One year ago today: June 17, 2013, Martian sunset.
Five years ago today: June 17, 2009, Everglades Park.
Ten years ago today: June 17, 2004, silver $5.91/oz.
Here is one of those photos with a name. This one I call, “After the Writer’s Club Meeting”. Nice touch, good eye, quaint composition, subtle message, you can tell I like it. Actually, this is not exactly correct, you see, when I left, the meeting was still in progress. I leave at 9:00PM regardless, I don’t like driving a scooter after dark. But on the way out, I saw this in the corner of the cafeteria. There had been a staff meeting there earlier. It captures the moment and that is good enough for us.
Two plus to is four.
She said, “Two plus two is four.”
For a better description of the plots that are taking place at the writer’s meeting, drop by later or tomorrow. There are thirteen writer’s in the room, so chances are you will find something you like. Fortunately, the poetry reading is to a minimum. I’ve toyed with writing a novel for years. Maybe this is the incentive I need to follow through.
Those pages of tables in the Almanac are making sense, although it remains an open question why a farmer would need to navigate to find his field. A set of tables are needed to plot one’s position, but don’t be intimidated by the volume of figures, you are only looking up one “set” of information. And most of the numbers you will only ever use once, on a particular day, and then never again. When learning, don’t spend money on the books. All the data you need has been handily pirated on the Internet, and if you got the ‘lerts, there are formulas to generate your own tables to a much higher accuracy, something like nine decimal points.
You are in luck if you like listening to me vent. The positive way to detect a severe case of gitaritis is when the lead player figures he is the leader of the band—and the band lets him get away with it because they know the next guitar player isn’t going to be any different. This afternoon I met a lead-player with “Gitaritis” so bad he didn’t know he was infected. Talk about your bland individual. The standard, clueless, lackluster guitar player trying to tell me how it goes. Thus, I will help as an interpreter.
He said, “We get together and play just for fun.”
Translation: “We have not had a paying gig in seven years.”
Next, he says, “We only play originals.”
Translation: “We have not been properly laid in seven years either.”
Next, “We play only classic rock.”
Translation: “We have not learned a new song in seventeen years.”
Today involves a situation from the past. You remember Theresa? Well, I kept all her stuff, I even moved a lot of it and left my own stuff behind, thinking one day she’d be back. I kept that red velvet chair, and yes, if she had contacted me right up to today (which is very easy to do) she could have taken it. But finally this afternoon, Agt. M and I dragged it over to the highway and put a sign on it, “Free”. A black lady stopped, we loaded it onto her SUV. No picture.
I suppose I could have tried to contact Theresa, you know, kind of give her first dibs on the chair. But logic took over. You see, considering how long it has taken me to begin peeling the layers off celestial navigation, and further considering that she always said she was ten times smarter than I was, well, she must be one helluva busy lady from all that bookwork. So I decided not to interrupt her.
Here’s the bad news and the worse news. You know those packets of raimen noodles that have 38% of your RDA in salt? Well that’s the bad news. The worse news is each packet is listed as two servings. That statistic is likely from the same dodo who says that a serving of cooked rice is one-half cup. Dine at his house and you won’t have to wait an hour to be hungry again.
And what’s with that phrase about people and soldiers enduring until “the last day of the war”. I mean, what other day could they have endured to?
I see up in Illinois there is an uproar over the Uber taxis. Good. Not only am I against the way cab drivers do business, I am against the way the entire taxi system collaborates to gouge the people. That includes the city councils that charge $30,000 for taxi licenses and the insurance companies who make taxis pay more for regular coverage.
I mean, define corruption. Isn’t that where over time every bureaucrat in town collects his little “fee” for seeing little things, ahem, get done? And all of them claiming it is to ensure better public service, like we haven’t heard that one before. They overcharge the taxis, the taxis pay up knowing as long as they do, the city won't issue more licenses, and by golly, it’s one big happy family over there.
Can the bunch of them, I say, and start over. I never see cabbies protesting the outrageous costs of the system, because those greedy bastards know that system is what quashes any effective competition. And any increases just get shoved on to the consumer, who, under the present taxi system, has very little real choice. Since you’ll get nowhere battling the bureaucracy, it’s good when a little capitalism injected at ground level shakes the foundations.
I disagree that the private vehicles are breaking the law. That is, if there is a law says otherwise, it is a bad law. If I wish to give others a ride, even strangers, that is my prerogative—as long as I do not put signs on my car. What’s the difference? Because the service is arranged by a private phone call between two private citizens, that’s why. Anyone who tries to snoop in on that is automatically my enemy.
As far as I’m concerned, these ride services are nothing more than the voice of the people saying the taxi system has to become democratized or die. The arthritic American business system can only be shaken from the bottom up and the entire spoiled taxi system is a damn good place to start.
Oh, and don't hand us that line that you'll be glad there are taxis when you need one. Hey, anyone who thinks that has not tried to get a cab on July 4th. And if taxis are public transportation, people have the right to reject that for private transportation. And if the taxi is private transportation, go back two paragraphs.
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