One year ago today: September 18, 2013, crackdown on diploma mills.
Five years ago today: September 18, 2009, daily life in 2009.
Ten years ago today: September 18, 2004, glass eye?
This post is redacted from the original.
MORNING
First, here is the extremely user-unfriendly screen of a "DrawBot" screen. If you like robotics in plain English, here's what you need to know. An ordinary picture can be converted to a list of coordinates. The only way I've learned to do that is with a program called Stipple. If you return in a day or two after I've figured out what gives, I'll have some examples for you. That stipple file is just a series of dots, sort of like looking at a newspaper picture under really high magnification.
One the stipple is created, the "DrawBot" takes the lists of points where the dots are and creates a bunch of musical tones. If you examine the photo closely, you'll see the Output Wave filename I gave it, 14-BabeStippleWAV. I used that generic photo of the pretty lady from a few days ago. Note, there are no instructions or help buttons with this software. "DrawBot" is the final step of three to produce an image. Since the other two are even more complicated, I'll probably just show you the photos.
Once more, the creators calling this a weekend project are wishful thinkers. I showed the process to some lads from the computer generation and they were wide-eyed, wondering where I learned all this. Must have taken me forty years one of them said. I didn't dare tell them I learned all of it last Wednesday morning.
Now what? Unidentified war planes have bombed Libya. What do you mean "unidentified". It's not as if the suspect list includes Jamaica. Ha, ha, I just thought about what I said, hell no, the Jamaicans are too busy getting bombed themselves. Get it, Ken? No? Well, class, let's move on. Let me use my dusty degree in military history to see if I can finger the culprit.
First clue: somebody must have seen these planes in order to label them unidentified. That's a no-brainer. If it was bombers, they would have spoke up. America has the only strategic bomber force left, but B-52s fly too high to be seen or heard. So they were fighter bombers.
Who exports those to the Middle East? Not Britain or France, who, chickenshits that they are, gave up that profitable venture after the first few reprisals. Rule out America, who would have used aircraft carriers. That leaves Russia or China as the supplier. Fighter bombers have limited range and require expensive bases. Libya is in the middle of a desert. Airbases, even camouflaged are easily visible from satellites because the engines leave streaks on the pavement.
The bases must near the boundaries. To the west are nations that cannot afford bicycles, to the south is the empty Sahara. It's the Egyptians, though likely acting on somebody else's behalf. And politics I only know second-hand. Anyway, these warplanes are not cheap to operate. In the latest few Israeli wars, the Syrians have shot down IAF planes faster than US industrial might could replace them.
Read that last bit again in case you are not sure of the implications. The planes are so complex and expensive that Israel's supplier failed keep up with a few hours action over the Golan. And you can bet your afterburner the folks in the foxholes took notes with glee. It must be the Libyan oil somebody is after. I mean, what else does Libya have?
Nor have I ever understood why Libya becomes such a focal point at times. It's like closer to Rome than to Gaza. Then again, since when did having a good example ever benefit some people? But I'll quit talking about my former band.
NOON
What's with all the howling about the band? People, we were not getting anywhere. We were rehearsing 12 to 15 hours per month and averaging one gig every two months. On top of that, I was the only one putting in extra home hours because the band was not learning anything they didn't play before. Their marketing system is an utter failure and they refused point blank to try anything else. Here's the comment on that band I want to go down in history:
Their very best moments would rate, oh, I'd say, about on par with the Hippie & I at the beach, see photo. I'd say moments because they never did have an entire smash-up gig on the scale I am used to. Or even a full set of dancers. They'd win the music contest, but I'd win the crowd.
Too bad I can't post a video on the blog, thanks to Google. And no, I won't use youTube for the simple reason that outfit will not let you delete. I know what some of you are thinking, but yes, they could block others from republishing and rebroadcasting. Ask Justin Bieber. Who, by the way, has bought a $250,000 reserved seat on a civilian space flight next year (2015). See, there again I know what some of you are thinking.
Back to my old band. The guitar player was first rate, but he also made the band guitar-centric. He would not play anything that did not showcase his instrument. Hence, when he messed up, so did the band, present company excluded. I'm not a follow-the-leader type of bassist because bands that do that suffer from guitar rot. And it was getting out of hand the last few gigs. Also, even our better gigs were just not as much fun as they should have been. Limited room for expression, you might say, but I mean the right kind of expression.
Socially, I could not understand these guys. They have an almost gang-like pecking order that disregards any experience except their own. It becomes infuriating to try to reason with such people, particularly if you are a lowly bass player and the new guy to boot. The drummer was the gang "enforcer", pardon me, manager. Just don't dare ask how many ads this week, how many contacts, or how many return calls? It was not the professional outfit one would expect from a group nearing retirement age.
The gigs were anemic as well. My fans were calling them "dog shows and watering holes". You know how I usually pack the dance floor? This band never did even once. (This struck me odd, as I know my bass playing is infectious. Were they even holding me back?) They would get an enthused couple or two out there once or twice a night, but only for a favorite song. The singer once had a group of her girlfriends front and center, but nothing ever on the scale I consider normal for a live music presentation.
The band really fell over from its own weight. Too much politics, not enough playing. Worse, the politics was behind the scenes, which you can take to mean behind my back. They purport to be an open democracy, but the reality is every decision, large or small, was conducted in secret and dictated to me. Toward the end, I had to get the lady singer to make every proposal because I knew I would not be heard. They never developed the spine to say no to her.
In all, I lose very little but 16 months of my time. The band was going nowhere, the music was heading downhill, they will lose the singer fast. This, my friends, is why I insist a band pass the Jimbos test before I throw in with them. If a new band can't face a crowd I've spoiled in advance, I'm certainly not booking them into my venues. Unless they walk into one of my gigs, this band will never know how close they came.
In all, it was quite the experience for me. To again try a band that was right out of my own early teen years. That's essentially all it was. Officially, I will announce the band broke up due to personality clashes. So that that band will at least stand a chance of ever finding the flunky bassist they are seeking.
How about this thought? That was the first time I ever quit a band and my income went up.
NIGHT
We finally locked the Jamis bicycle in low gear, it's been off and on for two weeks trying to get it to change gears properly. So I said jam it at the speed I use most often. I'm like the next guy, I won't ride my bicycle unless it is easy, handy, and carefree. Then we decided since it was going to pour, let's make hot dogs on the veranda.
Did you know it costs $15 for two guys to have hotdogs these days. That's $5.00 for four pork sausages, $4.00 for the bread, $3.00 for the ketchup and $3.00 for sodas. We got a half loaf of bread and a half bottle of ketchup left over. We grilled it up, so were outside for the entire rainstorm. We could see the street and so much for all those women who claim they like to walk in the rain.
It wouldn't quit, so we decided to watch the movie "Mr. Nobody". A boring collection of special effects vignettes. It was about a babbling old coot who can't remember a damn thing but thinks he can read the future. Insert ripe Canadian joke here. I left after the first hour and went home to listen to classical music on NPR.
Don't get the impression we sit around scarfing hot dogs. These are highly productive club meetings. And it is all new to me. As a lad I had no access to tools and workshops. If my situation around those things seems at a schoolboy level, that's because it is. But life has served me better gaining the knowledge first and the hands-on later. While you can always learn to use new tools when you are older, you sure as hell can't get any smarter. Another Canadian joke fits here.
The repair that did the most good is the signal light blinker horn. It chirps when the blinker light is on, this time loud enough to hear over traffic or in high wind. There oughta be a law about this for motorcycles. And a law against those buzzers that require a circuit board to make them work. Example: Radio Shack part 273-071. Connect the electric and it sits there. You need an oscillating wave voltage to make it work.
NPR is covering the next US entanglement in Syria. Our third Viet Nam. Get this, the plan is to arm and train one Islamic faction to fight another. How stupid can you get? I withdraw the question. I don't want to start any contests. But giving guns to countries that support terrorism is so thick-headed only a politician could have thought of it. The old we'll have to fight the Islamic state sometime so better it is now. That's political nonsense. I don't want or need to fight any Muslims and I don't know anyone else who does.
It was the hottest 30 consecutive days since 1880 when records have been kept.
ADDENDUM
Win 8.1. I've had it for one day and already I've concluded it is designed for the absolutely most slobbering, stupid users possible. Fortunately for MicroSoft, those America has in such bountiful supply, we export them. All the useful functions and commands "except those a grunt requires for his daily porno fix" have been removed or hidden.
nbsp; The useable word processors are still stuck on the gronk font, Calibri 11. I really should learn to appreciate the difficulty MicroSoft must undergoto find such stupid employees. How they must comb the campus for dorkbrains who think 1.15pt spaces between their lines is a scientific breakthrough? You know, I have a theory about that. That hamburger university gave a ten page assignment and Leroy could only plagiarize 8-1/2. With seconds left on the clock, he made Win 7.0 history.
I don't have a touch screen. Serious users use a keyboard; the operative word being "serious". For those who never got the memo, every action that takes your hands off the keyboard, included reaching for the mouse, cuts your productivity in half. Nor is it natural to touch glass-like surfaces with one's oily fingertips though I am certain there exists a certain grade or category of individual who do it instinctively.
One feature I instantly dislike is the way the move command is now the copy command. It makes organizing files difficult, Ken, for those of use that do such things. Windows open simultaneous try to center themselves on screen, blocking your target destination. Win 8.1 is full of this brand of annoying "improvements" that indicate it is not designed for productive use by the intelligent. MicroSoft, I believe, would make an opsys that is nothing but gimp features if they could get away with it.
Favorite feature? When Win 8.1 won't connect to the Internet, the help lines says to click on their help center. Duh, brought to you by the same crowd as: "No keyboard detected. Press any key."
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