Some unfortunate sad news, another staff member from the bingo hall is in the hospital. At first glance it’s almost like Jimbos is bad for one’s health. There’s no connection between us at all, but give me a minute here to tally up in my head how many of the gang have seen personal tragedy in the short I’ve known them. Hang on, I’m still thinking. Hmmm, nine. Of whom four are deceased.These misfortunes have nothing to do with the club, as Jimbos is about as ordinary and working class a joint as you’ll find anywhere here to California. In fact, I’ve mentioned that I chose Jimbos due to that ambience—of which the others are completely unaware. It’s a big, big country. But it is a small club and all of these people tend to know one another specifically from there. So cheer up, or at least cheer me up. I stayed home today deciding not to go out the door unless somebody called. Nobody did, which is also fine.
On youTube I found a series of 41 short clips concerning WWII German armor, here’s one link, you can find the rest yourself if interested. One reason I watched is because the footage is totally new. Anyone who’s seen the BBC documentaries knows most of the other material is over-used, like those three landing craft shots on D-Day. I know a bit about armor and acknowledge anything I have not seen a hundred times before. These newsreels are something new.
In the link above, you have to know what to look for, but there is an assault gun making a direct hit on a Panther tank. I had the sound off and got the wrong conclusion. It turns out the Panther had been captured intact by the Soviets and was being used to spearhead an attack. By 1943, the stock Russian T-34 was no longer invulnerable.
I re-state that I am anti-war except for self-defense, so my study of weapons is on a par with reading history, not to be interpreted as support for any war. However, for those who follow weapons development, these videos are a tremendously revealing source. The information contained goes far beyond the intended descriptions of the armor and that is why newspapers are censored in a war. See if you can figure out the scene where the flak gun is shooting downwards. Or why the assault guns in Italy keep backing up instead of driving forward. Or why, when the Soviets attack with tanks, you don’t see any German tanks, only assault guns.
A few days back I wrote about shift registers. I taxed my poor brain to the limit on that one, I now think that I cannot build one. A basic design would involve twelve transistors and just now, four is about my limit. But I thought so long and hard on this topic, I deserve a break. Commencing now.
ADDENDUM
I was fascinated by what I’m about to report. During the conversation last day, Estelle brought up a way of looking at my life that I would never have come up with on my own. Read the words. Then decide for yourself. She said when we first met I had the outward appearance of being a dropout. She thought nothing of it because she has seen them all over Europe. I’ve seen many in Seattle.
You know them, that talented violinist with his shabby cap on the sidewalk. The man quoting Shakespeare for quarters outside the bus station. People who are beyond a doubt gifted but don’t seem to fit into any standard category of their own skills. Estelle got me examining how I could look that way. I would never think any of this on my own, for I would write the situation off by saying the man (always a man) lacked the correct infrastructure. That [attitude of mine] is well-documented in this blog.
She said there were more and sometimes contradictory things about my lifestyle. Confusing things, until she said she figured out I used to have a lot of money. That, I found flatteringly amusing. As an example, she wondered why I live in a mobile home until she learned I was saving up to buy a house in cash. On one hand, her instinct said “dropout”, on the other she sees five guitars, four computers, a desk of electronics, 200 reference books, three vehicles, and a guy who is planning on conquering, if not the world, at least the Western Hemisphere.
Estelle insists the misconception is my own doing. When questioned, I’m more likely to walk away than provide proof. She describes how the proof only arrives slowly over time when other conversations reveal consistencies that wouldn’t exist in a lie. She’s got a point there. And I have no intention of changing, if that’s what she was getting at. I don’t feel like a defeated person and I’ve never been forced to play for coins on the sidewalks.
But me, a gypsy? That’s a new one.
