This is the sidecar at night, the only significance of this photo is the technology behind getting it to display correctly after Google mucked up the system again. It is not true they are deliberating out to jerk intelligent people around, but the net effect of their actions is identical to that. I’d like to say such asinine companies never survive, but the Internet seems to make sure only the rotten ones make it. My conclusion is that Google will eventually make all blogs look so much alike that this one will be even more refreshing and unique.Who remembers Betamax, the Sony contender for home video recording? It was a superior format to VHS (Video Home System) but we know who won that face off. Ah, but did you know the major reason why? The old wives tale is that VHS was cheaper, which is true, but most people would likely have paid a few dollars more for quality. Why did Betamax flop? Because Sony refused to license it to the porno industry.
Valentine’s was a nice choice to announce a new divorce law in, I think. Tallahassee seeks to reign in long-term “financial enslavement”, while some lady politician named Stafford says the law is “anti-woman”. But she would say that, wouldn’t she. The law would restrict alimony payments to half the length of any marriage that lasts less than ten years. Another woman named Modafferi thinks hiring school cops should “have no price tag”. Good, let her pay for it and we’ll train the other kids to stand near hers. For all their jabber about equality, the American woman still wants somebody else to pick up the tab.
And a rainy Valentine’s, where the world of lonely men can at least look back and not have to worry what they did with all their time and money. Myself, I did the laundry, which sounds unromantic but that’s because I didn’t mention it was also pissing rain all day long. Actually, my phone has not been ringing again, I have Virgin Mobile, the worst carrier since Typhoid Mary. The bakery treated me to breakfast, so I should not say I had no nice ladies in my life today.
Speaking of rain, the community washers aren’t draining and I’ve had my laundry in the tumbler third time now. Everything soaking wet but in a way you don’t notice until your money is gone. Laundry day chops your plans up into one-hour segments unless you have, like I will in my new place, a full size washer and dryer setup. It’s just my luck, but prices have stabilized. Ah, wait for spring when the tourists bail.
I may get together with Estelle later. We talked but that always confirms we are from different planets. She thinks people are bored when they don’t have to get up for the alarm clock. My life doesn’t begin until alarm clocks are a distant memory. For amusement purposes, I like to listen to the working class complain about boredom because they’ve got it so bass-ackwards. I hear them say things like people can always walk on the beach.
No, they can’t. When one is brain-dead from lack of developing long-term interests while young enough to do so, beach-walking is damn boring. I watched my own brothers repeatedly get themselves in deep trouble because of boredom. They refused to learn any hobbies when young, and by twenty the only thing they could do for excitement was stick their noses in other people’s business and stir up shit. They laughed at me when I learned music and writing and read the encyclopedias. Who’s laughing now? Well, let me reword that. Who’s been laughing since I was twelve?
Boredom is a self-inflicted wound. People with no skills eventually find everything boring. That’s because being brainless lets them see things only one way. To me, every walk on the beach is new. I can look at a grain of sand and tell you its history, I can read the seashells. When Estelle says her life is like a flash, it makes me wonder. I could not begin to write a book about my life or any portion of it.
She called later but the rain was spitting and it still gets dark early. We decided she should call on Sunday and we’ll maybe do something then. I’ve been learning two new tunes, one of them the Blues. How sadly and much I miss a little lady that can strum guitar. Estelle cannot even clap a steady beat. Sigh. Why don’t I teach her? The same reason you don’t.
