December 31, 2014

MORNING
           Nothing happened this morning anywhere in the universe.
           Okay, who thought the airliner they just found was the one that was abducted by the aliens? From all the news hype, that's what I thought at first. Nope, it’s a different one that went down in similar enough circumstances. Folks, I’ve flown these non-IATA carriers and that’s like just not the chosen way to save money on air fares. You take your chances. That’s like expecting me to feel sorry for people living in San Francisco when the big one hits. Things don't work like that.
           Alaine called, we are postponing “Exodus”. People have to work, you know, and she's got the New Year's shift. I spent the early hours repairing that scooter trouble with the starter. The only result of that was to further convince me I need the Honda 250. I’ve buzzed around on that one and it seems I can indeed afford this vehicle. One thing not in doubt is how much I would like to have it.

NOON
           Rehearsal showed the customary progress, so we (Trent & I) met up at the local watering hole for an afternoon few. It’s become a better place over the past few weeks. Like the old Jimbos, there are a core of women regulars. We played a mess of country tunes on the jukebox, which stamps our presence in a boomer joint.

           Let me explain that. The boomers that came before me grew up as I did, not liking country music. It is better worded [to say] that in my day is was not cool to admit one liked country music. I grew out of that, most men did not. Sure, I loved the Beatles, but only until I was 25 or so. It's those who never change that get irksome after a while. Like those old coots who play Bing Crosby crooners on the jukebox at a biker bar. The Beatles is kid music, teen music, that levelf of listening.
           Hence you get the phenomena of fifty and sixty year old men listening to music that is more age-appropriate for their grandchildren. Old men who still “hate” country, but that’s why it is called a jukebox. People play what they want. And from the last shift, it was cranked up loud this afternoon. So everybody got to enjoy Alan Jackson along with us.

           Our style is nowhere near complete, but we can play a few tunes well enough. We are months away from a standalone show, but just a few hours from doing something somewhere. Plus Trent brought over a brand new Tascam digital recorder, the type I am already familiar with. Like every other group in existence, we dream of going viral like a cat video. Then sit back and rake in the royalties. Gee, it’s all so easy, why didn’t I do this back in elementary?
           We partied up to 6:00PM then called it quits. The crowd and the consequences are just not worth even listening to. Instead, we used the time to further look at a series of pub-type venues that advertise as country-music-friendly in this area. Odd, because I know every road in this town and there are no signs on the street that indicate such establishments. I suspect I will find places that only claim to be country in the off-chance of a customer walking in and staying in disappointment. There was a time in America this kind of nonsense was false advertising.
           That’s the two topics of the afternoon. The new pub and the Tascam recorder. We’ve been in that pub a few times now, so we can begin to spot the women who told us they were single but lied. And other things like that. Although Trent is not as sold on coffee house gigs as I am, he has not played them either. If he attends a few, he may spot it as a shortcut to stage performing. You quickly learn to prefer them as the best place to meet people. It is the only place to go any more that is not centered on drinking and dancing.

NIGHT
           The important development is the Tascam recorder, an eight-track unit, which like all others, can only record one track at a time. So while having 8-channels, it cannot simultaneously record all at once. Also, there is a better way to accomplish the same thing. By simply bouncing the tracks, you can get ten tracks out of a 4-channel, so calling these “pocket studios” an 8-channel is mainly marketing hype. This, I feel, represents collusion between manufacturers on a similar level as done with drum boxes.
           Simply put, you cannot record the whole band at once. You are stuck with one input, usually a single microphone, and that is simply not good enough. Tascam and the rest know this. What you want to do is plug in 8 cables, adjust the trims, and record the whole band at once, using 8 separate channels. This is called mixing.
           I can’t recall the title of this marketing strategy, where the manufacturers agree to introduce improvements deliberately slow so as to max out sales of substandard units at each stage.
           Last, beware, these recorders do not work well right out of the box. While that can be done, it sure sounds like it. It is nearly the same model Cowboy Mike’s, so I should have it operational in a few hours.

ADDENDUM
           This is a transcript of my report on the Tascam. Hang on, let me make sure it is blog-ready. Yep, here it is:

           It is a very well-thought out little unit, although it suffers many of the drawbacks of it's obvious parent, the Boss model. For example, unless specifically turned off at the end of a song, it will continue to play or record to the capacity of the onboard SD card. By the way, that included card is a complimentary 2GB unit, which is nice.

           The biggest apparent advantage is that SD card, though it still uses a mysterious MTR (master track record) format. (The Boss uses a rare and expensive proprietary card brand that was incompatible with a computer slot.) The Tascam card is easier to download and save as a computer file--however neither unit will produce a file that can be processed by software, that is, you cannot post-edit. The output is finished product all or nothing. All portable recorders seem to insist on that setting.

           [Deleted] . . . the best innovations come from beginners. The output of the card includes a FAT (file allocation table) partition which I will be taking a close look at this morning. Some two-way communication is possible if the Tascam produces a WAV mirror of the file, though I doubt we'll need anything that advanced. Also, I do not know if the USB cable can be tossed and the card read directly on a computer. Sometimes that requires reformatting.

           It is a workable unit, but like drum boxes, has certain features and defaults that the manufacturers have obviously agreed between them to not put in the unit--like the inability to record more than one instrument at once. This, I feel, is largely responsible for that bland "indie" sound all over the Internet where instead of a band, it sounds like a collection of individual instruments each striving for perfection. This is so, because the one-at-a-time approach means nobody can record while hearing a truly blended “live” sound.

Last Laugh

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December 30, 2014

MORNING
           This is the problem of cellular reception along Federal (see photo). They built the cellular tower next to an electric substation. The interference must be phenomenal at peak hours. I know my cell phone will stack up incoming messages for days, then finally punch through all at once. I blame Virgin Mobile, but I’ve never had their service away from this particular tower. Just look at the “festoonage” of antennas clustered on that puppy. I count at least 32.

           Next, I had the scooter at the shop whereupon we quickly determined the problem is not the relay. Nor the switch. There is a short in that complicated string of wires from the handlebars to the engine compartment. And we are talking three to four hours of work to diagnose such a matter. That’s nearly as much as the scooter is worth. Well, except that anything that runs is worth $600, so I expect to get that out of it, since I better sell it while it still runs smooth.
           While we [the club] is not equipped troubleshoot relays, I can replace them. Careful here, I have no reason to suspect it is the relay, so by replace, I mean bypass. My plan is to leave the existing wiring in place, including the short. Rather than fiddle with the custom shaped casing of the scooter wiring harness, I bypass the single wire across the solenoid coil with a self-canceling switch. Of which the robot club has a plethora.
           The idea is to hit this switch instead of the starter button. Saving about $300 in the process just in labor alone. Agt. M is on holidays, still on that cruise, so although I could use some help, I will proceed alone. If you don’t hear from me until later this afternoon, that means I was successful. Later, alligator.

NOON
           This is my free sandwich for later. Here is the tale. When I finally got to the bakery (read below) the newborn and mother came in. Before we go any further, I wish to announce to the world that I was never that small. As I sit here, sprinkling pepper on my Baltic herring sandwich, I have also never bought any baby gear. In my life, ever.

           That is why I was at a loss when I drove to the pharmacy for a plastic baby bottle. I did not, frinstance, know that nipples came in any size but small. The new parent had forgotten the bottles, so I was dispatched. I bought the medium size to be on the safe side, like, what would you have done?

           I guess I did okay, since I now have this excellent sandwich at home. Now, let us return to the saga of the scooter repair. You don't want to hear about the baby, anyway. I told you I’d be away for a bit, and now I came home to complete this repair. Where to start?
           Say, you wouldn’t happen to have a 29/64” drill bit on you, would you? I’m back and the answer is yes and no. Yes, I got the scooter starter bypassed with a switch. No, I don’t have the correct wiring to handle the full amperage that goes through the solenoid, so I installed a temporary until I can get some stranded. And I found out my entire supply of self-cancelling switches are normally closed. Advice: never buy normally closed switches unless you specifically need them and make a special order. The place I bought them is bankrupt and they [the switches] can’t be modified to normally open.
           That reminds me of two more tales from the trailer court. When I first met Agt. M, he was baffled by switches that said NO, thinking it meant don’t use them. It means "normally open'. And Dan Umbach, a guy I worked with when I was twenty came to mind. He kept getting sick on the job. Turns out he was slowly poisoning himself by holding nails in his mouth. I have no idea why I remembered this. Back to the scooter.

           I think rather than tackle that wiring harness (real rat’s nest), I will design and build a simple relay such as I have on the cPod camper. Which work just fine, and I can use much lighter components. The alternative is to wire in an ordinary light switch which works up to 125 Volts and any amps you got handy. What I have will last the weekend anyway (it didn't last, by the way), and that’s when the boss gets back from holidays at the scooter shop. On Monday.
           He’s the one who can wheel and deal. I guessed the 250cc was a 1997, it’s a 1995. Back when they still built those things right. I went over it in some detail today, noting it has no plastic parts and it’s got one of those constant speed carburetors, the ones everybody (except me) thinks is a choke. It is actually a poor-man’s cruise control. Something you appreciate if you’ve ever held the throttle grip of a Goldwing open for 400+ miles straight out. I have.
           Essentially, by setting the choke right, you can give it enough beans to run steady. It's a sliding switch on the left handlebar. I'd explain this to my critics, but it is above their pay grade.

AFTERNOON
           I got to thinking. So here’s another idea that will go nowhere. Remember that extensive batch of Arduino material Fred donated to the club? How the previous owner thought to learn some robot stuff and leaped into a complicated first project, botched it, and gave up? Well, I took that project out and examined his mistakes. They make sense. He was trying to make a device that posted to the Internet on command.
           This got me to thinking why he would do that. I dunno, but it does have a certain allure. Using the Internet without a computer, or at least a portable device that can’t be manipulated because it is not a computer. Hmmm, I know how to build such things and I could take apart what he messed up and repair it. I know two other things. One, how to connect computers with a crossover cable. Two, that 99% of the “experts” on the Internet cannot describe how IPS addressing works start to finish. Why has nobody put these together into a wireless concept?
           In a sense, this has already been done. Any of those cameras that you can connect to the Internet and see on your phone or pad works on this principle. But, I ask, is there anyone among you who absolutely trusts such a device that you cannot examine the code yourself? Your cell phone can both track you and listen when it is turned off, you know. That didn’t happen by accident.
           That’s why nobody is allowed to build a cell phone with an antenna that is receive-only until you answer it. That’s why I use a cell phone built before 2006. And I have a drawer full of extras. And extra SIM cards. It’s gone beyond where protecting your privacy is suspect to the situation where if you aren’t doing it, you are a sucker. Resistance is not just wise, it is patriotic. The lumpen proletariat only got so far accusing everybody else of being paranoid because they themselves were too lazy or unknowledgeable to undertake any defensive action themselves. Yes, I could name names.

           And in a similar vein, when I took my last Morse code test, the Farnsworth button was accidentally checked. That means I will redo the test. It seemed so easy because Farnsworth with a method that increases the silent space between letters and words, the part that gives most amateurs the greatest difficulty. One would have no such advantage in the real world. The bad news is, even with Farnsworth, I miss around 30% of blanks. My results are still acceptable but with points of confusion. And I have a tendency to leave out obvious punctuation because I never thought the other guy should be sending them in the first place.
           That reminds me about recently mentioning there are no PhDs among my critics. It seems I mentioned my test speed with Morse is ten words per minute. A certain few people think that is funny. Because they are too slope-headed to spot that I said words, not characters per minute. Those who think ten words per minute is no big deal should maybe go out and try it themselves. That will shut the buggers up for a while. But nothing ever shuts them up totally.

ADDENDUM
           So, people are interested in blog statistics. I can talk about that a bit. For openers, Facebook and Twitter did not spell the death of blogs. Far from it. In fact in 2014, 60% of all Internet users now read blogs. They [blogs] have endured the test of time. My opinion is that unlike airhead texting, blogs require content.
           Above all, I do not trust blog statistics. There are no controls or standards in that industry, they are free to report what they please and since no two of them agree, something funny is going on, you bet. They also do not distinguish users by length of time on a blog and click-counts can be manipulated. Advertising also distorts the true blog numbers. There are 353 million people in North America and a successful blog reaches 1% of them. I’ve always done way better than that.

           Mind you, this blog is nowhere near the top. But we are close to the bottom end of the top. Here’s a statistic for you, if the top 10% of non-news blogs were lopped off, this one would be in the running. This blog kind of sits around the median, all told. Since we are not dealing with a bell curve here, that’s not bad for a work with a $0.00 promotion budget.
           Newest trends in blogging include blog contests and blog meet-ups. I’ll pass. A blogstar is considered someone who makes a living writing blogs. Most such blogs concern lifestyle, parenting, food, and crafts. So I don’t have a clue how they do it. Live off a blog, that is. One area this blog shines is the number of “old” blogs that get read. Goes to show you, good information never wears out. My old (old as in written long ago) blogs get read seven times more than Fortune 500 companies.
           Here's my blog contest. I’ll give $500 to anyone who guesses the original name of this blog. This is a time limited offer. By New Year's or nothing.

Last Laugh

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December 29, 2014

MORNING
           What a find. If you read back far enough in these journals, you will see how I lamented when Honda quit making their original 250cc motorcycle. It was the bike of my dreams and something that lasted forever. Well, guess what I found at the scooter repair shop this morning. And it’s only got 8,026 miles on it. Upon close inspection, the paint is intact, so it’s never been rolled. There are a couple of nicks here and there and a mysterious plug under the battery case, but otherwise pristine condition.
           Note, this is not original, but the Rebel, built since 1985. Those have only a 234cc motor and are not the same basic machine as the original. That’s why I intend to thoroughly investigate this motorcycle before making any decisions. New, they are only around $4,200.

           The asking price is $1,600 and that compares well with the scooter replacement I eventually have to consider within the year. This Honda would be the last word in local transportation for me, it would last the rest of my life. It was obviously stored indoors as the paint is factory new. I last saw one of these when I was around 14 years old outside a dance hall in Montana.
           Back then I had my Honda 90cc which seemed like a toy by comparison. Since I was in the band, the guy at the dance hall let me take his for a spin “but stay on the sidewalk”. I was in heaven, but a few years later when I could finally afford one, they had been taken out of production. The motor is essentially built up from two 125cc pistons. I must have this motorcycle, but even I don’t keep that much money kicking around.
           The red scooter has 13,960 miles on it and runs perfectly. I could probably get $600 for it. I would not be averse to trading it in. The starter problem turns out to be a sticking relay but it is a type I cannot replace myself. It’s a custom casing and plug that fits into a special pocket on the motor frame and has some other parts in it as well.
           Check in with me later, I’m going to figure out how to get my hands on that Honda 250.

NOON
           This is a plastic wine cork. From that Xmas bottle last day, I did not notice until I went to repurpose the object (they make excellent insulators). Of course, I had to cut it open and perform various other tests. You know, it seems to be a perfect substitute and that’s coming from a man who is no fan of plastics. The size and texture are probably better than cork, which can vary in consistency. Plastic is never good for the environment, but in this case I agree with not cutting down a cork tree. Or shutting down a cork mine, or whatever.

           You want to know how it went with the French dame. She just wanted to talk, so I threw her $40 on the counter and walked out telling her to call me when she’s done. Aw, you know I’m just joking. We talked like she wanted, long enough to figure out she was not my type at all. Absolutely no handy personal skills or hobbies. It was evident she viewed conversation as a primary form of entertainment. The last one of those drove me around the bend, Sharon.

           Some trivia. There is a bird in California that hibernates instead of migrating. And penguins migrate. I didn’t know that. It’s only 312 miles and they walk it, but that’s still a migration.
           Now some motorcycle trivia. Honda built its first motorcycle in 1949. Since then, they’ve sold over 51 million Super Cubs, by far the most successful motorcycle in history. But it almost wasn’t. Prior to Honda, motorcycles were a maintenance nightmare and scooters had tires too small to be driven on rough roads.

           Did you know Honda invented the “lifestyle marketing” concept (they hired an American who could not sell the concept over here). That’s the famous ad campaign that ran for twelve years saying, “You meet the nicest people on a Honda”. Prior to Honda, the image of the “biker” was a Hollywood standard for the bad boys.

           For that matter, Harley, established in 1903, got antsy about the ad campaign because it implied that Harley riders were not nice. Which is odd, because most of them aren't nice. It's that macho thing some boys never grow out of. So Harley, which pushed the macho thing back then was hypocritical on that point. They wound up copying Honda's style, not the other way around.
           The motorcycle in the poster here is a Super Cub. They came in dozens of models from 49cc to around 109cc, but most were the 70cc type that are found all over Thailand. My first motorcycle was a Honda 90, so I had the most powerful bike in town in my day. Until this guy who worked at the grocery store bought a Harley and took off for California, never to be heard from again. But he was no competition for me in that small town, where by comparison, everybody except me was a personality-less nincompoop who could do little else but follow orders.
           But that was the only qualification you needed in a small town back then. To make mayor, anyway.

NIGHT
           It’s almost New Year’s and I’ve only got 17 cents left in the bank. You’d almost think I avoid banks, but that’s not true. I purposely drain my account every month ever since 2004. That’s the year I learned every institution that helps you out in America demands access to your bank records. And yes, they do look. So, I’m thinking, I have not really gone out on New Year’s because it’s become just another commercialized circus. Plus, I never did go out much on that day unless I was playing, and we all know that has not happened in so long I might as well give up on the concept. The New Year’s gig is the holy grail of musicianship.

           Blogs once again prove to be the most economical private postings on the ‘net. Only a fraction of all blogs succeed, but the best ones remain those without advertising . I’m looking over some figures of blog readership. It was predicted to fall because of Twitter and such, but it turns out not everyone cares what Sally had for breakfast. Top blogs are still news and political sites. Yet this blog is the equivalent of writing a bestseller every four months.

           This year, record numbers of web pages were discontinued, the most common reason being they are expensive to create and maintain. Who remembers the extensive research I did back in the day before deciding on a blog? My biggest criteria was that blogs are free.
           Anyway, there are rules for blogs, and the top ten on the list are below. Ask yourself how many this blog actually follows. Why? Because there was no such list to help out when this blog got underway.

                      Define your goals
                      Know your audience
                      Be consistent
                      Be persistent
                      Be inviting
                      Be visible
                      Take risks
                      Ask for help
                      Keep learning
                      Be yourself

           Gee, I’m lucky to get 2 out of 10. Consistent and persistent, those I got down. I can’t figure why they are not the first two. I dunno, some of those other points seem wishy-washy. Ask for help? That implies bloggers are a tight-knit community. They say there are countless blogs, but I’ve never met another blogger in my life. There is also the aspect of writing for an audience, which I don’t do. I write because I enjoy writing, not because there is a segment of society I’m trying to reach. Unless you consider people with higher IQs as a segment. I like smart people, I didn’t say geniuses, I don’t much like that element either.
           Furthermore, I can dispel blog writing as a social activity. Good writing is a solitary undertaking, free from distractions. You can no more produce an interesting blog in a coffee shop than have a conversation with somebody who’s on their cell phone. I snicker at blog ads that show Suzie and her spanking new laptop at the Starbucks, croissant in tow. Go get ‘em, Suzie. Don’t get any crumbs in your keypad, know-what-I-mean?

           Now there’s an interesting statistic. When you read those crime ratios, they are stacked against whites. How? The FBI, which keeps track of such things, refuses to initiate a category for Latinos. Instead, the crimes of Latinos are included as “white”, which has the effect of inflating the numbers. Some sources say this practice triples the true rate of white crime in states like California and Texas.
           So the next time the cable news tells you “whites” commit 7% of murders, remember their “white” includes Latinos, blacks from Spanish-speaking places (like Puerto Rico), and all Turks, Arabs, Persians, Albanians, and essentially anything except black Africans. Also, in the past twenty years, it has been US policy to avoid charging blacks with first degree murder, rather lesser charges of manslaughter. Basically, every time a Mexican kills a black, there is an increase the “white” crime ratio. Show of hands, who thinks they are doing this on purpose?
           That’s what I thought.

Last Laugh:

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December 28, 2014

MORNING
           A quick sift through the real estate ads shows the super-low mentalities of the Florida market. The ads are generally a joke, containing the bare legal minimum of truth. It was funnier than the Sunday comics over coffee at the Panera (the reading of the Sunday ads). Did you know Florida pioneered those ads that show a picture of the real estate agent rather than the property? There’s brains for you. The fake-out ads are appearing again, in force. These are the ads that don’t mention the land isn’t included, or there is a $600 per month membership fee, or sometimes, even that the place is a condo. Try practicing your guitar at 3:00AM in a condo, you'll find out how much of the property you actually own.

           Speaking of guitar, my music pal from the west coast and I have been carrying on an e-mail discussion of the role of guitar in a band. My stance is “I thought moving to Florida would open a gold mine of unemployed rhythm guitarists only to find even the lousiest, most cantankerous, Craigslist-posting, "Mustang Sally", wannabe pole-smokers who think they are Eric Clapton.”
           In return, I’ve adopted many of the more nasty things that guitar players do to use against them. Like playing one way at rehearsal and another on stage. Like playing fills every time there is an opening. And doing my own solo behind the guitarists, the “play ahead” technique that makes it sound like he is following me. One day, I have to publish these letters, they are scathing descriptions of guitar playing since the ‘80s.
           The photo. I don’t do wine, but this bottle of Cabernet has been on my shelf for months. Product of Italy, 2012, I thought, why not? It is the typical dry wine so adored by Sweet Judy Blue Eyes, the original love of my life. She's the one that left me, with her family fortune, for an oil company executive. Here, let me fill up your glass. Her parents insisted. She was divorced within 24 months, then married a rich Englishman of her own religion. A success story by any standard the British Empire ever came ups with.

NOON
           Who remembers? I was down on myself for spending the cash to find the scooter problem was a lowly fuse. But guess what? The identical problem occurred at noon, as I was about to head for Panera with my crossword puzzle. Since I learned it was not a mechanical problem, I was quickly able to isolate a relay in the starter circuit. By progressively bypassing the junctions with a robot jumper, I was able to start the scooter. Mind you, those 1.5 Amp shorts got the jumper mighty hot to the touch. Ouchee-wah-wah! (This bypass circuit worked so well, I never did replace the broken switch.)

           Aha! Something must have blown that fuse. A shorted relay, but I don’t know that. The point is, I said to the shop as much [that it was not so simple], so tomorrow, they will earn that $25.00. Besides, they guarantee their work for 30 days. Do you know anybody who keeps a strict record of such things? Right--me. So do it right the first time, buys. Relax, I’ll be fair about this, I'll pay him if it is something I DO NOT expect. I'll be nice because, let me tell you what happened next.

           Normally, on Sundays, I dress up a bit. Shirt, tie, slacks, belt, shiny shoes. But it is the tie that sets things up. An older white guy wearing a classy tie can do no wrong, in case you have not noticed. Alright, so Ken and Wallace have not noticed, but let’s get on with it. Let me tell you the difference a tie makes.
           People trust a white guy in a tie. Women leave purses, grandparents leave pets and kids, security guards plunk down parcels of money, sometimes bales of it, right beside me. That, folks, is a tale from the trailer court. You could say I look like I just got off a wedding. Anyway, that’s how I was attired when the starter fritzed, I have to remove the seat to start the scooter. Not one bystander batted an eyelash at a white guy in a tie hotwiring a scooter. I could have been lifting a Harley and nobody even gave a second glance.

           [Author's note: off the record, I tend toward basic colors, very light blue or green shirts, and a healthy striped tie. Earthy tones, browns, beige is my lightest shade. No pinks, no reds, no oranges. The guy in the nearby photo has the right idea, except he's not as distinguished looking as myself, I must say. He sort of looks like his dad dressed him up for prom night. Plus, that poor guy has to pose to look cool. I wonder about guys that have to do that, you know.]

           Malcontented with the scooter, I waltzed into the Wiley Pub, moody and a half. I had undone my tie while starting the scooter earlier. Grumpy and growly, I bellied up to the bar, not noticing the joint was full of French women. Who remembers my older posts about “Frenchy’s”, the Franco-Canadian bar up the road that went under a while back?
           Good. Because, Wiley’s gets the spillover from there and you should have seen what happened to me. Women up the ying-yang. It must have looked like I just got out of church, walked over and had a few, loosening my tie as I oiled up. Don’t go wild here, follow what I’m saying. I met a lot of women with French accents. They had primped, shaved, sprayed, and who know what else women do when they are on the prowl. There I found myself, the only tie-wagging male on the premises. Got that? Wagging? Little innuendo there, but I've had a few.
           I was lucky to get the hell out of there with my yarbles. I’m okay, I counted them both when I got home, yup, still safe and sound. The thing is, Wiley's is the nearest dive to downtown now that Jimbos is gone, so I can't get into any entanglements there. I may want to hang out at the place down the line. I just haven't had bar bunnies jump on the new guy in a while and I was the new guy. If that ain’t country, you can kiss my asphalt.

NIGHT
           I stayed home and studied. If I’d had the money, I would probably have stayed in university my whole life as a student. It’s an insular world and you find the first two years really weeds out the dummies or shunts them into faculties like PhysEd or Liberal Arts. This evening, all you get is a bit of the trivia that caught my attention, as I take a break from reading every fifteen minutes.
           It says here the Coast Guard rescued a stranded man from an uninhabited island in the Bahamas. Send him the bill. And I hate newscasters who use cliches. Thus, I propose a new law that from this point onward, any commentator who says that phrase that armies always prepare to fight the last war is to be chemically neutered. What? They already are? Well, if that ain’t the darndest thing.
           The Westboro Baptist Church has now picketed 54,163 events. Today they are preaching “with great zeal and fervour” outside a Catholic Church in New Mexico. Not only that, Westboro has a counter on their home page informing you of how many people have been sent to Hell since you logged on. If you’ve ever seen a Florida welfare office, you realize some people have been leaving that web page up all night. If that nasty joke is hard to follow, I'll explain. The Bible says poor people go to heaven, and the opposite of poor is not rich, it is "welfare leech". I'd say my stand on that is pretty clear, although I lack fervour. Fervour? The American public wants fervour with its zest and relish.
           Question. If there really is nothing stopping you from getting ahead in this world, why didn’t people like me do it long time ago? I'll have some tea while you mull that one over.

Last Laugh
This one, I can't figure out. But yes, Santa really does like rich kids more.

December 27, 2014

MORNING
           Another chilly weekend, wind right down from Manitoba and bitter cold. That translates into a high-productivity day for me, so stick around and see what kind of trouble I can get into. It is down to 68° overnight, a bit cool for the motorcycle. Tell you what. Have you noticed this data on the weather sites: METAR KFLL 271353Z 00000KT 10SM BKN035 BKN250 22/22 A3022 RMK AO2 SLP232 T02220222? Maybe today I’ll learn how to decode it.
           If you know what it is, no hints, please. Or I’ll accuse you of being a TV-watcher. Slash couch potato. (These are considered supreme insults in this household.) Who else would know what these things are but somebody who over-watches the weather report. Following my logic here, Ken?

           While researching that, I found this satellite photo of a farm outside of Danville, IL. I see the house and the shed and the barn, but what is that circular spot in the yard? Is that an airplane shadow or a signal for the aliens? It’s not the kiddie pool or a zodiac sign. You can see the tracks left by the pagans as they dance around at midnight. Do you think it is the cross where they hold the midnight virgin sacrifices? I think whatever it is, that farmer knows darn well it is there. And even if he hides all his vehicles from sight, even the tractor, Agt. Muldar had best get right over there and get us some evasive answers from the guy's wife.
           Then, I practiced my guitar, the 16 songs I can do for sure, and another 8 I’m working on. I think I’m right the last 8 are going to have to be whatever I can find to flesh out the list. Very little of this material is suitable for playing without a bass line, so I had to put the more complicated tunes on hold. Because Trent is still learning. I even have a bass version of Tennessee Flat Top that will have to wait.
           I was listening in on some shortwave Morse code this morning. It does have a slight musical quality to it, but I admit I am old school on that. Partly, that means I do not understand the words or grammar as I listen, only type down what I hear. Then I have to go back after and read what it says. Told you, old school--and that should explain exactly why I don't listen in immediate mode. And I kept hearing a totally unknown pattern. Worse, that pattern was not contained in any of my outdated books. Di-dah-dah-di-dah-dit.
           Part of old school is just listening, not comprehending and I should explain. Morse code was rarely used to send full sentences in plain text. Since the code requires trained operators at both ends, it was never destined to be a popular means of communication. But the military does not use plain text, everything is enciphered, even innocuous day to day traffic. That’s because if they only encoded it in wartime, the enemy would have some idea as to the nature of what came from a given site, say a radar station. And they could guess at the code.
           For example, I know my receiver at 10:07AM picks up some place that sends something akin to “Nothing to report”, every day except Tuesday. The sender is using paddles, but still pauses every few minutes for no reason. Thus, if he was to ever start encoding, I know what he’s likely to be saying. Anyway, back to code, since the military is not sending plain text, accuracy is more important in receiving than trying to make sense of random sets of characters. Thus, older types like me don’t even try.
           I should mention, however, that for strange and unexplainable reasons, I can tell if the sender is boring or not. When you have a sharp dude on the other key, you can tell right away it is something to listen to, even if it is cipher text. And just like the real world, only one person in a thousand is really worth listening to. By the way, I cannot send Morse code, only listen to it very slowly. That is why, if I hear something promising, I hit the record button and play it back slowly at a later time.
           Turns out the mystery symbol was rarely used back in the day. It is the “@” sign.

EVENING
           I stayed in watching movies most of the day. Well, I stayed in all day, it was cold, I mean, I didn’t watch movies the whole time. Not the crappy movies on the market these days. And you must not think because I don’t pay admission that I’m getting the movies for free. Heck no, it takes years of computer experience to pay for the good things in life. You don’t get anywhere paying full price for Tom Selleck movies. Although I did like “Saber River”, it had a plot I could relate to when I was six or so.

           What I did was go over several chapters of chart plotting techniques while the movies played in the background. I even saw one where Bruce Willis was the bad guy and gets killed. Not his best role, but it was a change. I concluded that except for the intellectual challenge, there really is no reason for me to pursue celestial navigation further. I may glance at coastal navigation but that seems easy by comparison. Read the charts, sail around the solid objects and anything that isn’t deep water.
           I discovered by chance that of the four navigation books I randomly purchased second hand, three are in the top five rated books of that discipline. I believe I impressed myself, because, like the booklet shown here, not one of the books I bought looked like it had ever been opened. That is, the last owner or owners gave up on it.
           Later, not being tired, I re-read the advanced chapters on navigation, the finer points. Using the stars is one additional step—other than finding the right stars. But I memorized all the constellations as a lad and should, I suppose, learn the names of the individual stars. There are probably not more than ten useful for navigating anywhere I’m likely to travel. What is clear is that things like GPS and iPhones are greatly diminishing the pool of educated individuals in our society. The few that are left have every incentive to become overspecialized in one area. On that count, they will be sorry.
           Last, I plunged into the real estate market again to find out what my prospects are. I cannot predict prices any better than the rest and they can’t do it either. However, the fed has stopped pumping money into the system, the banks are still hesitant to lend money, and prices are climbing slower than my ability to purchase. So there is little to lose by waiting. Sales have plummeted again while the pundits are still pushing the average sale price of $244k means the market is rising. (This is true, but only because the banks have collectively agreed not to lend on anything cheaper.)

ADDENDUM
           Here is a typical youTube video posted by a typical Class of ’91 brainboy. I know that every generation thinks anything that pops into their head is an invention, but ithat makes them a special kind of stupid. I don’t think we need to worry too much about the individual specimen of this group ever taking over. Their idea of computers is grounded in this kind of nonsense--advertising on a pirated clip. Quick, everybody, send this poor man money. He is obviously desperate and you can see his own mother hates him. She's a youTube fan, see.

           True, there were people who would do this type of thing in my era, but the last vestiges of decency stopped them from doing so. But what do you make of people who post things on the Internet saying it is a “Big Secret Nobody Know”. And why do Chinese schools teach such bad English grammar? Every one of them?
           And as a treat for reading this far, I decoded the string from above (see first paragraph). METAR means something like meteorological airline report or similar, but that did not interest me as much as the following bits of data.

           KFLL – K means America, like radio stations, FLL means Ft. Lauderdale
           271353Z – that’s easy, its 1:53PM today in Greenwich, or Zulu time.
           00000KT – the wind is blowing at 000° at 00 knots with no gusts
           10SM – visibility is 10 statute miles
           BKN250 – the sky has broken clouds at 25,000 feet
           22/22 – temperature is 22° Celsius and so is the dew point
           A3022 – Altitude, there is 30.22 inches barometric pressure
           RMK – these are remarks, this took a little time to research
                 A02: the weather site is robotic and has a precipitation sensor
                 SLP232: sea level pressure, the numbers don’t make sense
                 T02220222: this I can’t find out, but I had to leave something for you.

           Now come on, even my worst critics have to admit knowing a little about celestial navigation and robots helped a lot in understanding this. Then again, you are right if you know my worst critics would see that same information on the weather channel for decades and never give it a second thought. That’s why among my critics, there are no PhDs. From what I gather, pilots need the code or it is part of some test they have to pass. Put another way, if you get on an airplane, you better hope the pilot is at least as curious about such things as I am.
           There is one sure-fire indication of an idiot and that’s to read past what you don’t know. Your turn Patsie. Step up to the podium and tell us what a dew point is.

Last Laugh

December 26, 2014

MORNING
           I got all my e-mail caught up. Like many last night, it was nice to get away from the crowd and relax over the e-mails, which at times resemble a slow chat room as I’m working along. I explained to Elliot the reason today’s juke boxes contain so many cheesy versions of the song he thought he was paying for. Like the Manhattan Indians with their real estate, the musicians who sold their digital copyright often did not understand what they were practically giving away—and giving it away for all time to come.

           Now they find, like Charlie Daniels, they cannot even grab a guitar and go out to play their own original songs without paying a fee. Therefore, they are forced to play heavily modified versions of their own music at their own concerts. And that sums up why you get those bastardized versions on the juke box. I’ve complained about it before, this time I’m explaining what’s behind that fiasco.
           As shown by this video still, I was researching for more music.
           Since Xmas is a family thing, most of the single guys at the club were talking about women. As for the married men, it’s recognized you get to dress them (the wives) up once a year minimum and parade them in front of the single guys. I'd rather croak.

           Chasing women, always in the news around here. I get fan mail asking what do I mean by a woman who is “self-supporting”. In the alternative, what would a woman like that (self-supporting) need a man for? Well, all I can say is those are very amateurish ways of looking at a complicated situation. Here is a link to ”non-traditional” women’s occupations. In the case of a few people who have not heard, it takes two incomes these days to make a domestic situation successful. The idea of the man as the breadwinner who supports the non-working woman is so last century.
           It’s also a matter of what one is used to. I’ve never really dated a woman who was not self-supporting, but that is because since day one, I’ve never dated a woman who did not either live at home or have a place of her own. Such women are rare birds in Florida. The bottom line is societal standards have changed. What kind of person does not have their own car, their own rent, their own entertainment budget, and should you even be consider dating such a person ?

           The average listed income for women in 2012 (the most recent data) is $39,936. If I met such a woman, the two of us would be very comfortable, indeed. But just you try to find one in Florida. I suspect such wonder-women do not even breathe the same air in this state. Highest paying occupation is a lady pharmacist, who at $1,900 per week makes more than the average lady lawyer. And that is my incentive to get this music duo happening. It’s not like I can go back to college, you know.
           The documentary last evening was on the Channel Dash. This was the 1942 incident where German ships ran up the Straits of Dover back to Germany under the watching eye of the English. It was such a phenomenal failure for the Brits that to this day, the incident is mightily glossed over. For example, most reports say only that the Allied radar had failed. Ha!
           What really happened is the German navy kept increasing jamming the radar so little at a time that the English didn’t notice. They likely assumed it was “atmospherics” to see such clutter. So when the Germans made the run in broad daylight, the Tommies were asleep at the switch. The British, later mortified, had second thoughts about continuing to call it the “English” Channel.
           Return for more music talk, most of Friday’s around here are music-oriented.

NOON
           Any idea what this is? Built in Germany in WWII, it is called a flak tower. They were built in groups of three so as to triangulate anti-aircraft fire across the very center of the cities that Allied bombers had to pass over to complete their bombing raids. The towers are massive concrete that proved so expensive to demolish after the war that they were just left there. You find them in Berlin and Vienna.

           I have been combing through my thousands of music files and records to find the remaining songs needed to finalize the duo material for Trent and I. I’ve learned you cannot leap into learning half what you need or things will stall when you approach the goal. It is best to have a framework of material since it is the final run-up to playing out where pressure mounts. I’ve see too many failures at that stage.

           I believe this could be because the last five or eight songs, by the scheme of things, are often the least suitable tunes for the sound of the group. Any band can crank out 12 songs, the next 12 are “learners”, and the third batch of 12 is where most bands break up. There is always one member who cannot or will not learn songs he does not like--and I've heard ALL the excuses, guys. And that last set usually is a significant departure from what the band set out to do. I’ve documented this elsewhere.
           It is becoming evident there are far fewer bass and acoustic duos than I presupposed. Are we on the right track? At least I also know two people with a big idea are more important than any amount of talent.. I admit, for the last while, I have been looking to see how other duos got past this hurdle. Most of them didn’t, can't find a single great hit tune by a bass-acoustic duo. Hmmm, no good examples. What’s happening now is I can’t progress with music I want, rather [I'm stuck] with what I can sing. And as far as getting any guidance or good advice, we are on our own.

           One source was the lists of top songs of the 90s. I say lists because there are least 35 different versions of these so-called official lists. And the only thing they [seem to] agree on is the few songs that we already have on our schedule. I usually give prospects the “listen” test. If I find I can’t listen to them three times without getting distracted, that’s a fail. This is why I don’t do any Chesney. At the other extreme, have you hear the Grundy Auction song? That’s the opposite extreme. I like it but cannot sing it.
           And that limit of what I cannot sing is looming large. I may have to stick with the songs I find the very easiest. That’s another case where they are not the best for what we set out to do. One conclusion I reached is some of the best material is Taylor Swift but that her music is too orchestral to be of use. She is a good example of how the Internet changes things. It is nothing to see her links with 200 million views. That was unheard of in my day but I like it as it renders the standard “lists” (like Billboard) less able to manipulate their criteria and play favorites.

           Later, I did find a tune I like, one of the rare fast tempo songs of the last decade. But it was a chopped up rip-version by some incompetent called “binary vixen”. He’s another of those “Class of 91” jokers. (That’s the year the Internet got big.) They consider themselves power users because they know the software. But they lack understanding of the underlying analog process, which makes them magnificent idiots. Here is a diagram of his work and my correction.
           On the top is his pirated version. Note the flat spot. Those appear in the playback as a “click” of dead sound. Most of his peers write that off to imperfect studio splicing. It isn’t. In the bottom, you see my zoomed in fix. What’s really happening is the other guy does not know enough to lower his sampling rate during the rip so his buffer does not overload. Like it did seven times in this one song.
           As I said, magnificent idiots.

           There are less than magnificent idiots as well. Take the Hippie. If you read back, you could find the incident where I was at his house rehearsing when his probation officer showed up. She started asking questions about me and I told him to shut the hell up. Oh, he blubbered, he had to tell her or get in trouble. I said then get in trouble, but she has no right to put my personal information on his probation files. Well, this morning I get an interesting packet. It’s a good thing I have a policy of not giving full information to guitar players. Everything I said to the Hippie, carefully angled as it was, is now on the “official” record. All of it giving a very accurate picture of how wonderful I have always been since I was born a poor black child.
           And that, folks, is why people like the Hippie rot alone in jail. He knew I didn't want him to tell that probation lady anything, he knows he gave that probation lady details he at least thought were confidential to save his own scrawny neck. But it backfired, because essentially, fed her a bunch of crock that is, I see, now officially on the record. Because he thought the Cadillac belonged to me he even told her that. I hope she nailed him good for lying.

EVENING
           There has been another slump in the real estate market. Hopefully the result will be another round of plunging prices. The system is doing everything it can to make people believe the market is returning, but there are no jobs in Florida that pay enough for the masses to afford even the cheapest decent housing. Prices remain about four times what property is really worth. The state relies on new money coming in from out of state boomers, not exactly the soundest foundation for economic recovery. But in Florida, the illusion of prosperity is good enough for most.

           It takes reality a long time to settle in Florida. However, my search criteria, which among other things includes “owner financing” often turns up deals like the two bedroom in this picture. Note the fall leaves, so nobody lives there. It has everything I’m looking for including the west-facing porch. On the outskirts of town in a neighborhood that shares my core values. Down payment is $3,900 and full price is $13,900. There’s a two car garage ‘round back that was converted to a workshed, but needs replacing.
           So what’s the delay? Well, it happens to be in Macon, Georgia. Two days from here by motorcycle. If this was in West Palm, I’d take it. I’m just showing the kind of places that will crop up on my searches, it lets me know that as a last resort, I could easily buy something livable somewhere. But I really cannot afford to leave Florida until 2019, by which date I may be leaving, if I do, in a pine box.

           Speaking of boxes, I’ve discovered one way of joining wood so it won’t bend. Use the scroll saw to cut the joints out of solid wood. Yep, that messes up the work area, but it works, all-righty. Now, here’s something maybe I shouldn’t even say. I never thought for a second about other people not having access to tools when they were young, probably because I’d never met anyone who didn’t. Oh, I’ve met plenty of good-for-nothings who had the tools and were too lazy to learn them, but imagine my surprise when one of the wealthiest guys I know has never touched or owned a scroll saw. He called it “that saw you got that goes up and down like a sewing machine”. Okay.
           That’s correct, good old JZ was fascinated by the implement. Ha, I mean, this guy lends me medical texts and such, I never for a moment thought he had never used a scroll saw. He has a truck full of metal and plumbing tools. I was surprised, that’s all. He calls it the "sewing machine saw".

           So here is my first project after I figured out the basics on the scroll saw. As I figured suspected, what is called skill or talent is little more than patience and attention to detail. I found the beginner’s projects too easy, so chose this one where I had to change the blade eight times. Don’t be critical, that’s why I made it, my first real cut.

           I see the rough edges and the crooked edges here and there. I know I don’t have any files small enough to smooth the inside cuts. And I didn’t pay close enough attention to the way the wood grain runs, so it is at a slight slant. I would make the outside cuts on a circular saw to keep them straight and save time. And I used a design that may not let the “star” hang the most attractive way.
           But hey, it’s my first.
           And unlike many, I kept track of time and costs. Yes, I could produce these as Xmas gift, I have six different patterns. This just happens to be the most complicated for different cuts. The plans are free from the Internet, it makes me wonder why anyone would pay for them. While the patterns were meant to be painted, I like the natural wood and will compare various finishes. These would be cut four layers deep at a time and dunked stain and varnish. I think the natural wood finish makes them an exceptional gift.

Last Laugh
I have no idea about this photo. But it is definitely Class of '91.

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Return Home
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December 25, 2014

MORNING
           JZ and I were at the Bagel Emporium by 9:00AM for one of the more expensive breakfasts in the already pricey Gables. It’s a shop in South Miami that has been there 32 years. I know, because I chat up every good-looking lady I meet and there were two present. One of them had been going there that long. Note, the link is outdated, the “Hungry Man” breakfast set us back $8.99 plus tip. The highly-rated fare is good, but short of fantastic.

           But it was a cheery start to a day like every day should be when one is financially retired. A great breakfast, an hour motorcycle ride, an easy chair, a few good books, and lots of projects and tools to tinker with to one’s heart’s content. If only the world would let you alone long enough to stay that way. I took 42nd Avenue home, a route that goes through the best and worst parts of town.
           I am not a bagel person and that is a food that is not good for you. Their ketchup, which I also don’t touch, contains corn syrup, which every knowledgeable source now warns against consuming. Also, the staff are career waitresses, so despite the location near the University, don’t expect much of a view.

           To jog your memory, there are no, repeat no, decent roads that run completely through the inhabited parts of the Florida east coast, not even the freeways. You must turn off, navigate, or jog your journey to get across town in any direction. Even I-95 peters out just south of downtown Miami where there remains another 25 miles of city to go. None of the east-west roads go from the Everglades to the Atlantic, all stop somewhere in between.

           Here is JZ next to the Mazda, the truck is now 15 years old and has 300,000+ miles on it. He will not part with it despite having the cash price of a new unit sitting in his bank account. It looks okay from here, but the tail lights have gone dim, the transmission skips, the box lid doesn’t fit properly any more, and it shimmies sometimes at highway speeds.
           I’ve been trying to talk him into junking it so long I don’t remember now. At least five years anyway. That’s the truck we’ve taken to Naples and Ft. Meyer’s and a hundred other excursions including the jungle. This time, I gave him a stern talking to about how the next vehicle will be his last, so get something super-comfortable and we’ll make an inaugural trip to the (Florida) west coast to go chasing women.

NOON
           By noon, I get back home all fed and rested up. What do I do? Plunk down in the chair and read a few chapters of anything handy. And I built several alternatives to the variable capacitor. Here is a photo of a variable capacitor, in this instance a two-gang model. You don’t find these as often as you used to and wish I could find a supply. There are a number causes for their disappearance and, of course, I’ll supply the explanation as best I can. First, they are a component of AM radios in early designs.

           As shown, they are a very difficult manufacture, particularly for an amateur like myself. In AM radio, they are teamed up with a loading coil to single out the frequency of the desired carrier wave. They are bulky and these days it is easier to vary the coil than the capacitor. They could technically be used in timing circuits, but the range is so small the engineers opt for a variable resistance.
           Either way, I do not own any variable capacitors and have not seen one in many years. FM radio works on a different principle and does not need these. The key obstacle is to find metal that is thin enough to mesh like this but rigid enough to hold a shape. Aluminum can be a real challenge on that score.

NIGHT
           My e-mail reports a generally great Xmas all around, my west coast (Pacific) people all found situations. There are very few married people in my entire circle of immediate friends, though I know many I visit with. Naturally, JZ and I had the big conversation about why everybody but us has an elegant lady to show up with. That’s easy, because he doesn’t play guitar. Ha-ha, just joking.
           But I’m not joking totally. I’ve tried other methods of meeting women, such as chatting them up at the pub. I don’t like it when other men do such things and found I don’t like it when I myself talk like that. In fact, that dating ritual is disgusting. But I do agree, [most] women won’t listen to you unless you lie, because that she can deal with. Hearing lies is something she can identify with and manipulate to her advantage. I dated office women, nurses, waitresses, hairdressers, and models. You invest a lot of words, so socially, you "get what you pay for". The next morning, I just don’t that much in common with a child care worker or a secretary.

ADDENDUM
           That (chasing women) all changes when it comes to music. Even my worst enemies could tell you that is one easy way to meet women, but the women have to be caught young and trained. Music is a field where, like stewardesses, if she lasts much past 28, she’s seen it all or at least thinks so. You will be judged by the same yardstick as every bozo guitar player that’s fed her a line since day one. But when you do meet a winner, what a prize. My last one lasted eleven years. We didn’t break up, she moved on.
           If you want a tough job, sit down with JZ and explain to him that he should be happy already. If he had gotten married, there is no guarantee he would not be exactly where he is but with the burden of alimony or support payments. In fact, he should feel lucky he is unencumbered. It is beyond all odds that guys like us are not hung out to dry by some lady judge at the family court.
           Um, about the other guys I know who are single, the circle of friends I mentioned earlier? As a rule, they do not go out chasing women on anything like the scale that JZ and I do. I alone probably go out looking for skirt more than all the single guys I know. And these are not slouches, they are well-to-do or business owners, scientists, accountants, real estate developers. It’s not that they’ve given up, but they’ve learned what does not work.
           And, I point out, not one of them is a musician. There’s a gap. I am on stage, they are in the audience. It’s just the way the game finally played out.

Last laugh:
You've heard of "organ donor"?

December 24, 2014

MORNING
           According to Dan Lewis, there is a travel agency in Tokyo that will take your stuffed animal on a tour. Complete with postcards and tweets. Hey Memphis, want to see Africa? (Memphis is my stuffed bird (taxidermy)). Of course, they mean the other kind, but now ask me if I still miss Memphis.

           Then, I decided to do a comedy take-off on that old Snow White tune, “Some Day My Prince Will Come”. You know, to play it if any lady plays hard to get. I found out a few things. The tune is from 1937, placing it squarely in the jazz era. So just you try to find a good version of it. Every cuckoo-brain bebop bozo and his floppy-eared dog must have attacked that song. Many times I could not spot it as even being the same piece of music.
           Here’s the chord chart. Seventeen different chords in one song. This is the musical equivalent of a writer being paid by the word. To me, complex and needless chord changes are what prompts the musically over-educated to regard jazz as being a superior or higher strata. It isn’t. Practically any song can be made into jazz by adding chord variations and this is, musically speaking, the lowest form of humor.

           I was at the bakery and you talk about your madhouse. Naturally, they expected all the Xmas orders to be picked up so there were extra staff. But they could not be prepared for all the gimptards that inexplicably show up when things are hectic. I would last maybe ten minutes in a job serving such people. Let me look at my watch to see if I have time to tell you of just one of them turkeys. Yes.
           Okay, first, I know the guy is a flagrant azzhole because I’ve got two brothers from the same mold. The place is stacked three deep with people waiting in line and he’s taking his time. Pointing at each cookie and asking what are the ingredients. Then asking the price and saying, “What?” Not because he is hard of hearing but because that’s how he displays that he thinks the price is too high. Then he orders two cookies, and after the clerk rings it up and hands him the package, well, now e wants another two.
           This dickhead kept this up for some twenty long minutes. Finally, after the clerk rang up four separate orders for him, he decides he wants a receipt. The cash register is immediate only, so she has to go back and void the first three orders. After he finally left, I said to the crowd, “I'll bet he works for Comcast.”
           Brought down the house. Are you listening, Comcast?

NOON

           This year, we didn’t need the pillow for stuffing. Yep, that’s the same Santa costume, the one that must be shrinking year-by-year. That’s Santa JZ and we met up at the church, then over to the family digs. If you need a reminder time is passing, consider this—kids I met when they were 8 and 9 years old are now in graduate medical school. Other people are getting on with life.
           Meanwhile, I can’t find a gal to move in with me. It’s a wonder I don’t avoid Xmas. Well, that’s not true, I could easily find a gal to live here, but I’d like one who can carry her own weight, please. Ha, I just thought that could be taken as incentive for her to weight as little as possible. That would be okay, if she was slim. But I'm touchy on the self-support thing, every time a meet a gal without her own money, she steals or won't pay, same thing.
           JZ and I drove through the Gables, he knows all the side roads with the best Xmas lights. It’s worth a look, but such things have never been part of my holiday spirits. We didn’t stay long at dinner, either, we were the only two bachelors in the room. Everyone was doing the visiting thing, the whole Xmas is now much better balanced and more like the tradition over at dad’s. Big dinner downtown, then a smaller gathering for gifts. I sure do miss dad.

EVENING
           Being that both JZ and I would like to show up with fancy ladies, we decided afterward to zip out for a night cap. You know, do a little family visitin' of our own He wanted to go to the casino, which is an atmosphere I don’t care for. This is a perpetual difference between us. When I think of a good time, I don't think of painted ladies. And if you are not sure why, tell you what, you go to a casino on Xmas Eve and take a good close look at who is there gambling on that night. I suspect God has given a lot of the wrong people way too much money.

           JZ quickly won $63.00 and I talked him into getting out of there. Otherwise he's one of them invertebrate gamblers. We wound up at the only place still open that time near his place, a Flannigan’s. It’s primarily a restaurant so I don’t hang out there. The only thing worth taking a picture of was JZ holding the money. We had one drink and left. It was drizzling rain, so I left the scooter parked at his sister’s and we went home to watch old westerns.
           He’s convinced he’s missed the boat with a nice gal where I’m still in the market. Remember, he and I are quite different people with dissimilar outlooks on women and money. I mention it because I see money as something to spend now, because I have no long-term future. But I’d like a lady friend to spend it with. He’s the opposite. Party up with the women now and save money for the long term. See what I mean? What long term?
           So no big Xmas stories this year, except for the youngest, all the kids are now adults. One novelty was the fireplace. I never saw it before, but it was a video of a log fire on the big flatscreen TV. Playing the carols and crackling away. What must the [rest of the] world think of us? Drop back tomorrow when I find the picture of JZ wearing the ugliest shirt in Dixie. He’s lucky it wasn’t a real fireplace or somebody would have chucked that shirt in it—-and he wore that same shirt to Mass you know. You’ll see.

ADDENDUM

           Time for a lecture. I’m fully aware that some of the topics I bring up here are very often already old news to the rest of the world. That is what sets this blog apart when it comes to current events. Despite my discouragement, there always seem to be a few readers here who got off the IQ train a few stations too early.
           Read my lips, this blog is not where you come to hear the breaking stories of the hour. I do not watch television. That also means the very few other people I know who don’t watch TV either can’t afford one or don’t really do anything else, either. That makes them totally unlike me. Got that? Here are the top three reasons which bring people to this blog:

           Author's note: No matter how this or any topic may be covered on Fox News, my perspective on it is derived from non-mainstream sources. (I know of Fox News only by reputation, and it isn't good.) By the time I hear about it and am motivated to comment, the topic has become a real issue, not something contrived to take up air space on slow news days. Most of my regular readers highly value this fact—if only as confirmation that they are not the only ones thinking differently.
           I am reacting to the facts as I learn them, not the canned opinions of professional newscasters trained to angle one point of view, usually the digustingly Liberal. Hence, my conclusions are my own, not parroting the party line as is the case with most television viewers. I know plenty about useless political correctness for I used to work at the phone company. Repeating what some spokesperson said is NOT a valid opinion and does not belong in polite conversation when speaking to someone like me.
           Third, not watching television also means I am hardly influenced by that whole under-culture of existence. I don’t stand around the water cooler the next day comparing versions. This means, at the very least, my perspective on each matter will be worded differently. I have a stack of fan mail this high from people thanking me for wording the topic independently. And that manner alone is of considerable importance to people who use their brains.

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