What on earth? First, where, and this off the Australia coast. It is billed as a “red tsunami” but it is rather a storm that has picked up a load of fine red desert sand particles. Air turbulence above the hot desert interiors often produce these storms but this one intrigued me because the news reports said the sand was from “islands in the Indian Ocean”. I would like your typical news reporter to show me a map of where these islands are located.
Have you ever heard of GLAD? Neither have I, so imagine my suspicions when I get contacted by my university from decades ago saying my Masters degree must now be part of the Global Literacy Academic Database before I can “officially use it” on my business cards, driver’s license, and passport. Really? Since when? They also say my thesis was never “forwarded to the relevant authority”. I thought my university was the relevant authority.
Most people have never read a graduate thesis. You can’t blame them, usually it is dry technical material written by people with few authorship skills which they have never used before or since. There is even a thesis on Facebook for undergraduates. I bet you can’t read more than a few paragraphs of that nonsense. The style of modern theses is cheesy and over-academic as writers today have a stronger motive to try to sound “smart”. Myself, I’ve read few theses and these were generally published as histories on military topics, a subject I am already interested in.
I worked long and hard for my MBA. That’s why I was so disappointed to find out my old university began giving credit for “life experience” back in 2008. Such credit has no place in the rarified halls of learning. One takes higher learning precisely to learn how to deal with the world without becoming an oaf, Ken. Experience is synonymous with trial and error, why do you think they call it "experience" instead of "education". I've learned by both methods and let me tell you, the booklearning is vastly superior.
Now they are asking for money to “register” my thesis. My topic was on the practicality of using spreadsheets instead of business software to comply with tax law. They say they don’t have a copy, which would be more than irksome because I lost my typewritten copy long ago. It must be just another money grab. Their standards have sunk so low, I don’t even tell people I have a degree from Humble any more. It’s not like I’m job-hunting these days anyway.
But I would like to go to work for a couple of years. This time I would do it right, sock away every penny and buy a place in Central America. Sit back and watch North America go to the dogs. The US and Canada are populated by jackasses. Melting pot? Maybe a hundred years ago, but not today. We haven’t needed any immigrants since 1945. Somehow, the jackasses think anyone opposed is a racist when in fact they are a patriot. No immigration until we have full employment. No welfare until third generation. No admittance based on family relationships. And no settlement in populated areas until twenty years in small towns.
The batbike went in for a tune-up including changing the drive shaft oil. I didn’t know that was required. I found out there is a small window under the right foot-peg to check the engine oil level. Because of the sidecar bucket, I will have to use a small mirror to get my reading. I got a quote to repair the saddlebag cover that fell off and cracked on the pavement. At $100, I think I’ll fix it myself. Later in the day, I needed the batbike toolbox so I drove the red scooter and got half way. That carburetor problem came back with a vengeance and I had to push the scooter back home. About a mile. It was either that or spend the same time waiting for it to cool.
It starts, but it won’t come out of idle. When you hit the gas, it stalls. That scooter has seen its better days. I never get a thousand miles out of it any more without a repair of some sort. Back home I switched to the eBike to go get the toolkit and that vehicle only gets six miles per charge, so I pedaled most of the return leg. I never made it to the bakery until noon by which time I was exhausted.
There were two ladies and a cop in there talking about dieting. Correction, food-only dieting, a method which I know doesn’t work. You have to change your lifestyle. Those people were doomed taking the approach that controlling your food intake will result in permanent weight loss. Food is merely the biggest factor. There is no “right amount” of ice cream or French fries or mayonnaise that is good for you. I wanted to advise them when they consider eating mustard out of the jar with a spoon a special treat, then maybe they can keep up with me. Today I put away 620 calories. On the rice package it says serving size is ¼ of a cup. The very fact that such statistics are never challenged makes on3 suspect the entire last generation has gone full retard.
The interior of vehicles will get damp in Florida and the sidecar is no exception. I spray the interior of the box with 10% bleach solution but I still get a fungus aroma after extended rainy periods. So I’ve removed the sidecar seat, both the bench and the backrest. I’m impressed by the quality of the leatherwork, but also the crudity. Single layer machine seams with not even a lockstitch and the thread is not waterproof. There is a surprising amount of cargo space when the seat is gone.
Half the onlookers fall in love with that blue paint, but alas, except for the insides, this is one of the last views of it. Total weight is still less than 300 pounds, enough to pull with one hand. The box sides are right how help in by only three bolts each, so it is easy to remove them. The lid, as I call it, will be held down by only two bolts, which I’ll explain in a moment. But what glorious bolts they are. With the washers and nuts, they cost me $17.
Not only that, the lid is degrade unsanded, that is, cheap non-pressure treated plywood. The sides turn out to be quite rigid enough without the bracing effect of the “roof” so I’ve made the whole piece removable. Untwirl two bolts from the inside and lift it off. It is also hinged at the front but I have not decided how high I want it to swing open. The cheap plywood will be offset by three thick layers of undercoat and two layers of exterior paint. Leaving the box in place will also permit me to permanently silicon all the joints rather than use replaceable weatherstripping. Twenty-year silicon, which if that is consistent with today’s manufacturer’s claims, should last six or seven years, long after I’m dead and gone.
This paint job was the object of considerable discussion as to the purpose of paint. Some people feel paint is cosmetic only, while I tend to look at it as part preservative and a layer of protection against moisture. I know that the northwest sides of the barn have to be painted twice as often, but if you do, the planks never deteriorate except where they touch the ground. This camper is not intended to last forever, just to give me a chance to see more of the country before I can’t or it becomes too expensive.
Again, I read about the Crimean War. What a nothing place for all the fighting that goes on there. Pictures from the 1850s show it as a town of brick buildings on a treeless moonscape. The true horror of that war seems to be the British army. Most accounts say they could have won in the first few hours, but instead spent weeks and months waiting for supplies and didn’t get their winter clothes until spring. This is the war where Florence Nightingale got her reputation. It would seem she was not that great a nurse, but was a great administrator, and encouraged the wounded to write home.
Overall, the Crimea reads like a dress rehearsal for World War I. The British continue to run their military with bungling aristocrats while the men starve and freeze. All the delays allowed the Russians time to sink blockships in the harbor and build defenses manned by the superbly led crews. These sailors were a legacy of Peter the Great. The Russians lost heavily at Sebastopol, but they were nearer to their supply lines and had countless replacements. It was this war that woke Moscow up to the fact the enemy, despite its hopelessly bad leadership, could conduct a war thousands of miles from home with a small fraction of its resources.
It’s the same war with the Charge of the Light Brigade, a disaster turned into a gallant episode by the British press. It is also the first war that was photographed on a large scale. And once again, those who campaigned in Russia failed to learn the basic lesson that over there, the winters are cold enough to defeat every European invader in history. That famous saying, “It is magnificent, but it is not war” was also from this conflict. It is a great study in military fiasco.
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