It’s a sign of the times. This year a tiny but select group of family friends get store-bought Xmas presents from me. This has not happened in forty years. The commercialization of Xmas is against both my conscience and intellect. The difference is these are tokens of appreciation rather than plain old gifts and in general, mine arrive before Xmas itself. Of course, my budget allows for this without using credit. That’s important. Never could grasp the thinking of people who buy gifts using credit cards. Don’t give me any lip about paying later; it is a fundamentally evil process to buy “gifts” with anything but cash. O, the controversy.This is the more surprising considering I was raised out on the prairies where Xmas was the biggest deal of the year. It was also a society that dealt with life’s deeper issues like credit abuse mainly by ignoring them. Budget constraints aside, the “gifts” I received were little more than complete demonstrations of how little my family really knew about me. By the age of 13, I had created my own rock band and the Beatles were still the rage. That Xmas I was gifted an album by some outfit nobody'd ever heard of (Burton Cummings). You see, to a peasant, one album is just as good as any other and, “If you had any brains you’d god-dam-well know that”. No way was the local record store going to exchange that dog.
(I remain the only person of seven in my family to have studied music. I have given gifts, but they were personally hand-made, not a purchased finished product. The clever reader here knows to watch for these exceptions in what I say. For example, my statement that I’ve only asked out three women in my entire life is not saying I’ve only had three dates. In my life, I’ve been out with around 64 women that mattered, all told. Careful, what did I just say?)
You get a longer blog today because there’s a modicum of gossip-like information which I understand has a certain appeal. Somebody is after the former border of the resident of my present address, whom I’ll only call Irving. I met him once before I moved in and he certainly looked the type who kept to himself. But he must have been okay, since nobody gets into this trailer court who isn’t a model citizen. Hey, just look at me if you really need proof enough. The literary output alone exceeds the rest of Florida trailer parks combined.
Anybody new here? Could be, since my readership has recently doubled. Well, a reminder is due that I am here because of an uninsured medical event, not because I’m cheap or made bad decisions in life. I know you don’t need an Ann Coulter to tell you that, but in case any onlookers have any misgivings on that point. I mean, just look at the clever placement of keywords alone.
I got thirty pages into the Cussler book to realize I’d already read it. This happens with assembly-line novels and explains why I eventually quit reading Clancey. Besides, I’d rather spend the evening puttering with electronics and repairing music gear. They don’t make cables or plugs like they used to. And I insist on buying only quality, with metal covers. Junk, all of it. I use chemical cleaner after working on the Honda, so next I took a close look at the ingredients of the hand cream I follow up with. It’s dimethicone. My hand cream is basically Silly Putty.
Here’s a mirror cam shot of me up at Marshall’s, the first time I’ve ever shopped there. I promised more pix, and here I am, not as skinny as I’d like. Still a dashing bloke but getting on, you see. And I’m way over my ideal weight. I’m still carrying the extra flab from the run up to my heart attack now nine years ago. A recently published study tells something I’ve known my whole life, that ladies prefer a slim man to thick-knuckled deck apes. I’d give anything to drop sixty pounds. Trivia. Washington, DC, was purchased for $67 per acre, with 100 square miles total. That was the amount Congress needed for “protection and privacy”. To buy the land, the feds offered to take over individual state debts from the Revolutionary War. That made them extremely popular with the wealthy status quo, which led to the Civil War. You see, before income tax arrived in 1917, central government could only raise money through tariffs. The South, as we know, imported most of what it needed, including food. So guess who got stuck with the tab?
Have you seen the latest Iranian submarine? In day-glo blue and about the size of a backyard project, it represents the next stage in militarization of the Persian Gulf. The US keeps two aircraft carriers there. For reasons. And completely ignores Iranian warnings about overflying their territory with drones, a weapon the Arab states in general find abominably irksome. Some people are not gonna stop provoking Moslems until they get themselves a nuclear haircut.
Next, to follow on with Taxi music development, I listened to tracks such as “Georgia Peaches” (Alaina), “Mean” (Swift), and “Take A Little Ride” (Aldean). I’m not impressed, again five minutes later I could not recall one of the melodies or lyrics. It is studio schlock, written to formula, pumped out by the ton. I’ll say it again, America needs another Johnny Cash. Naturally, I paid fussy attention to the bass playing and it was universally bad. Take your pick: childish thumping roots or over-played finger exercises. The worst aspect is that they all sound alike. Clones.
Four hours I listened to Taxi samples. The best takes are piano instrumentals, though many listings specifically state no violin or piano solos. While I’m familiar with most segments of the music, no way have I talent to produce something like “Song For Sienna”, which is about the minimum effort required by the looks of things. Taxi does not sound interested in even hearing anything that is not a candidate for one of their categories. Also, they want broadcast quality submissions rather than workable ideas. That encourages start-to-finish computerized muzak. And it sounds it. But the Taxi vocabulary is a hoot. Here’s some examples new to me: cringeworthy, pop-sensibility, summery, shoegaze, hooky, gothabilly.
Coffee makers. My Krup FMA1 needs replacing and the company doesn’t appear to exist except on-line. My coffee at home has to be perfect, which is a delicate balance between the hot water temperature and the rate it soaks through the grounds. That’s why I insist on a four-cup brewer in which I usually make three cups. My coffee is that important. I found this coffee maker. By accident. It was left behind when I moved in over by the golf course years ago, brand new in the box.
bottle caps candy box; palm triangular; sosua 1980; sosua ladies;axis sally; fake 2 bill; holly halston water; juke box remote; large bottle caps candy box; meme calendar;
