Bancaroto. That’s Spanish for bankrupt. That’s what finally happened to the local dollar store, where my favorite coffee shop used to be. They cleared out just in time. That’s the Sheriff’s notice and a For Rent sign on the door. Behind my delivery vehicle, in which you see a small but valuable cargo of gourmet coffee, pineapple slices and sundry items made possible by the tips last evening. This will be a good day, but not for everyone.
Many people (here in Florida) miss the daylight savings change because there is not as much twilight as further north. During my relaxing breakfast, I saw a dozen people come in for the special, except they were too late. This typifies the ground-in ignorance of Florida. If it was my restuarant, I’d extend the [breakfast] special for one hour on that particular day each year to get the extra business. But no, the staff wasted a conversation with each person whose clock was behind, thus losing business. Most customers left rather than pay double the price. The owners, typical Floridians, would have no concept of the loss of goodwill (opportunity cost), that left with the customers. The true cost was the travel, time, disappointment and a wasted Sunday morning. (You’ll find many Florida businesses use this tactic to entrap customers. It is a major disamenity of living here.)
On the way home, I rode through the French Quarter. Today was unusual in meeting a Canadian who spoke English. Not missing the opportunity, I talked with him nearly an hour. It turns out SunVest, the outfit who bought this place, is in (financial) trouble. I’ve already verified by observation the casinos have caused a net loss of value to the entire community. There are several trailers (mobile homes) for sale or for rent two blocks north of here.
The rental I looked at is huge, a double-wide with both a porch and Florida room. Prices are still a little high, although a third lower than last year. None of the units are as nice as what I’ve already got, yet there is nothing wrong with them. I found out that just twenty years ago, my trailer was in one of the most prestigious locations in Florida for mobile homes. The French guy said there was a waiting list to get in here. I noticed when I moved in how the landscaping gave each trailer its own privacy.
He went on to say that another park owned by the same company (beside the Friendly Inn) had been successfully sued by the tenants. They got to stay on at half rent for an undetermined length of time. I would very much like to determine it. Sun Vest is reportedly “terrified of lawyers” and it “just takes one guy”. Most interesting news and I’ll be watching for Adam who may be our token candidate.
Later, I decided not to hang out at the bookstore. Rumor has it the coffee around here is better. It should be, at $16.40 per pound. I normally watch television twice per year and according to Pudding-Tat, there is a documentary at 8:00 p.m. It turns out to be on humans in 10,000 BC, and not very well done. I’ve been attracted by another program showing 3D reconstructions of WWII air battles. They would be okay except instead of sticking with the big picture (weapons and tactics), they add in small picture interviews with the pilots. It saves money.
I want to see a Me262 in action, not listen to some P-51 jockey who is now pushing 85. For example, I was surprised to learn the 262s operated in pairs and did a simple nose-down when attacked from above. This caused the prop aircraft to dive steeper and lose control, apparently through buffeting.
No TV allows extra time to go over Stafford’s “Spiders & Snakes”, my newest addition. I kept hearing something off time, so I finally pared it down to frequencies below 300 Hz to discover the bass line was all wrong. It reverts to a simple—and ineffective--bass line during the chorus and turnaround. It loses the catchy “swamp” beat at an important juncture. Many bass players of that era were guitarists and they tended to get lazy in this manner. (My theory is this is partially what allowed tireless electronic beats to get a toe-hold where disco would otherwise not have lasted.)
Many of the early rock bands lacked a good bass player, including the Stones, Clapton (who seems to have intentionally stifled any good bass work) and Eagles. My style is to find the [bass] beat/riff that defines the song and pump it out start to finish, with complimentary variations during any refrains. I tend to play those “missing” parts. This reinforces my stage act. If I had taken bass lessons, I would have learned this could not be done.
Too bad Stafford didn’t call me to do it right. That I never played bass until twenty-five years too late was probably significant.
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