Look what pulled up in front of the shop today. I never could tell what year these were, but this is a Studebaker. It isn’t restored but it is clearly in running condition. By the style, shall we guess the 1950s? I have no idea whether the paint color is original. I miss my 1955 Buick Roadmaster. It’s a pity they don’t make real cars anymore. From what I hear, they don’t make real houses any more either.
I got Cowboy Mike underway with his computer. The snag was the most curable computer trouble: pilot error. Like most adults, he’d focus on the email, not the steps involved getting there. The solution is to make him take one full minute to log on and repeat until it for a month. Later Mike called back, the Hippie has a gig at the Walkabout on Friday and I’m offered $50 to play. Count me in, get it, count me in?I’m afraid my puzzle patent is still grounded. While I’m informed “anything is patentable”, I have not yet found a lawyer who will tell me what I’m patenting, quote me a price, or take the job on contingency. Or pro bono. Whatever phrase they use for “free” until later. Last time I checked, patents run about $2,000 so I may just wait a short while and pay for it myself.
Speaking of pay, today I did something that has been out of fashion for two years. I deposited money in the bank. While that tips off the entire world that I’m either broke or have enough salted away to last two years, the point is I have not forgotten how to deposit. Good. I may be getting some extra practice before too long.
Around mid-afternoon, I developed a fever with flu symptoms. Total sore throat. This is significant because I had to turn down a callout, which I am averse to do. Why so many call-outs all of a sudden? My hypothesis is that my local competition may very well have given up. Things have been super slow and many of these businesses can’t last a week without income. Myself, I headed home and made chicken corn chowder. It is more like home around here than it has ever been.
Floors swept, sink empty, and items like irons and sewing machines here and there. I don’t understand what is not to like. Since Theresa and I are both working, there is more privacy here than ever and Theresa seems to naturally get to the things I just can’t keep up with anymore by myself. I’m just glad there is somebody honest and reliable here; I was really concerned about having an empty-handed stranger in the place. Now we have somebody whose stuff is worth more than ours, end of worries.
Pudding-Tat is avoiding me. I had to give her a second dose of ACV (Apple Cider Vinegar). She hates it. The good news is it cleared up her condition almost totally so here is a home remedy that works. A tablespoon is fine and she can go potty within minutes. Also, the lower abdominal swelling abates in a few days. Since it did not disappear, I administered another tablespoon. Last time it took her a week to quit hating me.
Later, the Hippie called concerning the song list for Friday. I was surprised that he has become the proponent of only playing fast music on stage, “to get the crowd fired up”. Gee, where do you suppose he’s getting original ideas like that from? It was again a last minute invitation, telegraphing that I am still not the bassist of choice. No sweat, I have years of solid experience doing these guys are just beginning to dabble with. He twice mentioned the house doesn’t want backing tracks. Hmm, tell that to Arnel the next time he plays there.
Let’s use some inductive reasoning. Backing tracks done right require extensive computer knowledge--at least to the level of Arnel and I who have studied the topic. So we know the Hippie is really saying he does not want somebody else using backing tracks. Who does the Hippie know that would do that? Ah, the one person who knows for certain about my dynamite* backing track show (with two-year house gig to prove it). Cowboy Mike told him. Who else would even try to copy my act without ever saying a word all this time.
If the quality of the CDs Cowboy Mike gave me are any indication, I would not want him using them either. It would sound like somebody trying to play along to an AM radio. People, I will state it one more time: The full-band sound of my act takes hundreds of hours to achieve and I’m not telling anybody how it is done other than that it is an eleven-step process. Furthermore, my act is probably original because I do not use any Karaoke or midi tracks and I figured the entire process out on my own without copying anybody. There was nobody to copy even if I was the sort that did such things.
*[Author's note 2016-01-27: part of the reason they sounded so exact is because they were. You know how some software will take out the vocals? I had some that I tweaked to take out the bass line. Hence, my backing tracks were almost the original recordings.]
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