[Author's note 2016-02-10: this post is a Dragon Naturally Speaking transcript.]
I was all over town. I’ve got a new scooter. I even dropped by to see Dave-O, who is much better off. I’ve fixed up an older (but adequate) computer for the scooter shop and I’ll network it in there soon. Remember, I’m used to driving a couple of miles to a shop than working the same arrangement at home. Why be vulnerable? Besides, a shop is where you network with the correct people. And before too long, you’re back in the Internet business again.
What about the old computer shop? It is now being re-opened. Here is a photo of some guy working on the display rack. You can see his head and shoulders left of the tree. No hint yet of what kind of business it will be. I wonder if she got her $3,000 per month rent. If so, you watch, the shop will be like those mall cell phone stores that crop up by the dozen every spring and fold within a year.While looking for encryption programs on the Internet, I find a site of dozens with an interesting trait in common: their advertising is lifted almost word for word from an article I wrote concerning privacy and the dangers of profiling some twelve years ago. The telltale phrase is “This occurs without your knowledge or consent.” I’m amused, not offended. The software was all written by different people so I suspect the copywriter is the plagiarist.
I am testing a program that scrambles e-mail in a unique fashion, in that it does not require the recipient to have descrambling software. It works by encrypting the message but adding a tiny script. When the e-mail arrives at the far end, it is rendered in plain text and a confirmation automatically returned to the sender. This prevents the e-mail from being read in transit. If it passes muster, I’ll review it.
My gas generator on the Coleman is unfixable. I’ve tried all I know and can’t get full operation out of it. There are no professional repairmen in this State. The new models are expensive and nowhere near the quality expected. Without gas light, my evening reading has tapered to fewer hours, which has always been the case when I use electric light.
Who do I bump into but Jeanie, the gal I used to play bass with up at the Octopus and similar venues downtown. I dedicated my Karaoke set to her, she is indeed looking good these days. She does sing a lot of slow music. She knows Laurie, Karaoke Laurie. Jeanie is leaving town, heading for Ashville (N. Carolina). This kind of decision is hard to reckon until you’ve lived in both states. I hope she finds it up there. Most people don’t.
I live in a trailer court, in case anyone has noticed. Thus, I know what is happening in all the trailer courts even nearby, right down to occupancy rates. The establishments along Federal and east cater to Canadians, but they do not respect them. They shove the Canucks around all they want and never get sued because the Canadians are technically here illegally and won’t squawk. But times are changing, for the clientele are all well over 70. These trailer courts are not thinking ahead who is going to replace them within a few years.
The next wave is going to be American retirees and people whose Enron-like pension plans don’t afford them to live in condos and detached housing. This crowd knows their rights and don’t put up with nonsense like “credit checks” that abrogate their civil rights. Somebody is going to sue these trailer parks sooner or later, and I hope they win. (For clarity, trailer parks sell all information you give them, no matter how private. In Florida, most trailer parks are owned by Jews.)
The local joke is that Canadians are tolerated because they are the least bothersome neighbors. “At least they are white, have money and use their own medical.”
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