MORNING
Normally my day’s off don’t hit the ground running. Maybe too many know it is my day off? First thing, I get a call for sandwich delivery. Agt. M has all his bicycles apart at the same time (I told you we were opposites in the organization department), so I took him one of those Italian jobbies from the weirdo place on Ocean.
The one that could fill up an elephant or half of Agt. M. Just make sure you tell the shop to hold the vinegar. Who puts vinegar on a sandwich? The Italians, that’s who.
Since nobody checked the padlock until I intentionally walked over this morning, it could have been cut any time. What’s needed now is the motive. I would put the landlady first on the suspect list simply because of the obvious connection. If nothing else, I need to be paid for the padlock.
Then, I sat down and read the Fag Rag (Miami Herald). It says more people now get their news from Google than the newspapers. Why not? For reliability and unbiased reporting, both have achieved the same rank. Crap news is good enough for 90% of Americans anyway. But I do have some advice for Dear Abby, who, I think, resides in the Magic Kingdom. Lady, there are two types of old men. Those who complain. And those who complain and still get things done. It is not the world’s fault you old ladies can’t tell the difference.
Did you see that item about the Massachusetts man who bought a lotto ticket to break a hundred to buy a sandwich? He won ten million. It says here he plans to buy a house and take his kid to Disneyworld. There’s ambition for you. Dude, make sure to stop and say hello to Abby. Apparently, the king of Saudi Arabia died. Again.
NOON
Who's this? Hint, I was researching country duets. This picture was taken in 1980. It's a singer now around 60-ish who goes by the name Lane Brody. Not her real name. The song in focus was "Yellow Rose", a take-off on "The Yellow Rose of Texas", where she completely outsings some guy with the memorable name of Johnny Lee. Sigh, maybe I could get her to try that with me. Now hold on. I take that back. I just found a picture of her taken last week.
That's around the time he pointed out a lot of the bass runs I did in a duo were "playing lead". I wrote that off as due to the commonality of the two instruments. (The electric bass is identical to the "bottom" four strings of a regular guitar, but one octave lower.) What I'm seeking now is a limited collection of simple patterns I can use to spice up a strum and am noticing there are ways to play these on the bass. I tend to bend notes more than student players and I've added two more bends that are new to my repertoire.
I should send Ray-B a note, since he knew sooner or later, I would learn to play a lead break on the bass. Well, if I string the snippets I've learned together, I believe I could probably do that now. I've always said most lead breaks sound alike to me.
AFTERNOON
If you got five minutes, watch these guys play drums. Or this Russian Sobriety Test. Hey, people send me these things. How about the Clarinet Polka, played on a flutophone? I liked it so much, I wrote a bass line to it.
The highest levels of American government declared these were weapons of mass destruction. Oops! Wrong war, but no politician would be dumb enough to use the same . . . What? He did? Well, you know how these beady-eyed types like to lie.
Anyway, using this justification, the two atomic bombs flattened some towns. The problem was, all the bunkers were fakes. This one was a dummy, a telephone pole. The occupation forces never found even one real defensive cannon. It's a good thing the American people would never fall for the same old line again in a couple of generations.
And there was your prelude to justifying horror attacks. Two countries since Japan have tried to institute a non-American monetary system, one tried to trade oil in Euros instead of greenbacks, the other tried to introduce a gold-backed currency for Africa. Those countries used to be Iran and Libya and their heads of state are now stone cold dead, dead, dead. However, Google-fed Americans can tell you that is pure coincidence.
Here’s an item, I had old newsreels on in the background and spotted what looked like an America Corsair, you know the gull-winged fighter plane like the Black Sheep squadron. I looked again and it had German markings. As far as I know, this type was never used in the European theater, so it was not a captured model. You’ll never guess what it turned out to be.
Early in the war, the Germans had modified some Stuka dive-bombers for the aircraft carrier they never built. These Stukas had explosive bolts so the pilot could jettison the spatted landing gear. Why, I don’t know, but in the newsreel, it was such a Stuka with no wheels. My guess is the pilot had engine damage and discarded the wheels to get home. I did a real double-take on that one. Instead of an afternoon movie, I stayed home to watch newsreels and invent things. Neat things. Like you’ve never seen before.
Food. Instant switch of topic there. Fun is finding goodies. At Xmas, Alaine got me some pickles, which did not last long around here. But I kept the jar and at some point I must have had some left over herring, which I must have put in there. Guess what I found about an hour ago? Done to perfection. I recall giving this batch three baths, so it was pickled in the sweet brine. Baths? Yes, some people don’t know to soak salty fish in water overnight. This batch went through three soaks because I had been making omelets. Think of it as bread-and-butter fishlettes.
EVENING
I need a sanding machine. I wanted a fancy sander, but Agt. M had a defunct hand-held orbital, which I returned here and dismantled. It was the carbon brushes, and why yes, the new off-on switch does strongly resemble an obsolete amplifier button. Then I drove up to Jimbos II. What a dud night, but the good news was the music was all country. (To the chagrin of the regulars.) I didn’t stick around.
The photo is the now-repaired sanding machine. I turned the carbon branches around as well and oiled all the joints. These tools produce a characteristic aroma when operating correctly and I've got this one back to factory fresh. I don't know how it will work yet, but this has to do for now. I don't need even as much precision as I already have most of the time.
And since you've read this fair, I'll borrow a tactic from the newspaper industry and print my corrections way down here at the bottom where they are least likely to be noticed. Last time when I said "hamster cage" for my experimental wind fan, of course I meant "squirrel cage". Because Germans cannot say the word "squirrel". And above, when I linked to the Clarinet Polka, while it was playing I read the notes. It must be on a flute because a flutophone does not have that many octaves. Congrats to all who spotted that before I did. That would not include you, Ken.
Last Laugh
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