorrow will be called off if I don’t shake this flu. Head, throat, upper chest. I optimistically went shopping for the sandwich supplies, where I ran into Maude. Remember Maude, wants me to meet her husband? She’s be great alone in an advanced state of nudity but otherwise, I’d rather avoid the whole “loved her, hated him” scenario. I stayed home near the coffee pot and lots of chicken soup. It does not get more exciting today, so only read on if you must. Oh, and congratulations to the Chloraseptic people for devising a container for their sore throat strips that lets moisture ruin the product while it is still in the foil wrapping.
           This next Monday afternoon, I do believe I’ll be joining a workforce placement service. I would really rather avoid any type of management job but those are the only offers I’m getting. If I wanted to manage, I’d start my own shop. However, I remember getting plenty of help over at the workforce department in early 2005 and I honestly believe I’m a lot more qualified by far than any of the people I saw in their meetings. Some of them looked like they’d have trouble figuring out a parking meter. It is worth a shot since all the same supervisors are still there and they get paid by the placement.

           You know what I have against management jobs? Easy, because like clerical work, it never ends, never progresses, never gets better, and the challenges are not work but the ever shorter deadlines the other manager’s cook up as long as they don’t have to do the job themselves.
           Not to waste the unexpected break, I used the day to listen to music. I have a theory why I don’t know Hendrix’s “Red House”. Because you have to be totally blasted and vegetate to get through that four minutes and I never did do drugs. It is neither rock nor blues but without a little chemical assistance, it is a real judgment call whether it contains the best or worst of both. To me, it drones on. To paraphrase U. S. Grant, “I only know two Hendrix songs. One of them is “Hey Joe” and the other one isn’t.”

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January 18, 2008

           This is one of those “what-is-it?” pictures. That’s my neighbor, Adam, holding a piece of musical equipment. However, it has been modified based on field experience. It is impossible to guess what it is from this picture but I thought I’d give you a chance to try. Imagine that it is solving a problem I’ve mentioned before.
           It is a good thing there is plenty of flexibility built into my way of operating, because Florida did everything it could today to slow me down. It doesn’t take long to spot that being efficient bothers the locals most where you have successfully sidestepped their interference. Determined not to get sold another bogus battery volume pedal, I did some extremely careful shopping. There are a whole array of products labeled volume pedals which are no such thing, particularly this Yamaha pedal that plugs into a keyboard using a standard phono plug, but which works only on that instrument.

           I decided on an Ernie Ball which is vastly better than what I had before. It was pricey at $101. It has a metal case and does the job. While loading up for the gig, I spotted Guitar Johnny’s Roland cube amp. He’d left it in my car! [Exclamation mine, as this is a big deal for a musician, you know.) It blended in perfectly with my equipment. He’s so new in town nobody knows him and he’d never find his own way back to Jimbo’s. Thinking fast, I dropped in at Jake’s, Wiley’s, Blarney, Moonshadow, Boston Johnny’s and all the places on Harrison, leaving messages for “anyone who looks like they just got in from California”. It worked, and he walked into Jimbo’s at 11:00 tonight.
           At which point he promptly hits on every gal in the place, including the owner. I dispel any false hopes, she told him he was welcome to come back and play guitar any time—with me. He still plays a lot of “original rock and roll”, but like the blues, if it is really original, how come I can follow it? Just kidding. Like all groups I’ve started in my life, and now my group of one, old country music eventually becomes a big factor. Don’t get me wrong, I pretty much hate country and spent a lot of time finding the exceptions. My repertoire is now 49% country despite efforts to hold it at 40%.

          [Author's note 2017: Guitar Johnny is the same person as California Johnny. He disappeared after receiving a huge lump sum of government money for his war injuries.]

           We did a major one hour jam. He has to fly back to California for a few months but he wants to learn my material when he returns. He says he’s never seen a bass player like me, but I tend to hear that a lot from people who bother to shut up long enough to listen to what I do. Tony, the Gibson guy, came down with a major head cold and he was just too rough to even drop by. It was so dead, during a break, we walked up to Boston Johnny’s for a look. (Turns out they are the ones who recognized Guitar Johnny and sent him over.) It was dead there too.
           That thing used for holding a harmonica around your neck, which I call a “cradle” is now called a “harmonica holder”, it costs $15 and doesn’t have any instructions. This would not be bad except for the fact that there are at least four different ways a harmonica can be clipped into the device. Only the computer era could come up with a no-brainer like that.

           I’ve gotten a few more compliments for both my singing (never thought that would happen) and the evolution of my little musical adventure. It was pretty shaky eight months ago but things have changed out of all recognition, my act totally focuses around bass lines. Guitar Johnny realized that any lead breaks he does have to be added in. Karaoke is still foreign to me, if only because the teleprompter is often badly located, forcing one to sing toward itself rather than the audience. The market for what I do is small, but untapped. Last evening I even got a request for “Running Bear”.
           To explain a misunderstanding, when people say “catching the southbound” in this town, they are not referring to hopping the trains which roar down Dixie Hwy day and night. Constantly. They mean driving their vehicle beside the train. The traffic lights are synched along Dixie while the train passes, so that is the fastest you will ever get across this town.

ADDENDUM
           And the answer to what-is-it?

           The picture is a wireless microphone with ordinary soft artist’s erasers crazy-glued to the base. This is my solution to preventing the mics from rolling off the table. It hasn’t stood the test of time. Then again, the cost was $1. And I still have four erasers left, in case I can ever afford another mic.
           To this day, nobody can be sure if the erasers fell off or if Michael was eating them.

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January 17, 2008

           The photos from my bike tours seem to be a hit. I’ve mentioned that screwed up fascination with sidewalk cafes in south Florida. Here is a good example where pedestrian traffic is blocked down to a single lane. This trend, since it inconveniences more people than it serves, is likely to get much worse. These are not like real European sidewalk cafes, which are built facing the sidewalk, not right out on it.
           Marion called, another set of transcripts has arrived, including courses from City University in Washington. This is the school that sold my phone number to telemarketers. The school maintained it was their information and they had a right to do so. The judge disagreed. I now have over 210 credit-hours.

           [Author's note 2017: that last passage is not clear. The school had to forgive the tuition I owed them for 40 credit hours. I refused to pay for the hours because they sold my student data. I took them to arbitration and they had to forgive the tuition and grant me the hours. After that, they made it part of their rules that your personal information became their property.
           I forget what they had to cancel, but I think it was around $1,700.00]

           The good news is that Marion and I may be meeting up in Colorado in a year. Alistair has a job offer and I’m looking to get out of the Third World—but not until I have some local teaching experience. The tale of how Marion and I have managed to keep meeting up is a book that needs writing. She’s only been in the United States for two years, you know. I think I’d like Colorado and it is a lot closer to home. The joke is that it is only a hundred miles to Miami. [There is a Miami in Texas, northeast of Amarillo.]
           Now the really good news. A breakthrough. I got up in front of a crowd and sang a Karaoke song all the way through by myself. Johnny Horton’s “North to Alaska”. People who know me said I did a great job of it. This could be a major turning point, even if I can only do a few tunes. I didn’t hit any wrong notes although it is by no means natural for me. A few minutes later, a lady and I sang Cash and Carter’s “Jackson”. I got a huge round of applause and many sincere compliments, and that is good enough for my purposes.

           The job hunting is not going well because I am not begging. I need to work for a larger company that has a constant turnover, or an agency like Accountemps (the Robert Half service that dominates the temp market). Otherwise you get too many small firms who don’t have enough people to take care of things so you can get on with your job. The phone company was great for this, there was always somebody whose job it was to do what you didn’t like or want. I am very leery of make-busy jobs, where if there is a gap, they want you to sweep the parking lot or something.
           I obviously missed the teaching semester this time around. I teach only adults, that is, I don’t babysit. That leaves only jobs on myFlorida for teaching retards and ex-convicts. There is just enough room here for a sick joke about guitar players but I’ll avoid the temptation.

           In other music news, I found this fantastic site on the web that has videos on how to play harmonica. It is a riot because it is some old redneck complete with ball cap who says things like, “you all learn that part on your own, we ain’t here to mess around.” He uses this tiny little harmonica he got in a box of Crackerjack Whenever he does something incredible, he waves it in front of the camera and says it is the “most darndest instrooment ever”
           By popular request, I’ve invited Tony, “that guy with the Gibson” back for a jam set any Friday I’m playing. He says he’s a hobby guitarist and he seems to know all the local blues musicians by name. Enough of the Jimbo’s blues crowd asked for him that I called to see if he’d do a set rather than a jam. He’s okay with that. He is heavy Hendrix and Clapton. Myself, here’s a clue of the tune I’m working on: “Hummala bebuhla zeebuhla boobuhla”
           Watching the history channel with Pudding-Tat, I learned why airplane windows are round, or oval-shaped. I knew the original British Comets had crashed from metal fatigue but not any details. They had square windows which provided a place where stress cracks could begin. End of trivia.

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January 16, 2008

           Due to requests, here is a shot of the storm last Sunday at Lake Worth. I’m standing in the bus shelter looking northeast over the Atlantic. You can just see the shoreline under the top rail and a few breakers. Just wait it out, even if you get splattered wet. Except for hurricanes, these downpours rarely last more than ten minutes. Don’t misjudge the size of those waves, for I am standing a good forty feet above water and that beach is a block away.
           Resolution. This term is not well-understood by computer people. Raising the resolution doesn’t (as it should) make the picture clearer, it makes it bigger. We had an IBM laptop in today that baffled all three of us. It would only play a movie that filled up half the screen. You could go in and change the “resolution” to full screen, but you can’t expect the type of user who watches movies on a $2,000 laptop to learn how to do that each time. In the end, we replaced the laptop and set the other aside for a closer look.
           No names mentioned, but apparently the Wiley Street takes a dim view of rock guitarists who smuggle a case of beer into the back room in their duffle bag. It was a horrible day in the shop because of bad customers. Worst was this raspy-voiced French-Canadien lady who had to add something to everything anybody else said. She was there for six hours. I had to go stand outside twice for a breather.

           Who remembers Arnold? Thirty-five, lives in his mother’s guest room. He was also in after a year and I would have forgotten him totally except for his style. His accusatory, prying, interfering style earns him the nickname, “The Inquisitor”. Not “How are you today”, but “Do you own this vending machine?” “Then why do you have the keys?” “Did the owner give you the keys?” On and on. He is one of those types that thinks if you tell him something is none of his business, it just means he is on to something. He also reads over your shoulder.
           On the recommendation of Will, I stopped in to see the Walsh pub on Federal. It was less than impressive but had twice the regular clientele usually seen in these parts. The layout is like Cheers on TV. Apparently nobody told anyone the bar in Cheers was not chosen as typical, rather because its shape made for good camera angles. The Walsh (I don’t know what the word comes from) has a small area out back with a fountain. Nobody under forty goes in there. And at those prices, they aren’t likely to get many. $2.75 for a diet soda.

           Will is an interesting individual. Like myself, he has learned to give out just enough information to get the job or get a decision, that is, he has learned not to tell the whole truth because so few people are qualified to interpret it. I’m seeing a pattern around what he does not know [about guitars], I think he is holding back. There is more to his music background than he is letting on.
           I’m enjoying my last few days of freedom. I may have located a temp position in Ft. Lauderdale with an outfit that makes solar panels. Billed as “an emerging utility company”, the job is just a few months, but that is all I want. My calling is teaching, but thanks to a few inconsiderate Florida goofs, I missed all the good postings this semester. I won’t have my teacher’s certification until the 22nd, a two month delay. You see, I don’t want a job that expects me to stay around for the rest of my life, and that means teaching which you can switch any time.
           The upside is that these startup companies can be fun to work with because often I am the only one who has any clue what to do. Just ask the doggie wig place, who still call me back when something needs doing right. If a new business goes, I’m in charge, if it fails, it is easy to bail.

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January 15, 2008

           Sad news for the literate minority of Hollywood. Trader John’s, the bookstore, is closing down. This photo shows their new premises with the thousands of books on newly built shelving. The details are sketchy but the rent seems to have doubled after they moved in the beginning of this month. I stopped in following a minor bicycle repair in the neighborhood this morning to find them packing up.
           After an eight year quest, what should finally arrive in the mail today? An official document stating I was “born alive” at 7:35 p.m. I was the 142nd birth at Bethania that year and thank my stars that the city kept a separate set of official birth records. Fancy, too, with the state seal and full of signatures, including Dr. Huff’s. I have written to my Senator.
           The trivia question for today concerns whether you can get a “DUI” for riding a skateboard.. The survey goes comes in around fifty-fifty and I side with the negative. My understanding is that before one can be charged with drunk driving, it must be a powered vehicle (or you can’t drive it) and the operation must normally require a license. That is not to say a person without a license can’t be charged but that is not the point. If so inclined, one could get plastered and still go about on a bicycle or hang glider. However, others swear they know of instances where drunk horse-riders have been arrested. (The story goes that he was blind and the horse knew the way home.)
           Now, I don’t doubt that, but I think we have the beginnings of an urban legend. The skateboarder was probably charged with disturbing the peace, or public intoxication, but that does not amount to a DUI. Also, the three possible remedies (fine, imprisonment and revocation) don’t make sense. You can’t lose your canoeing license, but when relating the tale to his friends, it will certainly be referred to as a DUI.
           Johnny, the guitarist, has disappeared. Or at least he cleared out of his room behind the El Presidente market on Federal. He does a show sometimes at the Wiley pub, the second worst watering hole in the county, full of thugs and thieves. He’ll be there some time this week, mark my words.
           My question about whether my coconut was edible has been solved. Somebody stole it.

January 14, 2008

           I was job-hunting all day again. One has to develop new rules to read Florida job offers, which are more than ever cleverly worded these days. I may have to do the temp agency thing again, which only pays around $18 an hour max. You still have to weed out the jobs that want things like a driver’s license, a pleasant personality or good telephone manners. (You get your mother to answer the phone.)
           Many people became accountants so they needn’t bother with those things. I personally know people who dropped out in terror during third year when my old accounting school began to require a single public speaking course.
           I snapped this hotel in Lake Worth because it reminded me of Texas. The little old two-story hotel with the rooms above the bar and coffee shop. Where the long-term residents have been there for over twenty years and all have favorite chairs in the lobby. How about that door set at 45 degrees to the street and behind a corner post? Totally Texas. This hotel is on a side road called Lucerne. I couldn’t get a closer shot because soon after I used the camera, fifteen people were at the window staring. Stranger in town!
           Let’s have a show of hands, who likes that tune “Long Haired Country Boy”? All of you. Good, because I just spent two hours learning it. Don’t buy that guitarist’s quip that anybody can play the bass riff – because I can guarantee not one of them is doing it right. The scale running down is played differently than running back up. I kept playing it over and over knowing something was wrong, but what? Then I realized I had been following the guitar line. Guitarists have this bizarre worship thing about changing to an “open D” tuning and this song changes only the low E.
           What’s more, the tune has the lead break injected by a studio engineer. I’ve long since noticed country music is bad for this. It is staggered off by a half-measure and that is why all you stomp dancers have to skip a beat to get back on your left foot for the last verse. I can’t recall how far back I first heard this song and must have thought it would be easy to pick out. Instead, I spent the evening at home with Pudding-Tat over it.
           Get this. A customer whose network I installed a few weeks ago called up the shop and told them I did it wrong. That I was all talk and didn’t know anything. Right—the guy who just hooked up the most complicated piece of equipment you’ve ever owned doesn’t know anything. Once the laughing stopped, the guys said it turned out the problem was the cable company equipment. I don’t repair cable modems. Anyway, it just shows you how no-tech some people go through life. I pity automotive mechanics who deal with such bozos all the time. “It was working okay before you touched it.”
           We had to kick Fred’s whiz kid (whose nickname is T.O.) out of the shop. He sometimes comes there to hang out when he is skipping school. We don’t allow that. Besides, he can be a noisy distraction. I put my resume on six major job boards. I am one of the most versatile office workers that ever existed, but some of the web sites show no match for my skills. Another Florida quirk is when you have over 15 years experience, they assume your goal is to go into management. Me? Manage a bunch of filing clerks? There ain’t enough money in the world.
           Speaking of money, I won $4.50 in the lotto with the ticket received as a tip last day. I gave the ticket to cancer Steve. The agony is that I was only one or two numbers out on the remaining three (as in I had a 20 and needed a 21, etc.). I shouldn’t say agony but the guys don’t understand why I don’t whoop when I win. It is only money.
           Johnny the guitarist was supposed to call, but didn’t. That is why I’m glad I made an extra visit with Will, the guy who is interested in playing rhythm. Will is certainly an individual, for example, he will not accept my offer to lend him my Fender Squire to learn on. He wants to buy one, but does not even know the basics of what to look for. He did not know that a pickup is required for stage work, or what a pickup is for that matter. Keep in mind, however, that such people make far better band members in the long run, for they are not corrupted by standardized mindsets learned via guitar lessons.
           Trivia. I’m going to have to confirm this independently, but I heard that when the wagon trains of the 1850s headed west, it was customary for the pioneers to carve their names on rocks along the way. If so, that points to an extraordinarily literate group of people, and probably ahead of any other such group in the world at that time. There goes the theory that early immigrants couldn’t read. (Either that, or the ones that couldn’t read went to Florida when they heard it had no rocks.)

January 13, 2008

           Holy French Quarter, take a look at this. I got a wee late start, so I skipped Del Ray and went up to Lake Worth. By coincidence, I got on to the same road as Wallace and I drove down last year. If we had continued west another few blocks, we would have seen the single main road of the town. They have something against street signs over there.
           Earlier. The train I want does not leave for another six hours. I went out for breakfast, compliments of Jimbo’s. I also ran through some prospective music based on recent requests. I know I’m a musical minority, albeit a very well-read minority, but let me tell you two songs that really suck. This “Gambler” by Kenny Rogers and that “Watchtower” thing by Hendrix.
           “Said the joker to the thieves,” man, you gotta smoke a lotta, lotta whacky tabacky to find any meaning in that kind of crap after you are ten years old. Hendrix recorded back when it was still possible to have a hit playing a one-note rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner through a fuzz box. Since I liked The Beatles, I never found anything to relate to in his music, although he did a few good covers (Hey Joe). Thinking Hendrix was great is a definitive test for heavy drug use, that is, you will never find anyone who doesn’t smoke to say Hendrix was even good. Try it.
           Later. Lake Worth is a nothing place too far to consider commuting. It’s reminiscent of Oregon. I continued west over the drawbridge and wound up at that exact building where Wallace and I stopped for a look at the ocean. This was just in time for a blinding half-hour rainstorm right off the Atlantic, visibility maybe a quarter mile. All the tourists panic like they are in danger. Meanwhile, I am happily taking pictures. It was not cold, but the wind drove the rain right through the shelter, soaking everyone. Such adventure!
           I had lunch on a park bench and then walked through the ocean water a while. Noting the complete lack of women on the beach, I then biked back downtown. Lots of antique stores, the mandatory Starbucks and dozens of drinking places, all packed and noisy. Other than that, only one or two stores were open. It only took a few minutes to see the entire place. Lake Worth is a clean, quiet town with a large Mexican farm laborer population.
           Like Miami, the city is perpetually tearing up the streets and taking forever to get it done. Like Hollywood, they are maniacs over putting tables and chairs out on the sidewalks, blocking all but single-file foot traffic. The main road, Lake Drive, is spruced up and a nice visit. The café in the picture is not typical of the area. The downtown still pretty much small businesses without the pawn shops and jewelry stores of further south.
           This ends my second train-bike tour. This is such an economical way to go that it would bankrupt half of Florida if it ever caught on. The tri-rail seats are fabric and okay comfortable, but you cannot stretch out. For those who asked, yes the coaches have bathrooms. It is always remarkable how many students are on board who forgot or lost their ID, providing lots of work for the train security people.