June 30, 2010

           The final day at the shop was anti-climatic, just a few odds and ends to move around. I had no way to move my office chair, so I simply piled it on my bicycle. Look at this rig. It could be a poor man’s gyrocopter. Or a fold-up sidecar. Actually, I had two of these chairs, the other one I transported the same way up to Jimbos to use as my bingo seat. Sammyford (the bartender) can’t believe I got it there by bicycle. Then again, his most famous quote is, “I’m 46, I know everything.”
           Who remembers Enrika? This is the babe guitarist I mentioned on June 2nd, whose trail has gone cold. On June 3rd, I dropped off two CDs full of songs and lyrics, as promised. Enrika was not working, but the lady at the desk said she would relay the package. Today I got a call from Coconut Grove asking what the disks were all about. What in hell was some stranger in the next county doing with my precious CDs? You’ve got to hear this. I phoned back the lady at the desk.
           I asked her if she recalled the CDs. Yes. Could she describe Enrika? Yes, she is slim, 22, medium-length brown hair, single, works as a temp. Did she remember promising to give Enrika the CD package next day? Yes. Are you with me so far? So I asked the lady why on Earth she waited an entire month, then drove the CDs 30 miles out of town and gave them to a 240-pound 46-year-old twice-married housewife named Erika with three kids? “Oh,” she says, “because Erika is ‘more your age’”. You ignorant piece of shit! You could have just cost somebody an entire music career who may now end up becoming a secretary as old and stupid as yourself.
           If any of you crabby, whining feminists ever ask or need to know why the world is controlled by men, even insipid, inept and insensitive men, you just got yourself a big chunk of the answer.

           The countdown begins for the Arizona illegal alien law, I believe it comes into effect July 29. America is watching closely and the Feds are still trying to say it is unconstitutional, but they’ve lied so long and so often nobody is listening. In fact, I believe Arizona to be entirely granted the right to defend themselves, something called US Code Title 8, Section 1325. It provides for the arrest and deportation of illegals after some jail time. The flaw being that US prisons with free cable are preferable to a lot of foreign countries, pleads Pedro, “Please, please give me life without parole. Just don't send me back.”
           I’ve added another tune to my repertoire, again solely because I can sing it. (Ha, I just got that. I sing it “souly”) Anyhoo, it’s “Love Potion Number Nine” with a punched up bass line. A careful listen tells me that I and many others have been playing it wrong for a lot of years. Majors and minors don’t usually mix, but this tune is an exception in a unique way. While the chords are minor, the connecting bass runs are flatted 2nds and 5ths. I'm still learning this, and you cannot sing along to bass like you can with a guitar. You have to know your stuff.
           This also tells you I have time on my hands. Well, that is, time on my hands or no money in my pockets. Same thing around here. Due to circumstances, yes, and because this was predictable, I have lived to regret my decision not to buy the drum box last February. Now I am out the time and the delay will take me well into autumn. I called Dave, the new guitarist and I will try, via the temp agency, to relocate Enrika. Although by now she will have a new boyfriend and be too far gone.
           My cell phone, which I will get rid of first chance for a flipfone, has a stopwatch feature. Amazing they would bother adding it when there are far more serious design flaws. But I timed the children’s television show that evolved from the Muppets. Thanks to the no kid left behind bunk, I noted that the rate of presentation of new ideas is 23% slower than it used to be. The programming is watered down to semi-idiot level and all the puppets lack the personalities of the original Kermit and Grover. Remember when Grover was a motorcycle hood who used to punch Kermit out? I do.

           [Author's note 2015-06-30: I dumped the song "Love Potion #9" a few gigs later. It just wasn't producing, it was another of those "off-to-a-great-start" songs.]
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 29, 2010

           It’s cooler. Must be a hurricane on the way. I took a safari through the air-conditioned acres of Aventura Mall. Here is a bicycle in the orange Ferrari Store. I didn’t check the price, the more because it is senseless to leave an expensive bicycle anywhere in this town. The mall is known for fashions, which represent probably 80% of the outlets. Recession or no, America is still a wealthy country and we have teenagers buying fashion accessories I can hardly dream of. But that could be because I’m not much into platform shoes, or as shown in today’s photo, polarizing filters.
           I’m within an ace of taking a taxi to get the last of my things from the old shop, such as my bingo speakers. These speakers are a set of Mach 1s (Radio Shack) that will free up my Yamahas for better things. Like my new show when Sam Ash replaces my Zoom unit. Ash says it is out of production, a pity, since there is a lot to be said for simplicity. The popular replacement is the overpriced Alesis, which I do not like at all.

           Author's note 2015-06-29: in the end, I did not use the Zoom unit for anything much. It has the same faulty design as everything on the market. No tempo memory, bad pre-programmed tracks, few useful contemporary beats, difficult to program, cryptic readouts. If this drum machine was an airplane, it would be a Sopwith Camel.

           Last day I lamented how few pictures taken on D-Day. My fan mail seems to agree. If it was indeed the biggest amphibious operation in history, they should have had people up there carving it in stone. I’m not suggesting a permanent government coverup, not me, oh no. But will anyone explain how the President was riding through Dallas in 1963 and there was only one camera in the entire world covering the event? And even that was a civilian with a funny name (Zapruder?) and no artistic talent whatsoever. Who’s spoofin’ who, I mean, who holds an invasion of Europe and only brings along two cameras?

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

June 28, 2010

           It was a good day. The picture is lousy, but this blog has rules. They are a little esoteric for public consumption so I regret the stupid woman shown won out over more intellectual topics. She won by standing in front of this ATM, not using it, not talking on a cell phone, just standing. And watching me ride my bike toward the ATM from nearly a half-mile down the road. That means she watched me for the better part of seven minutes
           Then just as I parked my bicycle and it was evident I wanted to use the machine, she stepped in front and started fiddling with it. Just over fifteen minutes later, I gave up and went to the next machine up the road. Of course, you can’t tell a woman who thinks she’s pretty how trashy and inconsiderate she is. But that also explains why I don’t much help the older ones for free. Hey lady, déjà vu and up yours, too.

           The good news is I got a call from the Sam Ash manager and they are going to completely replace the Zoom drum box with a new model from their store in Orlando. That is unexpected and unaccustomed primo customer service and I will shop there again. I cannot unsay my earlier snap (another blog rule) but the response was so positive that they are back on my Xmas list.
           Earlier, during the blast furnace part of the day, I watched a political debate on television. Normally, I skip nonsense, but this time an independent was taking on a career politician and the shady, slimy side of the latter was so evident I was amazed. Amazed they allowed it to be broadcast. The guy was claiming he didn’t know that British Petroleum had given his mother $90,000 and a Cadillac Escalade. He avoided answering direct questions in an appalling show of indecency. Yet, there were people in the audience supporting him. Incredible. Might have been his wife at the ATM.
           I was at the bookstore, this time the coffee was great and they had the A/C in the comfort range. I must look honest, as an unusual number of women will ask me to watch their laptops and things. Sure. I was browsing a variety of books and magazines, meaning it is trivia time. An analysis of on-line product rating services has revealed there is no bell curve, meaning the reviews are bogus or suspect. Egad, does that mean my ePinion reviews are false?
           In reality, I had noticed the problem long ago. It is mainly people who had strong feelings about a product are the ones most likely to post reviews. That means the majority who are merely satisfied aren’t represented. No Gaussian distribution. So, there you go, laptop ladies, I am honest, for 62% of my ePinion product reviews are near the 50/50 mark.

           Yet another “Top 500” songs of all time article was on the stands. The selection committee is pretty illustrious, but I still cannot agree that the top tune is Dylan’s “Like A Rolling Stone”. In fact, I’d place him on the fringes of cult music. Possibly committees who study music instead of playing it have altogether different standards. The next spots were, respectively, “Satisfaction” (Stones), “Imagine” (Lennon), and “Stand By Me” (King). Those are immortal, and unlike Dylan, may actually get played this year.
           I stopped reading [the list] past 300, since it was getting into groups and tunes I have never heard of even second hand, including a lot of one-hit wonders. I did notice that Johnny Cash had three mentions to Eric Clapton’s one. And I’d never heard of that [particular] one.
           Other trivia, in any order, it still takes 40 months to have a patent application reviewed. Somebody should tell that department about computers. Toshiba’s study on laptops shows that 1/3 of them fail within three years. Women who own homes are 12 pounds heavier than women who rent. And if illegal farm workers are expelled from the country, the average household’s grocery budget would only increase by $8 per year.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 27, 2010

           Argh, a bad day. We all get ‘em but why my Sunday, my traditional day to go for extended coffee at the bookstore. As it was, I had to rest indoors and try to watch television. That’s not as easy for me as it sounds. I’m not much into cooking shows, family comedy or cartoons. That about covers basic cable as well as my attitude toward Comcast, my sworn enemy and bicycle thieves.
           I said the day was bad, not wasted. Memorizing song words, even to my favorite tunes, is an entirely novel project in my life. Like many people, I know the first verse and the chorus by heart, the rest takes effort. Although singing the song is the exact amount of work I ever thought it would be (so you singers need not go on about it), I’ve already got a one up due to my bass style. How’s that? Read on.
           For clarity, I often make the bass line slightly more complicated as the song progresses. This is to sustain listenability, and is the opposite tactic of the big intro flourishes favored by the keyboard and guitar gang. Such a bass style demands a perspective of the entire tune, as the escalating complexity has to be introduced as a crescendo rather than as a splash “lead break” or in cycles of 12 bars.
           In practice, it means I have to pay more and more attention as the tune moves past the familiar parts. To me it seems natural and may explain my impatience with draggy blues songs that remain the same throughout. The point is, I’m used to progressive concentration and this helps me retain lyrics more than I’d ever predicted. Soon, I’m going to try “Can’t You See”, a tune we all know but I doubt if one in a thousand of you hum a single note of that complicated bass line. Listen to it from my perspective and you will see.

           An example of what I don’t want, but also an example of what is already out there, would be Eddie’s old band. He’ll occasionally play some on the juke box to get me to listen. I’m not really into it, as it exhibits all those studio sounds that are “learned” and I am not a studio musician. (I’ll get the name of his band for you, later.)

[Author's note 2015-06-27: the band's name was purportedly "Leftover Salmon". But, but, that band is from Denver and I've never seen Eddie in Denver. And he is not mentioned on the band's website . . . }

           By "studio sounds", I mean such things as over-orchestration. They sound like a nine-piece band with everybody playing a technically perfect part at once. While the entire song is original, every lick and lyric is standard and formulaic. Every instrument has that characteristic fat mid-range mark of a studio engineer and is played with robot-like precision. Like listening to a windup music box. God bless ‘em, but it is not for me.
           Incidentally, hearing old riffs strung together and labeled original is a sure sign of a guitarist at work. I believe with good reason that the best way to get a guitarist to play something novel (not necessarily original), is to have him lay down his part in isolation. That is correct. Give him the timing and structure of the piece, but do not let him listen to it and only tell him vaguely what type of music it is meant to be. Then, he’s more likely to come up with something uninfluenced by his own attitude. Listen to “Funk #49” by James Gang to get an idea of what I mean. Now there is a guitar part written without regard to the underlying musical theme. And I love it.
           Today’s photo is meaningless. It is one of those random photos I post on the Internet just to see where it goes. In five years, it went nowhere.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 26, 2010

           The toothpicks are back home, so to speak. This is the last picture of them as displayed for the previous five years at the shop. They are stored in the Taurus, which now cannot be used for anything else. Of course, all my buddies that were going to help me move never showed up, so the move took all day. Be prepared for a gap in postings here while I calculate what can be done about Internet access. That’s correct, I have no Internet at home. Never needed it much.
           The display cases and contents are beginning to deteriorate. They were never built to last and now it shows. You know, they were never built to fall apart in six years either. There was a time when I could move the components myself, as the heaviest parts are around 130 pounds. The total weight is in the 600 pound range, most of it the plexiglass.
           Tonight was a hugely successful bingo, and encouragingly, people are beginning to compliment the show itself. We had some quadruple winners, that is people that won four games. The room is the right size for that to happen. Moneywise but wasn’t great, but that was expected with rent just around the corner. I made enough to go visit Pete the Rock tomorrow--but he seems to have quit the Panera. Too many people onto his wild stories?

           I had time to do some Internet research earlier in the day and I have found several instances of direct quotations from here. That’s okay, it is permitted, but I wish people would mention the source. Yeah, myself and a billion other authors and not that I've myself been meticulous about that. FireHow has passed the 3 month deadline and proven itself to be unproductive. I reached 90% of my target and decided to put it all on ice for a while. I earned $7.51. Hardly a career move considering the posts required 12.5 hours to complete (including research time).

           Lance was in with another business proposal. There is a government grant for outfits that recycle. The building bricks from old tires certainly qualify. My role is initially to comprehend the mass of paperwork. I’ll take a look. I’ve heard of lesser ideas getting $50,000 kick starts. These are the patio bricks once featured here. They are a tough extruded material that looks like brick, but is more comfortable to walk on. And guaranteed to last 20 years.
           I’ve been bugging him for six months to get some samples. The product is practical and useful. Yet there has been no progress for years. The bricks still have to be laboriously hand-fitted like the regular item, which in turn needs a prepared gravel bed. They also weigh in about the same, which rules out much chance of me doing the work.
           After bingo, I stopped in to Buddy’s Place to see Laura’s Karaoke show. She wasn’t in, but the owner was. I sang two show-stoppers, my signature “Spiders & Snakes” and “These Boots”. There is no doubt I can sing certain songs now, and it is far more fun than I would have imagined. For me, this is a discovery too late in life to capitalize on it. There is potential, I think, in the degree to which I can play complicated bass lines and sing at the same time. It is rare to do both, and a riot to watch guitar players even try. (For clarity, that means watching a guitar player try to play bass and sing at the same time. Anybody can play guitar and sing.)
           Last, I was reading about armaments and was surprised to discover the Uzi was designed back in 1951. For some reason, I’d placed it in the late 1960’s. It’s passed the; test of time, not many (relatively) complicated weapons have a 50 year life-span these days. I also talked to JZ for a half hour to see it we can’t plan some kind of trip to the keys in September once it cools down.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 25, 2010

           See this ramp? It is something you hate to see in the Florida heat when you’re walking. Once again, I was at the doggie wig place. Years later, I’m still the only person but the owner who knows the business from the ground up. It took six hours, about the normal amount of time average spent every few months on each home network. And it costs real money. That’s something the inside people never tell you.
           For all the talk about home networking, it is still a finicky arrangement. Most people use it to share a high-speed Internet connection, for which it was never designed (referring to 802.x). It took nine hours to do get paid for six, mostly due to waiting for bus connections. That is a terrible situation that speaks volumes about the transit system here.

           Thus, one of my priorities is new transportation, and a scooter of some type makes sense. I believe I mentioned anything under 50cc and 30mph max does not have to be licensed* or insured. Mind you, if you take the vehicle on a main road, you are supposed to have $10,000 in personal liability. Few in Florida obey this law. I’ve looked at a bewildering number of such vehicles. They range from mopeds to motorized bicycles to a miniature Harley-looking rig from Honda. There is even a 70cc model designed to look like a 50cc for obvious reasons.
           A small motorcycle makes logic for me. Most of my traveling is within four miles. I’ve been riding the bicycle so many years that it seems like a bad idea to start up a gasoline engine to go anywhere in town. Do I consider a larger motorcycle that I can tour with on weekends, or something for just around town? The selection is huge, so time to get my priorities straight. Due to rain, a motorcycle is not the total answer to moving around in Florida, also the highest pedestrian accident state.
           I walked the last three miles home, which means a stop at the book store, which means trivia. Here’s something. Ricoh, the printer people, have perfected a plastic sheet that looks and acts like paper. The difference? It is erasable. You feed it through your printer a second time, and it comes out with your new printout. Ricoh estimates over half the paper used is for temporary documents, such as shopping lists. Called “The Clean Slate”, the plastic is predicted to cut the cost of printer operation in half. HP will no doubt invent an ink that won’t erase and charge $40 per cartridge.

           This erasable paper must have been a good idea, since it has disappeared never to be heard of again. Even mention of the technology was obliterated from the Internet.

           Closing the books for the computer shop is sad and revealing. Despite two bad quarters last year, I was making more than enough to be happy since this January. Alas, the same wasn’t the case for others. Although I am certain Fred and I will collaborate on other projects in the near future, this is the end of an era.

           *[Author's note 2015-06-25: Wrong. It has to be licensed, as do all motor vehicles on Florida roads. Oddly, "motor" is not the same as "engine" and electric bicycles and such do not have to carry a license tag, nor do golf carts. However, Florida is looking at changing that law. Once again the change is not for the public good, but as a new source of revenue. How does the government even know whether people have electric vehicles in taxable quantities? Easy--people with nothing to hide must have told them. They love to pay taxes as long as you have to, too.]

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

June 24, 2010

           Here’s a beautiful Florida sunset. Looking west over the oil spill. Eddie and I were talking music again, and he posed a question that surprised me. I was explaining how my new system worked when he asked how, with no guitar music, did I know when I was singing on key? Ah, that's why he never does anything a cappella. He can't hear his own notes unless he hears a chord. It is not uncommon to find among guitarists such a total lack of understanding over what an electric bass is all about. Not uncommon at all.
           A few people e-mailed me to read the local Craigslist music page, where some lawyer is apparently going on about how original lead guitar is the superior instrument. Actually gang, he never states he is a lawyer. But the rest is true, he’s a case of guitaritis so plumb loco he’s rendered himself useless. He’s got himself and nobody else convinced he plays original music.

           Don’t get me wrong, if I ever hear anything original in South Florida, you know I will instantly report it here. But he fails to give directions to his concerts. One is more likely to hear about original music before one pays to hear original music. Which, in this town, is a wise precaution.
           Guitaritis is a mind disease which manifests itself in words, never actions. The victims buzz like vuvuzelas over their string and pickup brands, then disappoint us all with the sound. The victims grow up pretending to be their heroes, so one should empathize when, in adulthood, they all look and act the same. The dead giveaway is usually their time-worn stage presence. Like those hair-flinging head twirls and the 1960s knee-slide. Worst of all is the Clapton look-at-me-in-a-trance trill mode. My God, it would be so nice to see something new.

           Any amount of research shows that most hit songs are written by keyboard players, not guitarists. Yet, the feeling amongst guitarists is that they bear the burden of originality, and it is the lack of true dedication and talent by their support troupe that holds them back. It is, they go on, the responsibility of the rest of the band is to “work together” as long as it is “behind” their trailblazing guitar. And that, folks, is guitaritis.

           Talk about humiliating, the president is firing a general for exercising the very freedom of speech the soldier was defending. Now, I am no fan of these generals with their fifty useless medals apiece, but I’m even less keen on a politician who can’t deal with criticism. Political stuff-shirts come off like spoiled brats stunned at the very suggestion they are screwing things up, as if every last one of us does not already know. As you may have guessed, I consider politicians akin to a species of Anopheles.

           As far as the famous General McCrystal*, I never heard of him until today. What I'll never understand is where these generals get all those medals for bravery when they’ve never fought in a front line and have probably never been under fire. Don’t get me wrong, I am not anti-war where war is necessary. But I don’t care a lick for standing armies and military parades, nor the need to export global power. Afghanistan isn’t called the “Graveyard of Empires” for nothing. Give a soldier a bomb and he will eventually use it. But that’s as close as I get to politics; feeling embarrassed for the foolish and awkward people involved.
           I believe that America is an advanced enough nation to outlaw politics and that people who need to be led around by the nose don’t belong in a democracy. To paraphrase Willie Nelson, “I liked this country better when nobody was in charge.” I don’t look at a newly discovered tropical island and start thinking of how to tax and regulate the natives. And I have no respect for those who do.
           It is enlightening to learn one of the main objections of these self-serving politicians is that McCrystal doesn’t care who they are. When being lectured by the Vice-President, McCrystal did exactly what I would have done. He turned to the person beside him and asked “Who’s that?” Washington reminds me of Berlin near the end of the big one, when Hitler kept replacing his competent generals with one hack after another.

           [Author’s note: I may be one of few, but I actually read the story in “Rolling Stone” magazine, which focuses on McCrystal’s style of leadership and personality, not any undue criticisms or anything out of line. At least not anything you wouldn’t hear in a coffee or barber shop. So, he dislikes attending “diplomatic” functions and restaurants that are too “Gucci”. For crying out loud, the guy is a friggin’ soldier, unless some of the offended have not heard.]

           Politics, such a waste of time. The old shop is almost vacant and I’m taking down the toothpick display on Saturday. It is going into the Taurus for storage. That car was bought with toothpick money so there is some irony to it all. It also means the Taurus cannot be used for anything else.
           Cowboy Mike has called, he’s got the consumer blues. It is practically impossible for a non-computer person to burn a CD based on reading the instructions. He tried it for three days before giving up. The worst instructions are for Windows Media Player. I'll say it again for anyone who missed it: you cannot follow the published Windows instructions and burn a disk. Try it. I maintain except for the first guy, every other person who burned a disk (except me) had somebody show him how to do it..

* I'm informed, considerably later, that the correct spelling is McChrystal.

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

June 23, 2010

           Finally, I’ve completed my research into the design patent, and believe I can do most of the work on my own. This puts Xoikers! back in the picture although I still cannot find the correct randomization formula. If you just got here, this is a word puzzle I invented last year but the distributors won’t touch it unless it is patented. Filing myself will drop the price $3,000 to under $600, but represents a risk.* It is so unfortunate that the law could leaves a true inventor even that little bit vulnerable. After all, a patent is nothing more than a temporary monopoly, for Pete’s sake, make it airtight. Right now, it leaves the startup at most risk and that is what it is supposed to prevent.
           Here is a photo of the most famous and best guitar player ever. This is so that a few more people might know what he looks like. His name? Chet Atkins.
           I borrowed Fred’s battery charger and fired up the Taurus. There is a small short, probably in the dash clock. But I’m without the resources to chase it down. If the car is parked for a month, the battery gets drained to nothing. Don’t we all love boosting cars when it is 100 in the shade? Of course, I’m easily forgetting what it is like to do the same when it is 40 below.


This space intentionally left blank.



           I’ve been working with the new drum box (the one I have to return because it is defective) and although I bit off more than I can chew, the results are extraordinarily impressive. The whole act has to be coordinated beyond anything I’m used to. That I’ll describe in a moment, but I was right that a properly programmed drum box can replace a fancy guitar player. I still intend to have guitarist, but relegated to the subordinate role of accompaniment unless certain other conditions are met. But no more of that “follow me” lead player bullcrap, if only because I am now doing 90% of the stage work myself (and it shows).
           The coordination just mentioned is incredible, and I know what I’m talking about because I can pick up a guitar and sing along. That is relatively easy and, admittedly, so is simple bass. But I don’t play simple bass (repeated one-note tonic sequences, a.k.a “retard bass”). Again, I thank my stars I started on piano, which at least frees the brain up from that guitar strum that is almost natural by comparison. Electric bass when played properly does not have a steady downbeat similar to the guitar. What? Well, that’s because I said “properly” so you’re doing it all wrong.
           Like any complication, I will simply repeat it until it looks and feels natural. I imagine each part from my foot upwards. First I program the drum box. Then, I work the pedal which is tricky as there is no natural downbeat as just mentioned. I always stomp to the music, a lesson certain musicians I know never learned from the get-go. Maybe they think they are so good it isn’t necessary.
           This is far harder than imagined, because my weight must always come out so it frees my right foot to work the drum pedal at the correct spots. Next, the bass left hand. I have to look at and I do my best to make it seem like this is not on purpose. It makes it easier to hit the right strings with my right hand. Singing still requires a lot of brain thrust for me, as I have to force each note to be on key. This makes remembering all those song words impossible, but that will come with time.
           It is lucky I thought it was easy or I might have balked. Never again will I listen to some guitarist-singer complain he is overworked. As it stands, I’m learning my new act in batches of four tunes. I know there is nothing like it in town. And it delivers the “wow”--but at what may be too great a cost. If I can barely manage it all at home, there is no chance I'll try it on stage.

          *Author's note 2015-06-23: years later due to cost and uncertainty, I still have not patented the Xoikers! puzzle. It's here for when future historians uncover my Rosetta stone journal of the causes of western decline. But for now, it rests in case I ever need it.
          Nor did I follow up with the drum box. It is makes it too hard to present, although I have done a few short exhibitions of my best material. I can do around 15 songs well enough, but can't make the 32 needed for stage work. Maybe if I'd started years earlier, but one is not born with any innate belief that the electric bass is a solo instrument. It must be learned.

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

June 22, 2010

           It was finally a cool enough day with nobody poking around that I was able to get into the old trailer court and grab this picture. This is the proof we’ve been waiting for, how my “historical” mobile home is holding up a multi-million dollar project. Isn’t it a thing of beauty? And all over $1,250 to boot. Don’t laugh, mobile homes are the only way left in Florida to beat the system, as it were.
           I’ll explain the problem once again. A week before I purchased this unit, I was in the office on a fact-finding mission. It was mere days after I moved in that that same office tacked a note on everybody’s door that they were buying us out, in my case, for $1,250 less than I had just paid. It seems to me a week earlier one of the dozens of people in that office could have told the truth when I asked them, “Is there anything else I should know?”

           Author's note 2015-06-22: There are a fairly standard set of questions I've learned to ask all sellers, and another is "Have you told me everything that is important?". I had asked both these questions to the office, who were certainly aware their place was up for sale, and that there was a standard buy-back package. They neglected to mention anything and that oversight eventually cost them big time. The property sat vacant for years until the city had a shadow buyer pick it up for fifty cents on the dollar.

           Today is also Barbarossa Day, but who remembers? I see a note to myself asking why, if D-Day was the biggest and most important invasion in history, why did they only take about 15 photos and newsreels? You know, the same ones they keep showing for the last 65 years.
           Here’s current trivia. It is estimated more than 3,600,000 Americans were “resistant” to the last census. That makes sense, given the government’s reputation of abuse of the information. The popular objection is that the census people target law-abiding citizens, who are the type most likely to have legitimate jobs and have addresses, the information the census wants. Then the government taxes them extra to give welfare to illegal aliens. Which is true. I remain a libertarian, saying only those who want to be counted should be counted, but the ones who don’t disqualify themselves from Medicaid or Social Insurance. Unless they become illegal.
           Or this item about a bear who killed a hiker in Wyoming. It seems just before the attack, the bear had been shot with a tranquilizer dart and tagged. So the rangers killed the bear for “unnatural aggression”. What a bunch of twisted bastards. My message to all bears, next time find a ranger and rip the bastard’s head right off. Take one with you. The rangers killed the wrong dumb animal. Whose idea was it anyway to started drugging and tagging wild animals? Leave them alone. That works.
           Then there is that honey bee die off. Turns out the culprit may be a bee disease from imported Australian bees. When will America learn no importation of foreign species is to be allowed. Ever. Have you seen those jumping carp in the Mississippi? The alligators in New York? The Burmese pythons in the Everglades? It is clear some people will never learn their own lessons. Until they get their head’s ripped off.
           Pudding-Tat came by for a visit. Florida’s most famous cat has taken up new digs across the way with the neighbors. There is no telling how long she will play them for food and what-not. She still does the patrol around the house. My guess is she’ll stay there as long as there are other cats in this place.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 21, 2010

           Yes, it is a Russian sub. The real McCoy. However, those two bridges in the background tell you this is not in Russia. It is an old diesel boat, strongly showing the WWII German design. I can’t believe my records have never mentioned this boat before, so do let me know if I’ve forgotten something. Say, isn’t that hammer and sickle backwards? I don’t know. But this boat was towed across the ocean as an exhibit. I paid $12 for the tour.
           The boat is very cramped and all the parts I wanted to see were not open to the public. Since nothing was top secret any more and the sub was privately owned, I can imagine what they didn’t want anyone to see. “Say baby, what’s long and hard and full of seamen, and I’m being serious?” All this was at least twenty years ago. Say, that would make sense. Maybe I wrote about it longhand back then.

           Back to the present, I spoke to Pete the Rock again. He’ll try to get a snapshot of the hot dog cart, but he says getting one even for himself may not be easy. It turns out the owner’s son is in charge and is the type that hates it when anybody else makes a dollar without giving him his cut. I even got the brand name of the carts. Starts with an “I” but I promptly forgot.
           I was distracted. I did a quick shop at Winn/Dixie and was wide-eyed at the prices. Corn is a dollar a cob. What do you expect when they’re using it to make biofuel? I read a statistic that although the American farmer feeds 50 people, if the whole world used similar farming machinery, the entire oil supply would be gone in less than twelve years. Generally, prices are three times what they were in 2006 when I began making predictions and comparisons.

           Filling out forms is my specialty, and I got plenty of practice today concerning my medical insurance. All I can say is they have really tightened up the system and it’s about time. If they’d been this strict 40 years ago they might not be broke today. Absolutely everything is cross-referenced from bank accounts to birth certificates. Then again, I just happen to have every document ever issued all filed in good order. There you go.
           The local papers are reporting record bankruptcies again, and this time they are specifically naming medical costs as a major cause. We are going to see a lot more of this shortly. Most people that are insured are covered for one disaster only and seem unaware that the rules change after that first payout. Thereafter, any excuse suffices to cancel your coverage and you’ll find you cannot afford the premiums anywhere else. Then you are not covered fully for the second disaster and it is time to kiss your house, car, and pension goodbye.

           I could point out that I normally could care less about bankruptcies and such, because that involves people who borrowed money. My interest is personal, in that I was brought to the very edge of bankruptcy yet I have NEVER borrowed money. It was here that I realized as far as the American system has evolved, the system behaves as if one lives in debt and thus your food and rent are a debt owed in the future even if you are not a cent in debt. Hey, it just happened to me.
           Everything you worked for and counted on will be gone. Not only will you be faced with horrendous hospital bills, you’ll be starting over again from scratch with nothing because the government will not help you until you have less than $2,000 in assets. Furthermore, you can never acquire more than that amount ever again, or they cut you off. Don’t even consider trying to work under the table, because you’ve voted away all privacy you ever had claiming you had “nothing to hide”. There are no cash jobs any more that pay what they used to, because you didn’t stand up for tougher immigration laws as you wanted to be viewed as “tolerant”.

           Mind you, there is always music, shoe-making and hot dog carts. Except you’ll be competing with people who know what they are doing and all the good locations are taken. The marketplace is totally saturated by small operators these days. Frankly, you probably don’t stand a chance. But Pizza Hut is always hiring, so I’m told.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 20, 2010

           Didn’t I just mention the fact that as soon as you try to get something done, it will bother the do-nothings? Sure enough, it didn’t take a day this time. First, it is too hot to do any work in the Florida room, where this computer is set up. Second, the spare kitchen table is piled up with a lot of items that I would normally store in the utility room, which is full of things from North Carolina that should not be there. Let’s not even factor in that I am in the middle of closing down a business.
           Remember, it is not the work, but the fact one is trying to get ahead that bothers others, so if it wasn’t one thing, it would be another. Here is the scenario, you decide. I sat on the sofa with some headphones and began working the drum box. Well, this turns out to be unacceptable because it wears out the sofa because I left some dishes in the kitchen sink because I run this place to my own convenience. Don’t worry if the logic doesn’t follow, I am trying to get ahead and they won’t stand for it.
           If I don’t get this drum box happening, there is going to be a default on the rent in a month or two. But one cannot expect certain types to see that far into the future. They want to be comfortable now, and to hell if that means zero productivity now and hardships later. The easiest thing to do would be to work on the other dining table, but that has a glass top, hardly suitable for work. For those who are curious why I didn’t work there anyway, well, it seems it is covered with potatoes. That’s right, potatoes. What was that comment about convenience?
           This flashes back memories of my pre-teen years. There was no place to work in our house except at the kitchen table and this was deliberate. All projects were forced to be short term and exposed to constant criticism. The same table was also used to prepare some but not all foods, and it always amazed me how those foods ever became necessary on the exact same times I had a project on the table.
           I honestly believe it is part of the entire peasant mentality that anyone trying to get ahead also gets in their way and their own ignorance makes the process subconscious. But what is ignorance except the untrained subconscious? If they were not this type of peasant, then are you suggesting I somehow knew a week in advance whenever somebody absolutely had to bake a cake at 9:00 that evening?
           But, it does not matter. I can already look back on a lifetime of massive accomplishments despite having to contend with the lumpen proletariate. Edison and Ford built their workshops in the middle of nowhere just to get away from the whining and sniveling. I can look forward to my privacy again shortly, the present situation is all a result of a totally unexpected medical condition.
           Trust me, I had my affairs arranged far better than this. My life is an endless pattern of highs and lows, but anything is better than constant nothingness. Those who lead do-nothing lives fit better in a herd of their own species where they can all do nothing together. And stampede together when the time comes.
           As usual, I will work around all difficulties both real and contrived, but it is not to be wondered why I owe nobody favors once I get something up and running. Here is some trivia in keeping with my mood today. Did you know in 1966 during the Viet Nam war, it took Americans 27,035 rounds of ammunition to kill one Viet Cong? Jesus, how did they even find the body?
           Here’s something: you should not take those chewable vitamin C tablets. The vitamin is an acid that slowly erodes your tooth enamel. That’s another example of something I liked being ruled bad. What? Well, your stomach can handle the acid. Way ahead of you on that one.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 19, 2010

           I can just tell this purchase from Sam Ash is going to be problematical. Somebody on staff knew this drum box has been dropped or something. Someone knew they had tried to pry the security clamp off and loosened the all-important footswitch jack. It was that stupid guy who sold it to me, knowing I had come from across town and had to buy or waste the major trip. I have not really used it yet, but I can tell something is wrong. Shown here, I've tightening up some loose fittings on the back panel.
           This drum box requires a lot of hard work between now and September. As we all know, there are two types of people in this world. The ones who get things done and the ones who live wasted lives. I'll let you figure out which type is always getting in the way of the other. Peasants have a natural built-in resistance to anybody getting anything done. I got twenty bucks says I’m right, that peasants go out of their way to get in your way. Then when you ask them to move, they do, but consider it a favor to be paid back. A peasant’s only priority is their own short-term ease.
           Fred has a major motorcycle show coming up, or is it five shows. Anyway, I was in the vacant shop until noon doing more research. Yes, the hot dogs came up again, and I conclude same as y’day, that unless you get the cart free you had best not leave anything until the last minute. I mentioned it to Eddie, who says he knows some local shows that always want another operator. See, now he wants a cart, too. I’ll talk to Pete the Rock. But it would not be the first time Pete has found something for free that costs $500.

           I’ve met guitar player number 16. Yes, I’ve given them a number, and taken way their names. If you must know, it is Dave. He’s a yahoo-type, but he can play the required rhythms and is receptive to the idea that a guitarist is not necessarily the star of my show. He was the only customer in the shop by the time I’d left.
           Bingo, while not another record-breaker, was a success. The crowd has begun to vary week to week along with the regulars. One lady brought chocolate brownies, the ones with walnuts. Addicting walnuts. If all the factions ever show up on the same day, Bingo will be a sellout. Saturdays have gone from Dullsville to a money-maker for us all. It got me by this month. But I better get off my ass and start learning to sing for my supper.
           I must borrow the over-used term “oppressive” for the heat at mid-day. The A/C here cannot keep up. This is a perpetual problem with mobile homes. The insulation cannot be made thick enough to keep the temperatures in the comfort zone without installing a second unit and paying the piper. The piper being Florida Power and Light, who double as a tax-payer supported collection agency, un-deputized sheriffs, and Big Brother. We’ve got FPL, and FPL has your file, so who needs a KGB?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 18, 2010

           Top event of the day, I have the Zoom drum box. It’s a used demo model, I had to bum a 26-mile ride, it was the last one in stock and it has the security cable still attached. Want to hear about it? First, I called headquarters to check if the item was regular stock, and was assured it is. But when I called the only nearby store, they had only this one left. They said they would give me a discount.
           Turns out it was very well used, and the likely reason it was still there is because somebody had stripped the threads on the security cable. Several people tried in vain to remove it with both metric and standard wrenches. My ride was waiting, so I had to make the buy decision. They gave me a lousy ten bucks off. Unless compelled, I doubt I will shop at Sam Ash ever again.
           So there I am, riding my bicycle southbound on Dixie. I pass a crowd of Latinos walking north, who call out if I’ll be singing tonight. That’s a treat, last November I wouldn’t or couldn’t sing a note. These folks must have heard me at Buddy’s. For those who don’t know, I got so fed up trying to find a singer, I went to 30 of the worst Karaoke shows in town until I convinced myself I could do better.
           This was no mean feat. I am certain something scared me terribly about singing as a child. More than likely a component of such would be that attempting to sing would have invited ferocious criticism, since the practicing would have to have been done indoors with family within earshot. The prevailing attitude was that doing anything like learning to sing was proof things weren’t good enough for you, an issue to be avoided in that household, let me tell you.

           Hot dogs. Show me the worker who hasn’t thought of opening a hot dog stand and making a killing. It has got to be the number one retirement concept for middle-management. So follow closely, this could be your salvation. Pete the Rock reports that Gulfstream has 80 hot dog carts they used once for a movie set. Now these brand new carts are sitting in storage. He says he can get one free; I said pick me up a couple.
           That's a joke, Pete. You middle-class know-nothings have destroyed the very America you'll need to survive when you get older. Maybe you should learn what a healthy hot dog is yourself instead of relying on the government to do it for you. It ain't so much fun when the very "safety" rules you let slip into law come back to bit you in the ass, huh?

           Here’s what you need to know. Florida is the only state that licenses hot dog stands. It is illegal for any county to issue a business permit until the operator has the non-transferable state license. Right there, we know 50% of the carts are in contravention. Among other requirements are picture ID and a Federal Employer’s ID number. Dream on. The economy can do the Titanic, but we’ll not be having any undocumented weinie vendors, no sir.
           The wagons themselves vary hugely in quality and price. The New York model with casters sells for $1,900 all the way up to the two-person road-ready wagon coming in at $6,500. Local laws vary, sometimes requiring a sink with hot water, a waste water tank, condiment hoods and sometimes free cold water. See, I’ve written your business plan for you. Five hundred bucks, please.
           There’s another catch. You must purchase all supplies from an approved vendor. The word is you buy the first batch, see what brand it is that week, and then head over to Wal*Mart. If you wish to sell bags of potato chips on the side, you’ll need yet another license and the approved vendor law also applies. Now we know almost 0% of the operators are in full compliance.
           The good news is the state license is only $145. It is a 12-hour course you sit through to learn some basics about food handling. It is reputedly a test nobody has ever failed, so its true purpose is suspect. For variable costs, I figure a soda and a hot dog will total around 90 cents, plus condiments and napkins. Let’s estimate $1.10 until you find out how to, ahem, get efficient. The selling price at private events and fairs is $4.00 for the combo, realizing a gross profit of $2.90 per sale. The pessimistic projection is costs of $1.50, selling for $2.50.
           Either way, don’t do it unless you get the cart for free. And that is precisely what I’ll be taking another look into. Poke back in and check, as I used to with the wife.

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

June 17, 2010

           Here is an oft misinterpreted sign. It is meant you don’t leave your kids in the parking lot while shopping. But most people take it to mean the kids left in shopping carts while the mother wanders to the other end of the store. I agree they should not leave the kids anywhere. They are hard to clean and get expensive, especially near college age.
           “I’d do it if it paid $1,000 a week.” That was Bryne’s remark on painting. I would too, despite the sore muscles today. Except for the odd complaining shoulder, I was fine, likely thanks to my bicycle. However, I doubt a real painter would allow me to progress at my own pace, nor would contracting pay at the top speed I can still work. It brought back memories of my college days, painting rich folk’s chalets in the mountains.
           Painting is fun after, too, for I got to predicate many sentences with “We construction workers, the backbone of America . . . .” A word to the wise, do no ever consider doing any type of outside work in Florida during the summer. We were safely indoors and had the A/C cranked to the hilt. I specifically went into the shop this afternoon to download the Zoom MTB manual, for the drum box. It was foolish not to buy that the first chance I could, now I’ll have to work like blazes to make any money with it before September.

           Don’t pity me, wait until you hear this saga of bad luck. You don’t know Eddie, but he was the laptop technician slated to take over from Mike. He got a lifetime of hard misfortune in a month. First, his wife’s mother died and they spent their last dollar to attend the funeral up north. But, they stand to inherit their half of two houses and a pile of bonds; he said they would finally have a few things in life.
           Then, he flies back, leaving his wife to console her sister. He lands at Ft. Lauderdale, has a heart attack and also lands in the hospital. For two weeks. We don’t know what is going on, because nobody answers his phone. Fred drove over there last Tuesday. Six days ago, his wife died. They weren’t really married. She had no will.
           While I don’t have much left at the shop, what’s there is going to require a vehicle to move it. Nothing is big and bulky except the toothpicks, most everything else amounts to a few bicycle trips between now and month’s end. It’s like a pity to finally leave as that business, if it was a job, would have been the second longest tenure of my life. A quick check of the neighborhood shows it will be one of 16 vacancies on the block. With nothing special about it locationwise, it will also be the most expensive.

           FireHow is dying on the vine. It is now a week from my deadline, and I’ve made $7.41. Unless they establish a special rate of pay for better quality articles, it is a waste of time. Their algorithms are off kilter as well, the two graphs don’t match, but I won’t explain what you can discover yourself. Unless you publish hundreds of useless quips, it is dead end. Suggested new title, “Quips for Twits”.
           At the same time, I’ve had an unexplained upsurge in hits on my related postings, such as this one. My daily increase is very difficult to measure, another item I won’t explain, but it averages between 17 and 34 new people. Today it was 222. That, my friends, is a mystery. Such postings still require 10,000 hits to earn $30, the significance of 10,000 is that is the sales an author needs to get on the best-seller list. Most people’s chances are better at writing the book.
           Before I forget, I took a quick glance at the web site “Space Hippie World Wide Ministries”. I said glance, not read. But a split second was needed to verify it was the Hippie. If I ever can convince myself I have not already heard everything he has to say, maybe I’ll actually go back and look at it. Meanwhile, he is supposed to call and hire me to play electric bass.
           Here’s another item. Since there is confusion between what is a bass guitar and what is an electric bass, I am proposing the new term “e-bass”. A bass guitar is a massive hollow body Mexican instrument that is held like a beer keg. I play e-bass, not bass guitar.
           Last, I was asked today if I took the drugs Valium and Xantec (pardon my spelling), and the answer is no. My blood pressure is due to stress, but it is wiser to avoid the stress than to take what are potentially addictive and mood altering chemicals. I understand some people swear by these prescriptions, but I point out that from all the mechanical tests my doctors have done since 2003, not one has suggested my problem with stress is internalized in any way. Nope, all stress for me is external, indicating I am not the one who needs any brain medicine.
           Notice how gracefully I slipped that one in there? Classic!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 16, 2010

           I spent the day painting with Bryne, the guitar player. It’s a condo up in Pembroke Pines, and it is huge. Here’s a corner of the dining area I was cutting in. Excuse the legendary poor low-light quality of the Jazz DV152. Also, the paint looks yellow but it is actually beige. What is it with huge bedrooms? I'd never make a bedroom much larger than absolutely necessary. For the basics. Wheelchair access? No, because as I now know, the doors aren’t handicapped.
           The bigger the bedroom, the more stuff people will cram in there, but these were ridiculous. Worse, the way the place was designed, you could not put up a divider and create an extra spot. The walk-in closet alone is the size of a regular bedroom. No way he’ll be finished by next Wednesday by himself. Good thing he called in the hired help.
           But we got all the nooks and crannies done, the part that was slowing him down. Behind the fridge, the kitchen cabinets and closets with banks of railings. Of course, the talk most of the day was music, and let me tell you, with Bryne and I, it is same planet, different worlds. He feels what I want in a guitarist is stifling to creativity. I would agree if someone would please show me this so-called creative guitarist. I have only seen it a couple times in my life, and not very recently. All I hear are the Hendrix clones.
           It is always an interesting perspective to learn how guitarists interpret my ads. Bryne feels that my request for “a country rhythm guitar player who enjoys playing classic country music” is not clear enough, and that I should learn to express myself better, you know, get to the point. I get the impression he feels the ad should read, “1970-ish Eagles-worshiping acid-rock Clapton-style shredder needed to come in and control my band”.

           I take it in stride, because I’ve heard it all before. These people cannot imagine a world where a guitarist is merely another musician. They are easily offended when I suggest that it is the guitar that is in a supporting role, so I don’t go there. Bryne talks about the good old days when two passing guitarists strolled into his bar, took out their 12-strings and played “Hotel California” like it "was never played before". I asked him if he’d ever had the same experience with any two other instruments, and he replied, “Of course not.” (Silly me, but I think secretly think that old two passing guitars fable is a crock of shit.)
           I’m not saying he’s wrong, in fact, he is just like almost every other guitar player. Their standards are so high they remain unemployed. But unless they are given a free hand to dictate what the band performs, they’d rather not play. For me, that is not an option. The most curious effect, however, is their collective denial of my solo bass act, they can’t take it seriously. These are guitarists who have seen the 5-Oh-5 video and some who have seen my show live, but still don’t believe it. They admit they saw it, but you can tell they don’t really believe it is possible, there has to be a trick that they just haven't figured out yet.
           Another thing I’ve noticed is their touchiness when I refer to “my band”. They have no trouble calling a band their own, but don’t like it when a non-guitarist does the same. That’s "guitaritis", the mental condition where the guitar player sees all other musicians as his support staff, as the unwashed masses. Bryne is touchy about my having my own song list--and he isn't even in my band.
           Speaking of egos, I see in the New Times, there is an article about Space Hippie World Wide Ministries. Their gospel is, no peeking, the legalization of medical marijuana. I have no idea if it is my old guitar player, but if so, it makes sense. The guy has no medical conditions treatable by smoking drugs. These people are dope heads whose true agenda is the decriminalization of recreational narcotics. Nor is there a humanitarian motive, the guy I know cares about nobody but himself, but that is to be expected. After all, he’s a guitarist, and he loves the ballads. The moaner, droner, groaners.

           Author's note 2015-06-16: in the end, Bryne disappeared. I had his phone number on the cell that got stolen in the library a short time later, and the guy seems to have moved on. It was interesting to talk to the guy because he had absolutely no realization of how wrapped up he was in the whole "guitar-player-as-God" mentality. We were not arguing, but it was an eye-opener to me how extreme some guitar players will drink their own bath water. He felt my ad was unclear not because it specified what I wanted, but because it did not specify what the guitar player wanted. I had not yet learned of the Broward guitar Mafia.

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

June 15, 2010

           The drum box is happening. Finally. I placed an ad for my Internet cubicles and they sold on the spot for enough money for the rent and the drum box this month. No celebrations yet, as I must get the box, program it, and make the $100 back from performing in the next four weeks. Unless I get a “yob”. Music is a high risk proposition, but a chance I must take since the cube sale puts me out of business effective today. Here is a photo of the shop, sold out to almost the bare walls.
           This also means get ready for a gap in postings here until alternative Internet service can be procured. That, coupled with the need to knuckle down and learn to sing enough tunes is going to be a major challenge for a few weeks. I’ve got some long-range plans to record my own prompts but that will take things toward year-end. Make no mistake about it, music is the most competitive occupation in the western world. The only thing that saves me is that so many people are held back by their own lack of imagination.
           The outside thermometer is in the shade on the west wall, and at 3:30 PM it read 105 F. In a strange coincidence, that thermometer displays the heat index. The real temperature was only 93 F. Again, it is nearly impossible to get over 100 this near the coast, but it must be some kind of record today. There is no joy in Florida summer weather, stay up north until the middle of November, folks.
           The shop is bare to the walls, the soda machine sold this afternoon. Fred plans to operate out of home and I had better start memorizing song words. Bryne called and I’ll help him paint tomorrow. That is it for work this week, but there is always bingo on the weekend. Even if gas hits $10 per gallon, bingo is just a dollar. Good, I’ll need it to replace my best fan, which burned out overnight right when I was counting on it. I’ve got half a mind to hook up the blades to that old table saw motor, but the thing might take off.

           Trivia for today. Black boxes operate at 37.5 kHz and Rolls-Royce went bankrupt in 1971. Am I the only one who spots the 40 year lag period between English financial problems and our English-based American system? Oddly, in Canada, the lag is closer to 45 years, which I attribute to the dominance by the American economy. One thing we have imported from Canada lately is the reality that the minority of society who actually work for a living now do so at a guaranteed net loss over their lifetimes. This is not a case of the poor getting poorer, but of the expanding number of non-contributors.
           Interesting news item, an unemployed vet living in his father’s basement was elected as South Carolina’s governor, fair and square. Other politicians and their trained media are screaming blue murder, that the guy was planted or cheated. Then, they would say that, wouldn’t they. One thing incumbents cannot stand is anyone getting into power that didn’t kiss ass every inch of the way. Did Churchill hate Hitler or what? That carb-face newsjerk on Channel is aroar that the winner had no meetings, no rallies, no web site, no speeches. Yeah, so? Where does it say he has to? What’s the matter, doesn’t he fit your petty pre-conceived notions?
           Alan Greene, stand your ground, quit answering their idiotic questions and serve as a warning to all the do-nothing governors in this country. We’ve got 49 too many. Pssst, newsman, Greene also has no divided loyalties, no hidden agendas, no favors owed, no ulterior motives and most importantly, no experience cheating and lying to the public. They figure most people voted for him because his name was first on the ballot. My only question is where did an unemployed 39 year old get the $10,000 to enter the race?
           No useless, noise-making rallies with those bellering retards in straw hats, indeed. Crucify him! That's what they want to do, but gang, elected is elected. Alan Greene is now governor.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 14, 2010

           The slow exodus begins. I’m taking what I can back out of the shop, which is now getting bare to the walls. The only object of any size is the toothpicks, but they are built to be moved and occupy only one foot in width when stored against a wall. Everything to be sold seems in good condition, shown here, the cubicle proceeds are to be used for that drum box I’ve wanted since November.
           A look through MyFlorida, the employment site, was not too encouraging. The phone company is hiring cable pullers. Beyond that, the fed stimulus money seems to be wasted on nothing jobs like taking soil samples. There is a position to repair cell phones, but camouflaged at the end of the ad is a requirement to be “available” for weekend midnight shift.
           Bryne reports he may be heading back north. A company has recently been acquired by a British firm he used to work for. His landlord gets a monthly pension and is “Living Like Harry”. These people have been shielded from the harsh realities of working survival. To a man getting free money, it seems easy for other people to live on $8 per hour. Even in my heyday at the corporation, I was never able to completely forget that I was six months away from poverty. Others seemed to be one paycheck away.

           It is blast furnace hot, even riding the bike into the wind brings no welcome breeze. I read some more details on ASP programming, what a rat’s nest that is. It’s as if MicroSoft went out of their way to make it as structureless as possible, each department adding in patches. My worst criticism, likely shared by any careful programmer, is that object based (their words, not mine) programming is full of “fall through” coding. I’ll describe that with an analogy.
           Imagine you found a barrel in the desert. Logic says you would do at least a two-step process. If the barrel contained liquid, you would test it. If it was water, you would drink it, if it was gasoline, you’d pour it in your truck. That is classical programming. But the object based programmer would say “if it isn’t water, put it in your truck” and proudly cheer that he’d saved a step, that his code was “elegant”.
           This is fraught with danger for in that logic, there is no check to see if it was gasoline. The only test was if it was not water, whence the code will “fall through” to the next stage. Object based programming is full of such backwards logic, a sure sign of bad workmanship. It seems they were stupid enough to design the objects before they designed the commands. Even if the barrel contained vinegar or air, it would still get poured into the tank. Then they spend hours coding error-handling routines. Elegant, my eye.
           MicroSoft has become the NASA of the computer field. Each department is more concerned with making sure they have a job than in producing a final working successful end product.

           I spoke to Mr. Will again. If he had stuck with his guitar lessons, we’d be local heroes by now. I’m afraid I cannot give any further second chances, for last Sunday I was here all day waiting for a promised call from another guitarist who, a week ago, told me he would be free. Will is a complete beginner, but he’s the best chance I’ve got, even if he can’t sing. Guitarists in Florida are a pack of born liars who think they are above judgment and reproach. Then they whine like babies when you bypass them, or they walk up to the stage and want to talk about what an improvement they could make.
           In other news, Jackie and I put an ad on C-list to try to locate California Johnny. We got to talking about him, and he has just disappeared. Pudding-Tat has quit coming around, that’s nearly a month now. Theresa seems okay with her new job and is in much better spirits. I’ve completed my taxes for 2009 and bingo is a driving force, as predicted, rising to third place. I have not started the Taurus for so long the battery has gone dead. How was your day?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

June 13, 2010

           It looks like a picture of some bicycles at first glance. This was the scene y’day in front of Kelly’s Pub on Harrison. They let people park the odd bicycle inside, but today, that was full. Count at least fifteen patrons on bicycles or scooters. The significance is awesome until you figure out they all lost their driver's licenses. Still, a year ago, this many people riding bikes to a pub was unheard of. But more ominous is the cultural shock.
           Here's my theory on why men ride a bike to a bar. They've given up. You see, bars and strip joints exist for men (usually dumb jocks) who totally guessed wrong in the women department. That means for them to ride a bicycle to the pub, they have given up what little hope they ever had of landing a woman. And if they did, how are they gonna get her home? Times are indeed bad.

           It was not a good day, I believe I may have some adverse interactions with Lisinopril. Hey, your turn is coming. You work in an office, you are vulnerable and I consider myself very fortunate to have spotted the symptoms in time. The heat kept me indoors and immobile the entire stretch due to dizziness, I'm sure it's that pill. Feeling faint always gives me a laugh because of Bad Bob, one of my students. If you tell him you see spots, he’ll recommend an eye doctor. That's how his mind works, really.
           I must seem a mess. Theresa made chicken and mashed potatoes and treated me to the only real meal in days. I’ve been tending to snack due to the heat. Wallace had to do the same both summers he was here. The heat is an appetite killer and men naturally shy away from a kitchen in such weather conditions. Move to Florida, you’ll quickly avoid turning on an oven when it is 98 degrees outside.
           There is no contingency plan for next month, when the computer shop closes. It has been five good years, which I rate a success due to what I’ve learned about running a business in Florida. This was of great concern in 2005, as I am only too aware of how badly mistaken most people are concerning their ability to do so, particularly upon retirement. So many assume they can run a little shop that will keep them. Yeah, a shop to keep them in rags. They don’t understand you can’t stay little, that if you don’t continually grow and branch out, you’ll get quashed. And branching out is one thing most small shop-owners are ill-equipped for.

           More research on the Gruber Assist, the bicycle stealth motor, shows most people have never heard of it. That’s explainable, as it is not sold in America due to government laws against importing the battery packs. I could find no details on that. A few countries require it to be governed to 25 mph, which is fine by me. Have you ever experienced 25 mph on a bicycle? Scary. You don’t want to wipe out at that speed on a bicycle.
           Alfredo is in Peru. That’s the trip he wanted so badly last year. I stopped by to find the Russian guy (Boris) minding the shop. Business has also slowed down there, which should not surprise anyone. I know that cheap shoes are making repairs uneconomical, I just felt it would take longer to catch up to the cobbler trade. I would have checked in anyway, but Alfredo gave him my number in case he needed anything. But the fact is, Boris says there isn’t enough to even keep himself busy. Maybe I’ll hang out a little until Alfred returns so the shop won’t be so boring. Got nuttin’ else to do.
           I’ve skimmed over all the popular employment sites on-line. The resume collecting trade is still the dominant legitimate scam, you know, where you don’t apply for a job, you apply to an agency to find the job for you. Like they know better than you what you want. The Federal money to create jobs is known locally as FBTW, or “Florida Back To Work”. The taxpayer kicks in to take an otherwise nothing job up to at least $12 per hour. But these are the worst jobs ever.
           It is clear businesses which have no intention of ever paying a living wage are flocking to the government for this incentive money. An example is an $8 per hour job in Hollywood running a capsule filling machine. Just think, the medicine you take may have been produced on such an assembly line. It is a strange affliction among employers that somebody earning a starvation wage will ever consider the consumers problem as more important than their own.
           I’m still for Roosevelt, or the president that said "no business which depends for existence on paying less than living wages to its workers has any right to exist in this country". A painter makes $10 these days, a carpenter tops out at $14. Now keep in mind these are jobs, not contracting, but you probably don’t want to be a contractor in Florida, either.
           Also, remember, I am not looking for a career. I’m looking for something to tide me over. That’s the part that is not as easy as it used to be. In the good old days, I never went without a job any time I wanted one. But I’ll play my electric bass on the street curb before I’ll work a pill press for minimum wage. This is locally referred to as “Doing a California Johnny”.

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