This photo is likely from the middle 90s, either in Los Angeles or Caracas. That is me operating a laptop computer purchased in 1985. That’s for anyone who thinks they are something new. It is a Tandy TRS-80, nicknamed the “Trash 80”, priced at around $1,100 with monochrome lo-res screen. It did the job. The only output was to 3.5 inch floppies, and the maximum number of files on any disk was 108. Note the telltale sign of somebody doing real work on a computer: a calculator just to one side.
Some of the financial guidelines I still use today were produced on that computer—and trust me they are significantly different from what outfits like Visa would have people do. I know unerringly how much I’ve spent on interest in this century: zero dollars and zero cents. Here’s some history for you. I had developed a series of mortgage spreadsheets in 1985, back then a serious piece of programming. I went to six banks, offering my services, but none of them knew what I was talking about. When I showed them errors in their interest tables, the managers generally said these “balanced out”. My idea soon flopped, losing me around $6,000 in hard cash and a ton of damn hard work.
I was, once more, just too far ahead of the market. Several years later, you may recall banks were suddenly all using similar software and begging people to transfer their mortgages over. The programs made it easy to do, and if anyone had listened to me, they would have had an unbeatable head start. Yeah, if I’d been born rich, I would have created the mortgages myself and said to hell with the antiquated banking system.
I had to hustle over to a lawyer in Aventura early today and stopped at McDonald’s on the return leg. Does anyone remember when that was a great place to stop in for a quick cheap breakfast? Not any more. Three hotcakes, a sausage patty and a coffee set me back nearly $5.00. At those prices, I’ll go to Senor Café.
I had a long chat with the neighbor who keeps an eye on things for me. Not the noisy people who live in Eric’s old place, but the rich lady from Dominican Republic. She filled me in on some very interesting goings-on around here a few times while I was away. I already know what I am dealing with.
For example, I “accidentally” left an official looking letter lying around in a location where Theresa the Cave Woman had no business being. The next morning at 5:30 AM I saw her reading it by flashlight. Man, these people are easy to set up, but I needed her to act on that information.
I have another contract pending with video transcriptions, analog to digital. Plus, another call from the doggie wig place. In all, this promises to be an excellent start to the season and it is only the middle of September. Sadly, the value of this place has fallen to $12,700, so it is a good thing there never was any agreement to flip the premises for a profit. That, I would not have done without a signed contract.
I’ve been listening to a tune on Pat-B’s ticket, called “Little Bitty”. It has been voted the epitome of degeneration in modern country, the worst piece of music of the modern era. It surely is a tasteless number, but Marlon Brando did “Last Tango in Paris”, didn’t he? Hemmingway made money off “The Old Man and the Sea”. And Paul McCartney got away with “Hands Across The Water”. Know what I’m sayin’?
To end on a happy note, Jag’s first live gig went quite well. We would not have won any contests, as everything went wrong on stage. Most of it was the predictable troubles that don’t appear until played at a high volume or due to distractions. Jag by the crowd and me by having to keep an eye on everything. The audience loved his performance and I know talent when I see it. The place was mostly empty so Jag got to keep all the tips, just this once.
We have nearly two hours of material. Jag went the distance without giving up. I did not point out any errors, as he is fully aware of any weak spots already. A few forgotten chords, a few false starts and a problem with volumes. One was unexpected, the Zoom drum box. It varies its own volume without warning, necessitating another volume pedal.
With hope, this will provide Jag the incentive to bear down on the guitar parts and get up to speed. The only encouragement I could give him is that it is really that first hurdle that is the toughest. That’s not true, but after that first big effort to get out of the bush league, you learn to take more of it in stride. You become more tolerant of your own shortcomings (but not always of others if you detect they have not put in the time). I sometimes call it “the sound barrier” and to play professionally, you must get through it.
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